After Goddess knows how long, Pook whimpered himself to sleep, Paz too seemed to have drifted off, and snores started to come from the two big rabbits guarding them on the other side of the bars. This is my chance, Podkin thought. But what can I do?
Podkin’s scared little mind whirred, trying to think of a plan, but came up with nothing. What would Father have done? He tried to listen for the reassuring voice inside his head, but there was only silence. Would he have sat here and waited for what misery morning would bring? Never. By now, he would probably have sliced through the bars and run charging at the villains, ready to chop them into rabbit hotpot.
Well that wasn’t going to happen. He had missed every single one of his weapons lessons. He barely knew the handle of a sword from the pointy end. But maybe he could cut a small hole in the bars for them to sneak out? It sounded like a much better plan, with a lot less slicing.
He thought he might be able to slide Starclaw out from under his cloak and chop through the cage bars, and was just inching his hand across to do it when a voice from the shadows outside made him freeze.
‘I’m still awake, you little rat-weasel,’ came Shape’s deep, rumbling tones. ‘And I’ll be awake for the next two hours, until it’s Quince’s turn to watch you. You’ll not get away that easy.’
The fat rabbit chuckled to himself, and settled back to sipping mead, or whatever he was doing. Sure enough, ages later, he nudged Quince awake, and lay down to sleep on a scrap of blanket.
Quince is smaller, Podkin thought. Maybe I could get out and lop off his head before he could wake up Shape? But he knew he wouldn’t do it. Toppling a tree on someone is one thing; chopping a rabbit’s head off would be unbearable.
Waiting ’til morning it is then. Podkin couldn’t help but feel he’d failed some kind of test. But then he was well used to failing tests. In fact, he was probably an expert at it.
Sorry, Father. I’m just not a hero like you. He rubbed the bare spot where his belt buckle had been and dreamt memories of the Bramblemas day he had unwrapped it, with his proud father smiling on.
*
Come morning, a bleary-eyed, exhausted Podkin sat in a corner of the cage. Paz and Pook had both had a pretty good night’s sleep, all things considered. But Podkin had barely managed to catch a wink. Noises from outside the cage had stirred them, and the three rabbits gave each other nervous glances, wondering what horrible thing was going to happen next.
Both Shape and Quince were up now. They opened the cage door and dragged Podkin out by his collar. The little rabbit stood in the dingy burrow, swaying on his feet, while they pulled another rabbit out of the second cage. It was a tiny brown rabbit with a fuzzy cotton ball of a face and pointy little ears. Another, just like it, peered sadly through the cage bars.
‘Listen up, new boy,’ said Mister Shape, bending down over his fat belly to peer in Podkin’s face. ‘You’re going to go back to the market to spend the rest of this lovely day begging, scrounging and stealing everything you can get your little paws on.’
‘Food, we want,’ said Quince. ‘And drink. And money. And anything we can sell to make money.’
‘Basically,’ Shape continued, ‘we want you to fill your pockets with as much stuff as you can, and then bring it back here to us.’
‘And if I don’t?’ Podkin asked. He didn’t like the sound of stealing, much less coming back to this stinking ferret-hole of a burrow.
‘Why, if you don’t, then we might get hungry and decide to eat your big sister,’ said Quince.
‘A nice little snack she’d make, eh, Quincey?’ said Shape, his broad belly rippling with laughter. Podkin gulped. Shape, suddenly serious again, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. ‘She’s our insurance.’ He growled in Podkin’s face. ‘Keeping her safe is what makes you come back here every day.’
‘Every day?’
‘Oh yes.’ Shape gave an evil grin. ‘You work for us now. And you’re going to be working for us for a very long time.’
In the cage, Pook started crying. And crying. And crying. It got louder and louder, until it became a piercing wail. Paz tried to quieten him, afraid of Quince’s jabbing stick, but he wouldn’t shush, not even when Paz mentioned soup. She looked out at Podkin, scared.
‘Shut that brat up!’ Shape yelled. ‘Or by Hern’s hairy kneecaps, I’ll do it for you!’ Quince made to grab for his stick, so Podkin quickly spoke.
‘He won’t be quiet, not as long as he’s in that cage,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to take him with me. You won’t hear him then, and you’ve still got my sister to make sure I come back.’
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Pook, exactly; he just knew he had to get him away from Quince and Shape. Perhaps the pair of them could escape somehow? Come back with help for Paz? But there was nobody who would help them, now that they had no money to bargain with.
‘Take him then,’ Shape shouted. ‘Just stop that flaming screeching!’
Quince opened the cage door and pulled Pook out of Paz’s arms, then swung him at Podkin. Podkin just about managed to catch his little brother and at least the shock had stopped him crying for a moment.
‘Right. Enough of this chin-wagging,’ said Shape. ‘Get out there and get us some loot.’
With several nudges from his bony foot, Quince shoved Podkin and the other rabbit out of the burrow and into the tunnel, then pulled the blanket shut. Podkin managed to catch Paz’s eyes for a moment as he left. She looked lonely, sad, frightened – but she had enough time to motion to him. A small, flicking movement with her fingers. Run, she meant. Go. Leave.
She was telling him to take Pook and not come back.
CHAPTER TEN
Fox Paw
Outside in the gloomy tunnel, Podkin stood and stared at the other little rabbit. She stared back for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and hurried off down the tunnel, towards the market.
‘Hey, wait up!’ Podkin scampered after as best he could, struggling not to drop Pook in the process. He caught up with the rabbit by a flickering candle, which was balanced on the crumbling tip of some creature’s leg bone, jutting out of the tunnel wall. The light threw wavering patterns over the dangling roots and piles of rubbish on the floor, making it seem like they were at the bottom of a particularly filthy lake.
The small rabbit gave him another impatient look, as if Podkin was keeping her from something important. ‘Yes?’
Podkin stood, huffing and puffing, thinking of something to say. ‘Um … hello. My name’s Podkin. And this is Pook. I just … I was just wondering …’
‘Look,’ said the rabbit. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but we really should get to the market as quickly as we can. If we don’t come back at dusk with plenty of food and some coins … well, let’s just say it won’t be very pleasant.’
‘Do you do this every day?’ Podkin asked. ‘Stealing and begging from the market? Haven’t you tried to escape?’
‘Escape?’ The little rabbit looked at Podkin as if he was crazy. ‘They’ve got my brother. How could I escape without him?’
‘But your parents,’ said Pod. ‘Can’t you find them? Can’t you tell the guards or the chieftain or someone?’
‘My parents are fifty years old and living in a warren on the other side of the Eiskalt mountains.’ When Podkin looked at her as if she was talking Thriantan, she sighed and shook her head. ‘I’m not a child, Popkin – or whatever your name is. My brother and I are dwarf rabbits. I might be as small as you, but I’m actually fully grown. Those stupid ferret-brained lumps back there think we’re children too. That’s why they grabbed us.’
‘Have you been there long?’
The dwarf rabbit shrugged. ‘Six months, I think. Although it seems like longer. They had another rabbit caged up when we got there, but he got sick and died. They buried him further up the tunnel.’
Podkin gulped. He really didn’t want to end up shovelled into a shallow grave in this dingy, miserable place.
‘So, you see, it’s best to try and keep them happy. That way they don’t hit you. Try and find as much food as you can, but don’t get caught stealing anything. There aren’t any guards in this place, and definitely no chieftain, but the stallholders do horrible things to thieves.’
The dwarf rabbit patted Podkin on the shoulder, and then turned and headed up the tunnel. Podkin watched her go, calling out before she disappeared from sight: ‘It’s Podkin, not Popkin!’
‘Sorry!’ The rabbit called back. ‘I’m Mishka. But you can call me Mish. My brother is Mashka.’ And then she was gone.
Mish and Mash, Podkin thought. Well, at least they weren’t in this mess completely on their own.
‘Mish!’ said Pook.
*
Some time later, Podkin and Pook stepped out of the side tunnel and into the market hall once more. Again, he was hit by the wall of stink and noise, although this time his nose was a little more used to it. He could actually pick out some smells: spices, frying vegetables, roasted coffee, tanned leather, burning incense; each one fought with the other, trying not to be overpowered, and making his head spin.
He stared out at the heaving mass of rabbits, all bustling about their business. From somewhere out there, he had to find enough food and coins to keep Shape and Quince happy, and avoid getting caught and strung up by the ears (or ear) in the process. He felt sick with fear. To top it all, his arms were already weak and burning from carrying and dragging Pook down the tunnel, and he had never stolen anything in his life. His mother always used to say that the Goddess thought very poorly of thieves and robbers. Would she understand if a little rabbit was doing it to save his sister’s life?
His eyes drifted across the seething marketplace to the entrance tunnel, which was little more than a dark hole across the crowded cavern. Did Paz really want them to leave without her? Could he even do such a thing? She was his big sister. Annoying, yes. Bossy, definitely. But she was near enough the only family he had left. And he did love her very much (even though he would never admit it).
Besides, she was the one with all the ideas – the quick thinker, always coming up with a plan in an instant. He was just the lazy, spoilt chieftain’s son, daydreaming and snoozing around until he became head of the tribe and could daydream and snooze even more. He wouldn’t last ten minutes looking after Pook by himself.
Paz would never leave me behind, he thought. So I’m not going to leave her. He took a deep breath and began to look around for something to steal.
So, where should he start? Cutting some rabbit’s purse? That was obviously what Shape expected him to do, leaving him Starclaw. He had no idea how to go about it, though. And what if you got caught? The stallholders do horrible things to thieves, Mish had said. He wondered what that could be. Throwing them in a dungeon? Sticking red-hot pokers into their squidgy bits? Chopping off their hands? He’d already lost an ear so he really should start being more careful about holding on to his body parts.
How about grabbing something from a stall? There were hot pies over there, and next to it a rabbit selling clay jugs of mead. Was he fast enough to snatch something and run for it? Not with having to carry Pook as well. Maybe he should have left him crying in the cage. Perhaps if Shape had got sick enough of the noise, he might have let them all go.
‘Soop!’ Pook said. ‘Soop! Soop!’
‘You’re not having any soup,’ Podkin told him, but there was a soup-seller nearby, and the delicious smell was everywhere.
‘Soop!’ Pook screamed. Podkin started to pull his little brother away from the tempting odours, round behind a stone pillar where the air was more dank and musty. But it didn’t have any effect on Pook’s howling, which was getting louder, if anything. What did his mother use to do when this happened? Smack his bottom? Shove a rotten turnip in his mouth?
No, she used to distract him with something. Take his mind off his stomach for a moment until he forgot what he was screaming about.
‘Look, Pook. Over there! A really fat rabbit selling carrots …’
‘Ca-ot! Ca-ot!’
‘No, no … bad example. Look over there! A big lop rabbit! Look at his long ears, and on his stall he’s got … oh.’
‘Hu-ny! Hu-ny!’
Podkin felt like crying. He sank to the floor, amongst all the muck and rubbish from the market, and let Pook’s shouts merge with the noise of the stalls into one big thunderous racket. There was no way he could find enough loot to keep Quince happy. There was no way he could escape Boneroot along with his brother and sister, and even if he did, the Gorm were looking for him everywhere. What was the point? He might as well just lay here in the dirt until he starved to death and …
Something hard was under his leg. Something round and hard. Something round and hard and coin-shaped.
Holding his breath, he dug his paw into the grime and muck beneath him and fished it out. It looked like a lump of sticky old mud, but when he rubbed it against his cloak, the unmistakeable glint of metal shone through.
‘Oooh!’ Pook said. ‘Shiny!’
Quickly, Podkin polished off the rest of the dirt. It was a large coin, marked with a rabbit’s head and made of an orangey-brown metal. Copper, he thought, or bronze. Having never worried about money before, he wasn’t sure what it was worth. Not as much as gold or silver, definitely, but might it be enough to satisfy Quince and Shape?
‘This is good, Pook,’ he said. ‘But we need more, I think. Can you help me find some more?’
‘Shiny!’ Pook squealed, and started rummaging around in the dirt and rotten food of the market floor. Surely there had to be more coins hidden in all this litter, and scavenging for it was much safer than stealing. Podkin got on his hands and knees and joined him.
*
An hour later, they had covered half of the market, scrabbling about in the dirt between the stalls. Podkin had been kicked in the ribs by two stallholders and chased off by several more. And they had nothing to show for it except an old apple core, which Pook was now sucking on. That and the original copper coin. So much for his get-rich-quick idea.
‘This is not good, Pook,’ he said.
The little rabbit wasn’t listening. Something had caught his attention on the other side of the market. ‘Bone! Bone!’
Pook had dropped his soggy apple core and was pointing excitedly at a dingy corner. Three or four scruffy-looking rabbits were crouched in a circle, taking turns to roll dice. Some kind of game, Podkin supposed.
‘Bone!’ Pook started crawling over. The dice must have reminded him of the casting bones he’d played with at Brigid’s place. He was drawn to them in the same way.
Podkin didn’t think the scruffy rabbits would take kindly to a strange baby ruining their game. He jumped up and ran after Pook, grabbing him just before he managed to snatch up the dice in his chubby little paw.
‘Oi, nibbler! Keep your brat out of our game!’ A black and white rabbit with torn ears and brown teeth tried to slap at Pook as Podkin pulled him back.
‘Yeah,’ said another scrawny brown buck. ‘Unless he wants to join in!’
Three of the rabbits roared with laughter, while the fourth looked miserable. He threw a handful of copper coins on to the floor and the others snatched them up. Podkin stared. A whole handful of coins.
‘Are you playing for money?’ he asked. He remembered seeing guards back at the warren doing something like this. His mother never allowed him to watch too closely.
‘Fox Paw. Winner takes all,’ said the brown rabbit. ‘Care to chance your luck?’
Fox Paw. The name rang a bell. Wasn’t it from that story Brigid had told them? The dice game the Goddess herself had played when she beat Gormaduke, or whatever he had been called. Surely that must be a sign?
A foolish rabbit and his radishes are easily parted. That was what Auntie Olwyn always used to say. Or was it his mother? Someone much more sensible than him, anyway. It meant that gambling was for ferret-brains. They’d only managed to find one single coin all
morning, and here he was thinking of throwing it away.
But … Pook had been so good at rolling the bones on Brigid’s hearth. A natural gift, she’d said. And the little tinker was itching to do it again. What if it was a sign from the Goddess? He looked at the piles of coins lined up in front of the rabbits. It is a stupid thing to do, he thought, but there’s nobody around to tell me otherwise. Just for once, he could be as stupid as he liked, and what if it worked?
‘We’re in,’ he said, holding out his copper coin. ‘But my brother gets to roll for me.’
The scruffy rabbits hooted and roared at this, so much that others wandered over to see what was going on. Soon there was a little crowd around the game, with Pook in the middle trying to grab at the dice.
‘Let’s play then,’ said the brown rabbit. ‘D’you know the rules?’ When Podkin shook his head, he laughed even harder. ‘There’s three dice, see? Bone ones, with six sides apiece. They’re marked with a one, a two, a three, four, five and a fox’s paw. Each time you roll, you add the numbers up. You can roll as many times as you like, but if you get one single fox paw, you’re out. The one with the highest score at the end wins the money. Understand?’
Podkin nodded. Basically, you didn’t want to roll a fox paw. Simple.
The black and white rabbit sneered at him. ‘Seeing as it’s your first game, you can start.’
‘Roll, Pook,’ Podkin said. The crowd behind him gave a little cheer. Pook grabbed the dice with glee and threw them down.
A whoop went up from the crowd, and Podkin realised he had been scrunching his eyes shut. He looked down to see two threes and a one.
‘Beginner’s luck,’ said the brown rabbit. ‘Roll again?’
Perhaps they should stop and keep the score, Podkin thought. He had no idea of what a good total was. If they rolled again, they risked losing everything. But that was what games of chance were all about, weren’t they?
Podkin One-Ear Page 8
