Vermin? You sure?
~~~
Chapter Eleven
The weasels had found the Juska camp.
The tribesfolk stared and muttered as the strange weasel band entered the clearing, but didn't try to stop them. They acted as if Sylver and friends were beneath their notice, ignoring them in favour of tending the fires. Bird carcasses turned on spits, giving off the smell the weasels had followed. Bryony didn't dare to look at the spits, or the piles of feathers and bones next to most of the fires. The rest of the band found themselves drooling. Mawk's stomach gurgled loudly and he whimpered.
The band tried not to stare at the bizarre tribal tattoos covering the animal's faces. Each beast had wavy green lines across his or her brow and a yellow circle on each cheek. Some of them had obviously had these markings made over old ones that looked like Tagg's - a double row of red dots on either side of a black line which ran down the snout.
"Umm. . . hello? Can you help us?" Sylver hesitantly asked a stoat. "We're lost. . . "
The stoat looked up from his stewpot and gave Sylver a long, blank stare. The weasel stepped back, slightly unnerved.
"Alright, alright. I only asked if you could help."
The stoat shrugged, muttered and went back to poking the fire. Sylver tried again.
"Can I speak to your leader? Please can you tell us where to find him?"
Miniver cleared her throat loudly.
"Or her?"
"Ruggan Bor ain't gonna speak wid you," the stoat informed them contemptuously, without looking up. "Iffen yer needs to speak to anybeast, try Grissoul and Ermath. The clan seers - can't miss 'em, nutty ol' vixens, both in funny clothes an' Grissoul's got a twitchy eye. Though I doubts if either of 'em wants to chat to a bunch of raggedytag weasels. Not even Juska, are yer?"
"What?"
"Well, look at yer. No way are any of those tattoos from any clan I've ever seen, and y'ain't even tried to make 'em match. More like clowns than decent Juska beasts."
Sylver realised the band still had their face paint and performer's outfits on. He had to admit, they did look rather strange.
"Just a gang of scruffy wanderers widout a clan, ain't yer?" The stoat turned his back in a way which suggested that was all the help the weasels were going to get.
"This place isn't too different," whispered Icham. "Stoats are downright unpleasant here too."
"Still, he did say we should talk to the seers," Wodehed pointed out. "Seers are witches, they can use magic - maybe she can help us."
~~~
The stoat had been rude, but he was at least truthful; Grissoul and Ermath were not easy to miss. The old vixens sat hunched over a small pile of assorted objects - bones, shells, pebbles - muttering to each other, or possibly themselves. Various necklaces and bracelets jangled and clacked as one leaned forwards to pick up a pawful of the junk at her footpaws. She scattered the stuff and examined it closely. This was obviously Grissoul, as one of her eyes rolled around constantly, unnerving the weasel band as they approached her.
"Newcomers. Whaddya want?" she barked suddenly. Sylver automatically jumped back a pace.
"We. . . we're lost, and we were hoping you could help," he said. The vixen scowled.
"We don't help nobeast for free, laddie," replied the other fox - Ermath, the stoat had called her. "Def'nitely not strangers like you. Come wandering into the camp an' expect somethin' for nothin' - ha!"
"We do have a little money," said Alysoun. "We're willing to pay you for your effort."
"Mun-ee?"
Luke reached into the pouch at his belt and produced three groats. Ermath took the coins and examined them closely.
"What on earth d'ye carry these things around for? Useless lumps of metal - not even gold, just plain brass! Pretty pictures on 'em, though. Some sort of lucky charms?"
The weasels were taken aback, and struggled unsuccessfully to find words. This was weird. Had these vixens never seen a coin before?
"Never mind, they're pretty enough," said the Seer, putting the money in her pouch. "We could use 'em for our fortune telling."
"Will they suffice as payment?" Luke asked her.
"Probably not," replied Grissoul. "Depends what thou be wanting."
~~~
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