Vermin? You sure?
~~~
Chapter Twelve
Back at Castle Rayn, the various problems were getting worse.
When Nimbalo ran out of the kitchens, it had taken two hours of searching to track him down. Tagg had eventually found him wandering the corridors, looking faintly bemused. The mouse could not remember what had happened. Both creatures were disturbed by this, and at Spinfer's suggestion had taken drastic measures in case of a recurrence.
Nimbalo scratched absent-mindedly at the collar around his neck. It had previously been used on a guard-shrew and he was sure the wretched thing was carrying fleas. The idea was that if he had another of his "episodes", Tagg would hold the leash and prevent him from escaping until he was back to normal. The problem was, though the incident in the kitchen had not recurred yet, the leash kept getting caught on everything in sight and tripping creatures up.
At the moment, the duo were climbing the stairs to the north tower, where the castle's healers resided. Or rather, trying to climb the stairs.
"Lend us a paw 'ere matey!" Nimbalo called. He hopped up and down, trying to reach the step. "I don't know wot idiot built these stairs - why the Hellgates did they make 'em so flippin' big?"
Tagg was eventually forced to pick his friend up bodily and carry him up. The stairs were certainly a puzzle. Admittedly weasels were larger than mice, but it would still be an effort for them, and the staircase seemed pretty big even by otter standards. Still, he'd never actually been in a building before, as far as he could remember - maybe all stairs were built like that. It still seemed stupid to him, but what did he know?
He was panting by the time he reached the top. The steps were not only ridiculously big, there were a surprising number of them. The tower must be higher than most trees. How did the weasels and stoats manage? It wasn't as if not many of them needed the healers. It was only a day since the rats had turned up, but several injuries had been caused already. Although, oddly enough, not a single death. Tagg guessed the stoats were more competent than they looked.
But then, he thought, I suppose it isn't possible to be less competent than they look. Bunch of idiots, if you ask me.
He put the mouse down and knocked on the door. It was opened by a stoat jill in a nun's habit, who ignored Nimbalo completely and smiled up at Tagg.
"Yes, sir?"
"I was wondering if you could take a look at my friend here. He's been acting, um, oddly. We thought it might be caused by a headwound or something, and we need somebeast to check. He doesn't seem to have any wounds, or any other symptoms, but I'm hopeless at healing, so I thought it best to ask you just in case."
The healer looked at Nimbalo. He was still wearing his cloak and face paint, so all she saw was a small, vaguely animal-like object on a leash, covered by a large brown cloth. Possibly a very small weasel, she thought, but why the leash?
"Has he acted violently?" she asked nervously, backing off a few steps.
"Talk to me, why doncha?" challenged Nimbalo. "I'm the one with the problem, y'know!"
"Er, I'll put that down as a yes, shall I?" said the flustered healer.
"NO!"
"No, he hasn't been violent," Tagg said firmly. He gave Nimbalo a look which said; Don't make trouble, alright? The mouse scowled.
"Uh, well, erm - you'd better come in," the jill managed to say.
The two friends entered the sickroom.
~~~
Nearly two hours later, Tagg was sitting in the sickroom, feeling bored.
He and Nimbalo had made several attempts to explain the "talking mouse trick" to the nuns, and eventually the frustrated Nimbalo had shouted at them to "stop asking stupid questions and do their job". This had not endeared him to the healers, but they did at least stop demanding to know how the "spell" worked.
A stoat healer appeared from behind a screen, closely followed by Nimbalo, still on the leash.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything medically wrong with him," she told Tagg. "I saw the wounds on his chest - a very professional bandaging job, I must say."
"Oh, that wasn't me," Tagg said. "That was. . . a friend of mine." Announcing that he was involved with a group of notorious outlaws would mean trouble, so he didn't mention Wodehed's name.
"Well anyway, apart from that he seems fine. I can't find any signs that he. . ." The jill trailed off. Nimbalo was curled up in a very uncomfortable-looking position, apparently trying to scratch the back of his head with his footpaw.
"See what I meant by acting oddly?" Tagg groaned. The nuns all stared. Nimbalo twisted round and started trying to lick himself.
"I. . . don't think this comes under the heading of a medical problem," a healer managed to say.
"So? What is it?" Tagg asked irritably. The healer sighed.
"You really aren't going to like this . . ."
~~~
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