The Sable Quean

Mumzy busied herself, chatting away to Flib with no mention of the shrewmaid's former state. "Ah, 'tis a grand ould song, sure enough. C'mon now, darlin'. Try a drop o' me hot cordial an' a piece o' me good flan."

Flib sat up straight. "Thankee, marm, that'd be nice. By the way, my name's Flib. Wot's yores?"

The water vole served Flib. "Ah, sure, ye can just call me Mumzy. There now, Flib, ye'll enjoy that!"

As Flib concentrated her attention on the food, Gurchen whispered to Mumzy, "Yurr, marm, she'm lukkin' ee lot betterer."

The water vole kept her voice low. "That's 'cos she's blanked out the slayin' o' that ould fox. I've seen such things happen afore. But ye must never mention that she killed the fox. Don't want her t'go all funny agin, do we now?"

Mumzy paused a moment, then warned her guests, holding a paw to her mouth, "Husha now--somebeast's outside!"

They sat with bated breath. The water vole murmured, "You stay here, now, I'll go an' take a peek."

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Flib was right at her side. "I'm comin' with ye--don't argue, it'll do ye no good!"

Zwilt the Shade stood on top of the rocky streambank. He watched his four Ravager guards climb down to the water. They drank from the cold, clear-running stream, then, seeing the abundant watercress, began stuffing mouthfuls. The tall sable allowed them only a moment before he gave orders.

"Enough of that. Get back up here whilst the trail is still fresh. I intend to catch those runaway deserters today. Come on, move yourselves!" The vermin guards knew better than to disobey. They scrambled hastily up, trotting after their leader, who was already marching swiftly off into the woodlands.

Two heads popped over the banktop--Mumzy and Flib.

The water vole rubbed a paw on the grass. "Ah, sure, that was close. I don't know fer the life o' me how they managed not t'see us. That last eejit trod right on me paw. Are you alright, Flib darlin'?"

The shrewmaid smiled grimly. "Oh, I'm fine, but wait'll ole Zwilt sees that fox. Hah, that's one piece o' scum won't be goin' back with him!"

Mumzy stared at her companion. "Ye remember wot happened to the fox, do ye?"

Flib narrowed her eyes fiercely. "Of course I do. It was him or us. That lousy vermin woulda murdered me an' the two liddle moles without blinkin' an' eye. So I got in first an' killed him. An' I ain't sorry I did, so there. I'd do it agin if'n I had to!"

Mumzy chuckled. "An' here was meself, tryin' to spare yore feelin's. Sure, a real ould killer you've turned out t'be, Missy Flib!"

The shrewmaid stared after the retreating vermin. "That's 'cos I'm from a line o' Guosim warriors--nothin' can change that!"

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Dawn broke pale over the eastern treetops as Buckler and his friends made their way cautiously through the woodlands. They could not move at a fast pace, because of the Guosim Tracker, Sniffy, scouting the ground ahead of them. On fording a small streamlet, they saw him on the other side, seated on a fallen alder trunk, waiting for them.

They sat down with him--it had been a long trek through the Mossflower night, avoiding obstacles, skirting swampland and other such hazards. Sharing a flask of October Ale, they broke their fast with oat farls and cheese. As they ate, Sniffy made his report.

"I cut four sets o' tracks up yonder--two vermin, a weasel an' a stoat, runnin' alongside two foxes, one of them a vixen. Then they split in different directions, vermin hea-din' nor'east, an' the foxes travellin' more southerly."

Buckler questioned him further. "No sign o' that tall sable, Zwilt?"

Sniffy took a pull from the flask. "None. Just the weasel, the stoat an' the foxes."

Skipper consulted the young hare. "Wot d'ye say, Buck? Shall we split up an' follow 'em?"

Buckler took a flat piece of shale. Spitting on one side, he tossed it in the air. "Your call, Jango--wet or dry?"

The Guosim Log a Log called, "I say dry."

Buckler looked at the fallen stone. "Dry it is, mate. What do ye want t'do?"

Jango looked at Sniffy. "Which of 'em'll be the hardest to track?"

Sniffy replied after a moment's hesitation. "Foxes I reckon, Chief. They seems t'know the ins an' outs of most places--alius been slybeasts, those foxes."

Skipper cut in. "Then me'n BuckTl trail the foxes."

Jango shrugged. "Suit yoreselves, but ye best take Sniffy. No fox could give him the slip. I'll take Big Bartij. We'll go after the other two, right?"

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Buckler nodded. "Right, mate. Later on we can either meet back here or pick up each other's trail."

After putting Jango and Bartij on the vermin trail, Sniffy set off with Skipper and Buckler on the track left by Thwip and Binta.

Axtel Sturnclaw, the Warrior mole, had regained his senses. He woke to the sound of Tassy and Borti weeping. The pain in Axtel's footpaw was agonising; it had swollen with the spearhead still impaling it. However, his first thoughts were not for himself, but for the two babes.

Tassy was hugging little Borti, trying to comfort him, even though she herself was in tears. It was a pitiable sight.

Axtel beckoned to them. "Cumm yurr, likkle uns. 'Ush you'm weepin'--oi'll take gudd care of ee."

They sat close to him, leaning against his velvety fur. With an effort, Tassy got her sniffling under control. The Redwall squirrel Dibbun winced at the sight of the big mole's wound.

"Yore paw is very hurted sir. 'Ow you goin' t'fix it?"

Axtel sat up slowly, leaning forward to inspect the impaled limb. "Furst thing we'm got to do, likkle mizzy, is to be getten you spearpoint owt. Yurr, foind oi a gudd stone--that un o'er thurr."

Tassy had to struggle a bit, but she fetched the chunk of limestone over to him.

Axtel smiled at her. "Gudd! Naow, put et unner moi futt-paw, so 'tis restin' agin' ee spearpoint."

The squirrelbabe did as she was bidden. Axtel took a deep breath, readying himself. "You'm stan' clear, naow, an' moind ee babby sh'ew."

Tassy obeyed without question. The mole took out his war hammer and set the haft between his teeth. He took hold of the stump of spear pole. Squinching his eyes tight shut, he shoved the spearpoint hard against the stone whilst

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at the same time giving the stump a swift, strong heave. Axtel roared. "Hoooouuuurrrr! Hooooaaaarggggh!"

He went backward, lying flat out, with the freed spearpoint grasped in his forepaws.

Carrying Borti, Tassy hurried to his side. "It's out--you did it! But it' bleedin' blood!"

The big mole prised his jaws loose from the war hammer. "Hurr, so 'tis. Oi'll needs to bandage et upp!"

Tassy placed Borti at her friend's side. "You mind Borti. I know how t'make dressin's--Sista FumbT teached me. Jus' wait here, sir. I don't be long." She dashed off to find what she needed.

Seeing her go, Borti began wailing again. "Waaah, want my mamma!"

Axtel sat the little fellow on his chest, chuckling. "Hurr, an' so do oi, zurr, but b'ain't no use a-howlin' fur hurr. Coom on, naow. Make ee gurt smile fur oi!" He tickled the shrewbabe with his snout.

Borti was very susceptible to tickles. He was soon wriggling and giggling through his tears.

Tassy returned with an apronful of stuff. She took over like a proper little Infirmary nurse. "Now, you lie still an' I fix a paw up!"

Axtel adopted a look of serious obedience.

"Yuss, marm, oi'll do azzakerly loike ee says!"

He watched in pleasurable wonder as the Redwall squirrelmaid wrorked on the injured footpaw. Wiping the wound clean with crushed sanicle flowers, poulticing the bleeding with soft moss, she dressed it with dockleaves and sainfoin, tying the whole thing off with chickweed stems, which she knotted neatly.

"There, now. 'Ow doo's that feel?"

Axtel winked at Borti. "Yurr, she'm a vurry clever creetur, b'ain't 'er?"

Tassy declared proudly, "I gonna work inna 'firmary wiv Sista Fumb'l when I growed h'up!"

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The Warrior mole chuckled. "Oi'm shure ee will, miz!"

A sound of approaching creatures alerted Axtel. "You'm hoide in ee bushers, naow. 'Urry--sumbeast bee's a-comen!"

They ran for the bushes, practically bumping into Sniffy. He swept Borti up in his paws joyfully.

"Seasons o' streams, lookit wot I found. 'Tis Jango an' Furm's babe. Borti, ain't it?"

Tassy gave a delighted squeal. She ran right up Skipper, as if scaling a tree. "Yeeeheee! Skippa, it me, Tassy!"

The Otter Chieftain hugged her happily. "Well, burn me rudder if it ain't. Where's the other little uns, Tass?"

Axtel saw that the newcomers were friendly. He tried to stand upright. "They'm mostly apprisoned, zurr, tho' oi manarged t'get they two owt. Hurr aye, an' three more who bee's at moi camp!"

Buckler strode up to the mole and shook his paw warmly. "We're grateful to ye, sir. Are you badly hurt?"

Favouring the wounded paw, Axtel leaned against the hare. "Oi was, zurr, but oi'm gurtly attended to boi likkle Mizzy Tass, thankee."

Buckler drew his sword, tossing it to Sniffy. "See if'n ye can cut this bravebeast a crutch, mate."

Skipper fed them from his pack. The big mole was enjoying October Ale with cheese and onion pasty so much that Buckler had to wait before asking him, "Have you noticed two foxes hereabouts of late?"

Axtel held out his beaker to be refilled. "Two foxers? Nay, zurr, nary a sightin' of 'em."

Sniffy, who was hacking at a forked hazel limb, snorted with displeasure. "We've lost the rascals. Told ye foxes were slybeasts, didn't I? We'll 'ave to backtrack, sorry."

Buckler broke a pasty, sharing it between the young ones. "I only asked about the foxes out of curiosity--they're not important now. The main thing is that we've found the little uns or, should I say, our molefriend has."

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The Warrior mole tugged his snout politely. "Axtel Sturnclaw at you'm survice, zurrs!"

Whilst Buckler introduced himself and his companions, Sniffy passed Axtel the crutch he had hewed from the hazel.

"There y'are. That should serve ye well enough." He went chasing off after little Borti, who was toddling away on his own into the trees. "Gotcha, ye liddle rogue. You stick close by ole Uncle Sniffy, now, d'ye hear ... ahah, wot's this?"

Dropping on all fours, the Tracker inspected the ground. "Ahoy, mates, I never lost the foxes--here's their trail, I've picked it up agin. Aye, this is it, one dogfox an' one vixen, headed over that way."

Axtel followed the direction Sniffy's paw was pointing. "Yurr, moi camp's o'er thurr, with ee uther three likkle uns. They'm foxers bee's sure t'foind et!"

Buckler issued swift orders. "Skip, you follow with Axtel and the young uns. Sniffy, lead the way, mate. We'll have t'move fast if the other three babes are alone in that camp!"

Shortly thereafter, the Guosim Tracker and the hare arrived at Axtel's camp. They found it deserted, except for the presence of Thwip's grisly carcass. Sniffy wrenched the spear from the dead fox's midriff, passing it to Buckler.

"I dunno wot went on round 'ere, but it looks like we're only trackin' one fox now, the vixen. You stand still there, Buck. Let me cast around for more tracks."

Whilst Sniffy was engaged in his task, Skipper and the others arrived.

Buckler held up the homemade spear. "Stay back. Sniffy's lookin' for fresh tracks. There was nobeast here--just this fox, he was slain with this."

Axtel took the spear. "Hurr, that'll be ee likkle sh'ewmaid, Flib. She'm a boldbeast, oi kin tell ee!"

Buckler relaxed slightly. "Aye, she is that. Flib can take care of herself, but what about the other two?"

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Axtel shook his large velvety head. "H'only babbies, two likkle molers, cuddn't 'arm anybeast."

Skipper, who was carrying Borti on his shoulders, enquired, "Any trace of 'em, Sniff?"

The Tracker scratched his head. "There's trails goin' everyplace, mate. Here's the foxes, two arrivin' an' only one leavin', alone. The vixen didn't take the molebabes--some otherbeast did. Whether 'twas friend or foebeast, I dunno. Thick tail, long fuzzy prints, big 'airy paws, prob'ly."

Buckler grasped his long rapier hilt. "Which way has it gone--can ye make out the little moleprints?"

Sniffy had his nose practically stuck to the ground. "Little uns that size don't leave much trail t'follow. They don't weigh much, y'see. Now, as for this otherbeast, a female, I think, an' she really knows 'er way round this neck o' the woods, I can tell ye. Nah, this is a creature wot won't be found by any if'n she don't want 'em to. Still, let's see if'n I can't pick up the track."

The going was slow and hard, with many a false trail. Mumzy had spent a lifetime avoiding pursuers in Mossflower. Sniffy commented on this as they crawled on their stomachs beneath widespread thick bush and shrubbery. "Like tryin' to track a fish unnerwater, this is!"

They pressed on laboriously, unaware that they were being watched by evil eyes.

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BOOK THREE Escape from Althier!

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17

Back at Redwall Abbey, there was some slight disagreement about who was responsible for guarding the walls. Diggs and Oakheart Witherspyk were not seeing eye-to-eye on the business of guard duties. Moreover, an officious shrew named Divvery had decided that the Guosim were not going to take orders from anybeast who was not of their tribe.

Diggs had selected all the able-bodied creatures he could find, regardless of who they were. The tubby young hare split his command into two shifts, one for daytime, the other for night. It was a good and fair system: Moles, Abbeybeasts, Guosim and Witherspyks found themselves standing together on the ramparts.

Those not on guard were employed at making weapons. Bows, arrows, slings and spears were being constructed down in Cellarmole Gurjee's cellars. The whole scheme worked fine for a day. Then things started to go awry.

Friar Soogum forgot to send lunch up to the walltops, so Divvery took the shrews off to the kitchens. Instead of taking their food back up to the walltops, they went into the orchard to eat. Oakheart was not too pleased at being

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left lunchless on sentry duty. The large, florid hedgehog was halfway down the wallsteps when he ran into Diggs, who blocked his path.

"Tut, tut, Oakie, wot's this? Desertin' your bloomin' post? Back up t'the jolly old walltops, this instant!"

Oakheart pushed past him indignantly. "Back up y'self, sirrah. There's only my goodself and a mere scattering of guards up there. Those shrew chappies have taken themselves off to lunch, if y'please!"

Diggs was taken aback. "Gone off to lunch? Deserted, just to feed their blinkin' faces! Right, leave this t'me. One thing I will not tolerate is rank disobedience. An' as for you, laddie me hog, back up on duty, before I put you on a bloomin' fizzer. On the double!"

Oakheart's stomach began rumbling. This made him take umbrage against Diggs. "Pish tush, laddie. I'm senior to you, both in season an' rank, and I intend to take lunch forthwith. You stop me at your peril, I warn ye!"

Trajidia came hurrying down the wallsteps. "Oh, Father, pray do not strike him down!"

Foremole Darbee came trundling along the ramparts. "Yurr, thur'll be no strikin' h'inside ee Abbey!"

Oakheart held up his paws. "Who said I was goin' to strike him?"

Drull Hogwife pointed a paw at Trajidia. "She did!"

Young Rambuculus Witherspyk sniggered. "Can I come to lunch with ye, Pa? I'll help ye to strike him!"

Oakheart was incensed at his son's insolence. "One more word out of you an' I'll tan your hide!"

"What's all this about beasts being struck within my walls? The very idea of it!"

Everybeast fell silent at the sudden appearance of Abbess Marjoram. Oakheart faltered lamely. "But we've had no lunch...."

Marjoram faced him squarely, her voice stern. "Is that any reason for argument and talk of striking?"

Trajidia uttered a dramatic sob. "My dear father is

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the gentlest of creatures. He would never strike another beast!"

Drull Hogwife spoke out. "Then why did ye say he would?"

Rambuculus chortled. "She's always sayin' things like that."

Marjoram had heard Rambuculus volunteering to help his father strike Diggs. She fixed both young hogs with a severe stare. "You two are relieved of wall duty. Go and see Gurjee. Tell him that you're on cellar-sweeping duty for the next two days."

She turned to Drull for further information. "Now, how did all this disagreement start?"

Drull explained, "All the shrews marched off to lunch."

Diggs spoke. "Leavin' the walls only half defended, marm."

Oakheart could not resist adding, "Aye, and us only half fed!"

The Abbess relieved the situation. "I'll have Friar Soogum send up lunch for you all. Stay by your posts-- it'll be here shortly. Diggs, Mister Oakheart, stay up here in joint command. As for the shrews, leave them to me."

Divvery and the other Guosim were enjoying a post-lunch nap in the orchard when the Mother Abbess, backed up by Sister Fumbril, marched in on them. Marjoram did not hesitate.

"Excuse me, are we disturbing anything?"

Divvery did not even bother rising. "No, you ain't. We're havin' our lunch, marm."

Marjoram nodded. "So I see. And what about guarding the walltops? Doesn't that interest you?"

Divvery shrugged. "Ain't no lunch up there. We came down to get somethin' to eat. Got a right to vittles, ain't we?"

The Abbess kept her voice level, betraying nothing. "Yes, of course you have. But now you're finished, perhaps you'd better resume guard duties."

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The other shrews looked to their self-appointed leader. Divvery had not stirred, so they stayed put.

Marjoram turned, as if to walk away. "Log a Log Jango will be pleased to hear of your conduct when he returns."

They leapt up immediately and began hurrying off. No Guosim wanted to face his Log a Log for disobedience.

The Abbess called Divvery back. "Not you. I've got a different job I need taking care of."

Sister Fumbril, who was much bigger and stronger than the shrew, tripped him and neatly relieved him of his short rapier. She held him firmly as he blustered, "Wot d'ye think yore doin'? Git yer paws offa me!"

Fumbril smiled sweetly, retaining her strong hold. "I will, young sir, as soon as yore down in the cellars with a sweepin' broom in yore paws. Come along now!"

Granvy had been watching the incident from a distance. He approached Marjoram. Together they watched the rebellious shrew being hauled off to the cellars.

The Recorder commented, "Was he troubling you, Mother Abbess?"

Marjoram settled both paws in her wide sleeves. "Not at all, my friend. The only thing troubling me is those missing Dibbuns. I can't help thinking about them, wondering if they're still alive and well."

In the caverns beneath Althier or--to give the place its real title--Brockhall, the remaining young ones were alive. However, they were not well. Confinement, rough treatment and poor food were taking their toll. Slack-limbed, and dull-eyed, Tura and Midda wandered amongst the youngest creatures, trying to comfort them by telling them to sleep. Mostly the young ones wept, either for their mothers or for food. Calla and Urfa, the leverets, were the youngest of all, mere babes who could hardly talk. Tura and Midda nursed the little hares, rocking them gently, murmuring softly to them.

"There, now, get some dinner soon, sleep now, hush."

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A mousebabe tugged Midda's sleeve. His name was Diggla, and he was at that age when young ones feel compelled to question everything. "Why d'we got t'go asleep?"

Midda pushed him gently down, tucking in his tattered smock. "Because it's time t'go to sleep."

Diggla persisted. "But wot time's sleep time?"

Midda explained patiently, "Nighttime is sleep time. Now, close your eyes."

However, Diggla was not about to comply. "Is it nighttime now?"

Midda pondered the question briefly, then spoke to Tura. "D'you know, I can't tell whether 'tis night or daytime down here, can you?"

The squirrelmaid yawned, lying back wearily. "It's got t'be nighttime 'cos I feel sleepy."

Midda snuggled down next to Diggla. "I suppose you're right. Let's all get some rest. If they bring vittles, those guards'll soon wake us."

Diggla tugged her sleeve again. "Singa warmer teddo song f'me."

Tura opened one eye. "Warmer teddo, what's that?"

Midda sighed. "He means the watermeadow song."

A molebabe piped up gruffly, "Hoi loikes that un. You'm can sing et furr uz."

The Guosim maid chuckled wearily. "How can I refuse? But don't blame me if'n I falls asleep before I finishes it."

Diggla giggled. "Silly, y'can't sing y'self to sleep."

Midda answered wryly, "Huh, can't I, though!" She began singing the beautiful watermeadow ballad, beloved of all creatures who used streams and waterways.

"Hear that hum in the lazy noontide, that's a bee who'll rest a day or so, all around the summer watermeadow, creatures come and go.

Damselflies on gossamer wings,

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water beetles, funny little things, caddis, stone and mayfly, too, skim and hover all round you.

Let your paw trail in the greeny water.

Paddle in the shallows, wade around, where the bleak and tiny minnows quiver, chub rise up with ne'er a sound.

Mid the bulrush and the reed, sundew cleavers and brookweed, toothwort, comfrey, watercress, water lilies calmly rest.

Watermeadow, rainbow-flow'red, spreading far and wide, shimmering 'neath golden sun, 'til shades of eventide."

The final line trailed off as Midda fell into a doze, which soon deepened into sleep. It was not cold in the captives' cavern, merely gloomy and depressing to the spirit. Everybeast lay slumbering in the feeble glow of two small lanterns. All except Diggla the mousebabe.

The little fellow had decided that sleep was not for him-- he felt active and restless. Crawling out from beneath the limp restraint of the shrewmaid's paw, Diggla toddled off to explore his surroundings, free and unhampered.

Sometime later, the guards hauled food and water in for the prisoners. They were roused by a stoat banging a ladle on the side of the meal cauldron, shouting with heavy-pawed humour, "Sooner sleep than eat, would ye? An' us 'ere with the best o' vittles to tempt ye. Wot a fine life youse lucky lot leads, eh? Nothin' t'do but eat, sleep'n play. Well, if'n yer ain't in line afore I counts three, we'll take this feast out an' toss it in the stream. One ..."

The captives hurried into line, some little ones still half asleep, rubbing paws into eyes as they tottered about.

Midda kept hold of Calla and Urfa, the harebabes, whilst Tura tended to some others. Having been served with the

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thin gruel of leftovers and edible roots, they collected their water ration and sat down to eat.

Tura was feeding a molebabe when she noticed one of their charges was missing. She turned to Midda. "Where's the mousebabe, wotsisname, Diggla?"

The Guosim maid cast a searching glance about. "I don't know. Wasn't he with you?"

Tura shook her head, questioning the others, "Jiddle, have you or Jinty seen little Diggla? Has anybeast caught sight of that rascal? Where in the name o' seasons has the mousebabe gone?" Her voice rose in concern. "We'd best ask the guards. He might've wandered past them when they went to fetch the vittles."

Midda silenced her friend. "Sshh! You'll have them back here upsettin' us all. Jinty, sneak up to the entrance and see if ye can spot Diggla anywhere." The Witherspyk hogmaid was not gone long. She scurried back, whispering, "No sign of him out there--those guards are all sitting round nappin'. Must be time for 'em t'sleep."

Midda nodded. "Give 'em a few moments t'drop off, then you an' Jiddle have a good search about this cave. If Diggla ain't out there, he's got t'be in here."

Tura was in agreement. "Aye, hiding someplace, I shouldn't wonder, an' he's missed his dinner. When he's found, I'm goin' to have a word or two with little Master Diggla!"

After the required time, Jinty went to check on the guards. On her return she reported to Midda and Tura, "They're snorin' up a gale, 'specially that big fat stoat. I peeked out into the passage. The two guards at both ends are still awake."

Midda rose slowly. "Right, you'n'Jiddle search to the left. Me an' Tura will take the right. Do it quietly, though, or we'll have the guards in here yellin' an' shoutin'. They'll be in trouble if'n their Quean knows one of us is missin'."

There was not much to look at--one dusty ledge, a few

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crannies. It was a fairly basic old cave. Midda checked the little ones again on the off chance that Diggla had crept back and mingled in with the rest. She shook her head, baffled at the turn of events.

"If he'd wandered outside, those guards would have him by now. Where in the world has that infant vanished to?"

Jinty came hurrying back--she was all agog. "Found him, the blinkin' liddle rogue!"

Tura and Midda followed her to the far left wall at the back of the cave. Tura glared impatiently at the young hog.

"Well, I don't see him! Where is he?"

Jiddle materialised, as if by magic, out of the solid rock and earth face. "Fast asleep behind here--come'n'see!"

Stepping to one side, he disappeared. It was like some sort of optical illusion. They hurried forward to investigate.

There was a slim space twixt an outcrop of rock and the wall of hard-packed earth and root formation--Jiddle's spikes were almost flattened in the narrow aperture. He pointed down to Diggla, who was lying asleep.

Midda humphed in exasperation. "Get him out o' there, this instant!"

Diggla was wakened as Jiddle tried to lift him. "Waaa-haaah! Ya hurtin' me--I stucked!"

Tura stepped forward, calling advice to the young hedgehog. "Go easy with him, Jiddle, he's only a babe. Here, come out, I'll get him!"

Jiddle lifted the complaining mousebabe with a last effort. "No, it's alright, Tura, I've got him--yowch!"

Diggla had retaliated at the rough treatment he was being dealt by biting Jiddle's snout. The young hedgehog tripped, falling backward. He shot out a paw to save himself. It went right through the earth wall, collapsing a portion of it. All that could be seen was Diggla's tail and Jiddle's footpaws, kicking in the narrow space.

Midda grabbed one of the lanterns and thrust it into the gap. "Jiddle, are you alright? Is Diggla hurt?"

The young Witherspyk hog's voice boomed hollowly

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back. "We're both alright. There's some sort of passage in here, but it's terrible dark!"

The little ones gathered round clamouring. "A passage-- Jiddle found a passage!"

Midda whirled on them fiercely. "Shut up! Not another word from you!"

Such was the ferocity of her voice that they fell instantly silent. It took a little while, but with a deal of gentle exertion, Midda and Tura got Jiddle and Diggla out of their predicament and back into the cavern.

Tura was having trouble keeping herself calm at the possibilities of their new find. She took the lantern from Midda, her voice low and urgent. "Act as if nothin' happened, mate. Take these little uns an' settle 'em down, sing to 'em, anything! Jinty, you keep an eye on the guards. Let's hope they sleep good an' sound. I'm goin' back through that crack--it could be a way out o' this place for us. Wish me luck!"

Midda grasped her friend's paw tight. "Luck an' good fortune go with ye, Tura!"

A moment later, the squirrelmaid had vanished behind the narrow rock screen and through the wall opening.

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18

Zwilt the Shade was not having the best of luck with tracking the four vermin who had deserted from Althier. He had trailed them through the woodlands accurately. Then he came to the spot where the four had parted company the stoat and weasel going one way whilst the foxes went the other. Zwilt chose to keep on the trail of Thwip and Binta, wanting to catch them and teach both a long, painful and ultimately fatal lesson.

But as Sniffy, the Guosim Tracker, had observed, foxes were tricky beasts to follow. Accordingly, it was not long before the trail went cold and the sable and his four Ravagers were lost. Zwilt had never been a great tracker--he was used to employing otherbeasts to do the job. He carried on stubbornly for a while before turning to one of his escort, a thin, one-eyed ferret.

"You, what's your name?"

The ferret saluted with his spear. "Aggrim, Sire." Zwilt's cold, dead gaze assessed him. "Can ye track?" Aggrim nodded. "I ain't too bad at follerin' a trail, Sire."

The tall sable sat on a fallen alder. "Take one of these with ye. Cast wide until you come across any prints, foxes

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or not. Then stay where those tracks are and send the other guard back here to me with the information. Do ye understand that?"

Aggrim saluted again. "Aye, Sire. Feril, you come with me."

Peril, a younger ferret, trotted off behind him.

Zwilt took out his long broadsword and honed its double edges on a smooth stone. The two guards did their best not to look nervous. Nobeast could tell what was on the sable's mind. However, he ignored them, concentrating almost lovingly on caressing his blade with the stone slowly, evenly. Listening to the soft hiss of rock upon steel, planning a suitable fate for the two foxes who had deserted their post.

Far sooner than he expected, Feril came loping furtively back. His voice sounded low and eager. "Sire, Aggrim's not only found tracks, but he's spotted somebeasts, not too far from here!"

Zwilt's impassive face never changed expression. "Where?"

Feril pointed. "Over that ways, Sire. There's two little uns wot must've escaped from Althier, a big mole, one o' those riverdogs, a shrew"--he halted, smiling, as he had saved the best for last--"an' ye recall that big rabbet ye met at the Redwall place? Well, him, too!"

The smile that dawned over the sable's features was one of pure evil. He murmured softly to his guards, "You three, along with Aggrim, can take care of the riverdog, mole and shrew. Slay the little uns, too. They're more trouble than they're worth. But not a word to Quean Vilaya, or you'll answer to me. As for the rabbet, he's mine. Leave him to me. Understood?"

As they nodded, Zwilt beckoned to Feril. "Lead on."

Buckler and his friends were taken completely by surprise. Following Sniffy, who was leading them through a thick

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bed of tall ferns, they did not see the enemy until the vermin were almost upon them. They were ambushed from both sides.

Skipper heard a movement to his left. He turned, calling out, "Wot the--"

A spearhaf t thudded into his jaw, and he fell. Then chaos broke loose. Axtel threw himself across Tassy and Borti, protecting them with his body as he lashed out with his crutch, slaying Feril with a mighty blow to the throat.

Sniffy yelled as he saw Zwilt rise up at Buckler's back. "Buck, behind ye!"

A spear took the Guosim Tracker through the shoulder. He held on to it, drawing his short rapier and fending off his attacker.

Buckler wheeled about swiftly, his own long rapier out and ready as Zwilt's heavier broadsword crashed down against it. The young hare's paws went numb from the shock, but he knew he was fighting for his life, so he parried the stroke.

Zwilt turned to one side, anticipating a lunge, which did not come--Buckler knew the sable's tactic, to slash down as he went by. Dropping back, he made his assailant come to him.

Zwilt was forced to move forward. Caught upon the wrong footpaw, he stumbled. Buckler's long blade came up at him in a blur of small circles. It caught the broadsword in a whirl of lightning motion, twisting it from Zwilt's grasp.

With his paws still stinging from Zwilt's first blow, Buckler glimpsed Aggrim thrusting his spearpoint down at Skipper, who was still half stunned. To distract the ferret, Buckler yelled the Long Patrol war cry.

"Eulaaaaaliiiaaa!"

He flung himself through the air, blade outstretched. Aggrim paused long enough to seal his own fate. He fell with the blade through him and Buckler on top of it.

Now Skipper was up. He threw his lance, which pierced

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another Ravager at the exact moment that Axtel's war hammer snuffed out the foebeast's life.

Tassy wriggled free of the Warrior mole. Grabbing a stone, she hurled it at the fallen vermin. "Ooh, ye naughty wicked beast, take that!"

Axtel winked at the little Redwaller. "Thankee, likkle marm, but oi a'ready fixed 'im!"

Buckler scrambled upright. Retrieving his blade, he turned to reenter the fray, but it was all over. The four vermin guard were slain. And Zwilt the Shade had vanished--he was gone!

"Ahoy, mates, we're comin'! Logalogalogaloooooog!" Crashing through the ferns, Jango and Big Bartij came charging in. The Shrew Chieftain was disappointed.

"Yah, mudlumps, we've missed the battle!"

Sniffy staunched his shoulder wound with a clump of moss. "Aye, Chief, so ye did. Wot 'appened with the stoat'n'weasel?"

Jango slashed at the ferns with his rapier--he was not happy. "Hah, my one got away. Greasy-livered swab, I never knew stoats could run that fast. Took off like a duck with its bum afire, prob'ly still runnin'."

Skipper chuckled. "An' the other one, the weasel?"

Bartij was a simple soul. Toting a hefty oak limb, he explained apologetically, "He was tryin' to run me through with a spear, so I had t'stop him. Didn't think I hit him that hard, really." His homely face broke out in a smile as he spotted Tassy. "Hoho, lookit wot we got here--a Redwall Dibbun!"

Jango had found his little son, Borti. The pair of them were laughing and weeping, hugging each other fiercely.

Buckler smiled. "There's a happy sight for ye!"

Mumzy suddenly bustled in from the shrubbery. "A grand ould sight I'm sure, but 'twill look much better when ye clear them durty varmint carcasses away!"

Hiding his surprise, Buckler bowed. "Sorry about that, marm. We'll get right to it."

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The water vole folded her paws firmly. "Sure, there'll not be a bite o' vittles for ye 'til this lot is floatin' downstream. Now, would I be wrong in sayin' that yore lookin' for more missin' babbies?"

Buckler touched his lips to her paw. "You'd be correct, m'dear. Pray, where might we find 'em?"

Mumzy smiled at Buckler, giving him a playful push, which almost sent him sprawling. "Ah, will ye lissen t'the silver tongue on that un? There's a creature wid manners for ye. Come on, then. Foller Mumzy an' we'll get ye fed an' acquainted wid the liddle mites."

Skipper gave her an elegant rudder salute. "We'd be forever in yore debt, me darlin'."

Mumzy dug an elbow into Jango's side, winding him. "Sure, an' there's another one born with his tongue in the honeypot. Well, flatter away, me fine friends, compliments are scarce these days fer an ould vole wife like meself!"

They followed her tortuous route, which twisted and turned until Sniffy scratched his head, declaring, " 'Tis a bloomin' wonder she doesn't git 'erself lost. I never seen a better-covered trail than this un, mates!"

On reaching the water vole's dwelling, they entered through the curtain of vegetation which masked it.

Guffy immediately hugged Skipper's rudder. "Oi knowed ee'd cumm furr us'n's, zurr. Oi wuz surrtin!"

Flib jibed the molebabe cheerfully, "Hah, that ain't wot yew was sayin' when we was locked up in that cave!"

Jango tried to hide his surprise at the sight of his daughter. "Petunia Rosebud, is that you?"

The rebellious Guosim maid stuck out her chin. "No, it ain't. It's Flib, see, me name's Flib!"

The Shrew Chieftain was equally stubborn. "Well, me an' yore ma named ye Petunia Rosebud. Huh, Flib sounds like some kind o' fish. 'Tain't a proper name for the daughter of a Log a Log."

Flib stood face-to-face with her father, eyes blazing. "Well, 'tis the name I gave meself, an' I like it, see!"

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Jango was shaking from paw to tail. "Ye ... ye ... hard-faced young--"

Skipper stepped between them. "Ahoy mates, wot's all this? A fine pair you two are, bickerin' an arguin' like enemies. Wot's the matter with ye, eh? Jango, ain't you glad t'see yore daughter alive an' well? Flib, ye should be happy that yore pa came searchin' an' found ye!"

Mumzy chipped in. "Sure, ain't it the truth? Huh, ye should be ashamed o' yerselves, carryin' on like two starlin's over a worm. An' wot for, pray? Does it matter whether she's called Peculiar Nosebud, Flibbity Jib, or Wifflesplotch? Get some sense into yore thick 'eads. Come here!"

Grabbing both shrews, the water vole thrust them together. "Flib, he's yore da an' yore his daughter. Jango, she's yore blood kin, so act like a proper father t'the maid. Now, give each other a big kiss, or ye'll both feel the back o' me paw. Go on!"

Jango was still carrying Borti, who got squeezed between them both and uttered his first full word. "Gerroff!"

Father and daughter started laughing at the ridiculous situation. Jango kissed her, then tweaked her snout.

"Righto, Flib it is, then, ye disobedient wretch!"

Wiping tears from her eyes, Flib pinched Jango's cheek hard. "Log a Log Jango Bigboat, ye grumpy ole Guosim!"

The exchange seemed to clear the air, but no food was forthcoming until Skipper and Big Bartij disposed of the slain vermin in the fast-flowing stream. Whilst they were away, Mumzy, who was well versed in most things, treated the wounded with her own homemade remedies.

"Now then, Sniffy, me ould tater, grit yore teeth an' be brave. Aye, an' you, too, big molebeast, though I can't see you cryin' out in pain, warrior that ye are."

Axtel held up his footpaw. "Ee likkle Tassymaid fixed et up, marm, but if'n it bein' not to yore loikin' then doo's wot ee must!"

Mumzy made two evil-smelling poultices, which she

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laid on bark and moss. The water vole placed them over the fire until they were steaming, then applied them to the wounds of each creature. Passing Tassy some woven grass strands, she patted her back.

"Bind 'em up now, missy, like a grand ould healer!" When they were treated and Skipper returned with Bartij, Mumzy served them with huge bowls of what she termed Streamabye Stew. It went down well with chestnut bread and pear'n'apple cordial.

As they supped, Buckler said the words they were waiting to hear. "Right, friends. It's a Council of War!" He went straight to Axtel. "This place that you rescued the young uns from, could you find it again, sir?"

The Warrior mole left no room for doubt. "Burr, h'oi surr-pintly cudd, zurr. 'Tis unner a gurt ole h'oaky tree--"

Skipper interrupted. "A massive, big thing? Maybe four-topped, would ye say?"

Axtel nodded. "Aye, that ud be et. 'Tis filled wi' tunnels an' caves unnerneath. They'm gotten ee likkle uns thurr."

Skipper's powerful rudder slapped the ground hard. "I've seen it afore, I'm sure of it. Aye, an' I reckon I could find it agin, Buck!"

Jango turned to his daughter. "How many vermin have they got down there, Flib?"

The shrewmaid put aside her drink. "There's quite a few. I've counted a score or more different ones, rats, ferrets, weasels. I s'pose they come an' go. But there's two that's always there, a nasty liddle ole rat an' the one called Sable Quean. She's real evil an' scary. I was frightened of 'er."

Buckler nodded. "From what I've seen of her, I can understand ye bein' fearful. Did ye see any other beasts down there? Think."

Flib nodded. "Aye, I saw the tall one who carries the big sword. Zwilt, that's his name. I think he's some sort o' chief, though the Quean is the mighty one. I 'eard the liddle rat callin' her that."

Buckler looked pensive. "Hmm, so there's a score or

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more Ravagers down there--say about thirty--an' you say y'could find the place, Skip?"

The Otter Chieftain pawed at his javelin. "Pretty sure I could, matey. Are ye plannin' a move on the vermin, some sort o' lightnin' strike?"

The young hare smiled grimly. " 'Tis a nice thought, but there's only six of us. Well, four an' two wounded. Goin' up against thirty of 'em, I think we'd be on a loser."

Jango growled, "I know you've got some kind o' plan, Buck--come on, out with it."

Buckler looked at the eager faces of his friends. "Think about this. If'n there's thirty down there, well, they've got another hundred an' seventy to call upon. You saw them when they came to Redwall. There was at least tenscore, an' they all seemed like seasoned fightin' vermin."

Bartij scratched his headspikes. "So yore tellin' us it can't be done, Buck?"

The Blademaster held up his paws. "I never said that, but how's this for a plan of action: Axtel, could you dig a way back into Althier?"

The big mole replied without hesitation. "Ho aye, zurr. Oi cuddent be a-diggen too farst wi' this paw oi moine, but oi cudd do et."

Buckler patted Axtel's huge paw, then turned to Jango. "An' how many fightin' Guosim have ye got to paw?"

The Log a Log slapped his rapier hilt. "Threescore, mate, an' every one a proper battler, ready an' willin' at my command!"

Mumzy dished out more of her tasty Streamabye Stew, serving Buckler an extra-large portion. "Sure, an' aren't you the canny beast? I likes the sound of yore plan. Carry on, Bucko!"

Buckler smiled. "Thankee, marm. Now, the first thing is to get these young uns back to the Abbey. Once they're safe, we can move fast, 'cos that'll be the plan. Like you said, Skip, a lightning strike, quick'n'hard!"

Mumzy interrupted. "Quick'n'hard, is it? Well, ye won't

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be so swift wid two ould wounded beasts in tow. I'll look after Sniffy an' Axtel 'til ye get back in full force." She cast a glance at the Dibbuns. "Ah, 'tis a pity they'll be goin' with ye. I likes the liddle babbies. Don't suppose there's any chance one of 'em could stay here with an ould volewife? It'd be grand fun, an' I'd feed the mite well."

Skipper gave Mumzy a hug. "It ain't possible, marm, but when this is all over, ye can come an' live at our Abbey. There's enough babes t'keep anybeast busy for ten seasons! Right then, mates, shall we get movin'?"

They were soon underway, with Skipper in the lead. Mumzy pressed small parcels of goodies upon the young ones. "Here now, me darlin's, there's a few slices of me grandest plum cake. That'll keep ye goin' 'til ye get back home. I'll see ye agin when I comes to yore fine Abbey t'live!"

Jango sat baby Borti on his shoulders, and Buckler slung Guffy up on his back.

Flib muttered to Buckler as they jogged through the woodlands, "I'll be comin' back with ye for this lightnin' raid. I ain't sittin' round Redwall with a pile of babes an' gossipin' mothers."

Jango had overheard his daughter. "So, you'll be takin' part in the attack, will ye?" Flib stared bleakly at her father. She seemed several seasons older all of a sudden. "Aye, I will!"

Jango nodded. "Then I suppose ye will!"

There was no way that Midda could keep the other captives totally quiet. Most of them were chattering away, all agog with what might lie behind the crack at the rear of the cave wall. One or two even ventured to the entrance of the rift, trying to peer in and maybe catch a glimpse of Tura. Midda drew the smallest babes close to her. She hummed tunes softly, rocking back and forth, hoping they would drop off.

Jiddle and Jinty began calling into the rocky fissure, in what they imagined were furtive undertones.

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"Tura, can ye hear us? What's it like in there?"

"Aye, ye can tell us--have y'found a way out?"

A harsh vermin voice made them jump with fright. "Wot's goin' on in 'ere? Wot's all the shoutin' about?"

The fat stoat guard, who had wakened, eyed them blearily. Jiddle and Jinty approached him, trying to look innocent.

"We were only playin', sir."

"Aye, 'cos we couldn't sleep, sir."

The stoat glared at them. He was not in a good mood. "Oh, playin' were ye, 'cos ye couldn't sleep? Well, I can sleep, see. I'm bone tired, an' it was yore playin' wot woke me up. Now, any more noise outta youse two, an' we'll play a little game called Beat the Hogs!" He waved his spearhaft at the young Witherspyk hedgehogs. "So just wake me agin, ye spiky brats, just one peep outta any of youse, an' I'll bring ye out in blood blisters!"

Midda watched the stoat lumbering off. She was about to give a sigh of relief when he turned, looking around suspiciously.

"Why's it so dark in 'ere? Where's the other lantern? There should be two of 'em in 'ere."

Midda tried to keep the panic out of her voice. She babbled nervously, knowing that Tura had taken the other lantern with her. "Er, haha, it's always dark in here, sir. I always thought we had only the one lantern--ain't that right, Diggla?"

"No, we got two lanter's. Too'a squiggle got one."

Midda groaned inwardly, until Tura startled the fat stoat by looming up out of the darkness with the extinguished lantern in her paw.

"The little un's right, sir. We have got two lanterns. Here's the other one, but it's gone out."

The vermin guard grabbed it roughly from the squirrelmaid. "Gone out, eh? Wait there!"

He stumped off, returning a moment later with a lighted lantern, which he passed to Midda. "Here's a new un. Yore

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in charge of it. Don't let these liddle brats play with it an' it'll stay lit, unnerstand?"

There was genuine relief in the shrewmaid's voice. "Aye, sir. I'll look after it, thankee sir!"

The stoat stared sourly at her. "Never mind thankee sir. Yew just keep this lot quiet an' let me get a bit o' sleep ... or else!"

He went off back to the guardpost, where within a short time, his slobbering snores were audible.

Tura sat down next to Midda. They began conversing in hushed whispers.

"Whew, you just made it back in time, Tura. Well, what did ye find in there?"

Tura glanced at Jinty, Jiddle and some of the others who had gathered around to listen. "Now, hold yore silence or we'll have that stoat back in here. There's a tunnel behind that back wall!"

Midda's paw shot out, gagging Jiddle, who was about to squeak aloud happily. The young hog mumbled, "Mm surry" allowing Tura to continue.

"Aye, a long dark tunnel. It goes both ways, t'the left an' right. I took a look both ways but couldn't stay long enough. I had t'come back when I heard you two young thick'eads yellin'. D'ye realise that yore voices echo all round behind that wall?"

Tura issued them both with a stern look before she carried on. "I don't know, but I had a feelin' that the tunnel t'the left was the one I fancied."

Midda clasped her friend's paw. "You did well, mate, an' if ye want to go left down the tunnel, then left it is!" She turned as Jinty's paw tapped her back. "What is it? Keep yore voice down."

The Witherspyk hogmaid asked timidly, "Two things, really. Are we all goin'? And when?"

Tura chuckled quietly. "Of course we're all goin'. If we're goin' to escape, then nobeast gets left behind."

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Midda stroked little Diggla's head; he was dropping off. "Right, but when'll be the best time to go?"

Jiddle was not in any doubt. "There'll never be a better time than now, while the guards are asleep!"

Tura nodded. "He's right, Midda, but we'll have to move fast. Once they find we've gone, that Sable Quean'll have the whole lot of 'em right on our tails!"

"Unless ...I"

She looked questioningly at Jiddle. "Unless what?"

The young hog gave a sly smile. "Unless we block the openin'--sort of disguise it so they can't tell where we've gone to."

Tura tweaked his snout. "That's a great idea. How d'ye think we should go about it?"

Jiddle cast swift glances around the cavern, his ingenuity coming to the fore as he outlined his scheme.

Jinty went first. Once she was through the crack, she held up a lantern and guided the youngest ones through. When only Midda, Tura and Jiddle were left, they scoured the cave for any loose rock and rubble. There were some quite sizeable lumps of stone, large clumps of earth made up of dead roots and clay-based soil and some single pieces of thicker root limbs. Working swiftly and noiselessly, they passed the material through to Jinty, who piled it up. "That should be enough, mates. Come on through now."

Once on the other side, Jinty and her brother led the little ones off down the left of the tunnel, holding up a lantern to guide their way. With the aid of the remaining lantern, Tura and Midda commenced blocking up the escape hole. They jammed the rocks, earth clumps and root limbs into the narrow aperture, ramming it hard with their footpaws. They completed the task, panting with the force of their efforts.

Midda gave the jammed mass a final pat. "There, I think that should do it. D'you think it'll fool 'em?"

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Tura shrugged. "Well, if'n it doesn't, let's just hope it buys us enough time to get clear away."

They hurried off to join the others, the lantern casting a pool of light around the rough-hewn tunnel as they went.

The passage took a sharp bend after a while. That was where they came upon Jiddle and Jinty sitting in a huddle with the little ones.

Tura reproved the Witherspyk hogs. "Wot'n the name o' fur'n'fancies are ye thinkin' of, sittin' about like moles at a meetin'? We're supposed t'be bloomin' well escapin'!"

Jinty indicated the babes, some of whom were curled up slumbering soundly. "It ain't our fault. It's these little uns--they're tired. Some can't go any further without rest."

Tura lifted the mousebabe Diggla up onto her back. "Well, we can't stop here. We'll just have to carry 'em. You two take one apiece. Me'n Midda will take another two. The rest look fit enough to go on."

Midda heaved one of the harebabes onto her shoulders, jollying the rest along with a cheery comment. "Haha, you lot are all bigbeasts now--y'don't need carryin', do ye!"

The remaining babes all voiced their various opinions.

"Gurr, oi'm turrible 'ungry!"

"An I be thirsty, too--gimme a drink, Midda!"

A volebabe set them all off with her impassioned wails. "Waaahaahhaah! I want my mammy!"

Immediately, the tunnel echoed to the cries of homesick babes wanting mothers, fathers and grandkin.

Midda decided the only way to be kind was to take a firm stand and suffer no nonsense. Holding up her lantern, she set off down the tunnel with the harebabe Urfa on her back, calling to the others, "You'd best follow me, then, 'cos ye won't get mammies, daddies, vittles or drinks by sittin' there cryin'. Ain't that right, Tura?"

The squirrelmaid set off after her, assuring the babes, "Aye, that's right enough. You come with us an' soon you'll get everythin'--vittles, kinbeasts, the lot!"

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Once Jiddle had picked up the remaining lantern and followed Midda, the rest scrambled to join them. Nobeast wanted to be left alone in a darkened tunnel. However, it did not take long before the questions started, little ones being what they were. Both Midda and Tura did their best to answer.

"When do I sees my mammy?"

"Oh, t'won't be long now. Just keep goin'."

"Wot sort o' vikkles bees us'n's agoin' t'get?"

"Er, nice vittles, I imagine, only the best."

"Do we gets h'apple pudden?"

"Aye, lots of apple pudden."

"Wiv hunny on, an' meddycream?"

"As much as ye like and arrowroot sauce, nice'n'hot."

"Yikk, I not like harry'oot sauce, not nice."

"Then you don't have to have it. Catch up, now."

"Yurr, wot we'm bee's a-drinken, marm?"

Tura stifled an anguished groan. "What d'ye like to drink, eh?"

Mousebabe Diggla, from his perch on the squirrelmaid's back, shouted aloud into her ear, "Straw'bee fizz, dat's wot us likes!"

Tura clapped a paw to her ear. "Right, strawberry fizz it is!"

The babes set up a rousing cheer. Apparently strawberry fizz was a firm favourite with little ones.

They carried on along the tunnel until Tura suddenly halted. Midda bumped into her.

"What's up, mate? Why've ye stopped?"

The splashing was audible underpaw. Both lanterns were held up, revealing a flooded expanse lying ahead of them.

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19

It was the fat stoat who discovered the loss of the captives. Fearful of the consequences, he searched the deserted cave in silence. His lantern revealed nothing but shadows. Realising that this would mean an instant death sentence from the ruthless Sable Quean, he kept quiet. Strolling out, he hung up his lantern at the entrance, then spoke casually to the other three vermin who were posted outside.

"All quiet in there. They won't wake 'til they're called fer vittles. We'll let the relief guard do that."

When the next four vermin marched up, the fat stoat reassured them in a routine manner. "The brats are still takin' their shuteye. No rush to feed 'em yet. They'll let ye know when they wakes up, 'ungry, noisy liddle nuisances!"

The fat stoat hurried off, satisfied with his pretence. He would not be the one to take the blame if questions were asked--his fellow guards would back him up, anything to avoid the wrath of Vilaya.

It was only when the guards wheeled the cauldrons of food and water in that they became aware something was wrong.

An older ferret called into the gloomy interior, "Wot's 'appened to the lanterns? It's dark in 'ere!" A lanky rat, who had not been paying attention, banged

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a ladle on the side of the cauldron. "Cumm an' gerrit! 'Ere's yer vi--oof!"

The ferret had whacked him in the stomach with his spearbutt. He grabbed the ladle and flung it at the rat.

"Idjit, can't yer see there's nobeast 'ere?"

Another rat, who was in charge of the water, blurted out, "Wotjer mean, not 'ere? Where've they gone?"

There was panic in the ferret's voice as he shouted, "I dunno, do you? Look, see fer yerself!"

The lanky rat staggered up off the floor, yelling, "Escape! Escape! The prisoners've escaped!"

Vilaya and Dirva arrived hurriedly, with an armed guard of Ravagers which included the four who had been on duty previously. Lanterns flooded into the cavern, illuminating it brightly.

Dirva set about the closest vermin with a stick. "Search this place. Find 'em. Now!"

"No. Everybeast stand still--stay where you are!"

They froze at the high-pitched, imperious tone of the Sable Quean, who stood where they could all see her.

Many of the vermin were bigger than she, brawnier, more hefty, but they all feared Vilaya. Even Dirva, her aged soothsayer, could sense the foreboding in the air. The sable's bright eyes glittered. Her small, sharp teeth showed as she hissed softly. Every eye was riveted on the sleek barbaric figure with her silken purple cloak and her necklace of snake fangs. Vilaya was every inch a ruler who had to be obeyed under pain of death.

She spoke slowly and distinctively. "Who are the guards on duty here?"

The older ferret stood forward, accompanied by the lanky rat and two others, both rats.

Vilaya nodded to the ferret. "Make your report to me."

The ferret swallowed several times before he found his voice. "Majesty, we had just taken over from the last guards. We went in with the vittles, but they was all gone--the lanterns was gone, too, it was dark."

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The Sable Quean allowed an agonising moment to pass before she spoke. "Before you went in, could you hear the prisoners talking or moving around?"

The four shook their heads, with the ferret answering for them. "There wasn't any sound at all from in there, Majesty. We thought they was all asleep. The others we took over from said they was afore they went off duty."

Vilaya toyed with the crystal vial hanging about her neck. "Bring them here to me."

Dirva had the previous guard line up quickly--the fat stoat, a pair of weasels and a rat. They stood quaking, with their eyes fixed on the ground, not even daring to look at each other.

The silence became almost deafening as Vilaya gazed from one to the other. She spoke suddenly and sharply, snapping the words out. "Who was the last beast to see the prisoners?"

They were too frightened to reply, but she noticed that three of them shot a swift glance at the stoat. She beckoned him to her with one claw, continuing the movement until he was so close that he could feel her breath upon his snout. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Look at me and speak truly. When did ye last see them?"

The fat stoat's face was trembling so hard that he could only stammer. "M-m-m-maj--"

The savage, fiery eyes penetrated his very being. "You never saw them at all, did you? The prisoners were already gone. I know they were. Tell me I'm right."

The fat stoat had totally lost the power of speech. He was only able to nod his head. She turned her gaze on his three companions, selecting the rat.

"What did he tell you? Have no fear, speak."

The rat was so relieved that he gabbled hurriedly, "Majesty, 'e said that they was asleep an' ter let the new guards wake 'em when they serves vittles."

She glanced at both the weasels, who were nodding furiously. Having heard what she wanted, Vilaya summed the

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situation up. "So, our prisoners have escaped. They never left this cave by the entrance. With sentries posted all over Althier, they would have been noticed right away. That means they left here by another way. What were they attempting last time, a tunnel? Search this cave for tunnels!"

The guards hastened forward but were halted by their ruler's upraised paw and her scornful voice.

"Fools, stay where you are. Dirva, you do it."

The old rat cackled as she toured the area, tapping the walls with a stick. "All solid rock. Ye said yoreself to put 'em in one where they couldn't tunnel out. So where've the liddle uns gone, eh?"

Dirva carried on around the walls, tapping high and low. "Like ye said, Mighty One, they ain't left by the entrance. So where ... where ... where ... ahaah!"

Dirva stopped at the disguised rift, beckoning lanterns to the spot. "This must be it!" She rooted amongst the loose rubble which was blocking the exit. "I was right--lookit this!"

The ancient rat was holding up a small wooden spoon, which had belonged to one of the young fugitives.

Vilaya inspected the escape exit. "Unblock it. Use your spearpoints and knives, quickly!"

The fat stoat, thinking he could redeem himself by helping with the work, grabbed his spear.

Vilaya shook her head. "Not you. Give me that spear."

The stoat passed her the spear, pleading, "But, Majesty, I'll find 'em for ye. Forgive me, Mighty One!"

The other Ravagers present turned their eyes away as the Quean lunged with the weapon. Vilaya looked down impassively at the dying stoat. "Now you are forgiven. How does it feel?"

The fat stoat died without saying a single word.

Vilaya sensed rather than saw Zwilt the Shade enter the cave.

Old Dirva watched him sweep by. "Well, lookit who's back!"

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The tall sable surveyed the scene quickly "What's been going on here?"

Vilaya countered the question with one of her own. "Where are the runaways you said you'd bring back?"

Zwilt had his story ready. He could not tell his Quean what really happened.

"The runaways are all dead. I caught up with them out in the woodlands. They fought, but I slew them all."

Dirva sniggered. "An' what of the four Ravagers who were with ye? I see they haven't returned."

Zwilt did his best to ignore her whilst continuing with his original enquiry. "They were slain in the fight. Where are the captives?"

Vilaya nodded toward the rear wall, where the guards were trying to break through with their weapons. "Somewhere, at the back of there--we'll soon find out. Come on, you idiots, a few woodland babes did that. Put your backs into it, weaklings!"

Zwilt inspected the congested gap, noting the bent spearpoints and blades of the workers. "Hmm, that's because it was blocked from the other side. Instead of trying to pull those rocks out, why don't you try to push them back?"

Vilaya saw the wisdom in his suggestion. "Do as Commander Zwilt says. Jump to it, I want those captives found and brought back here!"

A sarcastic note crept into Zwilt's tone. "And what if they're not found? We're due back at that Abbey sometime soon. I think your captives will be long gone by now. So what'll you do then, O Mighty One?"

It was the insolent way in which Zwilt used her title that nettled Vilaya. Her eyes flashed angrily. "Tell me, O Great Commander who cannot bring back a few pitiful runaway guards, what would you do?"

Zwilt's eyes betrayed nothing although he was seething inside. He did, however, broach a solution. "I would do what I first wanted to--attack Redwall. You saw how

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few real warriors they have. We have almost two hundred trained fighters. I could do it if you wanted me to."

The Sable Quean paused as if pondering his suggestion. She gave her reply in a harsh regal voice. "I'll tell you what I want you to do. I want you to realise that I'm your Quean! Now, help to get that rubbish out of the way and get after those escaped prisoners ... or else!"

Zwilt kept his distance from Vilaya wisely, knowing how swift she could be with her tiny poisoned dagger. He dropped his paw to his sword hilt. "Or else what? You seem to have forgotten that I've slain more beasts than you've eaten suppers. I'll obey you for now, but if the captives can't be found, then I'll conquer Redwall, with or without you!"

Vilaya smiled. "But for now you will obey me. So get to it, Zwilt. Bring the captives back here."

The tall sable smiled back at her. "As you wish, Majesty. Step aside, if ye please."

Vilaya stepped away from the blocked entrance.

Zwilt moved sideways to pass by her, remarking, "Now we know where we both stand, 'twould not be wise for me to turn my back upon you."

Vilaya touched the crystal sheath which held her lethal little blade. She was still smiling.

"Aye, Zwilt, 'twould not be wise at all, though sometimes you do not even have to turn your back on the Sable Quean. Ask him."

She walked gracefully off, pointing to the dead stoat.

It was a high summer day. From a cloudless blue sky, warm sunlight beamed down on the ramparts of Red-wall Abbey. Abbess Marjoram peered out at the path to the south. It lay shimmering and silent. Diggs, Foremole Darbee and Granvy stood with Marjoram at the southwest wall corner.

Foremole wiped a spotted kerchief across his eyes, then looked away. "Hurr, moi ole eyes be wored owt a-starin' at

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ee parth. They still h'aint nobeast a-cummen, nay marm, thurr b'aint, an' us'n's bee'd yurr since brekkist."

The Abbess was clearly worried. She expressed her fears openly. "Really, I'm at a loss what to do. The vermin and their Quean are supposed to be back today. I've got to give them an answer, but without Skipper and Buckler here, we're at a disadvantage."

Granvy turned his attention to the woodland area beyond the south common land. "We'd better just hope that Buckler's party get back here ahead of the Ravagers. It's only just midday--there's time yet."

Diggs was, as ever, cheerfully optimistic. "Indeed there is, marm. Lashin's o' the jolly old daylight left, eh, wot! Why, bless me snout if old Buck doesn't come bowlin' along at any blinkin' minute. I'll wager he'll be singin' a song an' dancin' a bloomin' jig, bearing good tidin's and happy news an' whatnot. Don't fret, marm!"

Marjoram could not help smiling at the ebullient hare. "You seem to put great faith in your friend."

The tubby hare chortled. "Well, the blighter ain't let me down yet, marm. Buckler Kordyne's as true blue an' trusty as anybeast alive, ye can take that from me!"

He turned to view the east and north walls, rubbing his paws in anticipation at what he saw. "I say, they're bringin' lunch around. Well, the bloomin' cheek, servin' those Guosim an' Witherspyks first, instead of me, their superior officer!" Cupping paws around his mouth, Diggs bellowed to Friar Soogum and his helpers, "Never mind servin' the rabble first. What about the quality chaps, eh? There'd better be loads o' scoff left when ye get over here ... or!"

Sister Fumbril roared back in a fearsome voice, "Or wot, ye young lard bucket?"

Her reply did not seem to bother Diggs, who grinned winningly as he called back, "Or we'll starve, an' you'll never know the blinkin' pleasure of our company ever again, so there!"

Friar Soogum yelled, "That'd be a mercy, sir!"

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Pushing their trolleys, Soogum and his servers trundled up. The Friar waved a ladle. "Summer veggible soup, celery'n'apple crumble, with damson tart an' blackberry cordial to follow. HowTl that suit ye, Mister Diggs?"

Disguising his delight behind a mournful face, Diggs scowled. "Hmmph, suppose a chap could manage to bally well force a bit down, wot!"

Sister Fumbril nodded southward across the walltop. "Well, don't force too much down that famine face o' your'n. Mayhaps yore friends might like some?"

Abbess Marjoram wheeled about and spotted Buckler emerging from the fringe of the south woodlands. Whooping and yelling, she scrambled up onto the battlements. "Over here, my friend, over here!" She almost overbalanced, until Fumbril reached out and helped her down.

The big jolly otter laughed. "Calm down, Marj. He'd have a job to miss the sight o' Redwall Abbey. Though ye don't usually see a Mother Abbess dancin' on the battlements!"

Drull Hogwife and Cellarmole Gurjee hurried to open the small south wallgate. Buckler, Jango, Skipper and Bartij stood to one side as Flib led the four Dibbuns inside.

Word had gone round the Abbey like wildfire. Red-wallers came flocking down to meet Tassy, Guffy, Gurchen and Borti.

The Log a Log's wife, Furm, threw herself upon the babe. "Oh, Borti, my liddle Borti, yore safe!"

Though still not fully recovered from her injuries, Clarinna had hastened down from the Infirmary. Pushing her way through the onlookers, she wailed, "My babes, Urfa, Calla, where are they? You said that you'd bring them back, Buckler. Where are they?"

Buckler signalled Sister Fumbril. Between them, they ushered the distraught mother back to the Abbey as Buckler reassured her in a hopeful manner. "Don't worry, Clarinna. I know exactly where they are. Now we have the

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vermins' location, I'll make sure that your babes are back with you shortly."

Abbess Marjoram, who had heard Buckler, whispered to Skipper, "Is that right? D'you know where the little ones are being held?"

The Otter Chieftain called out aloud, "No sense in whis-perin' about it, marm. There's some here who'd like t'know where their Dibbuns are, right?"

Marjoram held up her paws as the assembly began a clamour. "Everybeast not on wall duty go to the orchard. We'll take lunch there and hear all the news from our friends."

Dymphnia Witherspyk blew her snout upon her apron hem. "Oh, I won't be able to eat a single bite until I know about my twins, Jiddle and Jinty. Are they alive an' safe?"

Oakheart put his paw about her comfortingly. "Now, now, my dear. Come along and we'll hear the news together. Forget the food."

Their impudent son, Rambuculus, sniggered, "Never mind, Ma. I'll scoff yore lunch for ye!"

Trajidia cast out a paw dramatically, which accidentally caught Rambuculus square on the jaw, felling him. Trajidia ignored his prostrate figure, giving theatrical vent to her feelings. "Oh, brother, you heartless wretch, have you no feelings for your kinbeasts and our dear parents?"

The Witherspyk grandmother, Crumfiss, prodded Trajidia with her stick. "Well hit, young un. Leave him there an' let's git some lunch. I'm famished!"

Passing over his command to the Guosim Divvery, Diggs came down from the ramparts to join his companion.

"What ho, Buck! As y'see, I've kept an iron paw on things back here, stemmed a shrew mutiny an' had the defenders on their mettle in good style. So, give us the news, mate. When do we launch a full-scale attack on the rascally old vermin types, wot? I've worked up a super ambush for when they run up here today. Now, what we do is this---"

Buckler interrupted him. "I don't think they'll be com

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ing back today, Diggs. We had a small run-in with Zwilt an' a few others back there. Four of 'em went down, but Zwilt got away. Shame, really. I was longin' to cross blades with that evil scum."

Twilight was falling over the orchard by the time everything had been talked about.

The Abbess went over what had been said. "So what you're saying is that this Warrior mole Axtel knows exactly where the young uns are imprisoned."

Skipper nodded. "Right, marm. I know the place myself. In fact, I'm sure I could find it. That big oak, it's a whole pile o' caves an' passages under the roots."

Granvy interrupted. "It's the hideout which the vermin call Althier--but really it's the old Corim headquarters that was known originally as Brockhall."

Marjoram sipped some cold mint tea. "Then I take it you intend attacking the place to free the young uns. But what about the Sable Quean and the beast called Zwilt?"

Buckler shrugged. "It doesn't look like they'll be payin' us a visit today but that doesn't mean they won't show up, marm. Maybe they're on their way here right now, though somehow I doubt it. Anyhow, if they don't show up by midday tomorrow, it ain't likely that they will. But the Abbey must still be defended, or at least, seem to be defended."

The Abbess put aside her tea. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Skipper winked at Marjoram. "Let me explain, marm. Just after midday tomorrow, Buck an' Diggs are goin' to slip out o' Redwall. With them'll be the Log a Log an' all the Guosim fighters. They've laid their plans for a surprise attack on Althier, an' if'n it all goes well, the rest o' the young uns will be back at our Abbey afore long."

Marjoram looked slightly perplexed. "But doesn't that leave us short of defence here?"

Now it was Diggs's turn to speak. "Not at all, dear

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marm, for I have worked out an absolutely spiffin' wheeze. Haha an' hoho, leave it to clever old Subaltern Meliton Gubthorpe Digglethwaite, the super tactician, an' be not alarmed, O Superior Mother of this Abbey!"

Marjoram turned appealingly to anybeast within earshot. "What in the name of all seasons is he talking about?"

Diggs was about to reply when his attention was distracted by the delivery of more food to the lunch table. With an adroit move, he commandeered a platter of rhubarb and apple crumble. This allowed Oakheart Witherspyk to take the floor.

Sweeping off his floppy hat, the portly hedgehog made an elaborate bow. "Allow me, Abbess. The defence force will be made up of my goodself, Skipper, Bartij, Sister Fumbril and such Redwallers and members of my troupe as are required. Not a lot, you may say, an' rather few warriors. But what will win the day for us? Why, subterfuge, illusion and trickery, what else? Look up to the west wall threshold. Tell me, what do you see?"

Marjoram stared up at the wall. "Three tall, cloaked figures armed with spears. Where did they come from?"

One of the tall figures swept back the surrounding cloak, shouting down to Oakheart, "Well, what d'ye think, Pa?"

It was young Rambuculus, holding up a window pole on which the cloak and hood were propped.

Oakheart called to him, "That's the style, you young scamp, but hold the spear higher and tell Trajidia not to start declaiming to unseen foebeasts."

Trajidia emerged from another hooded cloak. She stamped a footpaw moodily upon the parapet. "Oh, Father, I'll get no acting experience at all just standing here like this pole I'm holding. I can sound really fearsome, y'know--listen to this."

She waved the spear, which was, in reality, a hoe with a carrot stuck on top. "Begone, vile vermin! Back, back, to the shadow of your dark lairs, ere ye provoke the wrath of a warrior hogmaid and bring calamity upon yourselves!"

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Oakheart clapped a paw to his brow. "No, no, my precious. Your voice is far too shrill an' ladylike. Try muttering it under your breath, fiercely, and in a gruff register."

Turning back to Marjoram, he reassured her, "Drull Hogwife has a double closet full of old habit cloaks, all hooded. Subterfuge, y'see, marm. We can make it appear as though the walltops are bristling with defenders, all well armed. A load of squinty vermin won't know the difference. An' we can bellow out orders, march back'n'forth, do a lot of stampin', salutin' an' commandin'. Well, what d'ye say, Marj, my old friend?"

Marjoram sighed. "It just might do at that, Oakie. If a couple of hundred Ravager beasts turn up outside our walls, I hope it does, for all our sakes!"

Granvy patted Marjoram's paw. "It'll work, don't worry. We won't just be yelling and rattling spears about. I'm working with Foremole and his crew. We're making some big ballistas to hurl stones and all manner of missiles. That should keep any invaders busy, right, Darbee?"

The Foremole nodded solemnly. "Ho urr, marm, us'n's wull give 'em billy oh, an' chuck gurt bowlders on they'm vurmint skulls, hurr aye!"

Somehow, the stolid mole's logic seemed to comfort Marjoram. She smiled briefly.

"So be it, then."

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20

Down in the depths of the escape tunnel, two lanterns reflected weakly as they flickered over the dark water, which stretched away as far as the eye could see. Tura hitched the mousebabe Diggla higher on her back as she waded in. The squirrelmaid shuddered. "Phwaah! It's freezin' cold!"

Jinty dipped her paw in, then leapt back. "I don't like this. Can't we go back an' see what it's like the other way?"

Trying to set an example, Midda splashed boldly into the water. "Oh, it ain't too bad once yore in here!"

Jiddle stood alongside his sister, loath to go in. "Maybe Jinty's right. Mightn't the other way be better?"

Midda turned on both Witherspyk hogs. "Listen, you two. I don't like this any more'n you do. But this is the way we chose, so this is the w7ay we're goin', see? Now, come on, get yore paws wet!"

Jiddle and Jinty still did not make a move. Jinty commented, "I wish Flandor was here. He was an otter. They're used to water an' things like that. He could've gone ahead to see how far it stretches."

Tura was in over her waist now. She backed her friend up. "Midda's right. We've got t'go on. If'n ye turn back, it's just losin' valuable time. Besides, you'd prob'ly walk

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slap bang into the vermin. I'll wager they've found how we escaped, an' it won't take 'em too long to unblock the hole. Come on!"

Both hogs hesitated reluctantly at the water's edge.

Midda became furious, wading back toward them, yelling, "Go on, just think of yoreselves. Forget these little uns that we're tryin' to save. Look, either you make a move right now, or me'n Tura will double up our loads with those babes yore carryin'. Then you can do wot ye please. Either stay there an' moan about how scared ye are, or go back an' tell the vermin yore sorry for escapin'. Well?"

Rather shamefaced, Jiddle and Jinty waded into the water.

They pushed on into the gloom. The water got gradually deeper, until they were going on tippaws, holding their chins up. Then the tunnel took a turn. Midda had now taken the lead, with Tura slightly behind her. Two little ones were holding on to the squirrelmaid's tail, treading water, as it had become too deep for them. Suddenly Midda went under. There was a small hiss as the lantern she was carrying went down with her. Urfa the little harebabe gave a bubbling squeal.

The shrewmaid fought her way back to Tura. She was spitting water and wiping her eyes. "Here, stay where you are, mate, hold on to this babe. I've done a bit of swim-min', so I'll go ahead an' sound out how much deeper this is an' how much further we've got to go. Be back as soon as I can!"

The escape party stood neck high, shivering in the icy water as they waited for Midda's return. Diggla liked the echoing sound of his voice, so he made full use of it.

"Yoo-hoo, Middy, where are you? Yoo-hoo! She taken a h'awful longa time, innen't she?"

Jinty felt something strike her footpaw. She chided Jiddle, "Stop kicking me, it's not funny. I nearly fell over then."

Her brother replied indignantly, "I didn't kick you. What're ye talkin' about?"

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Tura hissed urgently at the pair, "There's somethin' in the water--don't move. Stand where you are. It just brushed by me. Whatever it is, it's big an' strong. Don't move a muscle, it might leave us alone. Stay perfectly still!"

The little ones who were in the water hanging on to the squirrelmaid's tail, plus a few who were large enough to wade on their own, became frightened.

"Whoo, I felt it! Quick, let's get back onna dry bit!"

"Burr, ee'm feels loike ee gurt surpint!"

At that moment, Midda came swimming back, guided by the light from their remaining lantern, which Tura was holding aloft.

The shrewmaid waved. "It goes a little deeper further on, but not for long, then it gets shallower. What's up? Why are ye lookin' at me like that, mate?"

Tura could feel the thing curling slowly around her footpaws. Her voice became shrill, strained with fear. "There's a beast in the water, feels huge'n'slimy!"

Midda halted, feeling her footpaws touch ground. "A beast, ye say, where?"

Tura had both her eyes shut tight. The mousebabe and the little hare perched on her shoulders, clinging like limpets to her ears as she muttered, "Windin' itself round my leg--no, wait, it's let go now. See the water ripplin', Midda? It's headin' over to you. Listen, we're all goin' to back slowly out of the water, 'til we're safe on dry ground."

Midda kept her voice level as she replied, "Good idea, but afore ye do, d'ye mind tossin' me the lantern? Uhuh, it's nosin' round me now!"

Tura threw the lantern, holding it with both paws to keep it up straight. Midda caught it neatly, with one paw underneath and the other catching the ring on the top. Meanwhile, Tura and the others began performing a painfully slow retreat to the bank.

Midda held the lantern down so that its base reached the water's surface. The shrewmaid stood motionless, peer

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ing into the water. When she spoke again, her voice was tense with fright. "Oh, no, it's an eel, a bloomin' giant of a one. I've never seen one like it in river or stream. Wait, it's comin' up!"

Slowly at first, the eel surfaced, its smooth snout poking out of the water. It was a huge female yellow eel, with eyes like milk-hued pebbles. Seeking the warmth of the lantern's crystal glass, it nosed up against it. Midda held the lantern steady as she studied the creature. A feathery dorsal fin rippled down its muddy olive-hued back. As it rose further, the underside was exposed in the lantern light, creamy yellowish, the colour of old ivory. Midda moved her face closer to its eyes--it seemed to ignore her. Then the truth dawned upon the Guosim maid.

"It's blind, Tura. This eel can't see a thing. It was prob'ly born down here an' lived all its life in these dark waters. Look out... ooofff!"

Jiddle could not contain himself; he yelled out, "What is it, Midda? Did it bite ye?"

Midda, who had stumbled sideways, righted herself. She held the lantern up, pointing to the tunnel side. "Look, look over there. It's chasin' those little white fishes. There's a great shoal of 'em!"

Sure enough, the tiny fish reflected the lantern light. Silvery white, like frosted pine needles, they shot out of the water, scattering hither and thither to avoid the eel's hungry jaws. The icy water bubbled and splashed as the monster eel drove its coils along in a lightning pursuit of its sole food source, the tiny cavern fish which were as blind as their hunter. Off they went, in a splashing stampede, with the hungry predator making devastating forays into the teeming shoal.

Midda shouldered Urfa once more, urging the rest forward without delay. "Hurry now, everybeast, back into the water! Stick to the right side of the tunnel. We'll make a dash for it while that thing's busy with dinner!"

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This time there was no argument. They waded quickly in, with Midda in the lead and Tura bringing up the rear. Jinty called out advice. "Pull yourselves along on the wallside--there's a ledge stickin' out. It's much faster!"

Her tip proved true. A thin rim of rock, level with the water surface, stuck out. It was ideal for pulling a body through the water. They practically flew along, spurred on by the fear that the big eel might return at any moment.

Gasping and panting, they emerged from their icy, wet ordeal onto a soily clay-mixed bank. Tura flopped down, relinquishing Diggla, who limped about, trying to rid his limbs of their stiffness.

Jiddle grabbed him firmly. "Sit still here, ye little scamp, an' don't go runnin' off, d'ye hear me?"

The mousebabe stuck out his lower lip ruefully. "I hungry. Diggla be hungry, want vikkles!"

Midda held up the lantern, inspecting their surroundings. "Hmm, should be somethin' hereabouts. Look at all those roots hanging from the ceilin'."

Jinty seized a molebabe who was stuffing her mouth with a soft white substance. The Witherspyk hogmaid began rooting it out of the babe's mouth. "What'n the name o' spikes is that stuff? Come on, spit it out--it might be poison!"

Tura saw the source of the molebabe's feast. "No, look, it's some sort of mushroom. I've seen these before--they're alright to eat."

The mushrooms did not have any stem. They stuck out amidst roots and soil like smooth white shelves.

Midda tasted one. It was quite pleasant, with a nutty, wholesome flavour.

Jiddle chanced a piece. "Hmm, not bad at all. This should keep us goin' until we get some proper vittles."

Diggla ate a bite or two of the white fungus, then started pulling chunks off and throwing them at Midda and Tura. "This not be nice vikkles. Diggla not eat it!"

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Midda wagged a stern paw at the mousebabe. "That's good food. Stop thro win' it about this instant!"

Diggla stopped, warned by the shrewmaid's severity. However, that did not keep him from complaining sulkily, "You sayed we gonna getta h'apple pudden, wiv hunny an' meddycream. Huh, an' straw'bee fizz t'drink. You h'only a big fibberbeast!"

That was when Midda lost her temper. She leapt up, roaring at the hapless mousebabe, "Shuttup, you ungrateful liddle snip. If it wasn't for me'n'Tura, you'd still be eatin' slops an' drinkin' stale water in that vermin prison! I've had about enough of you. Yore nothin' but a spoilt liddle nuisance who has t'be carried everywhere! We should've left you behind!"

This caused Diggla to throw back his head and bellow piteously. "Waaaah! Waaaaah! She shouten at me, an' I h'only a likkle beast! Waaahahaaah! Worra she shouted at Diggla like that for? I never doo'd noffink!"

His cries set the other babes off, weeping and sobbing.

Tura clapped paws about her ears. "Please, somebeast, do something to stop 'em bawlin'. I can't stand it!"

Unexpectedly, it was the Witherspyk hogtwins who did the trick. They bounded forward and performed a comic duet from their troupe repertoire. It was a song in which they acted the parts of two spoilt babes. It caused merriment amongst the little ones, particularly Diggla, who had no idea the lyrics were aimed at him. Jiddle and Jinty cavorted about, pulling tongues and making funny faces as they sang.

"Yah boo, I don't like you, an' I can cry all day, if I don't get just what I want, then you will hear me say,

'I... wanna drinka water, ain't goin' asleep, waah waah boo hoo hoo!

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If you ain't extra nice to me,

I won't breathe 'til I turn blue!

I'll stick me tongue out, curl me tail, an' tweak the bab's snout, kick Granma, annoy Granpa, an' scream an' yell an' shout.

Yah yah boo hoo hoo, see I can cry real tears, an' make me eyes go funny red, an' wiggle both my ears.

Now do's I say, or I'll whinge all day, waah waah sob boohoo!

Yah yah yah! Waah waah waah!

An' I still don't like you ... so there!"

The babes thought this was hilarious, falling about chortling and giggling at the twin hogs' antics, forgetting their previous woeful mood. After eating more mushrooms and drinking cold water, they began to doze off.

Tura blew a soft sigh of relief. "Thank the seasons for that. Let's hope they don't kick off agin soon."

Midda settled her back against the wall, eyes half closed. "I think we could chance a rest here. It seems fairly safe-- what d'you think, mate?"

Tura let her bushy tail curl over her face. "Aye. Don't think we're bein' followed just yet. Besides, we'd hear the vermin splashin' through the water an' that'd give us warnin' enough. Ah, well, wonder how much further we've got to go afore we're out of here?"

Jiddle nodded up the passage. "D'ye want me'n'Jinty to go an' take a look?"

Midda opened one eye. "If ye really want to, but go carefully. If'n ye find anythin' interestin', then come straight back here an' tell us."

Jiddle broke off some dead roots, binding them together with rootstrands. He beat the end of the bundle with a stone. This caused the dead wood to bush and feather out.

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The resourceful young hog lit it from the lantern flame, making a stout and useful torch.

He and his sister walked off down the tunnel, surrounded by a small halo of light. It diminished, then disappeared as they rounded a bend.

Midda settled back to rest, commenting, "Those two are gettin' pretty valuable to have around."

Tura sighed wearily. "Please don't talk t'me. Can't ye see I'm asleep? You'd better rest while ye can, mate!"

The Sable Quean was in a dangerous mood, which did not bode well for her minions. Vilaya sent out a messenger recalling all Ravagers from their woodland camp, deciding they could better serve her at Althier. Zwilt had no say in the matter, now that there was a rift between the two. He took command of the guards who were trying to break through into the escape tunnel.

Knowing Vilaya was watching his every move, the tall sable drove the guards harshly. "You, there, fool, are you leaning on that rock or trying to move it? Put some energy into it or you'll feel my blade. Come on, the rest of you idlers, shift this rubbish. I'm growing old standing here waiting on you!"

Dirva, having the Sable Quean's protection, scorned Zwilt mercilessly, watching him shake with rage. "I thought a big strong beast like you could move that rock yourself, Lord. Or don't ye want to get yore paws dirty with a bit of honest work?"

Zwilt moved suddenly. Pushing a guard aside, he lifted a big chunk of rock. He tossed it backward, pretending not to notice when the wizened rat had to leap aside to avoid being struck.

Dirva bared her snaggled fangs. "You did that on purpose!"

Zwilt bowed mockingly. "Forgive me. I did not see you there."

The rift was finally unblocked. It was widened also,

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allowing fully grown vermin to pass easily through. Vilaya entered the tunnel with Zwilt and Dirva. She glanced both ways, consulting her old rat aide.

"To the left or the right, which direction did they take?"

Zwilt noticed some telltale traces showing which way the fugitives had gone. He nodded in that direction. "They went off to the left."

Vilaya ignored him, staring pointedly at Dirva. "Come on, I don't have all season. Which way?"

The old rat knew that if she gave the same answer as Zwilt, it would seem like she was backing him. " 'Tis hard to say, but the right looks more likely."

The Sable Quean gave Zwilt a scornful glance. "Bring the Ravagers through. We'll split into two groups. I'll take the right--you go to the left. Take Dirva with you. She is useful."

The tall sable bowed his head curtly. "Your wish is my command, Majesty!"

A full force of vermin marched off down the tunnel in different directions. Zwilt beckoned a lean, sly-faced stoat to his side. He held a brief, whispered conversation with the stoat, whose name was Gliv. She nodded, then melted back into the ranks.

Dirva caught up with Zwilt. "What did ye want with that one, eh?"

Zwilt the Shade kept his eyes on the passage ahead. "Just some business--pity you never heard it. After all, you were only sent to spy on me. Old Dirva, eh, the eyes and ears of the Quean. Dirty little spy!"

Dirva curled her lip at him. "I'll find out wot went on twixt you two, believe me. Aye, not only will I be watchin' you, but I'll keep a sharp eye on that stoat Gliv. Neither of ve will be stealin' a march on ole Dirva, ye can bank on that!"

Dirva dropped back, mingling with the marchers, until she was alongside Gliv. Prodding the stoat sharply in the side, she snarled, "Wot did Zwilt want with ye, eh?"

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Gliv winked at her. "Wouldn't yer like t'know!"

The old rat gave Gliv another vicious prod. "Alright, keep yore little secret, but remember this. I'll be watchin' ye, Gliv. Y'won't be able t'make a move that I don't know about, 'cos I'll be watchin' ye like a hawk!"

Gliv chuckled slyly. "Then you'll be watchin' the wrong beast, won't she, Lugg?"

"Huh huh, dat's right, mate!"

Dirva tried to turn, but too late. Two meaty paws seized her, one lifting her clear of the ground, the other stifling her nostrils and mouth. Lugg was Gliv's mate. A huge bullet-headed stoat, massively strong, he held the old rat as though she weighed nothing. Gliv blew a sharp blast on a small bone whistle.

Zwilt heard the signal and issued orders, grabbing a lantern. "March on forward!" He dropped back until everybeast had passed him except Gliv, Lugg and Dirva.

Nodding to his henchbeasts, he watched the old rat. Forepaws and upper body pinioned in Lugg's powerful grip, Dirva kicked wildly as the big stoat's paw suffocated her. Her eyes were wide with terror.

Zwilt's dead black eyes stared into hers.

"Well, well, Vilaya doesn't know it yet, but she's deaf and blind here. How does it feel, old one, knowing you cannot spy on me any longer? Sweet dreams!"

He watched until Dirva's eyes clouded over and her limbs went still.

Gliv smiled. "Just as ye ordered, Lord, dead without a single mark on 'er!"

Zwilt nodded. "You did well, friends. I won't forget this little service you rendered me."

A Ravager guard came hurrying back, saluting with his spear. "Sire, we've had t'stop--the tunnel's flooded up ahead. They can't go no further 'cos there's somethin' in the water, a monster, they say!"

Zwilt the Shade drew his long broadsword. "A monster? Well, let's go and take a look at it!"

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21

In her bankside cave, Mumzy the water vole was having trouble with one of her patients. It was Sniffy, the Guosim Tracker, who had recovered from his wounds. He was restless, wandering ceaselessly round Mumzy's cosy abode and speculating about when the contingent from Redwall would be arriving. Axtel, the Warrior mole, was content to rest up until such time as his injured footpaw grew more useful.

Mumzy waved a ladle at Sniffy, who was starting to try her patience. "Will ye not be still! Scuts'n'whiskers, yore sendin' me spare, clumpin' about like a useless ould omadorm. Sit still an' have a bowl o' this celery'n'turnip soup!"

The Guosim Tracker sat down, then sprang up again. "Where are they? Wot's keepin' 'em, eh?"

Axtel dipped a chunk of chestnut bread into his soup. "Yurr then, Sniff, whoi doan't ee goo owt an' take a lukk? You'm may'aps see 'em a-comen."

That was all Sniffy needed. He bounded for the entrance. "Thankee, mate, I'll do just that!"

Mumzy shook her head when he had gone. "Ah, sure, there's a creature in a rush t'get old, an' he's left this grand ould bowl o' soup untouched."

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Axtel tugged his snout politely. "Doan't ee wurry, marm. Oi'll see et woan't bee wasted, hurr hurr, oi surr-tingly will!"

Sunlight and shade dappled the noontide woodlands as Sniffy breathed in the sweet-scented Mossflower air. He stood with his snout quivering appreciatively, glad to be back out in the open.

"Yore ma named ye right when she called ye Sniffy!"

The Tracker turned swiftly to find Jango leaning on a sycamore watching him. The Guosim Chieftain waved a paw behind him.

"Afore ye ask, I've brought 'em all with me, threescore strong an' armed to the teeth!"

Sniffy saw the rest of his comrades break cover, along with Buckler and Diggs, who winked at him.

"Threescore an' two, actually, if you'll pardon me con-tradictin' your jolly old Logaface. Well, now, Sniffers, totally recovered, are we?"

Sniffy smiled. "As good as ever, Mister Diggs!"

Jango remarked sourly to Buckler, "Tell that lard barrel mate o' your'n that if he ever calls me Logaface agin, he'll be wearin' that liddle bobtail of his as a hat!"

Mumzy was all of a-fluster as the mob of shrews tried to crush into her dwelling.

"O, sweet seasons, are ye sure you've brought enough help along? There ain't enough o' me fine soup to dish out t'this lot!"

Buckler bowed gallantly. "Thank ye for carin' for the wounded, marm. There won't be time to sit about suppin' soup, though. We've got serious business to attend to, an' swiftly!"

Axtel pulled himself upright, thrusting the war hammer into his belt. "Aye, you'm roight, zurr. Let's uz bee goin'!"

Log a Log Jango saluted the water vole. "We'll drop by t'see ye here when this is over, darlin'."

Mumzy wiped her paws on her apron. She stroked

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Flib's cheek fondly. "You take good care o' this young un. I would, if'n I had a daughter like her."

Jango smiled. "I'll do that, marm. Right, Guosim, move out quick'n'quiet, now."

Flib brought up the rear with Sniffy and Diggs.

Axtel stumped along in front with Jango and Buckler.

The young hare questioned him as they went stealthily through the silent sunlit woodlands. "You've been inside Althier, so you know what it's like, Axtel. What do ye think would be the best way for us to attack the place?"

The Warrior mole had been thinking of a strategy whilst he was laid up in Mumzy's home. "If'n you'm splitten yore h'army en two 'arfs, 'twould be ee best plan, zurr. Oi'll take wun lot wi' me, daown ee tunnel whurr I cummed out of. You'm an' Jango take ee h'uthers in by ee frunt door. Hurr, 'twill h'ambush yon vurmints frum both soides."

Buckler nodded. "Sounds like a good plan t'me--what d'ye say, Log a Log?"

Jango was in agreement, with one condition: "Aye, I'll go along with it, providin' that Axtel takes that nuisance Diggs with his lot."

At the rear of the column, Diggs was having his usual fit of chunnering. "Huh, the least we could've done back there was to stop for lunch, wot. Rank bad form t'just go chargin' off like that, an' on a bloomin' empty stomach, t'boot. That flamin' Logawotsisname, no manners at all, y'know."

Flib nudged him sharply in the ribs. "Watch yer mouth, flopears. That's my dad yore talkin' about. He's a chieftain, a Log a Log of Guosim, an' don't you forget it, see!"

Diggs grinned mischievously. "Oh, is he indeed? Well, hoity-toity marm, an' pardon me t'blue blazes! Is that why you jolly well run away from home, 'cos he was such a capital chap, wot?"

Flib countered, "Well, it wasn't him who refused to stop an' eat. It was yore pal Buck, so wot d'ye say t'that?"

The tubby hare answered blithely, "Oh, that's just Buck.

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He's always doin' things like that. A stout friend an' true, but he hasn't got a grain o' sense when it comes to vit-tlin'. Needs me t'keep him on a steady course, if y'know what I mean. By the way, did ye happen t'smell that soup? Mmmm, leek an' celery, with just a smidgeon o' mint an' wild ramsons. Jolly good cook, that Mumzy lady!"

Flib admitted ruefully, "Aye, I could've scoffed a bowl or two o' that. Nothin' like a drop o' good 'omemade soup. Maybe she'll have the cauldron on when we go there agin, eh, Diggs?"

The tubby hare cheered up. "There's a thought t'keep a chap goin' through the dark task ahead, eh, wot!"

Late noon shadows were lengthening when Axtel told Jango to order a halt. They crouched down in the shrubbery within sight of the massive ancient oak.

The mole pointed with his war hammer. "Thurr she'm bee's yonder, zurrs!"

Buckler drew his long blade. "There should be some kind of entrance--a gap or a door in that tree. Right, me'n' Jango will take our gang closer an' wait on you. Where's Diggs?"

"Here, sah, ever willin' an' able!"

Buckler patted his friend's shoulder. "Listen, mate, you go down the hole last. Before you do, give me the old grass-blade signal!"

He turned to Jango. "I'll count to threescore when we hear from Diggs. That'll give Axtel an' his lot time t'get well in. Then we hit the opening hard an' attack from the entrance. Make our way toward one another, moppin' up any vermin on the way. We should have 'em on the run by then. That'll be the time to find the little uns an' get clear o' the place. Right!"

Buckler winced as Axtel's huge paw grasped his. "Gudd fortune go with ee, zurr. Yurr's to ee safe returnen of ee babbies!"

The young hare extricated his numbed paw. "Thank you, friend--an' luck be with you also!"

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Sniffy crept forward. He made a circuit of the big oak before reporting back. "There's a nice liddle door leadin' in there. I couldn't stop t'see if'n it was locked, though."

Jango looked up from sharpening his small shrew rapier. "I don't think we'll be botherin' to look for a key, eh, Buck?"

Buckler chuckled. "No, mate. We'll knock just the once-- a mighty big knock!"

They settled down to wait in silence.

Axtel soon located his former exit from Althier. He rummaged around with strong paws, and soon had a hole big enough to admit two at a time. The thirty Guosim vanished down the hole promptly.

Diggs waited until the last shrew had gone, then plucked a broad blade of grass. Folding it a certain way, he locked it tight between both paws and blew hard. A loud, piercing noise, like that of a hunting hawk, rang out sharp and clear. Then it was Diggs's turn to disappear down the opening.

Buckler and Jango heard the signal. The young hare began counting slowly to sixty. "One ... two ... three ..." Jango murmured to his Guosim warriors, "Draw yore weapons an' wait on my word!"

The first streaks of twilight appeared in the sky. Somewhere off to the west, a few descending skylarks could be heard warbling as they came to earth. Paws gripped sword hilts tightly, jaws clenched, eyes narrowed; the Guosim crouched, waiting for the count to end. Buckler stuck to the plan, murmuring off the numbers steadily, neither slowing nor speeding up.

"Fifty-seven ... fifty-eight... fifty-nine ... sixty!"

The war cries mingled as they charged the door. "Loga-logalogalooooog! Eulaliiiiaaaaaaa!"

Midda and Tura were wakened from their brief nap by the sounds of splashing and shouting coming from the flooded area.

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The Guosim maid commented tersely, "Looks like those stinkin' vermin are back on our tails. Grab the little uns an' let's get goin', mate!"

The babes were quickly roused. They went willingly, their frightened little faces showing starkly in the lantern light.

Tura shouldered the awkward, leggy harebabes, grunting under the effort. "I wish you two would hurry up an' learn to hop along without fallin' flat on yore faces. Anyhow, where've Jiddle'n'Jinty gone to? They should've been back by now."

As if on cue, a light appeared down the tunnel. It was the young Witherspyk hogs, carrying their torch. Immediately they heard the noise of the vermin.

Jiddle's spikes stood up straight. "Oh, no, how long has that been goin' on?"

Tura tapped a footpaw impatiently. "Just long enough to worry us. Now take one o' these hares, an' let's see how fast ye can go!"

They went at a brisk pace. Midda caught up with Jinty, who had been saddled with the other harebabe. "Tell me, wot did ye find down there? Is there a way out for us?"

The hogmaid explained, "We went a long way, an' it was all like this, just tunnel. Then we came to a sort of fork--it turned into two tunnels then."

Diggla, who was seated on Midda's shoulders, expressed annoyance. "More tunnils, more tunnils, huh. Itta nothin' but lotsa tunnils down 'ere!"

Midda was anxious to hear more. "Well, go on. Wot sorta tunnels? Did ye explore 'em!"

Jinty shrugged. "Didn't have time. Jiddle said we should be gettin' back 'cos you'd be worried."

Midda tugged the mousebabe's tail to stop him from jiggling about. "Jiddle was right, I suppose, but didn't you even take a peek at the two tunnels?"

Jiddle caught up with her. "I did, but only a quick glance. One went in a slope, uphill. The other one went

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downhill, it looked pretty steep. That's why I came back. I knew you'd want to try the uphill one--it should prob'ly lead us out into daylight, d'ye think?"

The Guosim maid speeded up the pace. "It prob'ly will!"

Back at the edge of the flooded tunnel, Zwilt the Shade had several Ravagers holding torches close to the dark waters as he scanned them.

He saw nothing for a moment, then a wide ripple revealed the wavering fin and the dull sheen of the eel. He took a step back--it was truly a big thing. He nodded coolly, as if encountering a monster that size was an ordinary occurrence.

"Doesn't look like much t'me. What are ye all scared of? Here, Lugg, take a spear and slay it."

Wordlessly, the bulky stoat grabbed a spear from a ferret and a torch from a river rat. He sloshed into the water after the huge yellow eel. It turned and began swimming off. Some of the Ravagers shouted encouragement.

"Go on, Lugg, stick it good afore it swims away!"

"Aye, chop its 'ead off, an' we'll build a fire an' roast it. A fish that size should taste good!"

Lugg lunged forward. The water was now over waist high. He struck hard at the eel, misjudging the kill. The blade grazed its side, merely causing a deep scratch. However, it was sufficient to enrage the yellow eel. It charged Lugg and attacked him.

The bulky stoat was slow and ungainly in the cold, dark water. He yelled in pain as the eel's sharp teeth latched onto his stomach. The big slithery coils wrapped around Lugg, tugging him sideways. He dropped the spear, the torch hissed as it went beneath the water, and Lugg's head made a resounding thud as it struck the rocky tunnel wall. He gave a faint moan and vanished beneath the dark icy surface.

Zwilt watched the writhing coils rising above the water,

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then shouted an order. "Throw your spears, quickly, while we can still see it!"

A salvo of spears embedded themselves in the monster's body. The hafts clacked together as it went into a frenzied death dance. More spears struck the eel, and several arrows from the Ravager archers. It took a long time before it finally floated limp upon the surface.

One of the river rats waded in, yelling, "Lend a paw 'ere, mates. This'll make good eatin'!"

Zwilt waded in after him, with drawn sword. "Touch it an' ye lose your head--that goes for everybeast. We're not here on a fishing trip. Now, get through this water an' pick up the prisoners' trail. Move!"

At the other side of the tunnel, Vilaya found herself facing a blank wall. The end she had chosen was nothing but a cul-de-sac. The Sable Quean viewed it philosophically as she spoke her thoughts to a weasel named Grakk.

"Well, at least we know the captives didn't come this way. We'll follow Zwilt--he might have had some luck."

She sent Grakk in the lead, following up by walking leisurely in the rear of the column. At one point, Vilaya called for a rest. Guards with food and drink attended her. She beckoned Grakk to her.

"Take two guards and scout ahead. Report back to me as soon as you find anything."

The weasel bowed, then trotted off with two other weasels in his wake.

Whilst sitting there eating and drinking, Vilaya began to relax. She assessed the situation. The fugitives were young and inexperienced, little more than babes, for the most part. They could not outrun vermin guards and trained warriors. Zwilt would recapture them. Which brought her to another point.

Zwilt the Shade, what was to be done with him? Now they were enemies, Vilaya could no longer trust or rely upon the tall sable. But he was serving a purpose at the

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moment. When he returned with the prisoners, she would hear all that went on from her faithful old rat Dirva.

The Sable Quean knew that Zwilt would be easy to trap. He was arrogant and headstrong, ever ready to use his sword instead of his tongue. Once he was out of the way, she would no longer trust any one beast with the sole power of acting for her. No, she would have three, maybe four, captains to carry out her orders. Play them against one another, just to keep them wondering. Divide and conquer was always a sound strategy. Vilaya's thoughts were disturbed by a guard.

"Majesty, Grakk is returned."

Seeing the weasel coming down the tunnel, she held up a paw, calling to him, "Grakk, what news?"

Grakk waved his paws in alarm, making a silencing noise. He did not speak until he was face-to-face with her.

"Hush, Majesty, keep yore voice down. There's beasts outside--just beyond the openin' we came through!"

Vilaya's claws dug into the weasel's shoulder as she pulled him closer. "Beasts, what beasts? Tell me."

Grakk winced. "There's other news you'll want to 'ear, Majesty, but first let me tell ye. On my way back along this tunnel, me'n' my mates 'eard noises from inside the caves. So I peeked through the break in the wall, an' I saw 'em. They was Guosim shrews, all armed an' ready, searchin' round everyplace. An' I saw one o' those fightin' rabbets, the one we met at that Abbey. Aye, an' he'd just met up with that molebeast who tunnelled in 'ere, you know, the big mad un who wields an' 'ammer!"

Vilaya gripped him even tighter. "How many of these warriors were there?"

Grakk groaned as her claws pierced his shoulder. "Aaaargh! Majesty, I dunno, but they'll soon be in this tunnel, the way they're scourin' round outside."

Vilaya released him, issuing an immediate order. "Listen carefully, Grakk. Tell our beasts to lay aside their weapons quietly. Go to the opening and block it up again. Be as

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silent as possible and make certain that opening is blocked completely, with solid rock and earth. Pack it tight, much tighter than those escapers did. Then stay posted there and listen. If they discover the blocked opening, let me know right away. Well, go on, what are you waiting for?"

Grakk brought his mouth to the Sable Quean's ear and whispered. Then he saluted and crept off to do her bidding.

Vilaya sat immobile awhile. Then she hugged herself, rocking back and forth as she keened in a hoarse whisper, "No, not Dirva, the only beast I ever trusted with my secret thoughts. Oh, he'll pay dearly for this. Zwilt the Shade will curse the day he was born by the time I'm done with him. Ooooohhhh, Dirva, my old counsellor!"

Under the impact of Jango and Buckler, the small door set into the oak trunk was knocked inward with a resounding slam. The Guosim shrews and Buckler went thundering into Althier, where they confronted their first handicap.

The whole place was in darkness, as the Ravagers had taken all the torches and lanterns to search the escape tunnel. Charging right in from daylight to complete blackout caused a certain amount of confusion.

Buckler roared out in his best Salamandastron parade-ground voice, "On my command allbeasts will stand still. Haaaaalt!"

Jango, who was standing close to Buckler, remarked, "Well, that did the trick, mate. Ye could hear a pin drop in here. Proper dark, though, ain't it?"

Sparks flew, illuminating the caverns in a brief flash. It was Sniffy, striking his rapier blade across a flint.

"Stan' still, Guosim--I'll get a glim goin'... there!"

A pale little flame grew out of the tinder bag, which the resourceful Tracker always kept with him.

The Guosim shrews moved with admirable urgency, dashing outside and chopping branches from the dead lower limbs of an old spruce. The makeshift torches burned

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instantly, crackling as they cast light amidst the subterranean shadows.

Buckler shook his head. "I don't like it, Jango. Something's not right--there's no sign of anybeast down here!"

The Guosim Chieftain held up a paw. "Lissen, Buck, I can hear sounds comin' this way!"

Suddenly Diggs charged in, yelling, "Lights ahead, chaps! Give 'em blood'n'vinegar, follow m--"

He ground to a halt. "Er, er, what ho, you chaps--oof!"

The tubby hare was knocked flat from behind when Flib and the others came hurtling in. Diggs sat up, dusting himself off. "I say, steady on. Who told you to charge in like a flippin' shower o' madbeasts?"

Flib put the blame right where it belonged. "You did!"

Straightening his tunic, Diggs wagged a paw at her. "Well, just be a bit more jolly well careful in future--that's classed as assault on a leadin' officer, I'll have ye know!"

Axtel arrived after the charge, stumping in on his injured footpaw. The mole waved his hammer at Buckler. "Yurr, we'm b'ain't see'd nobeast. 'Tis vurry h'odd."

Jango shrugged. "Same here, mate. Buck, wot d'ye say we splits up into groups? That ways we can scour this place quicker, in case they're hidin' away."

The young hare agreed. "Good idea--right, Jango, Diggs, Axtel, Sniffy, myself and er ..."

He glanced around, noticing Flib standing to attention and putting on a brave face. "And Flib, you'll be group captains. Pick your teams, then get off in different directions. Make sure you search every corner o' this place. Go to it!"

Grakk had stayed at his post, listening on the other side of the blocked escape route. He heard Diggs passing through the former dungeon with his escort of searchers. The tubby hare did not linger long.

"Not a confounded thing in sight here, chaps, just another bloomin' cave. This Althier place is nothin' but a load

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of old caves'n'passages, wot. Come on, let's see where this passage leads to...."

Grakk stayed, listening until there was complete silence from outside. Then he scurried off to make his report. The Sable Quean was waiting at the edge of the water in the flooded section. One look at her furious face warned the weasel to be careful. He waited until she looked at him and asked, "Well?"

He swallowed hard. "Majesty, it's safe. They passed right by the place that we sealed up."

She turned away, snapping at a group of guards. "Get me over this water. Do you want me to wade through in my robes?"

A nervous ferret bowed low. "If'n you'd like to sit on this litter, we'll carry ye, Majesty."

A pile of spears, spaced out into a square, had been bound together. Wordlessly, Vilaya perched in the centre of the structure. Half a score of vermin lifted it carefully, then entered the water, with two more going ahead, to sound out the depth. As the other Ravagers waded in, one of them stiffened with fright at the big dead eel floating near the wall.

"Wot'n the name o' Hellgates is that?"

His companion, an older river rat, touched the limp body with his spearpoint. "It's a big dead fish. 'Twon't harm ye. Huh, ye can always tell Zwilt the Shade's passed through by the deadbeasts lyin' about."

His companion grimaced as he steered a course away from the horrifically slashed eel. "Aye, that's true enough. Death seems t'foller Zwilt."

The river rat continued grimly, "Take it from me, mate. Try t'stay out the way when Zwilt an' Vilaya meets up. That'll be a sight to see, an' make no mistake. Those two are bound to go head-to-head, an' we'll be left to foller the winner!"

His mate tried speculating as they ploughed through the dark icy water. "Who d'ye think'll come out on top?"

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The river rat shrugged. "Yore guess is good as mine!"

Torches and lanterns cast rippling eerie shadows on the damp tunnel walls as they advanced gingerly into the unknown. Hardened as he was to suffering and death, the river rat let out a horrified gurgle. He had stepped on something soft and slippery, lurching to one side as the mangled carcass of Lugg bobbed to the surface.

The stoat's body had been crushed by the maddened eel; Lugg's swollen tongue protruded obscenely. The river rat recovered himself sufficiently, hurrying ahead of his companion in a rush to be out of the other unknown horrors the water might conceal beneath its murky surface.

Zwilt by this time was back on dry ground, needing no damp pawprints to show the route of the fugitives. They only had one way to go in a tunnel, he reasoned. The tall sable had also been planning ahead, knowing whatever excuses he gave for the death of Dirva, he could expect no quarter from Vilaya. The old rat had been counsellor and confidante--almost a mother figure. Despite the way the Quean had treated her, she remained faithful only to Vilaya.

Zwilt pressed forward, touching the gold medallion around his neck. A good broadsword could outwit a small poisoned dagger. When he and Vilaya met, there would be only one left to command two hundred Ravagers. If he ever wished to attack and conquer Redwall Abbey, the survivor had to be him.

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22

Midda lifted the mousebabe down from her shoulders. She massaged the back of her neck, which was sore from carrying Diggla--he was never still for a moment. The shrewmaid faced the fork, which Jinty had told her of. Tura relinquished her passenger, looking from one tunnel to the other.

"The one on the right goes downward. The other goes up. Which one d'you think we should take?"

Midda answered promptly, "The one that goes up, of course. That'll prob'ly get us out of here."

The squirrelmaid was still contemplating both tunnels. "Aye, that was my first thought, an' that's what the vermin'il think, too. Mightn't the downhill one be better? They won't expect us t'go that way."

Jiddle interrupted. "That's what I was thinkin', but I don't like the look of the one that goes down. I'll wager we'd run into more water that way. It might be very deep, then where'd we be, eh?"

Little Diggla pushed his way past them, snorting. "You all talkin' shoopid--Diggla goes up!"

The sight of the tiny mousebabe trudging busily away caused Tura to chuckle. "He's right. Up's the only way to go. Come on, mates!"

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It soon became rather tiring trekking uphill. Jinty put Calla the harebabe down. "Come on, young un, time ye tried walkin', great sleepy lump, look at the size of you!"

Midda shook her head. "It'll slow us down if the youngest babes have to walk."

Jiddle allowed the other harebabe, Urfa, to slide down from her back. "Aye, an' if we keep carryin' 'em, it won't be long afore we're too tired to go any further. I vote we should all walk!"

Diggla nodded decisively. "All walk now. Looka me--I walk. Midda not have t'carry Diggla!"

The very small ones held paws, with Diggla at their centre. Jiddle and Jinty brought up the rear, urging them on with a simple chant.

"One two, one two, I will walk with you, put your paw down on the floor, now you've taken one step more.

One two, one two, keep on goin', me an' you.

Oh my, dearie me, what comes after one two? Three!

Three four, three four! We can walk a whole lot more!"

Jiddle called to Tura, who was at the front, "Look at us--they're gettin' along just fine!"

The squirrelmaid glanced back. "That's good, keep goin', but keep yore eyes'n'ears about you. Don't forget there's vermin on our trail."

After a while, the upward tunnel took a sudden bend. This culminated in an oval-shaped cave with two other tunnels leading off it.

Midda sighed. "Oh, no. Now which way do we go!"

She sat down to rest whilst Tura took a brief look at both passages. The squirrelmaid shrugged.

"They both look the same t'me. Don't suppose it makes much difference which one we follow."

"Oh yes it do, hahaaarr, believe me, it do!"

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Tura jumped with fright as a figure emerged from the shadows, clad in a torn and tattered cloak.

It was a very tall and exceedingly skinny hedgehog. The little ones were scared. They huddled close to Midda and the Witherspyk twins. Tura took a step back from the hedgehog. There was something decidedly odd about him, but she determined not to be afraid.

"Well, tell me, which one would you choose?"

The beast threw back his hood, letting the shabby cloak fall open. He was not a pretty sight. Most of the spines on his body were missing, exposing a scabrous, unwashed hide. His left eye was wrinkled into a leaky slit, and what few teeth he possessed were blackened stumps. He carried an ash staff, which he twirled in the direction of either tunnel, cackling as he performed a shuffling jig.

"Which one? Which one? Hahaaarrharrr, beauty, ask Triggut Frap an' he'll know. Hahaaarrr!"

Midda countered boldly, "Well, she's just asked ye. So why not tell us, Triggut Frap, if that's yore name!"

The Guosim maid had obviously taken the wrong approach. Triggut Frap turned his back on them, no longer laughing or dancing. "Not tellin' yew. Why should Triggut tell yewbeasts anythin'? Nastybad, that's wot ye are, nastybad!"

Diggla was over his initial fear of Triggut. The mousebabe wagged a tiny paw at him. "We not nastybad. Us are good. You be nastybad!"

An instant change came over the strange hedgehog. He slumped down against the cave wall, weeping and whimpering. "I ain't nastybad. Nobeast likes pore Triggut, jus' 'cos I ain't pretty. Go 'way go on, go 'way, all of yews. Triggut doesn't care!"

Jinty stifled a giggle. She whispered to Jiddle, "This one's crazy as a frog with feathers!"

Tura silenced her with a stern glance, also warning Midda in a low murmur, "I'll do the talkin'. Leave Triggut to me."

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Turning her attention to Triggut, who had started scattering ground dust on his head, the squirrelmaid adopted a kindly voice. "Oh, come on now, friend. Of course we like you, but we've got to get out of here. So, please, will ye show us the way? We're tired an' hungry, an' we'd love to see daylight again."

Another mood swing came over Triggut. He rose, holding out a grubby paw. "Heeheehee! Get yew out, eh? Wot'll yews give me?"

Tura indicated the little group with a sweep of her paw. "I wish we had something to give you, friend, but we're poorbeasts without a drop o' water or a crust betwixt us."

Triggut's single eye narrowed. "Got nothin, eh? Then you'll just have ter work for me awhile. That'll be worth summat."

Tura nodded agreeably. "Sounds fair enough. What sort of work were ye thinkin' of, friend?"

Triggut's mood changed again. He poked Tura with the staff. "The sorta work that I say yew'll do!"

Jiddle sidled up to Tura, whispering in her ear, "Better make it quick. Think I can hear sounds from down the tunnel--it'll be the vermin!"

That decided the issue instantly. Tura bowed politely. "We're at yore service, Triggut. We'll work for you, no questions asked. Now can we go, please?"

The scabrous hog emitted his mad cackle. "Hahaarhaarr! Ravagers after yew, are they? Want t'move fast, do yew? Heeheehee! Foller Triggut, me pretty ones!"

Before they realised what was happening, he whipped out a length of cord, noosing it around Calla and Urfa.

Midda jumped up. "Hold on, there. Wot d'yer think yore doin'?"

Triggut fended her off with his ash staff. "Jus' makin' sure yew don't all run off on me. Now, d'yew want t'go or not? Jus' say the word, wibblesnout!"

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That, and the distant sound of Ravagers, settled any further argument. They marched off behind Triggut Frap.

After a lengthy uphill walk, they finally emerged into welcome afternoon sunlight. Tears sprang to Midda's eyes--the woodlands looked so fresh and green after being underground for so long. Birdsong echoed cheerily from beech, oak, yew, sycamore and other familiar trees. Bees droned, insects chirruped, and butterflies flitted silently about. Sounds and sights they had all sorely missed in gloomy caverns. But it was the sky, that fluffy-cloud-dotted vault of light blue, which really gladdened young hearts.

Triggut did not give them long to gaze upon nature's beauty. Yanking the harebabes with him, he made off at a lolloping trot through the Mossflower greenery.

Midda caught up with him. "Which way is it to Redwall Abbey? We have friends there, you know."

The mad hog sniggered. "Don't know, heehee, an' if'n I did, I wouldn't tell yew. Not far t'the stream now!"

Midda held on to the cord, to stop the harebabes being pulled over. "Stream, what stream?"

She recoiled from Triggut's breath as he pushed his face close to hers. "Hahaaar hahaaaarr! Yew don't know where yew are, do yew?"

The Guosim maid shook her head. "No!"

He sneered in her face. "Good. Now, come on, move yerself!"

Tura sensed they were going southeast, by the position of the sun. They passed through a series of sandstone outcrops, travelling downhill through gorse-dotted scree into a valley between two high hills. Stumbling wearily into a grove of pines, they came out on a streambank. A ramshackle raft was anchored to a boulder in the shallows. Triggut giggled.

"All aboard, me beauties, quick as yew please. C'mon, li'l rabbets. We're goin' fer a nice sail."

The raft was ancient, with water springing through the

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gapped logs which formed its deck. None of this bothered Triggut Frap. He tied the two harebabes to a mast which lacked any sail. Producing a fearsome dagger from his cloak, he drove it into the mast directly above the heads of Calla and Urfa. His single eye glared balefully at the others as he gave out orders.

"See them poles yonder? Pick 'em up an' get this raft movin'. Take 'er downstream, an' steer clear o' the banks. YewTl do as I says, if'n yews wants ter keep these rabbets from 'arm. Now git polin'!"

Tura picked up a long pole, murmuring to her friends, "Do like he says. There's no tellin' wot a madbeast like this un will do next, so don't upset him."

Triggut, who had heard the squirrelmaid, snarled, "That's right. Don't upset Triggut Frap. Yew 'eard her. I'm a madbeast, see, crazy, crazy mad! Bees keep a-buzzin' round in my 'ead, all day an' all night, never stop. Buzz-buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz...."

He carried on making bee sounds, his voice getting louder and higher. Then he reached for the knife embedded above the helpless harebabes. "Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz...."

Tura suddenly bellowed out, "Ahoy, Captain, we've got her goin' now, stayin' in midstream, just as ye said. Any more orders, Captain?"

Triggut's mood changed instantly. He ceased buzzing and chuckled happily. "Hahaarrr, keep 'er sailin' nice'n'smooth, mates!"

Tura winked at Midda, who caught on promptly. "Aye aye, Cap'n, nice'n'smooth it is. Well spoken, Cap'n!"

Triggut showed his snaggled teeth in an appreciative grin. "Hahaarrhaarrr! Cap'n, is it? I likes that. Cap'n of a fine ship with a good crew. Keep 'er steady, mates!"

Tura played up to the crazed hog shamelessly. "You heard the Cap'n. Keep 'er steady as she goes!"

Had it not been for the situation in which they found themselves, Midda would have wished for nothing more. Having spent most of her young life on Guosim logboats,

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she loved the feel of a fine summer day on a stream. The gurgle of meandering water, the fresh, clean smell of drifting banks and the swaying motion of the vessel, leaky as it was. She could watch the streambed as it slipped by. Crowfoot fronds, like flowing green tresses, swaying underwater; the flick of a minnow's tail, its red underside showing as it skimmed under the raft. A purple-scaled gudgeon, sucking pebbles on the streambed. Lacewings, delicately hovering over the current.

Tura glanced sideways at her friend. "D'you have any idea where we are, Midda?"

The shrewmaid shook her head. "No, I don't know this area at all, but by the lay o' the land, an' those tall rushes ahead, I'd say we're somewhere close to a watermeadow."

Triggut's voice cut in on them. "Ahoy, crew, stow yore gab an' bend those backs. Take 'er in to the right bank. There's a turnoff ahead that we'll be takin'."

The turnoff was a streamlet marginally wide enough to take the raft. Triggut halted them momentarily whilst he pulled out a woven reed net. It was a snare, full of small fish. Flopping it down on the deck, the mad hog winked at Tura. "Some vittles for my finny friends. Go on, keep polin' dead ahead. Be there soon now. Hahaarr!"

Just to keep his mood sweet, Midda replied, "Cap'n says straight ahead, crew. Did ye hear him?"

Tura, Jiddle and Jinty chorused back, "Aye aye, Cap'n!"

As Midda predicted, it was a watermeadow, and a very pretty one, at that. They punted up the sidestream, with tall reeds and bulrushes shielding either side, emerging into the meadow. There was a low rise at its centre, forming an island. It was a large expanse of watermeadow, breath takingly beautiful. Orange-flowering bog asphodel, butter-hued bladderwort, white brookweed and pink-blossomed comfrey burgeoned amidst wide green platters of water lilies.

Triggut Frap pointed. "Make for the island!"

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The little ones were enchanted by the dragonflies and butterflies of many hues--skippers, whites, commas, admirals and fritillaries. The raft nosed into the island, where Triggut moored it, ordering them ashore.

Midda decided the time had come to dig in her paws. She acted as spokesbeast for her friends. "We don't go ashore without the harebabes, Cap'n. We always stay t'gether, y'see."

She watched the hedgehog, who took another change of temperament. He pulled the dagger from the mast, freeing Calla and Urfa with a few slashes. His tone was quite level as he pointed the dagger at Midda. "Right, all ashore, an' yew can stow that Cap'n talk, it don't fool me. This is my island, an' yew'll stop on it fer as long as I like, see!"

Midda faced him squarely. "You've got no right t'keep us prisoners. We're free creatures now!"

Triggut smiled nastily, cocking his sparsely quilled head to one side. "Yew made a bargain, an' I'm keepin' yew to it after 'elpin' yew to escape the Ravagers."

Then his demeanour underwent another change. He began his shuffling jig once more, cackling as he twirled the dagger and waved his ash staff.

"Heeheeheehee! Think yew kin escape my island, don't yew? Hahaarrharrr! Jus' watch this!"

He swished one end of his staff in the water, calling, "Come on, me beauties, come to ole Uncle Triggut, come, come!" Upending the reed snare net, he shook out numerous small fish, mainly minnows and sticklebacks.

There was a frightening rush of water, on and below the surface, with dorsal fins showing clear. Almost a score of big pike, those voracious freshwater predators, were there. Leaping and splashing in a feeding frenzy, their large, sharp-toothed mouths snapping and slashing as they tore the small fish into shreds and devoured them.

With a swift move, Triggut seized Diggla and held him over the roiling surface of the water. The mousebabe screamed; pike were leaping up, trying to grab him.

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Tura shouted, "Alright, alright. We'll do as ye say, sir. Give Diggla back. We'll obey ye, I swear we will!"

The mad hog tossed the mousebabe carelessly back onto the bank. "Heehee, I knew yew'd see things my way. But just keep in mind, I can call on my friends anytime!"

Midda bowed her head. "What do you want us to do?"

Triggut scratched his chin, causing a few spikes to drop off it. "Hmm, what do I want? Lemme see." He swept over them with a grand wave of his ash staff. "I want yews t'build me a house. Aye, a nice, big house!"

Jinty Witherspyk looked concerned. "But we don't know anything about buildin' houses!"

Tura trod lightly on her footpaw, silencing the hogmaid. "Oh, I should think we can manage that. Now, wot sort of house will ye be wanting?"

Triggut repeated, "A nice, big house!"

Tura adopted the air of one who had been building houses all her life. "D'ye want it made of wood or stone, how many rooms must it have, d'ye want windows, would y'like a bark-shingle roof, or woven reeds?"

As Triggut shrugged, more spines rattled off his scrofu-lus body. "Er, I dunno.... Aye, yes, I'll have all wot yew said. Windows, wood, stone an' all that stuff."

Tura nodded. "Fair enough, friend, but first my workers need feedin'. Ye can't build houses on empty stomachs!"

The crazed hog curled his lip scornfully. "Yew kin fend for yerselves as far as vittles goes. Come an' I'll show yews."

It was a fairly substantial island. They followed him to its tree-covered middle.

Triggut pointed edibles out to them. "There's apple trees, pears, some acorns, bushes an' vines with berries. Plenty o' roots, too. Make the most of 'em, then get started on my house."

Tura sat down, shaking her head. "Not today, friend. These beasts need a rest an' vittles afore they're fit for work. Besides, I ain't drawn up the plans for yore house yet. No good tryin' t'build without some plans, is it?"

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Midda, Jiddle, Jinty, even some of the little ones nodded in agreement. "No good at all!"

Triggut wiped a grimy paw over his damaged eye, which was constantly leaking. Then he laughed. "Haharrharr! Tomorrow it is, then, but let me warn yew. There's some thinks Triggut Frap's mad. Well, that's as may be. But don't ever think I'm stupid, 'cos I ain't, see? So, whilst yew clever lot sit there plannin' to escape from my island, remember that."

He darted forward and snatched Diggla. Looping a cord around the mousebabe's waist, he hauled him clear. "Haharr---gotcha! This un's too liddle t'work, so I'll take care of 'im for yew. Heeheehee, I always wanted a mousey fer a pet. Now I got one. Just in case yew lot get any funny ideas. Eat hearty an' sleep well, mates!" Kicking and wailing, Diggla was yanked off by Triggut.

The young friends could do nothing about it. Midda slumped down glumly.

"Well, here we are, prisoners again. But this time we're on a pretty island in the middle of a watermeadow ... surrounded by vicious pike, an' watched over by a madbeast who's got little Diggla as a hostage. Tura, yore the brains round here. Wot d'we do now?"

The squirrelmaid stared levelly at the shrewmaid. "I'd say we don't start quarrellin' an' bein' nasty to one another. Let's work t'gether. There's got to be a way out o' this somehow. Any ideas?"

After a moment's silence, Jiddle spoke up. "Wot d'ye mean, ideas on how t'get Diggla back, or to get off this island, or how t'fix that rotten mouldy ole mad creature?"

Tura shrugged. "Any of those three will do."

Young Jiddle dropped his voice to a whisper. "Let's deal with Triggut Frap first. It'll soon be night, an' he ain't so different from any other beast that he doesn't have to sleep...."

Midda smiled. "I think ye may have somethin' there!"

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Buckler Kordyne stood in the open air with his party of Guosim warriors. He pounded his paw on the great oak trunk in frustration. "Not a blinkin' trace of the young uns anywhere!"

Log a Log Jango put up his rapier. "Nor the vermin. They've vanished, gone, disappeared!"

Axtel Sturnclaw held up a huge digging claw. "You'm a-wanten oi shudd go back in thurr, an' search agin, zurr? Us'ns may've missed summat."

Buckler shook his head. "I can't see there's much point. What d'you think, Jango?"

The Shrew Chieftain affirmed his friend's view. "We rooted that place out from top t'bottom. Sniffy couldn't find 'em, an' if'n he can't, then nobeast can. Right, Sniff?"

The Tracker assented wearily. "Right, Chief. Oh, they've been there, but the stink o' vermin, burnt torches an' all those pawprints overrun by ours--no, sir, 'tis no use goin' through those caves an' passages agin. They've fled the place for sure!"

Buckler's quick mind was racing as Sniffy spoke. He formed a swift plan and gave out orders. "Then we search the woodlands for a half day's march all around. Axtel, Jango, take a group of Guosim apiece. I'll lead the rest. Where's the best place to meet up again?"

"That ole Mumzy vole's place. We all knows how t'find it."

Buckler clapped the Tracker's shoulder. "Good idea, Sniffy. Let's get on the move--the longer we hang about, the further away they'll get. Right!"

Zwilt the Shade paced the streambank. His scouts had tracked the fugitives that far, but there the trail ended. The tall sable watched anxiously as two river rats came hurrying from different directions along the stream's edge. He pawed at his broadsword hilt. "Well?"

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The rats were of the same opinion. "No signs of 'em on the stream, Lord."

"They could've gone either way, up or down!"

Zwilt called across to another three on the opposite side. "Any traces over that way?"

A stoat who had swum across waved his paws. "Lord, they never went this way!"

Hearing a twig crack in the woodlands at his back, Zwilt turned, blade at the ready. The Sable Quean emerged from a sheltering beech trunk. Her eyes betrayed nothing, though her voice was heavy with contempt.

"The great Commander Zwilt can't even find some runaway babes, it seems."

Zwilt moved as she came forward, not wanting Vilaya any closer to him. "I'll find them. 'Tis only a matter of time. You can return to Althier and await my arrival with the prisoners."

She replied almost casually. "When I left Althier, it was teeming with Guosim warriors. Forget Althier--we can no longer return there. So, what are your plans now, or are you ready for further orders from me?"

Vilaya took a step forward, but Zwilt took a pace back. His long blade swished as it cut the air keenly.

"Stand where you are--come no further!"

Danger crackled on the air like forked lightning. The Ravager army spaced themselves out, staying clear of any confrontation between their leaders.

Vilaya chuckled humorlessly. "Quite a time you've had, Zwilt. I followed you and what did I find along the way? My old friend Dirva, a monster eel and one of your beasts, the big stoat Lugg, all dead. Very careless of you!"

The tall sable's dark eyes flashed briefly. "I am used to death in my trade. Stay! Come no closer, Vilaya. My blade is longer than your poisoned toy."

The Sable Quean opened her paws to show she was unarmed. "I see you no longer call me Majesty. Remember,

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Zwilt, I could have stolen up on you. The snake can strike swiftly, you know."

She began circling sideways, her paw reaching for the tiny dagger. Zwilt's swordpoint followed her every move.

"It would have to be a brave snake to take its chance with me. Remember, Vilaya, I am not some slow, thickheaded vermin. Now, do ye wish to challenge me?"

The Sable Quean knew she could not. She had witnessed Zwilt the Shade's bladework. It was only the unsuspecting that she could take advantage of. She tried another tack.

"It is foolish quarrelling amongst ourselves when we should be concentrating on recapturing those young ones and using them as a lever to defeat Redwall."

Zwilt kept her menaced with his bladepoint as she inched almost imperceptibly forward. He sneered. "The foolishness was in your ridiculous plan to take that Abbey by stealing some babes. Well, I went along with it for a while, but no longer. Look around you, Vilaya. There are two hundred warriors, armed and trained for battle. With me to command them, Redwall will be conquered by invasion. War is the only sure thing to decide a victory."

Raising his blade, he called to the Ravager army, "My warriors, are you with me?"

That was when the Sable Quean made her move.

Vilaya sprang at Zwilt. Sidestepping her, he thrust the broadsword in a blurring flash. The point was protruding from the back of her cloak. The blade was withdrawn as fast as it had struck. Vilaya staggered, openmouthed, clutching the regal purple cloak about her. She looked from the rapidly spreading stain on its silken folds, to Zwilt.

Vilaya gasped in a halting voice, "Y-you ... have ... s-slain ... a ... Quean!"

She toppled forward, facedown on the streambank.

Zwilt placed a footpaw upon his fallen foe. "Now let us conquer the Abbey of Redwall!"

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Spears, blades and various weapons were raised as the vermin horde yelled aloud, "Zwilt! Zwilt! Zwilt the Shaaaaaade!"

A smile of triumph lit up the tall sable's saturnine features. He raised the broadsword, intending to behead the Sable Quean, but halted as he felt somebeast tugging at his cloak. It was the ferret Gliv.

" 'Twould be a bad omen to cut her again, Lord. Let me bury this so-called Sable Quean here on the bank. I'll bury her deep, where worms will feed on her carcass--'tis all she deserves. Vilaya, ruler of worms, beetles and insects, she can feed her subjects!"

The tall sable stayed his sword paw. "Aye, Gliv, we'll never know how many of them she can kill with her little poisoned dagger. Bury her where the earth is cold and damp."

Log a Log Jango and Axtel Sturnclaw, along with their patrols, sat with their footpaws in the cooling streamwater, outside of the water vole's home. Mumzy bustled about, replenishing their platters with weighty portions of her damson and apple turnover. She shook her head sadly.

"An' ye didn't find any o' those liddle uns out there. Sure, I wonder where the pore babbies have got to?"

Jango washed the turnover down with some elderflower cordial. "We ain't found 'em yet, marm, but soon as we've fed our faces an' cooled our paws, we'll be off lookin' for 'em agin, ye can take my word for that!"

Axtel was already up and alert, testing his wounded limb. "Yurr, ee streamwatter bee's gurtly coolen, moi ole futtpaw's ready t'go agin, marm."

"Ahoy, the camp--friends comin' in!"

Jango shielded his eyes, peering to where the shout had come from. "It's Buckler an' his crew. Looks like they ain't had much luck either, though they're comin' pretty fast."

Buckler and his followers were breathing heavily. Jango moved along the bankside.

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"Looks like ye've been coverin' some ground, mate. Here, siddown an' cool yore paws. Try some o' Miz Mimzy's vittles. She can bake a fair ole turnover."

The young hare remained standing, gathering his breath. "No time for that, Jango--we nearly ran into the full pack o' Ravagers back there. Lucky they never saw us, but they're on the move, an' that Zwilt beast is leadin' 'em. They're headed for Redwall, we heard the shouts. Get Diggs an' the rest. We've got t'get back to the Abbey, double quick!"

Casting aside his empty plate, the Guosim Chieftain stamped streamwater from his footpaws.

"Ravagers marchin' on Redwall, ye say? Form up an' move out, Guosim, there's no time t'waste! Er, about Diggs, he ain't with us. I thought he was with you, Buck?"

Buckler looked distracted for a moment, then he sighed. "Well, he ain't. I haven't clapped eyes on Diggs since we were searchin' the caves at Althier. Well, Diggs'll have to look out for himself. We can't stop now--got t'go!"

Mumzy picked up a half-finished chunk of turnover. "But wot about the liddle uns, Mister Buck?"

The young hare shook his head. "No sign of 'em yet, an' they weren't with the vermin, so we'll have to call off searchin' for 'em until after we've defended the Abbey. If'n either the young uns or Diggs turns up here, I've no doubt you'll take 'em in an' care for 'em, marm. We'll be indebted if y'do. Take care of yourself, friend!"

Buckler gave the water vole a swift salute with his blade and hurried off with Axtel and the Guosim.

Diggs was still wandering about in the caves and tunnels beneath the great oak. The plain fact was that the tubby hare was lost. He had become separated from the group he was searching with. Unwittingly, he had ambled into Vilaya's personal chamber, where he found some wine, a cooked trout and wheat bread, all intended for the Sable Quean's private consumption. Not wanting to share his find with

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the others, he settled down to a lucky repast, munching away and chunnering as he justified his actions.

"Bloomin' Guosim chaps wouldn't share it with me if they'd have found it, rotters! Well, yah boo, shrews, you can go an' blinkin' well whistle for your share. Mmmm, not too bad, if I say so m'self, rather tasty, in fact. Huh, this must be the officers' mess. Treat themselves pretty well, these vermin cads, wot. Oh, bother'n'blow, the confounded torch has gone out now!"

After trying unsuccessfully to blow the sparks back into flame, he did what he would normally do after a meal-- took a short nap.

Subaltern Meliton Gubthorpe Digglethwaite's idea of a short nap was rather lengthy. He woke in complete darkness and silence. Yawning and stretching, the portly young rogue felt his way out of the cave, calling to his fellow searchers for assistance.

"I say, buckoes, fetch a light here, if y'd be so kind?"

There was no response to his cries, which annoyed Diggs.

"Huh, dratted spiky-headed fiends, it's just like you t'leave a chap in the dark, an' it's prob'ly suppertime, too. Right, desert me. I don't jolly well care. Hah, but wait until I catch up with you, laddie bucks. I'll have a word or three t'say about comradeship an' all that. By the right, left'n'centre I will, believe me!"

How long he rambled through the darkened underworld of caves and tunnels, Diggs could not say. It was only by pure accident that he managed to find himself at the broken-down door in the big oak trunk. Diggs staggered out thankfully. "Ahah, good old fresh air again, wot!"

He heard a rustle in a nearby bush. Drawing his sling, Diggs loaded a heavy chunk of rock into it. He advanced on the bush, twirling his weapon purposefully.

"Front'n'centre, come on out an' face me, you lily-livered maggot. Yowoooh!"

A stone hit his slinging paw, causing him to drop it. A

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dark form thundered out of the brush, laying him flat with a mighty body charge. Diggs struggled to rise, but a footpaw, which felt like a stone shelf, held him pinned to the ground. He found himself staring up into the fierce brown eyes of a large, powerful badgermaid. She was twirling a sling twice the size of the weapon he carried. It was loaded with a boulder. She growled menacingly, "Tell me where my friend is, and I might allow you to live!"

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23

Moonless night had settled over the watermeadow. The young beasts were huddled together sleeping soundly. Midda and the Witherspyk twins were wide awake. They lay stomach down, scanning the darkened landscape.

Jiddle murmured, "What's keepin' Tura? She's been gone for ages."

Jinty rubbed her eyes. "Well, she's prob'ly searchin' around the island, right, Midda?"

The Guosim maid nodded. "Aye, first she's got to find where old bees in the bonnet has his den. That's where he'll have taken Diggla. Mad ole beast like that, 'twouldn't surprise me if'n he made his nest up in a tree, like a bird. Jiddle's right, though, Tura's been gone a long time now. Too long for my likin'."

"Shall we go an' search for her?"

Midda rejected Jiddle's suggestion. "No. It might cause confusion, an' if the babes wake to find us gone, they'll bawl the place down. Hush, now, I thought I heard somethin'...."

Triggut's wild laughter caused them to jump with surprise. "Hahaaarrhaaaarrr! Heard somethin'? So yew did, but don't fret, 'twas only me. Here's yer liddle bushytail friend. Yew kin have 'er back this time...."

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Tura, gagged, bound and stunned, was flung into the captives' camp. When Triggut called out of the darkness again, his temperament had changed. Now the mad hog was irate and threatening. "Next time yew try any clever tricks, I'll send yore mouseybabe back to yew. His ears first, then his tail an' snout. Maybe the followin' night yew'll get his paws an' tongue. Do I make meself clear?"

A groan of defeat came from Midda. "Alright, we understand--it won't happen again!"

With a final burst of insane merriment, Triggut skipped blithely off into the night.

Jinty Witherspyk loosed the squirrelmaid of her gag and bonds, bathing her face with some cool water. Tura was totally miserable.

"You wouldn't believe it, but that crazy creature has a crew of toads guarding him. I was creepin' up to his den, when suddenly they were all over me. Yurgh! Damp, slimy beasts, they sat on me an' croaked until the madbeast came runnin' an' cracked me over the head with his staff. Then he tied me up like an ole bundle o' washin'. I thought he was goin' to kill me!"

Midda inspected the bruise on Tura's brow. "But he didn't. You'll live. Did you get to catch sight of little Diggla?"

Tura shook her head. "I never even got into Triggut's den. Well, wot's our next move, mates?"

Jiddle Witherspyk yawned wearily. "I dunno. Just sit an' wait, I s'pose. Wot else can we do, eh?"

His twin sister agreed glumly. "Not a lot. Triggut Frap might act crazy, but he's certainly outsmarted us."

Midda stared at both young hogs in disgust. "Defeated already, are we? Seasons o' slutch, you two should hear yoreselves. Ye make me feel ashamed to know ye!"

Tura shot her friend a reproving glance. "They're right, though. We ain't got much to sing'n'dance about, now, have we?"

The Guosim maid glared at all three, launching into a

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scathing diatribe, which brooked no argument. "Where were we a day ago, eh? Locked up in an underground cave, all dark'n'gloomy We were eatin' slop an' drinkin' dirty water. Vermin with spears were standin' over us. One of our mates, a fine young otter, was murdered by that Sable Quean. So tell me, wot did ye have for supper tonight? Fresh fruit an' berries, with clean water t'drink. An' where are we now? I'll tell ye! Out in the open air, under the stars on a summer night, without vermin watchin' every move we make. Hah, lookit yore faces! Oh, poor ole us, ain't we the unlucky ones, still alive an' kickin'. It ain't right, I tell ye. Shouldn't we all be dead like poor Flandor? Huh, you lot make me sick!"

Tura had taken enough. She stood snout-to-snout with Midda, giving the Guosim a piece of her mind. "An' you make me sick, with all yore shoutin' an' yellin'. Who do ye think ye are, scraggymouse?"

Midda bristled. "I know who I am--a Guosim shrew, ye jumped-up bushtailed boughbender!"

Jiddle and Jinty rubbed their paws gleefully. They sensed an insult bout starting, so they called encouragement to the pair.

"Don't let her call ye that, Tura. Tell Midda wot ye think of her, go on!"

That started the contest in earnest. They stood paw-to-paw, hurling insults at one another.

"Ho ho, boughbender, is it? Ye wet-bottomed water-wobbler!"

"Hah, listen to ole weasel whiskers the nutnibbler!"

"Huh, I'll bet ye wish ye had a real tail, an' not a damp piece o' string, Guosimguts!"

"If'n I had a tail like that thing o' yores, I'd hire it out to sweep dusty caves!"

"Aye, an' if'n I had a face like yours, I'd change me job to frightenin' frogbabes!"

"Bottlenose! Baggypaw! Bumptious bum!"

Tura tried hard to hold a straight face, then broke out

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into a fit of the giggles. "Oh, heeheeheehee! Hahahaha! Bumptious bum? Hahaha! Where'd ye get that one? Bumptious bum. Heeheehee!"

Midda could not resist joining in her friend's merriment. "Hahahaha! I just thought it up. Hohoho! It's a good un, ain't it? Bumptious bum, hoohoo!"

Jiddle and Jinty were chuckling, both holding their ribs.

Tura wiped tears from her eyes. "Heeheehee, oh, stop it, please. Bumptious bum, that'd be a good name for old madbrain. Bumptious bum!"

Midda corrected the squirrelmaid. "The way all his spikes are fallin' out, maybe we'd better call him bare bumptious bum. Heeheehee!"

Triggut's insane cackles halted the merriment. From somewhere nearby, he called to them, "Haharrharr, may'aps yew'd best stop all yore noise an' get some rest. Yew start on my new house tomorrer!"

They held their din momentarily, lying down with closed eyes until they heard the crazy hog retreating.

Jiddle opened one eye and waved a paw in his direction. "Good night... bare bumptious bum!"

The smothered giggles continued until they finally dropped off to sleep.

Vilaya the Sable Quean awoke slowly, her left side ablaze with pain. Gliv the stoat was bending over her doing something.

"Lie still, Vilaya. Your wound must be sealed, or you'll bleed to death. This is goin' to hurt."

Gliv drew the spearblade from the fire she had built. Vilaya screeched in agony as the red-hot spearhead pressed against the broadsword gash under her ribs. Smoke wreathed up. A stench of scorched fur and flesh permeated the air.

Peering close, the stoat inspected her work. "That's done the job. Now all ye've got t'do is live an' get well

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agin. I ain't no healer, so I've got no potions or lotions to give ye."

The Sable Quean watched as Gliv bandaged the injury with strips torn from her silken cloak. Vilaya was mystified by the stoat's behaviour.

"I know you. I've seen you whispering with Zwilt. You're one of his spies, aren't you?"

Gliv nodded as she tied the dressing securely. "Aye, I was one of those who did his dirty work."

Vilaya posed the question. "Then why are you helping me now? You probably don't even like me. What's your name?"

The stoat raised the sable's head, bringing a beaker of water to her lips. "Drink this, but take it slowly. I'm called Gliv. I don't like you, Vilaya, but I've got my reasons for helping you. Zwilt thought he'd slain ye. I stopped him choppin' yore head off by sayin' I'd bury ye for the worms an' insects to eat. I will, too, if'n ye don't get over that wound."

The sable pushed the beaker away. "Don't fret--I'll live. So, in what way did Zwilt offend you, Gliv?"

The stoat's eyes hardened at the memory. "He had my mate, Lugg, killed. Lugg was his loyal servant. Zwilt should never have sent him into the water to battle with the giant eel. It was Zwilt's fault. I blame him for Lugg's death. He was a big, trustin' lump of a stoat, but Lugg was my mate. I loved him."

The sable winced as she lay back and relaxed. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

Gliv stared into the flickering fire. "Yore goin' to kill Zwilt soon as y'get well. I've seen ye use that poison blade, an' I knows ye want him dead now. You got yore reasons-- I got mine. I don't care, as long as I can live t'hear the death rattle in Zwilt the Shade's throat! That'll be yore thanks t'me for savin' yore life, Vilaya."

The injured beast spoke imperiously. "Vilaya is my

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name, but to one such as you I am the Sable Quean. You will address me as Majesty!" Gliv curled her lip scornfully.

"Huh, Quean o' nothin' is wot ye are t'me. When ye slay Zwilt an' command the Ravagers agin, then I'll call ye Majesty. But right now, yore just a beast carryin' out my orders so that ye can stay alive!"

Gliv watched Vilaya's paw straying toward the slender thing she kept slung about her neck. The sly stoat held up the little poisoned dagger in its crystal sheath. Dangling it from its necklet, she shook her head mockingly.

"No ye don't, Vilaya. I'll take care o' this liddle toy until the time comes."

A wry smile hovered about Vilaya's lips. "My my. You are a crafty stoat!"

Gliv nodded. "Aye, an' yore a dangerous sable, so betwixt us we're the right pair for the task. Now, git some sleep, 'cos as soon as ye can stand without fallin' over agin, we'll be on the trail of Zwilt the Shade."

On the streambank, the small fire burned down to grey ash in the woodland night. Two creatures went to sleep, each dreaming of deathly revenge.

Morning broke overcast and sullen, with the rain silencing birdsong. This mattered little to Oakheart Witherspyk, who had the security of Redwall Abbey to oversee. Donning an old cloak and putting his flop-brimmed hat on over the hood, the portly hedgehog mounted the west gatehouse steps. Trudging up onto the battlemented walkway, he looked left and right, blowing rainwater from his snout tip. He snorted disapproval to the leaden skies.

"Bah! Not a single beast on sentry. Where in the name o' spikes'n'spillikins are they?"

He strode the ramparts in high dudgeon, knocking down unattended cloaks, which were propped up on poles to give the appearance of a heavily guarded Abbey.

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Granvy the Recorder emerged from the gatehouse, pulling on his hooded cloak. He shouted to the Witherspyk patriarch, "What'n the name o' seasons are you doing up there in this weather? Get down here before you get soaked!"

Oakheart gestured theatrically about him. "There's not a confounded guard up here. Where've they all gone, may I ask?"

Granvy set off across the rainswept lawn. "Everybeast is where any creature with a grain o' sense should be right now--taking breakfast inside. Come on!"

Great Hall glowed warmly with myriad candle and lantern lights. The air was redolent with cheerful sounds of Redwallers breaking their fast. Friar Soogum and his helpers bustled twixt the long tables, ladling out hot oatmeal and honey. Fresh fruits, golden-crusted ovenbreads, hot mint tea--an array of delicacies to please even the most jaded palate--graced the tables. Abbess Marjoram sat with two Dibbuns perched on her lap, trying to teach them rudimentary manners.

"No no. Put the beaker down. You can't eat and drink at the same time--finish what you have in your mouth first."

She saw Oakheart stamp in and fling off his wet cloak. "You look drenched, Oakie. Come and have some hot food!"

The hedgehog shook water from his hatbrim. "Hot food, is it, marm? How could I sully my dutiful lips with hot food when my blood runs cold at the thought of all those deserters!"

Foremole Darbee dipped an oat farl into a bowl of melted cheese. He wrinkled his button snout at Oakheart. "Doozurrters, zurr? Whut do ee mean?"

The portly hog shook a damp paw in a circle, denoting the outer walls. "Our sentries, m'dear sir. All those volunteers who are supposed, at this very moment, t'be protecting all we hold dear from vermin onslaught! I make it

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my morning chore to check the walltops, an' d'you know, there's not a single guard to be seen up there!"

Sister Fumbril commented blithely, "Why, bless y'spikes, Oakie, is there a vermin onslaught goin' on out there? Nobeast told us!"

A ripple of laughter echoed from the diners. Oakheart stemmed it by pounding a paw upon the table. "That's just the point, don't ye see, marm? There could be a vermin attack, even as you're jokin' about it. Where would we be then, eh?"

Abbess Marjoram nodded gravely. "Point taken, Mister Witherspyk. You are quite right! Attention, everybeast. All those supposed to be on wall duty, leave what you are doing and get back up there on guard immediately, please!"

Baby Dubdub waved a honey-smeared paw, echoing Marjoram. "Meejittly please, meejittly!"

Young Rambuculus rose sulkily. "But it's rainin' out there. Can't we wait'll it stops?"

His sister Trajidia leapt up, declaiming, "Alas, to pour shame upon the noble name of Witherspyk with churlish remarks. To your post, O errant brother!"

She was about to sit down again when Grandmother Crumfiss prodded her. "Aye, an' you, too, missy-- off y'go!"

Oakheart mounted the wallsteps with the guard detail behind him. On reaching the walltop, he was surprised to see Skipper leaning on a battlement.

"Great seasons, Skip--where did you pop up from?"

The Otter Chieftain pointed to the east wickergate. "I was down checkin' the wallgates. Aye, an' I took a turn round these ramparts. I would've raised the alarm sharpish if'n any vermin showed up."

Rambuculus smirked at his father. "So it was alright for us t'have breakfast, see!"

Skipper tweaked the insolent young hog's ear. "No, it wasn't, young un. What if'n I'd chose to join ye, eh, what

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then? Yore pa's right. Stick to yore duty obey orders an' ye can sleep easy at night, remember that!"

The guards took shelter under the old long cloaks, brandishing makeshift weapons as they patrolled up and down. Bartij peered out into the rainswept woodlands. Skipper caught the big hedgehog's sigh.

"Wot's the matter, mate? Ye don't look too happy" Bartij shook his head as Auroria Witherspyk stumbled on the hem of a cloak, dropping her make-believe spear with a clatter.

"Look at 'em, Skip. They're nought but young uns playin' a game. Oh, I grant ye they might look like warriors from a distance. But they ain't! So wot d'we do if a couple o' hundred Ravagers comes marching up?"

The otter blinked rainwater from his eyelids. "I dread t'think, matey, I dread t'think. Let's just cross our paws an' hope it don't come down to that."

Cellarmole Gurjee came ambling up the wallsteps.

Bartij nodded to him. "Gurjee, 'ow are ye gettin' on with that weapon ye were plannin', the big cattypult wot throws rocks. Is it ready yet?"

The Cellarmole shrugged. "Not yet et b'ain't, Bart. Hurr, 'tis a gurt 'eavy tarsk. Y'see, me an' ee molecrew, we'm gotten 'er near ready, but us'ns got to getten et up out of ee cellars."

Closing his eyes, Skipper leaned his head on the battlement. Foremole Darbee joined them.

"Yurr, you'm feelin' alroight, zurr?"

Skipper explained. "The siege catapult, Gurjee tells me yore moles are buildin' it in the winecellars. Tell me, Foremole, wouldn't it have been better t'build it up here, where we'll be usin' it from?"

Foremole Darbee nodded his velvety head. "May'aps you'm roight, zurr, tho' et bee's turrible weather t'be a-wurkin' out o' doors."

Bartij took Skipper to one side, whispering to him, "It

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ain't the rain, Skip. Wot Darbee means is that moles an' high places don't go together, see?"

The Otter Chieftain nodded understandingly. "Yore right, of course. Lookit Darbee an' Gurjee, they're goin' down the wallsteps already. I should've thought o' that. Moles are frightened o' heights. It ain't their fault, just their nature."

Oakheart, who had been privy to the incident, made a helpful suggestion. "Ahem, pardon me, friends, but wouldn't it be better for the moles to unjoint the thing? I'm sure if we had all the relevant parts, then we could assemble the catapult up here, what d'ye think?"

Foremole Darbee caught the gist of Oakheart's scheme. He touched a digging claw to his snout three times at the hedgehog (a mark of high esteem and admiration amongst moles). "Oi thankee, zurr. You'm gurtly woise!"

The Witherspyk hog bowed deeply. "An unexpected compliment, my dear sirrah. I'll go and see if the Abbess can spare any creatures to help with the transportation of your weapon's parts."

Zwilt the Shade had been driving his Ravagers hard. He had almost reached the southern walls of the Abbey by midday, despite the worsening rainfall. The tall sable called a halt in the southern fringe of Mossflower woodlands. From there he could make out Redwall's south wall. It was barely visible through the sheeting rain curtain. Zwilt beckoned a Ravager to his side. Fallug, a tough-looking weasel, was not too bright, though he was trustworthy. On the march to the Abbey, Zwilt had been forming a plan, to which the inclement weather was an unexpected boon. He outlined his orders to Fallug.

"Listen, now, I'm putting you in charge of half of these Ravagers. How does that suit you, my friend?"

A smile formed on the weasel's hard, knotty features. "Suits me fine, Lord. Am I a gen'ral or summat?"

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Zwilt managed to return the smile. "You can be a captain for now, Fallug. Once I take that Abbey, then you can be a general. Now, listen. Take spearbeasts and any who carry an axe. I need a tree, a good, big, solid one. Go away from Redwall, so you won't be heard, pick a beech or an elm. When you've chopped it down, trim it off but leave plenty of bough stubs so it can be carried."

Fallug racked his brain for a moment, then caught on. "Goin' to burst yore way in through the front door, Lord?"

Zwilt patted the weasel's shoulder. "Exactly, Captain. So make sure you get a tree that can do the job. Can I leave that to you ... Captain?"

Proud of his new title, the weasel threw out his chest. "Aye, Lord, ye can trust me!"

Zwilt nodded. "I do. Now, once you have the tree-- or should I say, the battering ram--carry it out of these woodlands but try not to be seen. Take it over the path and across the ditch. Travel out on the flatlands a couple of miles, stay low. Out there, that's where I'll be with the rest. Directly on a straight course to reach the big gate at Redwall. Understood?"

Fallug saluted. "Unnerstood, Lord. A tree shouldn't weigh too much with fivescore Ravagers t'carry it."

Another idea occurred to Zwilt. "Better still, once you've got the tree, wait until nightfall before you bring it to me. That way you won't be seen."

With the rain still providing cover, Zwilt set out from the woodland fringe along with his warriors. Outwardly, he was the same enigmatic, tall sable that his Ravagers feared and obeyed. However, inwardly, Zwilt the Shade was quivering with anticipation at the prize which lay ahead. Unlike Vilaya, he did not need slaves and subdued woodlanders to serve his needs--an army of two hundred was sufficient. Zwilt had always followed the trade of death, and plenty of slaughter was what he was looking forward to.

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24

Diggs lay flat on his back, staring wide-eyed at the magnificent figure of the badgermaid who had him pinned down with a single paw. Never short of an answer or explanation, the tubby hare smiled winningly up at her.

"Er, beg pardon, marm, but could you repeat the question?"

She increased both the pressure of her footpaw and the volume of her voice. "I said, tell me where my friend is, if you want me to spare your life. Where is he? Speak!"