The Pearls Of Lutra

I'm a searat bred an' born,

An' I'm sailin' in the morn,

Stan' aside, me lucky buckoes, let me go!

Cut me teeth upon a cutlass Yes I did, yes I did,

An' me pore ole daddy ran away an' hid,

Sayin', 'That's no child o' mine,

Let 'im sail across the brine,

Stan' aside now for the vermin, let 'im go!'

If there's plunder in the offin'

That's fer me, that's fer me,

An' I never charge, I'll kill you all fer free.

Give me lots o' lovely loot,

An' a cask o' grog ter boot,

Up the anchor, loose the sails an' let me go!"

Sinking majestically into the western horizon the sun burned skies of blue and gold to a crimson hue. Ublaz and Sagitar watched from an upper window as the hot day drew to a close. Bloodkeel was a mere speck far out to the southeast.

The Emperor poured two goblets of rich dark wine, and pushed one in the direction of his chief Trident-rat.

"Now you may ask me," he said.

"'Ask you what, Sire?" replied Sagitar apprehensively.

The pine marten sipped his wine, still watching Bloodkeel diminishing into the hazy distance of the ocean. "What is on your mind," he said. "Why did I repair the fox's ship, why did I let him sail off with a crew of his own choosing, why did I not crush the wave vermin this morning when I had the chance? These are the questions on your mind, am I correct?"

Nervously, Sagitar swallowed the wine in one gulp. "Mightiness, you have read my mind!"

Ublaz refilled the goblets, narrowing his eyes to keep Bloodkeel in his vision. "You are only thinking what every otherbeast on Sampetra is thinking at this moment, so I will tell you. Rasconza is a born troublemaker, ambitious and deceitful. Like Barranca, he is popular with the corsair crews. This would make him dangerous in the long run, so I decided to dispense with him. First I let him choose a crew, knowing he would choose his closest allies. You see, there may be those among them who would also be future trouble to me, so I dispense with them also. But I do not want the other crews to know I am responsible for the slaying of Rasconza and his friends. I want them to think that their Emperor is benevolent to themif they consider me their friend I will have their loyalty. So, there you have your answer."

Sagitar paused, the goblet half lifted to her lips. "But Sire, you have not slain Rasconza and his crew. They have sailed away alive, free to return to Sampetra when they will."

Ublaz smiled, shaking his head at the Trident-rat's simplicity. "Look out to sea, Sagitar. If you can still see Rasconza's ship, then take a last look at it. Bloodkeel has only one place to go, straight down! When my workers fitted the new tiller and rudder this morning they were carrying out my instructions. Below the waterline, they hewed the stern until the wood was thin, then they fitted the rudder. It has a special metal spike protruding from the back of it. Every time the steersrat moves the tiller, that spike gouges into the thinned stern below the waterline. By morning Bloodkeel will be where I have sent her with all aboard, deep down on the ocean bed!"

The goblet smashed upon the floor as it fell from Sagitar's nerveless paws. She stared with speechless horror at the smiling pine marten. Ublaz spread his paws wide.

“ Now I have no enemies and I own the corsair fleet. Nobeast in all the seas and oceans is more powerful and wise than I!"

The mad-eyed Emperor had emerged as victor in his murderous game against the wave vermin. However, he had reckoned without the chain of events he had set off by slaying Lutra and his kin for six rose-tinted pearls.

Chapter 29

On Mossflower shore, dawn arrived, bright and warm. Log a Log and his Guosim shrews had been busy most of the night, working on Grath's longboat to make it seaworthy again. The big otter viewed their work admiringly, pacing up and down as she inspected her new craft.

The shrew Chieftain pointed out the features his workers had accomplished. “We used eight long willow boughs, still green. See, we've made a double outrigger of yore liddle boat by fittin' a shrew logboat to each side of 'er. My shrews put a longer keel on yore boat, too; you'll need it on the high seas. She's a good 'un now, matey!"

Grath had to agree; the new craft was ideal for seafaring. It rode in the stream, with a logboat fixed to either side by the willow boughs, leaving enough space between the outriggers to enable it to be paddled by oars. Shrews were wading into the stream, stocking the logboats with provisions, which left more passenger space on the main vessel. Clecky joined them, a bowl of soup in one paw, a slice of oatcake in the other, and a large seaweed poultice bound to the bump he had received between his ears.

"Spiffin' idea, wot! I've always fancied m'self as a jolly old nautical type, y'know. I say, d'you think we'll have enough grub along for the voyage? A chap could starve out there without plenty of fodder. I'll be captain, of course, natural air of command an' all that, born to lead my old pater always used t'say, wot?"

Martin placed a bowl of soup in front of the captive searat and sat down next to him. "Here, that'll take the edge off your hunger," he said. "Nowwhat's your name?"

The rat grabbed the bowl gratefully. "They calls me Blade-ribb, sir."

The Warriormouse tore off a hunk of shrewbread and gave it to the rat. "No need to sir me, Bladeribb. Where d'you think the ship has gone?"

Lifting his lips from the bowl, Bladeribb nodded seaward.

"Due west fer Sampetra, I'd take me oath on it."

Martin stared levelly at him. “Then your oath better be good, because you're coming with us. How far away is this place you call Sampetra?"

"Some say 'tis beyond where the sun sinks in the west, too far for yore liddle boat t'sail, I'd say."

Martin eyed the distant horizon as he strapped the sword to his back. "You let me worry about that. Now, tell me all you know about Sampetra."

By late morning they were ready to sail. Log a Log and the Guosim crowded around the bank as Martin, Grath and Clecky waded into the shallows, leading Bladeribb by a rope tied about his middle. Viola bankvole followed them, crying, "I'm going with you to help free Abbot Durral!"

Martin had noted a change in Viola. She seemed more sensible and confident since her captivity; several times that morning she had requested to sail with them. Now, as before, Martin gave her his answer.

"Sorry, little one, it would be far too dangerous for you. We'll bring the Abbot back, I promise you. Go back to Redwall now, there's a good creature. Log a Log and his shrews will see you get home safe."

Water splashed as Viola stamped her footpaw in the shallows. "Just because I'm not a grown-up you don't want me! It's not fair, I'm being treated like a silly little Dibbun!" She turned and flounced off across the shore towards the woodlands.

"Viola, we don't think you're a Dibbun," Martin called after her. "All of us know that you're a very brave young bankvole, but you're not old enough yet to find your way through the woods alone. Wait for Log a Log to take you home."

Paws akimbo, Viola turned and glared at Martin. "I know my own way back to the Abbey, thank you! I don't need a whole tribe of shrews to hold my paw. Good-bye!" With her apron strings streaming out in the breeze, she strode resolutely off.

Log a Log turned to Martin. "She's a bold creature sure enough. But yore right, Martin, she's far too young to be traveling on her own. Jesat and Teno, follow the little maid and see her safely back to Redwall. Talkin' of which, I'm not lettin' you go without extra help, matey. There's two 'ere who'd be proud to sail with ye. Plogg, Welko!" Two stout shrews leapt forward and joined the party in the shallows.

Grath Longfletch looked them over approvingly, saying, “Are you sure you can spare two strong beasts like these, Log a Log?"

Throwing a paw fondly about the shoulders of the two, Log a Log nodded at his otter friend. "These are my two sons. They can eat, fight, sail and sing like no other shrews I know of. They've pestered me 'alf the night to let 'em sail with ye. Haharr, anythin' to avoid the iron-pawed discipline of their father, ain't that right, buckoes?"

Plogg nudged his father's ribs playfully. "I'll bring ye back a nice walkin' stick, ole feller!"

He ducked a hefty swipe from his parent, who was grinning proudly. "Gerroutofit, you tadpole, bring me back any walkin' sticks an' I'll break 'em o'er yore tail. Take care of each other an' our friends, you two, an' always remember yore the sons of a Guosim Chieftain. Don't do nothin' I wouldn't do, ye blood puddens!"

Welko stamped back ashore, his face serious. "I ain't goin' on no ship that don't 'ave a name!"

Log a Log folded both paws across his fat stomach. "Yore right, Welko. Ahoy, Grath, that's why yore vessel's 'ad so much bad luck, mateyshe ain't got a name. Wot are ye goin' to call 'er? Dabby, bring some markin' dye to paint a name on."

The big otter scratched her scarred head. "Hmm, a name. I've never given it much thought..."

"Freebeast!"

They all turned to look at Martin. He pointed at the vessel and said, "We're all freebeasts and we're on a mission to free a good old beast, the Abbot of Redwall. So let her name be Freebeast!

As the tide began to swell a short ceremony was carried out in the mouth of the river. Every creature present was issued with a beaker of shrewbeer. Log a Log was lifted aboard the craft bearing two beakers, one in each paw. Standing in the prow he recited a Guosim boatnaming poem.

“ Whether she sails on river or sea,

May the wind be always behind 'er,

May she always be welcomed by friends like me,

May the foebeast never find 'er.

Let 'er crew hold the lives of each other dear,

And avoid every sharp rock or reef,

Good seasons and fates now listen and 'ear,

Keep this gallant Freebeast from all grief!"

Amid rousing cheers Log a Log poured one beaker over the prow and drank the other in a single swallow, along with everyone else. Martin and his friends tossed their weapons aboard and hauled themselves over the side. Grath took the tiller as Plogg and Welko hoisted the sail upon its new ashpole mast. Martin and Clecky stood for'ard, punting deep either side with the oars. Freebeast skimmed out of the river and into the open sea, her sail billowing bravely as she caught the wind and bucked head-on into the first rollers. Clecky shipped his oar as Martin did. Standing upright, the five crew members of Freebeast held their weapons aloft and roared their warcries across the sunflecked waters to the Guosim on the shore.

"Redwaaaaall! Eulaliaaa! Holt Lutraaaa! Logalogalogalog!"

Seabirds wheeled overhead in the bright summer day. Framed against the cloudless blue above, the sun beat down on the strange three-hulled vessel as it ploughed the waves. On into the unknown deeps of the wild ocean, questing for Durral the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey. The voyage had begun!

Chapter 30

Sitting on the south walltop alongside her friends, Tansy looked upward to the north. "Well, what do you see?" she said to Rollo.

Gazing in the same direction, the old Recorder answered, "I see the south face of the Abbey building, as you do. Anybeast see anything different?"

Piknim and Craklyn began giggling, a sure sign that they were onto something. Rollo glared sternly over the top of his glasses at the Abbeymaids.

"Well, I'm glad some creatures find the situation amusing. No doubt you are about to tell us something, when you are quite finished with your fit of the giggles."

Struggling to regain control of themselves, the pair responded, "Teeheehee! Er hrmph! Don't you think we should be paying more attention to the next words of the poem, sir?"

"Teehee! Craklyn says we look like four fledglings waiting to be fed. Heeheehee! Sitting on top of a wall with our heads up."

Tansy stifled a smile at the thought. Rollo unrolled the thin parchment rather huffily, spreading it on the walltop.

"Ahem! Just as I was about to do," he said. "Now let me see.

"Put a home with our Abbey Warrior,

North East South at the start,

Then to complete this riddle,

Add the last thing in 'my heart'."

Nodding to each other, Piknim and Craklyn gave the answer.

“ Another name for a home?''

"A house!"

"Who is our Abbey Warrior?"

"Martin!"

"Put them together and name me a little bird ..."

"House martin!"

Tansy was about to speak when Rollo jumped in ahead of her. "North, East, South begin with N, E, S. The last thing in my heart is the letter T. Put them together and we have nest! We're looking for a house martin's nest!"

Not to be outdone, Tansy swiftly added her contribution.

"Below the mouth of a mouse looking south,

All in a deserted dwelling.

So sit o'er the maidenhair, gaze up north,

And solve what my next words are telling.

"Look, a small attic window, and see carved in the stone above it; I'll wager that's the head of a mouse. See!"

Four pairs of eyes peered keenly up at the highest window on the north side of the Abbey. Sure enough, the arched apex of the stone was decorated with a carved head.

Rollo polished his spectacles hard, blinking, and said, "Yes, it is a creature of some sort, but it's too high up to tell what it is. The only way to be sure is to go up there ..."

Tansy tugged at the old Recorder's sleeve to gain his attention. She pointed to the spot where Piknim and Craklyn had been sitting a moment before. "They've already gone. Come on, old friend, let's follow."

She assisted the old bankvole down the wallsteps.

"I wonder what the last one up there is this time?" he muttered, shaking his head. "A tottering tadpole or a boggled beetle?"

The hedgehog maid smiled as they crossed the lawn. "I'd better not tell you, or you'd have Mother Auma send 'em to bed with no supper."

The high window in question was the one in Fermald's attic. It was filled by a large chunk of translucent rock crystal. Tansy reached it by standing on the back of Fermald's armchair. Craklyn climbed up to help her, whilst Rollo and Piknim held on to the battered old chair, steadying it.

The hedgehog maid gave a cry of delight as she felt the lump of crystal move beneath her paw. "Haha! It's not even cemented in. Mind your paws, Craklynlook out below!"

She pulled it loose; the crystal sent up a cloud of dust as it thudded onto the cushioned armchair seat. Craklyn crawled into the window space and poked her head out to look around.

Piknim danced up and down with impatience. "Can you see the house martin's nest, is the pearl there?"

Only when Tansy and the squirrelmaid were safe back on the attic floor did Craklyn make her report. "Phew! I felt awfully dizzy looking out of the window. D'you realize how high up we are? But I could see the nestit's on a narrow stone parapet, wedged in a corner."

Rollo was obviously trying to keep calm as he asked the vital question. "Hmm, did you see the ... er, pearl?"

Craklyn perched on the chair arm, looking at her friends' expectant faces, framed in the sunlit shaft from the window. "I saw the nest, a typical house martin dwelling, almost like a round ball with a small hole for an entrance. But I don't think any birds have used it for some seasons. It looked empty."

Tansy nodded thoughtfully.

"Exactly as the rhyme says. 'Below the mouth of a mouse looking south, all in a deserted dwelling.' The nest is the deserted dwelling. But the thing that really mystifies me is, how did a very old squirrel like Fermald manage to get the pearl into the nest?"

Piknim clapped a paw to her mouth, but could not stop the giggle that bubbled forth. "Teeheehee! Ask mister Rollo, he's pretty ancient. Heeheehe should know!"

Quite unexpectedly, the old Recorder smiled and made a slight bow to the mousemaid. "Thank you, Piknim, nice to see you showing some respect for your elders. As a matter of fact the question has been puzzling me. However, I think I know how Fermald managed to place the pearl in that house martin's nest."

It was the three Abbeymaids' turn to look surprised. Rollo seated himself in the armchair and explained in three words. "Fermald's fishing rod!"

Tansy clapped her paws in delight. "Of course! I'll go and get it!"

Craklyn lay in the window space, leaning outward, while Tansy and Piknim held tight to her footpaws as she fished for the nest. It was a lot simpler than they thought. With a triple-barbed hook attached to the line the nest was easily snagged. Craklyn reeled it up carefully, as Rollo paced the floor chatting away to himself, highly pleased with his own wisdom.

"Quite basic, really. Fermald hooked the nest, reeled it up here, placed the pearl in it and lowered it back into position again. Hah! You can't beat an old head on old shoulders!"

Craklyn swung the nest inside, and Tansy caught it skillfully. Seasons ago a clever little house martin had formed the circular structure of grass, leaves and mud, leaving a round opening. She had probably used it several times to rear her eggchicks.

Rollo grinned broadly at the three eager faces as he upended the nest and shook it.

“ Just as the rhyme says. 'My fourth tear I shed, for the Abbey Redwall, laid where it never should hatch or fall.' Behold, here is our fourth pearl, young maids!"

But only an acorn shell fell out onto the attic floorboards.

In complete silence Tansy took the nest from Rollo. The hedgehog maid rummaged inside it with her paw, then she shook it and held it up to the light, her face a picture of disappointment. "There's no pearl! It's gone!"

Piknim and Craklyn were both shocked. They too inspected the empty nest, but no amount of looking could conjure up a pearl that was not there. All four friends slumped on the attic floor, totally dejected.

Tansy picked up the acorn shell and looked closely at it. "This is an empty shellit's been cracked and stuck together again. See!" She split the shell and drew forth the scrap of parchment which had been rolled up inside. "Here's the clue to our fifth pearl, though I don't intend opening or reading it until we find the fourth pearl. Agreed?"

Rollo spoke for himself and the other two maids. "Agreed, it would not seem right. We must discover each pearl in the order that Fermald intended us to. Come on, cheer up, friends, let's go to the grounds below and try to find that pearl."

Auma sat with Gerul and Skipper at the table in Great Hall. Late evening sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows onto a table that did full justice to the culinary skills of Redwall cooks. Neither beast had let injury blunt his appetite. With no great interest in the elderberry tart or the small beaker of plum cordial before her, the badger Mother turned to Skipper, saying, "No news of Martin and Clecky yet?"

The brawny otter looked up from his summer salad, took a draft of October ale and wiped his mouth on the back of a paw. "I'm afraid not, marm, though I expect the otter patrol I sent out to be back with some information before dawn tomorrow. Who knows, may'ap they'll bring Martin an' Clecky with 'em, the Abbot an' Viola too with any luck."

Auma sniffed hard, blinked back a tear and sighed. "Poor Durral and Viola. I hope they're not still in the clutches of that foul lizard thing and those scurvy searats."

Gerul demolished a wedge of celery and mushroom turnover with all the ease of a seasoned trencherbeast. "Ah now, don't be a worryin' yerself over things y'can't control, marm. Sure, as me ould mother always used t'say, ten seasons from now y'll be wonderin' wot you were bothered about today, if yer still around t'bother. Will y'look at ould Rollo an' those young maids over there, they've got faces on them like frazzled frogs, so they have. Hi there, Tansy! Bring y'friends over here an' join the Redwall worriers."

When the four friends had joined Auma, Skipper and Gerul, the owl applied himself back to a chunk of heavy fruitcake. "There now, aren't we the grand ould miserable tablemates. What are you lot lookin' so down in the whiskers about?"

Tansy explained in detail about the house martin's nest. Gerul listened carefully as he helped himself to Auma's tart. "Hmm, so there was no pearl in the nest, eh? Well, wot d'yer suppose happened? Did it fall out, have y'searched the grounds below the nest?"

Rollo picked at a slice of apple pie. "Oh yes, we went over the area with a fine-tooth comb. There was no sign of anything resembling a pearl."

Gerul picked crumbs from his chest as he talked. "So, where in the name o' faith d'ye think the pearl went?"

Rollo pushed away his apple pie and shrugged. "How should I know?"

The owl blinked his enormous eyes. "Tchah! Me ould mother wouldn't be too pleased with you, Rollo. A beast of yore long seasons an' wisdom not bein' able to see wot's starin' ye in the whiskers. If the pearl never fell, then sure it was taken by some-beast or other, that's clear enough!''

The Recorder of Redwall Abbey stared indignantly at Gerul. "Oh indeed? Somebeast took it, eh! From over halfway up the Abbey wall in a nest on a tiny ledge? Pray be good enough to tell me, sir, what sort of creature was it?''

Gerul finished his crumb-picking ablutions and hopped down to the floor, chuckling at the angry Recorder. "Ah, sure, yer gettin' y'whiskers in a tizz over nothin' at all. I hate leavin' a luvly table o' vittles like this, but if y'll be kind enough t'follow me good self I'll try t'help yer!-"

The four friends followed Gerul up to Fermald's attic. He waddled around the abandoned martin's nest, touching it now and again with a hefty talon as he enquired, "An' this is exactly as y'found it, just like it is now?"

"Just as we found it," Tansy answered.

Gerul looked from one to the other. "An' of course you all had yer eyes shut tight, did ye not?"

Piknim was running out of patience. "Silly owl, we had our eyes wide open," she said, stamping her paw down.

From amid the dried grass and mud of the nest Gerul picked a small grayish-black feather. "So, you had yer eyes open an' never saw this, hah! Me ould mother would've given yez the length o' her beak, so she would!"

Tansy twirled the feather in her paw, mystified. "What is it, Gerul?"

The owl hopped up onto the armchair and blinked at Tansy. "Faith, don't y'know, missie? 'tis the neck feather of a jackdaw, the greatest robber ever to have an ould set of wings. Yore pearl was stolen by a jackdaw. They'll have anythin' shiny, the thievin' blackguards. They'd have the eyes out o' yer head if you weren't watchinem, so me mother used t'say!"

Rollo plopped into the armchair glumly. "You mean to tell us that the fourth pearl was stolen by a jackdaw? It could be anywhere in Mossflower, or even beyond by now. How are we ever going to find it?"

Gerul leapt to the floor and started waddling off back to the remains of dinner in Great Hall.

"Easy. I'll show ye after breakfast tomorrer!" he said.

Wullger the otter gatekeeper poked his head round the door of Great Hall and called to Auma, "Visitors t'see yer, marm, you too, Skip!"

Led by Log a Log and half a score of burly otters, the Guosim shrews piled into the hall. Despite his still-healing wounds, Skipper dashed to meet them.

"Ahoy, Rangapaw, you timed that nicely, dinner ain't over yet. Log a Log, y'old son of a shrew, how are ye, matey!"

Greetings were exchanged as helpers ran to put out extra food for the newcomers. Log a Log and Rangapaw joined Auma and the otter Chieftain at the big table. Skipper poured October ale for them, giving them a moment to slake their thirst.

Rangapaw was a large sleek otter. She stood almost a head taller than Skipper, her father. Mopping off a tankard of ale, she gave Skipper a friendly buffet across the back, which nearly knocked him from his seat. He winked fondly at her.

"Now then, y'great waterhound, stop knockin' yore ole daddy about an' make yore report."

The big otter poured herself more October ale. "Well, we traveled as fast as we could when word came from Log a Log that it was our mates the Redwallers in trouble, but we arrived too late. Ole Log a Log can tell you the rest; we met him on the shore."

The Guosim Chieftain went on to explain how Lask Frildur and Romsca had sailed off with the Abbot and how Martin had taken up pursuit of them with his small band. He told of Grath Longfletch rescuing Viola, then looked about, saying, "Is the volemaid not back yet? She should have arrived more'n a day ago."

Auma looked shocked. "Back here? No. Surely Martin didn't let the little maid travel alone?"

Log a Log shook his head. "Of course not, marm. She had an escort of two stout shrews. Hey, Jesat and Teno, what say you?"

Jesat and Teno stood forward. “We saw her right to the gates, marm. She thanked us politely, but insisted on going in by herself."

Rangapaw quaffed her second tankard of ale and stood up. "Pack some o' those vittles for me an' the crew; we'll go straight away an' search for the liddle maid."

When the otters had departed Log a Log patted Auma's paw reassuringly. "Ahoy now, don't fret y'self, marm, they'll find her; and Martin an' his crew won't rest until they bring yore Abbot back 'ome. I know it, an' you would too if'n you'd seen the iron in his eyes when he set sail after those wavescum. Hah! That's one warrior they won't shake off, I'd take me affidavit on that!"

"That may be so," said Rollo. "But we must not slow down our search for the pearls; if we find the ransom, we may be able to save some bloodshed."

A moment later Sister Cicely stormed in and banged the table with a medicine spoon. "I'll wager nobeast has seen those three Dibbuns! They're not in the dormitory, I've searched all around the Abbey..."

Tansy interrupted the irate Sister. "D'you mean Arven, Diggum and Gurrbowl?"

Cicely brandished the medicine spoon fiercely. "Who else! Oooh, just let me get my paws on that little wretch Arven, he's the ringleader; the other two babes would follow him anywhere. I'll dose him purple with nettle soup when I get him! I'll bath him until his ears are bright red, I'll... I'll..."

Auma interrupted the Sister sternly. "You'll leave them to me, Cicely. After all, they are only Dibbuns. No doubt they'll be hiding somewhere, like last time. I say let us wait until they get hungry enough to come out, then we'll see what they have to say for themselves."

At that moment the three Dibbuns in question were wandering deep in Mossflower Wood. Wullger had left the Abbey main gate ajar when he admitted the otters and Guosim shrews, and the three Abbeybabes had seized their chance. Armed with sticks and a blanket, which they intended to make into a tent, they set off. They also had a big fruitcake, a bag of candied chestnuts and a flask of strawberry cordial purloined from the kitchens.

Arven smiled to himself as he muttered to his willing companions, "Thissa time we get lotsa mucky and dusted, catcher some o' those blizzards an' smack 'em wiv our big sticks. Then they be gladder to see us, I betcher!"

Diggum waved her stick about savagely. "Bo urr, us'ns be orful turrible h'aminals."

Gurrbowl agreed wholeheartedly. "Yurr, an us won't mightn't cumm back till we be growed up. Hurr hurr, we'm shout at 'em all an' purrem up t'bed early!"

The soft folds of velvet summer night descended over the woodlands, silencing birdsong as the three tiny figures were swallowed up in still-warm darkness.

Chapter 31

Dawn broke hot and warm over a sheltered inlet on the northwest coast of Sampetra. The ebbing tide had thrown up some flotsam from the vessel Bloodkeel. Still intact, the rudder and tiller lay among the shells and seaweed festooning the tideline. Lashed to it by a heaving line were Rasconza the fox and his steersrat Guja. Pounded and battered by the seas, they coughed up salt water as they extricated themselves from the ropes, tiller and rudder that had kept them alive for almost two days on the ocean. The pair dragged themselves painfully over the shore, into the shadow of a rock overhang at the foot of a hill. There they found fresh water.

Greedily the two corsairs lapped at the tiny rivulet of cold, crystal-clear liquid that threaded thinly and dripped from the mossy underside of their shelter. Rasconza picked salt rime from his eye corners, gazing beyond the cove, out to where the deep ocean glimmered and shimmered in early morn.

The fox's voice was rasping and painful, bitter and vengeful. "A full crew, matey, an' we're the only two left alive t'tell the tale!"

Guja had scraped some of the damp moss off with his dagger. He chewed it until there was no more moisture or nourishment left, then spat it out viciously. "Aye, Cap'n, all our shipmates, either drowned or eaten by the big fishes, every beastjack 0' them slain by Mad Eyes' treachery!"

Rasconza unbuckled the saturated belt that held his daggers, and laid the weapons out one by one on the grass. Selecting his favorite blade, he began honing it on a piece of rock. "Mark my words, Guja, the worst day's work Ublaz ever did was to leave me alive. Though he don't know it, his dyin' day is near!"

As Chief Trident-rat, it was Sagitar's duty to report to her Emperor morning and night. As she entered the pine marten's throne room, Sagitar could see that Ublaz was in a foul mood. He slumped on his throne staring at the lifeless form of Grail, his messenger gull. The great black-backed bird had died of exhaustion bringing news back to its master.

Ublaz touched the limp wing feathers contemptuously with his footpaw. "Hah! Grail was the only one of my gulls to make it back, and now look at himuseless bundle of birdflesh!"

In the silence that followed, Sagitar shuffled nervously. Feeling it her duty to make some comment, she enquired meekly, "Did the bird bring good news of your pearls, Sire?"

Ublaz rose and, stepping over the dead gull, he stared out of the wide chamber window at the ocean beyond. "Lask Frildur and Romsca are sailing back to Sampetra. They didn't get the pearls. Instead they're bringing the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey as a hostagethe Tears of all Oceans are to be his ransom. What d'you think of that?"

Sagitar's voice was apprehensive as she answered, "Well, at least you have something to bargain with, Sire ..."

Ublaz whirled upon her, his eyes blazing angrily. "Bargain? I am Ublaz, Emperor of Seas and Oceans. I take! Twice my creatures have failed me. Twice! If I had gone after the pearls myself in the first place I would have them now, set in my new crown! There will be no more bargaining or playing of games. When that ship drops anchor here, we will sail again back to the land of Mossflower and Redwall Abbeyall of my ships and every creature on this island. That way there will be none left behind to seize power and plot behind my back. I will lead everybeast, Monitors, Trident-rats and corsairs, against Redwall. I will smash it stone from stone and rip those pearls from the wreckage. The ruins of that Abbey will remain as a marker to the deadbeasts that lie beneath themthe ones who tried to defy the might of Ublaz!"

Romsca ushered Abbot Durral into her cabin. With a few swift slashes of her sword she released him from his rope shackles. The corsair ferret sat Durral upon her bunk, issuing him with a beaker of seaweed grog and some hard ship's biscuit.

The old mouse sipped at the fiery liquid, squinting without his eyeglasses as he stared curiously at Romsca.

"Why are you helping me like this, my child?"

Romsca sheathed her cutlass blade firmly. "I ain't yore child, I keep tellin' yer, an' I ain't doin' this to 'elp you. 'Tis more fer my benefit you be kept alive. We're sailin' into bad cold weather, you wouldn't last a day out on deck. Sit tight in 'ere an' keep the door locked, d'ye hear?"

Abbot Durral smiled warmly at the wild-looking corsair. "You are a good creature, Romsca. What a pity you chose the life of a corsair."

Romsca stood with one paw on the doorlatch. "It ain't none o' yore business wot I chose ter be," she said harshly. " 'Tis a long hard story 'ow I come t'be wot I am. Any'ow, I likes bein' a corsair an' I ain't ashamed o' my life. Now you stay put, ole Durral, an' don't open this door to none but me. I don't trust that Lask Frildur no more, he's got a crazy look in 'is eyes of late."

Slamming the cabin door, Romsca went aft. The weather was cold and the seas a slate gray. She faced for'ard and peered anxiously; the wind was dropping, a deep fogbank was looming up, and ice was beginning to form on the rigging. Turning, she looked aft, scanning the waters in the ship's wake. Somewhere out along the eastern horizon Romsca thought she saw a small dark dot. She blinked and looked again, but she had lost the location of the dot owing to the ship's movement on the oily waveless swell. A slithering sound behind Romsca caused her to turn swiftly, paw on swordhilt. Lask Frildur was standing there watching her. Though he looked cold and seasick there was a crafty glimmer in the Monitor General's eyes.

"Where have you hidden the Abbotmouze, Romzca?" he hissed.

Romsca drew her cutlass and circled until the lizard was backed to the stern rail. She pointed the blade at him. "Never you mind about the Abbot, I'm takin' charge o' him. Keep yore distance, Lask, or I swear I'll spit yer on this blade!"

Lask flicked his tongue at the corsair ferret. "Lzzzt! Food iz running low, weather iz growing colder, you have got uz lozt again."

Romsca stared contemptuously at the Monitor. "Vittles is as short fer me'n'my crew as they are fer you an' yore lizards. As fer the weatherwell, it'll get colder afore we're out o' these waters, an' if you think I've got ye lost then yore welcome to navigate fer yerself. Other than that, you stay out o' my way an' don't start any trouble that y'can't finish."

Lask stayed leaning on the rail, shivering, but still smiling slyly. "When I ztart trouble, Romzca, you will be the firzt to know!"

The longboat with the outriggers on either side of it bobbed and swayed as Welko the shrew slid down from the masthead. Grath helped him to the narrow deck.

"Well, was it the corsair ship you saw to the west?" she asked.

Welko drew his cloak against the cold. "I'm not sure. I thought I saw a sail, then I lost sight of it. There could be fog ahead, mayhap she's sailed into it."

Clecky was seated aft, guarding a small cooking fire he had made on a bed of sand surrounded by slate. The lanky hare had taken to being very nautical. "Ahoy there, me heartychaps, gruber, vittles are about ready," he called out to everyone. "I say, Plogg old cove, nip over into the larboard shrewboat an' dig out a few apples, will you, there's a good ol' barnacle, wot?"

The two shrewboats that served as outriggers to the longboat were loaded with supplies; Martin had made space in the starboard one for Bladeribb, their searat captive. The searat stared sullenly at Plogg as the latter climbed across to the far logboat. The shrew rummaged through the ration packs before calling back to Clecky, "There's not many apples left!"

Grath glared across at Bladeribb. "Have you been sneakin' across at night an' stealin' apples?''

Martin patted Grath's broad back. "No, he's been right there all along, I've kept my eye on him. Clecky, you haven't been pinching the odd half-dozen apples, have you?''

The hare's ears stood up with indignation. "Er, d'you mind belayin' that statement, ol' seamouse, I haven't touched a single apple. Hmph! Bally cheek of some crewbeasts. Take a proper look over there, I'm sure you'll find heaps of jolly ol' apples rollin' about somewheres, wot!"

Plogg began turning the packs over and checking them. Suddenly he gave a shout of alarm as he rolled back a crumpled canvas cover. Drawing his sword, Martin leapt aboard the log-boat, only to find Plogg wrestling with a kicking, screaming Viola bankvole.

Martin caught her sharply by the ear. "What in the name of thunder are you doing here, miss? I told you to go back to the Abbey. You could have been drowned or injured or ... or... How did you manage to stow away on this logboat, and what happened to Jesak and Teno?"

Viola wriggled free of the warrior's grasp and skipped nimbly over to the longboat, where she hid behind Clecky, shouting, "I gave them the slip and doubled back and stole aboard while you were all drinking and naming the boat. I wasn't drowned or injured, see! Told you I was going to help rescue Father Abbot, didn't I! Well, what're you going t'do now? You can't turn back or throw me overboard!"

Grath Longfletch grinned and winked at the volemaid. "Yore right there, young 'un. My, yore a peppery one an' no mistake. Looks like we're stuck with you."

Clecky looked over his shoulder, viewing the stowaway sternly. "You're lucky we aren't searats or those corsair bods, m'gel, or we'd have chucked you overboard to the fishes just t'save feedin' you, wot!"

Martin shook his head in despair as he gazed at the defiant volemaid. "Think of the distress you've caused Mother Auma and all your friends back at the Abbey. They probably think you're still a prisoner aboard that ship with the Abbot. If you'd gone back to Redwall as I told you, it would have saved a load of worry for every beast who cares what happens to you, miss!"

The sudden realization of what she had done caused tears to flood down Viola's cheeks, and she hung her head in shame.

Martin could not bear to see a young creature so unhappy. He patted the volemaid's head gently. "There, there, now, don't cry. Your motives were good and I know you were only trying to help. Welcome aboard, Viola. Come on, smile, and we'll try to make the best of it."

They dined on toasted cheese and hot shrewbread, half an apple apiece and some oat and barley cordial. Martin carried a plateful across to Bladeribb; the searat was quite comfortable, wrapped in a cloak and a blanket.

The warrior once again questioned his captive. "Could that have been the vessel Waveworm that Welko sighted earlier? Are we on the right course?"

The searat grabbed his plate of food, nodding. "Aye, that'll be "er. You'll be sailin' into wintry seas now, cold an' dangerous, fog an' ice. If'n we gets through it you'll prob'ly sight 'er agin in the good weather. She'll be 'eaded due west toward the settin' sun, like I told yer."

Martin caught the searat's paw as he was about to eat. "Play me false just once, Bladeribb, and I'll slay you. Is that clear? Steer us true if you want to stay alive."

The searat shrugged. "I'm bound t'die sooner or later, if not by your paw, then it'll either be Lask Frildur or Ublaz Mad Eyes for allowin' meself t'be taken captive."

Chapter 32

Viola got on famously with Plogg and Welko, the sons of Log a Log. As night began setting over the deep, the small crew wrapped an old sailcloth around themselves and sat in a circle with Clecky's little fire at the center to keep out the intensifying cold.

The lanky hare sang a song to keep their spirits up.

"Of all the creatures in the land,

The sea or in the air,

Not one of 'em is half so grand,

Or noble as a hare.

A hare can jump, a hare can run,

He don't live down a hole,

In fact a hare's a lot more fun

Than almost any mole.

A hare's courageous and so brave,

Good-mannered and quite courtly,

Sometimes he's serious and grave,

But never fat, just portly.

He never puts a footpaw wrong,

His disposition's sunny,

With ears so elegant and long,

Not stubby like a bunny.

So sing his praises everywhere,

This creature bold, with charm to spare,

The one thing better than a hare,

Is two hares, that's a pair!"

Clecky helped himself to a piece of toasted cheese. "I'd take a bow, but I don't want to rock the jolly old boat, wot?"

Grath nodded in mock admiration. “Yore far too modest for words, matey."

The hare nodded agreement as he gobbled the cheese down. "Hmm, shy an' retirin' too, though it's more a bally virtue than a fault to a chap like me, y'know."

Grath snatched the last piece of cheese before Clecky could lay paw to it. "Well said, matey, yore just the shy retirin' type we've been lookin' for to keep first watch. Wake me in an hour's time."

The little craft with its outriggers sailed through the night towards the fogbank with Clecky's mutterings echoing faintly across the still waters.

"Hmph! Good job I'm polite an' withdrawn too, not like these otter types, brash common wallahs. Still, what can one expect of a creature with funny little ears an' a tail like a bally plank."

The night was pitch black and wreathed in thick damp fog when Grath shook Martin to take third watch. "Come on, matey, time for yore watch. Here's a beaker of oat'n'barley water I heated up on the fire. Wake Plogg for his watch when you've done yores."

Martin thanked the otter and moved up into the bow of the longboat. Crouching, he snuggled into his cloak, sipping gratefully at the hot drink as he kept watch. However, it was only the damp bitter cold that kept him awake. All that was visible, even to the keenest eye, was a solid wall of whitish gray fog. How long he crouched there Martin did not know. Strange shapes loomed up out of the mists, only to vaporize and vanish. Martin knew they were all from his imagination; one after another the specters appeared before his wearying eyes: dragons, great fish, corsair galleys, at one point he actually thought he saw Redwall Abbey. Shaking himself and rubbing his eyes, he tried hard to stay awake and keep a sense of normality in a world of wraithlike apparitions, swirling and roiling like patterns in watery milk. He watched as a towering mountain of ice loomed large directly in front of the longboat. Another trick his mind was playing on him, he thought, blinking furiously ... Or was it?

Crrrrunch!

Suddenly the Warriormouse was wrenched to his senses by the danger.

"All paws for'ard!" Martin yelled.

Freezing icy seawater poured into the longboat; it sizzled and hissed as it drowned Clecky's small fire. Grath grabbed Viola as she dived towards the bow to join Clecky and the two shrews. There was a tearing, rending noise followed by an agonized scream, which was cut short in a whoosh of water. Grath scrambled back along the cracking planks of the disintegrating longboat to investigate. She was immediately back, yelling, “Overboard, every beast abandon the boat!''

Leaping over the side into the freezing water, they were amazed to find that it was no more than a thin stream. They found themselves standing paw-deep on top of solid ice. Only Grath could explain the phenomenon.

"Where I come from on the far north coast, we heard tales of this from seals and sea otters. This is a floating mountain of ice, I think they called it an iceberg. From what I can see, our craft ran into a deep crack in the shallow edge of this iceberg. It crushed both the shrewboat outriggerswe jumped overboard as it struck the longboat. Bladeribb the searat didn't stand a chance."

Viola shuddered at the thought of the searat's fate. "Crushed to death by an ice mountain. What a dreadful way to die."

Grath put aside her bow and quiver, nodding grimly. "Don't feel sorrow for that 'un, missie, his passin' was quick an' easy. Not like the innocent creatures he slew for no reason. Right, wot's the next move, Martin?"

The Warriormouse adjusted the sword belt across his shoulders. "We'd best go and see if we can salvage anything from the wreckage. Plogg and Welko, you stay here with Viola, it should be light soon. Grath, Clecky, come with me."

The hare jumped from the ledge onto the water-covered ice shelf. Immediately he slipped, falling flat on his tail. "Tchah! I say, you chaps, this's all a bit much, no boat, no grub, no fire and now a blinkin' wet behind, wot!"

Grath slid across the ice, using her tail as a rudder. Reaching the edge, she called out happily, "Ahoy, there's the logboat with the supplies in it! Come an' lend a paw, mates!"

The shrew craft was floating just a short distance from where :hey stood, practically undamaged. Having the longest reach of the three, Clecky took Martin's sword and, while they held him teetering on the edge of the ice floe, he leaned out and jabbed at the logboat, using the sword like a harpoon. There was a soft thunk as the sharp steel tip bit into wood. The hare drew the narrow craft slowly and carefully in, then Grath leaned out and grabbed the stern firmly.

"Got it! What a stroke of luck. This logboat must have snapped off and shot backward into the sea instead of being crushed. Here, Martin, hold on to my tail while I pull her up onto the ice."

With a mighty heave the powerful otter lifted the stern clear of the water and slid the logboat up onto the ice. Martin sharpened a broken spar into a pointed stake, then dug a hole in the ice with his swordpoint. Clecky held the stake steady as Grath drove it tightly into the hole. They made the logboat fast to the stake by its headrope, then climbed aboard to take stock of the supplies.

Gradually the grayish fog changed to soft white with the advent of dawn. The silence was total; even the voices of the small crew sounded muffled and subdued by the heavy, all-pervading mist curtain. Using a canvas sail, the friends had rigged a tent from for'ard to aft on the logboat. Now, relatively snug, they sat watching Clecky. The hare had gathered wood from the wreckage, splitting it to find the driest pieces. Using a flint, he struck a spark against Martin's sword blade onto a heap of splinters and torn sacking scraps from the supply wrappings.

A faint glow, accompanied by a wisp of smoke, had the hungry hare chortling happily. "Ohohoho, I say, pals, never mind the dangers an' flippin' perils besettin' us, who's for a good hot scoff, wot wot?"

Everybeast in the crew contributed their cooking skills, to make what for cold and famished creatures was an epic feast. Martin and Viola chopped carrots, mushrooms and any vegetables they could find among the packs; Clecky and Grath boiled water in an iron pot, adding herbs, dried watershrimp and hot-root. Plogg and Welko toasted shrewbread and warmed some damson wine.

Soon they were tucking into tasty bowls of soup, followed by hot shrewbread spread with cherry preserve and small beakers of damson wine, warm from the fire.

Welko patted his stomach. "Eat up, mates, there's nought like good vittles to keep yore spirits high!"

"Aye, make the best of it," Plogg responded, a little gloomily, "there's little enough left. Over half our supplies were lost along with that searat in the other logboat. Dunno where the next good meal's comin' from."

Viola leaned across and dabbed some cherry preserve onto the pessimistic shrew's nose. "Thank you for those few cheery words, sir, you little fat misery! Aren't you glad t'be alive?"

Welko tugged his brother's ear heartily. "C'mon, smile, you sulky liddle toad, smile!"

Plogg pulled a long face, at which Martin burst out laughing. "If only your father could see you now. I vote, as captain of this craft, that if Plogg doesn't start smiling and singing straightaway, we toss him into the water and let him turn into an ice lump!"

There was a loud cry of agreement. Grath seized the shrew by his belt, winking at Clecky. "Good idea. I ain't sittin' in the same boat as a shrew with a gob on 'im like a flattened ferret!"

Immediately Plogg grinned from ear to ear and broke into song.

"Oh, I'm 'appy as the day is long,

I'm cheery, merry, bright,

From early morn I sings me song,

Until last thing at night.

Chop off me paws, slice off me tail,

An' my pore neck start wringin',

You'll never 'ear me cry or wail,

Because I'll still be singin'!

Ooooo, flugga dugga dugga chugchugchug,

With a smile like a duck upon me mug!"

Plogg's song was greeted by laughter and cheers, merriment that would have soon ceased had the friends known that keen dark eyes, scores of them, were watching through the mists as heavy damp forms slid wet and silent towards the little logboat lying on the broad watery ice ledge.

Chapter 33

Powder-blue and cloudless, the morning sky hung hot and still over Redwall Abbey. Dewdrops evaporating from leaf and grass left orchard and lawn a soft summer green; trilling birdsong resounded from Mossflower Wood beyond the ancient sandstone walls. Summer was blossoming into long hot days and still-warm evenings.

Hogwife Teasel sat at breakfast between Auma and Tansy. She rapped the table impatiently with her ladle, glancing from one to the other as she remonstrated with them.

"Sittinere a frettin' ain't doin' you a smidge o' good. I tell you, Auma, those three Dibbuns will show up when they've a mind to, and those others will soon find Viola; we can be sure of that. An' as for you, missie Tansy, great seasons, just lookit yoreself, a mopin' an' a floppin' about like a fish on a bank, what 'elp is that to anybeast?

"Now you lissen t'me, friends, this Abbey'll be searched from attic to orchard today an' those three babes will be found and that's an end to it! Now I needs somebeast t'lend a paw sortin' through the fruit an' veggies from the spring crop. Seein' as I don't 'ave Abbot Durral to 'elp me, I'll need you, Mother Auma.

“ Tansy, take yore liddle friends an' old Rollo and get search-in'lands sakes, we may need those pearls to get our Abbot back! Leave the Dibbun searchin' to Brother Dormal, Skipper an' Sister Cicelythey've got every Abbeybeast organized for a day-long Dibbun hunt."

The badger pushed away her half-empty platter and gave a huge sigh. Smiling, she patted Teasel's workworn paw. "Right! Lead me to those fruit and vegetables. Tansy, you heard our good hogwife, back to your search, miss!"

Piknim, Craklyn and Rollo were trying to pry Gerul loose from the breakfast table. The greedy owl was hurriedly stuffing the last of a batch of bilberry scones into his beak and washing them down with cold mint tea.

"Arr now, don't be rushin' me, y'dreadful creatures, or I'll get indigestions in me ould stummick an' I won't be able to think."

Tansy folded the scones into a serviette and gave them to him. "Here, faminebeak, take these with you. Who ever heard of an owl thinking with his stomach?"

Gerul hopped ahead of them to the attics, still protesting. "Any sensible owl thinks with his stummick, shows how much you know, miss spike'ead. Me ould mother always used t'say t'me that my head was so full of nonsense that I'd have t'think with me stummick an' that way if I fell on me head I wouldn't hurt me brain. So y'see I've got to have plenty o' packin' round me stummick to protect it in case I need t'do some serious thinkin'."

When they reached Fermald's attic, Gerul took the house martin's empty nest and placed a glittering fragment of crystal in it.

"Here now, Craklyn, yore young'n'spry, attach this nest to the fishin' rod and place it back down on that ledge where y'found it."

As the squirrelmaid carried out Genii's instructions, Rollo realized what the owl's plan was.

“ Oh, I see. Now we wait for the jackdaw to return and steal the piece of crystal, then we follow it. Good idea!"

Gerul perched on the armchair and unwrapped his scones. "Aye, I'm not just feathers an' a beak, y'know, us owls are supposed t'be very wise. Now, Tansy, you take Piknim an' Craklyn, stay below on the south walltop an' watch the nest from there. When y'see the ould jackdaw, you'll have to move sharp-like t'keep up with 'im, 'cos y'don't want to lose the bird, do yer? Now hurry along, young misses. Me an' Rollo will watch from up here."

About mid-morning Friar Higgle Stump came waddling along the walltop with a laden sack upon his back. He stopped by the three Abbeymaids and nodded to them. "Good day t'you, misses, ain't you joinin' the search for those missin' Dibbuns?"

Still staring up at the nest on the high ledge of the Abbey building, Piknim shook her head. "Oh, g'day, Friar, no, we're not searching."

Higgle set the heavy sack down. "Hmm, I see. So what are you doin', pray tellwatchin' our Abbey t'see if it grows any taller?"

Without taking her eyes from the nest, Tansy replied, "No, we're just watching that house martin's nest, Friar."

Higgle nodded understandingly. "Oh, I see. Good hobby, nest-watchin'. Per'aps you'd like to shell these chestnuts, they're good'n'dry enough for shellin' right now."

Craklyn looked at the Friar, taking her eyes from the nest momentarily. "Tch! Do we have to?" she said.

Higgle nodded, smiling affably at the squirrelmaid. "Aye, 'fraid y'do, miss, that's if y'want strawberry flan an' meadowcream for lunch. No work, no food. Can't 'ave idle paws around Redwall an' chestnuts don't shell themselves, y'know."

Automatically the three friends began shelling nuts, still gazing upward at the nest as they talked.

" 'Tain't fair, we're already doing one job, watching the nest."

"Hmm, now we're doing two jobs, watching and shelling."

"Maybe if we waggled our tails a bit we could sweep the walltop, then we'd be doing three jobs."

"Aye, and who knows, if we started singing a song together that'd keep those down below happy, and that'd be four jobs we'd be doing."

“ But just think, if Sister Cicely saw us, watching the nest, shelling nuts, sweeping the walltop with our tails and singing, you know what would happen, don't you?"

"Yes, she'd think there was something dreadfully wrong with us and she'd put us to bed in sick bay and feed us warm nettle broth."

"Groooogh! Let's just stick to two jobs."

Rising to its noontide zenith, the high summer sun shone down on the three Abbeymaids sitting on the walltop.

The same sun also shone on three tiny Dibbuns trundling far in the depths of Mossflower. Not surprisingly, they had stayed awake half the night, wrapping themselves in the blanket they intended making into a tent. They had kept up their courage by eating all their supplies three hours before dawn. Now they staggered on, pawsore and weary, completely lost and dispirited. Arven, the leader, was the only one of the trio who had been outside in the woods before. The other two followed him, complaining.

"Yurr, h'Arven, do ee knows whurr you'm a takin' us'ns?"

"Course a knows, we goin' to de Abbey, it not far now."

"Gurr, you'm said that when ee dawn breaked. We'm still wan'erin' round tho', oi'm a thinken us'ns be losted."

Arven took a swipe at a tall nettle with his stick. "Losted? Don' be silly, I don't get losted. But I orful 'ungry, you'm scoffed all our cake, Diggum greedytummy."

Gurrbowl sat down, curling into a ball on the woodland floor. "Hoooaw! Oi be tumble sleepery."

Diggum joined him, covering her snout with her apron. "An' oi too, may'ap ee likkle rest do's oi gudd."

Arven sat down by the two molebabes, brandishing his stick. "Aaah, you two be's on'y h'infants. I stay 'wake an' keep guards."

A short time later all three were curled on the ground, snoring uproariously in the windless sunwarmed woodlands. Without knowing, Arven had led them north and in a curve to the west, and now they were not far from the main path leading to Redwall. Somewhere nearby a songthrush trilled melodiously, his music mingling with that of a descending skylark out on the open flatlands, where grasshoppers chirruped endlessly in a dry chorus. But none of this disturbed the deep slumbers of the exhausted Dibbuns. They slept on, snouts twitching and paws quivering occasionally as they dreamed small dreams.

Chapter 34

Gerul had placed the crystal so that it could be seen through the nest opening. Late noon sunlight glinted off the fragment, sending out pale green and soft golden facets of twinkling light. Scruvo the jackdaw saw it immediately. Ever on the alert for bright objects, the bird had been ranging far and wide after taking a midday repast of grubs and woodlice from a rotting log he had found in a woodland clearing. Scruvo wheeled in midair, his needlesharp eyes watching the iridescence of the crystal shard as he performed a neat loop in his flight west. Soaring gracefully downward, he spread dark-feathered wings wide and stuck his talons forward, beating the air back as he landed on the ledge. He cocked his head to one side, squinting with one eye at the treasure. Bright, shiny, twinkling. He hopped towards it and gave a harsh cry of delight.

"Tchak! Keeyaaa!"

He struck the crystal with his beakpoint as if attacking a living thing. It did not move or fight back, so he struck it several more times to assure himself it was harmless. Quite satisfied, the jackdaw did a curious hopskip shuffle, his victory dance, then he plucked the piece of crystal from the nest and flung himself from the ledge. Down he spiraled crazily, like a dark torn scrap of cloth buffeted by breezes, then, leveling out, he winged strongly upward and shot off southeast into Mossflower.

Leaping to their paws, the three Abbeymaids scampered down the wallstairs, stumbling in their haste, calling, "It's the jackdaw, there it goes!"

Gerul and Rollo descended the stairs as fast as they could, making haste out to the lawn. They arrived in time to see the three friends slipping out of Redwall by the small south wicker gate in the outer wall.

The owl looked sadly at his damaged wing. "Faith, 'tisn't the walkin' I mind, but I do wish I could fly agin."

Rollo shaded his eyes with both paws, peering up into the blue. "I fear they'll have lost that jackdaw by now; it would be far too difficult to follow a bird through woodlands."

The old Recorder's fears proved true. Tansy and her friends were far too small to keep track of a high-flying jackdaw, but they were not about to admit defeat. Craklyn went scooting up a nearby sycamore with all the agility of a young squirrelmaid. Piknim and Tansy almost lost sight of her, until she emerged swaying among the topmost branches. She watched awhile, then pointed eagerly before scrambling down. Back on the ground, breathless and disheveled, she shouted, "Circling south, the jackdaw's taking a round sweep southward!"

Tansy grinned and clapped her paws. "Of course, it's headed to old Ninian's church! Come on!"

As they dashed by the southwest corner of the Abbey, the maids bumped into Gerul and Rollo, who had exited Redwall by its main gate.

Rollo was agog for information. "Did you see the bird? Which way did it go?"

Tansy nodded. "To the old church, I think!"

Dust rose in a small column as the three Abbeymaids hurtled off down the path, Rollo and Gerul following them at a more sedate pace.

The old Recorder explained to the owl about the ancient building. "Nobeast really knows when Ninian's was built, or who built it. Every once in a while creatures will try to settle there, but it's so damp and decaying they leave after a short time. It would be an ideal dwelling for scavengers like jackdaws."

Gerul hobbled along the dusty path as swiftly as he could, leaving Rollo behind. "Sure, if there's more'n one jackdaw t'deal with, those young maids will be in trouble," he shouted as he went. "Those are bad'n'dangerous birds if'n they're disturbed. I'll try t'catch up with them."

Twilight's first shadows were stealing gently over the woodlands when a long javelin sank deep into the ground next to the sleeping Dibbuns. Arven was wakened by a huge dark shape which swept him up into its powerful paws.

"Yeeeek! It'sa blizzards, they got me, 'eeeeelp!" he yelled.

Still befuddled by slumber, Diggum and Gurrbowl found themselves hefted upward in similar fashion.

"Hoo urr, let oi go, zurr, we'm naught but babes!"

"Ee blizzards goin' to eat uz all oop, oh woe!" the molebabes cried out.

Chuckling deeply, Rangapaw, daughter of Skipper, held the kicking, struggling Arven firmly. “Belay there, you liddle maggots, we ain't goin' to eat ye! Quit wrigglin' or you'll fall on yore 'ead!"

Diggum scrambled up onto the shoulder of the otter who was holding her. Grabbing his whiskers, she stared into her rescuer's eyes and said, "Yurr, you'm bain't no blizzard, you'm a h'otter!"

Rangapaw tucked Arven firmly into her side as she retrieved her javelin. "Hoho, matey, lucky fer you we are. Now wot are you three rogues doin' a wanderin' off from yore Abbey? Can't y'see 'tis close on nightfall? And we're supposed to be searching for a volemaid, not blizzard-hunters."

Arven popped out of his captor's grasp. Landing nimbly on the ground, he folded his paws across his small fat stomach and murmured darkly, "Us was 'untin' for blizzards who took Farver h'Abbot an' Voler. Us was gonna catcherem an' get all mucky an' scratchered an' bringem back to the h' Abbey an' not get shouted at."

The big otter shook with silent laughter at the three Dibbuns. She could understand their predicament, having had many similar adventures when she was small. "You did well, mates," she said. "We saw a great crowd o' them blizzards, just a short time ago. They was runnin' fer their cowardly lives 'cos they knew three warriors like you was abroad trackinem. Ain't that right, mates?"

The otter crew caught her broad wink and nodded solemnly.

"Ho aye, runnin' scared stiff they was!"

"Harr, I wouldn't 'ave liked to be one o' them if'n you three'd caught up with 'em!"

"Save us from those bloodthirsty Dibbuns, they was cryin' I 'eard 'em wid me own two ears!"

Arven scowled ferociously, picking up his stick and shaking it. "Cummon, you c'n 'elp us, we soon catchem!"

Rangapaw swept the tiny squirrel up onto her shoulder. "Nah, leave 'em, mate, they ain't worth it. We got to get you roughnecks back to Redwall. Ahoy, Rushcutter, break out some supplies so these warriors can eat on the way back."

Gurrbowl prodded the otter in question.

"Hurr aye, anurry ee up, oi be gurtly 'ungered!"

Back at the Abbey, Higgle Stump checked the contents of his ovens for the third time that evening. "What'll I do, Teasel? Serve the meal or empty these ovens an' let the vittles cool before they get spoiled?"

Goodwife Teasel continued ladling cooked gooseberry and rhubarb into a bowl. She was making a crumble. "Can't serve food if'n they're all still out searchin'. Wait'll I finish this, then I'll go an' find Mother Auma, see wot she wants us t'do with all this good fare."

Auma was sitting on the Abbey doorstep with Skipper, scratching her muzzle worriedly. "We should have started searching for those little ones last night," she said. "Sister Cicely wanted to and I stopped her. Leave them I said, they'll come out of hiding when they're hungry enough. Now look, we've searched all day long, everybeast in the Abbey, and still not a trace of them. It's all my fault, Skipperand there's poor Viola too, out there in the woods alonelost or captured, or worse ..."

The tough otter laid a gentle paw on his friend's shoulder. "Don't you go blamin' yoreself, marm. I'd 'ave said the same, knowin' those three liddle snips. Hearken, wot's that?"

Bong boom, boomabong!

Furlo Stump's shouts rang out from the belltower between the peals of Redwall's twin bells. "Otter crew comin' down the path with three Dibbuns, I see 'em clear. Open the gates, Wullger!"

The big badger Mother of Redwall swept away a tear with her apron corner as she hurried to the main gate. "Praise the fates! They're safe! But what of Viola?"

Sister Cicely caught up with her. "There's no sign, but at least these three are alive, seasons be thanked. Outside the Abbey walls, if you please, wandering all over Mossflower without a care in the world, I'll be bound. Well, just wait until I have a word with those three. I'll wager it was that little ragtag Arven who kept them out in those woods!"

A single bell tolled four times, calling all Redwallers to the meal in Great Hall. Owing to the addition of Log a Log and his Guosim shrews, who had stayed to help with the search, and Rangapaw's otter crew, extra tables had been laid.

Auma approached Rangapaw anxiously. "Was there no sign of our little volemaid?" she asked. "I can't bear to think of her lost and alone out in those dark woods."

"Sorry, marm," replied Rangapaw, "but rest assured. As soon as we've dealt with these three little ones, we'll resume our search."

Sister Cicely and several of the other Abbey elders were of the opinion that the three Dibbuns should be sent straight to bed after a good dressing-down for all the trouble they had caused. However, it was not to be. Skipper's daughter Rangapaw defended the babes stoutly, winning Auma and many others to her side. The otter went into comical detail relating the attitude of Arven and the two moles, and soon had everybeast nodding and smiling. Finally, she seated the trio among her otters.

"Mates, I can't think of no better tribute t'these three warriors who saved this ole Abbey from bein' overrun by blizzards, than bein' made official members of my otter crew. We need brave beasts like Arven, Diggum an' Gurrbowl t'protect us in our ole age, when they're growed an' we're staggerin' about all gray-furred."

Before Sister Cicely could protest, Log a Log stood up, saying, "I second that! No sense in breakin' their spirits by shoutin' at 'em an' sendin' them off t'bed with no vittles. They're three good 'uns, what d'you say, Skip?"

The otter Chieftain stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. "Well, if y'put it thatways, matey, wot c'n I say? We could've all been slayed or taken prisoner by blizzards, wotever they be, but fer these three. I'll say this, though, if'n they're to be otter crew then they got to abide by our laws ..."

Here Rangapaw turned to the three Dibbuns and stopped them stuffing their faces with strawberry junket for a moment. "D'you three take an oath by fur, fire'n'water that you don't go wanderin' off agin, unless it's with my permission? Also, d'ye swear that you'll act like proper otter crew warriors, obeyin' the orders of yore elders, never tellin' fibs, bein' good to allbeasts, an' growin' up well mannered? D'you take the oath?"

Diggum stood up on her chair, waving a spoon. "Ho aye, zurr, us'ns take ee oats!"

There was general cheering and laughter as the three Dibbuns stood nobly, paws on stomachs, because they were not sure where their hearts were located. Even Sister Cicely managed a smile.

Rangapaw called her scouts together and spoke gravely to Auma before silently slipping away to resume the search for Viola. "Don't you fret, marm. We won't rest night or day until we've searched every tree, nook and hollow of Mossflower woods and found the little maid."

The merriment ceased abruptly when the Abbey door banged open wide and Wullger the gatekeeper staggered in, holding up Tansy and Craklyn. They made it to the front of the main table then collapsed on the floor, breathless and sobbing.

Wullger looked pleadingly at Auma. "I can't get no sense outta them, marm, but I think somethin' terrible's 'appened down at ole Ninian's church!"

Auma was around the table surprisingly quickly for one of her long seasons and great girth. The big badger bathed the Abbeymaids' tearstained faces with cold water from a bowl. Skipper and Log a Log kept back the press of anxious Redwallers who had left their seats to crowd around the two exhausted creatures.

Goodwife Teasel assisted, bathing Tansy's brow and calming her until she had recovered enough to speak coherently. Teasel leaned close to the hedgehog maid, stroking her cheek, and said, "Easy now, liddle 'un, take your time, yore among friends."

Tansy's voice was racked by sobs, and great tears coursed down her face as she explained breathlessly, "Ran all the way here ... Attacked by jackdaws ... Ninian's ... Rollo hiding ... in ditch ... Gerul said get help ... Piknim ... Piknim ... Oh, no ... Oh, Piknim!"

Auma was nursing Craklyn; she heard what Tansy said as if from afar. The badger clasped the squirrelmaid's face between her paws and asked, "Is this true?"

Craklyn nodded, her head falling forward in exhaustion. The badger Mother looked at her paws, bloodstained from the deep scratches on the squirrelmaid's face.

Log a Log drew his rapier, his paws trembling with rage as he turned to Skipper. "Fetch back yore daughter an' her crew. Guosim, arm yoreselves, we've got business to attend to double quick. Come on!"

Chapter 35

The Emperor Ublaz Mad Eyes rose in a thunderous mood. He had been awakened by timid tapping on his bedchamber door.

"If you must knock, then knock! Don't stand around there all day tipping and tapping. Get in here!"

Chief Trident-rat Sagitar gingerly stepped into the bedchamber. A shaft of early morning sunlight cut across the rumpled silk sheets onto the face of the pine marten. Ublaz shaded his eyes with a paw, blinking irately at the hapless rat.

"What is it now? Speak up!"

Sagitar took a deep breath before launching into her report. “Sire, one of your Monitors was washed up on the tideline this morning at dawn. He was lashed to a rudder and tiller, slain. This was stuffed in his mouth, Sire."

Ublaz snatched the damp scrap of sailcloth from the rat's nervous paws, unrolled it swiftly and sat staring at the message written in the blood of the Monitor.

"Death to Mad Eyes from Rasconza and the Wave Brethren!"

Flinging the sailcloth from him, he ran to the window and glared out at the hot tropic seas, peaceful and quiet in the early morn. "That makes four altogether in two days, all Monitors! Tell me, have the wavescum returned to the taverns?"

Sagitar shook her head decisively. “No, Sire, nor have they sought to board their ships; the whole harbor area lies deserted. The corsairs and searats have taken to the hills ..."

Ublaz pushed the Trident-rat aside with a snarl. "I know that, blockhead. They have food, supplies and arms that they took with them."

"Could we not hunt them down, Sire?" Sagitar suggested helpfully.

Ublaz whirled on her, his temper rising. "No, we could not. They are only waiting for me to leave this palace unguarded and they will be in here immediately! Go away, marshal all your Trident-rats and the remainder of my Monitors, place guards around the whole area and keep me informed of any movements out there. Leave me now, I must think."

Buckla the searat captain, Guja the steersrat and Groojaw the stoat captain had captured another Monitor. They had the lizard bound and gagged; he tottered ahead of them as they prodded him forward with stolen tridents.

Rasconza sat roasting a lobster over the embers of a campfire at the northwestern inlet of Sampetra. He nodded affably at the trio as they hurled the lizard to the sand.

"Haharr, another prisoner, eh, mates? Wot's 'appenin' down at our Great Emperor's palace?"

Buckla squatted in the shade of a rock, away from the sun's fierce heat, and took a swallow from a jug of seaweed grog. "Aaaah, that's better, ain't gettin' much cooler, is it? Ole Mad Eyes is forted up in 'is palace, afraid t'move out. We delivered the last Monitor like y'said, floated 'im in all pretty like. Sagitar took yore message up ter Ublaz. We caught this'n guardin' the ships on the jetty."

Rasconza prodded the glaring lizard with his swordpoint. "Don't you fret, matey, you won't 'ave to suffer such rough company as us much longer. We'll deliver yer back to ole Ublaz by nightfall, one way or another, eh, mates?"

The corsairs and searats lying about the camp laughed uproariously at their leader's crude jest.

"Do we deliver 'im back in a bit, or bit by bit? Hawhawhaw!"

Groojaw was not interested in the banter. “When do we take back our ships?" he said, scowling at Rasconza.

The fox smiled craftily. "When we're good'n ready, mate; that's wot Ublaz is expectin' us t'do, raid the jetty to get back our vessels. Hah! Ole Mad Eyes'd 'ave a plan laid to stop that, never fear. No, the palace is more important than the ships to us right now. We'll keep Ublaz 'emmed in there until he's ready to parley ..."

Guja looked quizzically at Rasconza. "Then wot?"

The fox drew his favorite dagger and licked the blade slowly. "Then we plays 'im false an' kills 'im.Pine martens ain't the only ones good at treachery, y'know."

Groojaw was still not happy. "But we need ships. What about our vessels?" he said.

Rasconza thought about this for a moment, then he stood and walked to the hilltop overlooking the cove. He pointed down at the vessel that had been scuttled there.

"Yer want a ship, Groojaw? See, there's Barranca's ole craft the Freebooter, she's only been scuttled. I'll wager a goodbeast like yerself with a decent crew could seal 'er up, bale 'er out an' drag 'er ashore at low tide. Once the ole Freebooter is seaworthy agin there ain't a faster craft in all the seas."

Groojaw took a crew down to the cove. When he had gone, Rasconza lay back and cracked the shell from his roasted lobster. "There, that should keep Groojaw 'appy. Besides, we could do with 'avin' a ship afloat that Ublaz don't know about, it'll come in useful."

As night fell Ublaz himself went down to the escarpment to view the body of the Monitor that had been dumped there by Rasconza's crew. Surrounded by an armed guard of Monitors and Trident-rats, the pine marten paid little attention to the dead lizard. He was more interested in the sailcloth that had been thrust into its mouth. Retrieving it, he stood to one side and read Rasconza's scrawl.

"We will talk together tomorrow. Ignore this and I will burn you out. Hoist a green flag if you agree to meet me, midday in middle of island. Rasconza."

Ublaz motioned Sagitar away from the rest, then he walked her out of earshot along the escarpment before whispering to her, "Bring six good archers to my throne room before midnight. Let nobeast see them and speak of this to none."

Ublaz smiled to himself as he strode back to his palace. He was once more back in the game. The fox would soon know he could not outsmart an Emperor.

Waveworm had been free of the fog and ice for more than two days. She ploughed on westward as the weather grew more clement. The sun shone, although the wind was still cold and the seas were rough. Abbot Durral sat in the cabin of Romsca the ferret captain. He gnawed hard ship's biscuit and sipped at a beaker of none-too-clear water. Durral's mind was anywhere but aboard a corsair vessel; mentally he was back at his beloved Abbey, picturing himself pottering about in the orchard with his friend Rollo, or helping Teasel and Higgle with the baking. The old mouse wrinkled his nose, sniffing, and imagined laying a tray of hot scones, fresh from the oven, on a window ledge to cool. Smiling, he had a vision of several mischievous Dibbuns loitering near the scene, to see if they could liberate the odd scone. Durral actually wagged a paw, warning them off. Little rascals!

He was jerked back to reality by the sounds of steel upon steel and roars of conflict as paws stamped around the deck outside. Matters had finally reached a head; the fighting had begun. Either Romsca had attacked Lask Frildur or vice versa.

Pushing a table in front of the cabin door, Durral sought about for any other furniture that might block the entrance. Meanwhile the sounds of battle grew outside on deck, accompanied by the occasional scream and splash as somebeast went over the side. Pulling the grimy blanket from Romsca's bunk, the Abbot huddled in a corner. He wrapped himself tightly and sat miserably in the dim cabin, hoping that Romsca would triumph over the hated Monitor General. The sounds of fighting seemed to go on endlessly as day drew gradually to a close.

Durral closed his mind to everything, even thoughts of his own life or death. Eventually he fell into a doze, his mind lulled into slumber by the vision of a mousemaid singing sweetly to him.

"High o'er the hills, far o'er the seas,

Fly with the small birds, follow the breeze,

Go with your heart, where would you roam,

Back to the rose-colored stones you call home,

Where faded summers will echo again,

Brown autumn trees, or the spring's gentle rain.

Shadows are falling 'cross woodlands you know,

Rest, weary one, in the warm firelight glow."

It was fully dark when Abbot Durral came gradually awake. Creaking ship's timbers and the endless wash of waves against the vessel's sides were the only sounds he could hear. The din of conflict had ceased altogether. Holding the musty blanket around him, the old mouse groped his way cautiously across the cabin floor. With no light to guide him and the absence of his eyeglasses denying him clear sight, Durral fumbled his way forward until a table leg came into contact with his paw. At least the cabin door was still securely blocked, he thought. He sat with his back against the table, not knowing what to do next, longing for contact with some other living creature, providing that it was a friend.

Dawn came gradually, cloaked by gray skies and soft drizzling rain. It was warmer, though humid. Faint gloomy light began pervading the cabin from a small dirty window, too high for Durral to reach. A sound caused him to become alert somebeast was scratching at the cabin door from outside. Not knowing whether it would be friend or foe, but fearing the worst, Durral crept back to his corner and sat waiting, watching the door. The scratching gave way to a thumping noise, faint at first, but growing heavier. The Abbot of Redwall sat filled with apprehension as the door began to shake under the blows, then suddenly there was a sharp, splintering crack and a cutlass blade thrust its way through the rifted wood. Durral watched fearfully as the blade was withdrawn, only to slash through again a moment later. Shrinking down into his blanket, he watched, horrified, as the blade hacked and sliced at the quivering timber, splintering the door in its onslaught.

The old mouse could stand it no longer. "Who's there, who is it?" he cried out.

Krrrakkk!

An entire panel burst and the huge reptilian head of Lask Frildur was thrust through the broken aperture.

Chapter 36

From the shelter of the little canvas tent on the ice floe, Viola was first to see the intruders. She gave a shriek of alarm and instantly the sword was in Martin's paw. Shoving the canvas awning away from him, he came upright ready to do battle.

Clecky, who had clapped a paw across Viola's mouth, stared about in astonishment at the mass of creatures surrounding the logboat. "Great seasons of salad, where'd this mob of nautical nightmares come from, wot?"

Snub-nosed, stiff-whiskered and dark-eyed, the huge beasts crowded around, staring curiously at the little logboat and its occupants. Martin raised the sword threateningly to warn them off.

Grath Longfletch moved cautiously to the warrior's side, murmuring, "Put up that sword, Martin, they're the sealfolk. Don't make any sudden moves or they'll bull us into the sea and drown us."

Martin lowered his blade, keeping his eyes fixed on the seal-folk. "What do we do next?" he whispered to Grath.

The otter relinquished her bow and arrows to show she was unarmed. "Leave this to me. Sealfolk used to visit the holt of my kin. They don't speak our language, but I can understand them a bit."

Grath climbed from the logboat and approached the foremost seal. He was a great bull, dark gray in color and mottled with heavy spots. The big beast watched Grath impassively, head held majestically high, round black eyes unblinking.

Grath crouched upon the ice, taking care not to raise her head higher than the lead bull. Holding her paws out level, she clapped them gently together several times and said, "Feryooday, Haaaawm!"

Immediately the seals around began making a sort of coughing barking sound, in surprise that Grath could speak their language.

As the big leader bull silenced them with a haughty glare, Martin joined Grath and murmured to her, "What did you say to the big fellow?"

"I gave him a greeting, feryooday, just like saying good morning, then I called him Hawm, but long, like this Haaaawm. It means great leader or king; the longer you sound it, the greater your respect. Sshh! He's going to say somethin'."

The seal looked regally down his wide flattish nose at them. "Thessez m'hoil, ommin Haaaaaaaawm floooooe!" He moved his head about in a wide circle as if indicating the iceberg where they were standing.

Grath held up her chin and closed both eyes as she answered, "Haaaaaaaaaaawm floe yaaanh!"

It seemed to satisfy the leader. He raised a massive flipper and slapped it loud and wetly once upon his sleek chest.

Grath explained, "I can't unnerstand it all, but best as I c'n make out he said, this is my island, I am king of this ice floe. All I could think of to answer was to tell him he was a mighty king and this surely was his floe."

"Do you know how to say not mine?" Martin asked Grath swiftly.

Grath thought for a moment. "Er, you just say ommino, I think."

Martin stepped forward, aware of the vast number of seals watching him. He spread his paws and brought them together, clapping softly as he had seen Grath do. Then he slapped one paw hard on his chest as the seal king had done.

"Haaaaaaaaawm Martin! Ommino floe. Ommino!'' Martin said.

This seemed to amuse the king greatly. He pointed a powerful flipper at Martin and said, "Ommino! Omminooooo!"

The seals fell about, rolling on the ice, slapping their flippers loudly and emitting great barking merriment.

The great bull seal towered above Martin. Raising his flipper high, he brought it down gently on the mouse warrior's head and patted him. "Haaaaaaaawm Ma'tan Haaaaaaaaawm!" he rumbled.

This caused even greater jollity among the sealfolk; they shook their heads and blinked rapidly as they honked with laughter.

Clecky climbed out of the logboat to join Martin and Grath. "I say, good thing these wallahs have a sense o' humour, wot!" The hare slithered boldly over the watery ice to face the king. Straightening his long ears, Clecky brought them together several times as if clapping. Pursing his lips comically he mimicked a seal. "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawm old chap Haaaaaaaaaaaaawm. Howzat!"

This time the hilarity was unbridled. Even the king rolled his gargantuan bulk over and over, tears streaming from his round dark eyes as he held both flippers to his sides, shaking helplessly with laughter. This drove the hare on to further efforts. Lying stomach down and holding himself up with his front paws, Clecky looked majestically down his nose, bobbed his stubby tail about and let one ear flap down hard across his brow. Then, in a perfect imitation of the seal king, he called out, "Haaaaaaaawm Clecky, that's me chaps, Haaaaawm Clecky!"

Some of the seals were laughing so hard they fell off the iceberg into the sea.

Martin pulled Clecky upright. "You'd better pack it in now, we don't want to be held responsible for any of these creatures laughing themselves to death, especially the great Hawm there, he looks fit to burst."

It took quite a while for the laughter to subside, but it had worked wonders. Some of the little seal pups slid out of the pack and nuzzled up against Clecky. The king pointed a flipper at Grath and looked questioningly at the other seals as he barked out a single word, "Waaylumm!"

There was a moment's silence, then every seal began waving a flipper towards the otter and echoing the word, "Waaylumm! Waaylumm!"

Grath was mystified. She looked at Martin and shrugged. "I dunno wot they mean."

Further discussion was cut short as the friends found themselves lifted up bodily by the seals and tossed back into the logboat. Knowing the sealfolk meant them no harm, they sat in silence, watching the procedure. With a mighty smack from his flipper, the king broke the stake holding the headline of the logboat. Other seals came flapping up with cables made from thick rubbery seaweed. These they proceeded to attach to the vessel from stem to stern until the little craft was festooned with woven seaweed ropes. Half a dozen stout young seals slid the logboat off into the water.

Viola looked over the side. All the seaweed fastenings were held in the jaws of at least three seals to a cable; the king alone held the headrope in his teeth.

He let out a sharp bark. "Gittarra!"

The logboat's crew fell over backward as the craft sped off into the fog, sending up a great bow wave. Plogg and Welko scrambled up to the for'ard bowsprit. They watched, fascinated, as the sleek forms of the seal pack sped their boat through the seas at a breathtaking rate.

Clecky settled back, winking at Viola. "Just the ticket, m'gel. Beats sailin' an' rowin', wot? Absolutely top hole, hope these chaps know where they're jolly well goin'!"

Grath blinked spray from her eyes as they shot out free of the clinging fogbanks. "Oh, they seem t'know where they're bound, all right. Harr! 'tis good t'see clear day an' sunlight again, though!"

Martin agreed wholeheartedly. "It certainly is, friend. Well, at least we're out of trouble with icebergs and I'm sure the sealfolk mean us no harm. Only problem is, they don't know where we want to go and we don't know where they're taking us."

Clecky began rummaging about in the remainder of their supplies. "Well, wherever we're jolly well goin', I ain't travelin' on a bally empty tummy. Let's see what the tuck situation is, wot!"

"Yeeeek, look, look!" Viola was pointing out to sea. All eyes followed her paw.

Martin could not believe his eyes.

"Wh ... What are they?"

Grath had seen them once before in her lifetime. She took a deep breath. "On the far north coast where I was reared we saw those sea creatures once. It was spring an' they swam almost up to the beach. My mother said they were called whales an' no creature in all the seas is as big as 'em. They blow water out o' their heads, straight up like a big fountain. Their tails are like the spread o' two large oaks. See!"

They stared, stunned by the size of the creatures. One of the whales raised a mighty fluke and slammed it down on the face of the ocean, causing an enormous white explosion of water.

Martin watched the leviathans of the deep as they sported and played, each one like a black island rearing from the main. "Great seasons! I could imagine old Rollo laughing at me if I told him I had seen fishes as big as Redwall Abbey!"

Plogg and Welko were inclined to agree. "Hah! The Guo-sim'd say we'd been asleep an' seen the whales in our dreams, or they might say we'd eaten too much of Clecky's cooking."

The hare looked up, his face smudged from blowing on the ashes of the fire to get it rekindled again. "Oh, they would, would they? Base ingratitude! I've a jolly good mind to let you chaps get the scoff ready for that! I say, how about askin' old Hawmface to steer over that way, so's we can catch one of those whale type chaps. I wonder what they'd taste like cooked up. Hmmm, y'd need a blinkin' big pan ... Yagh!"

The hare shook himself as the rest of the crew shot water at him with their paws. He twisted his ears to wring them out. "Yah boo rotters, y've gone an' put me flippin' fire out!"

Toward evening the weather started to become mild and warm, though they were still feeling the breeze, owing to the fact that the tireless sealfolk never once slackened their breakneck pace. The logboat hissed through the water, bouncing across the waves like a runaway arrow.

Then Martin became worried. "See, the sun is setting in the west, over that way. We're being taken northward!"

Clecky had finally managed a small fire. He passed them each a slice of toasted shrewbread and some warm oat and barley cordial. "Nothing we c'n do about it at the moment, old lad. They're obviously takin' us someplace, though. Let's wait until we get there an' figure out our next move from where we land, wot?"

Grath stared out across the uncharted seas. "Aye, like as not the fates'll send us where they want."

On the western horizon the sun dipped beneath the sea like a crimson fireball, shooting rays of scarlet, pink and gold onto the underbellies of purple and cream cloudbanks. Viola snuggled down in the stern, nibbling a crust of shrewbread and thinking how different it all was from sitting in Great Hall and dining off the sumptuous fare commonplace to Redwall Abbey, far from the lonely sound of waves upon open sea.

Chapter 37

A full summer moon shone down on the path to Ninian's, casting pale flickering shadows upon three grim-faced creatures pounding through the woods purposefully at the head of a mixed band of shrews and otters, each one armed with sling, javelin, rapier or bow and arrows. Bravely Skipper kept pace with Log a Log and Rangapaw, bearing his injuries stoically. From between the trees they glimpsed the half-ruined spire of the ancient building.

Log a Log gritted his teeth, clasping his shrew rapier tight. "Soon be there now!" he said.

"Friend, is that you?"

Momentarily they halted and looked around. Again the voice sounded out into the night. "I'm in the ditch, friends. Help me!"

Throwing themselves flat at the pathside, Skipper and his burly daughter delved through nettles and reeds that grew up the bank.

"Got 'im. Git the other paw. Up y'come, Rollo sir!"

His face smeared with mud and his garments rent and torn, the old Recorder was hauled swiftly up onto the path, where he sat gasping out his story.

'We were attacked, or I should say the young maids were. It was jackdaws, a whole colony of the wicked birds. Gerul heard them screaming when we arrived at Ninian's; they were inside. Gerul told me to stay outside and charged inthere were awful sounds, screaming and cawing. Next thing I knew, Tansy and Craklyn were flung out through the door by Gerul, and he shouted for them to bring help from Redwall. So they could travel fast they lowered me into the ditch, telling me to hide and keep out of harm's way. I don't know what happened after that, until I heard one of you speak as you ran by."

Log a Log saw that Skipper was breathless and his wounds were bothering him; the shrew Chieftain sat the otter down on the path next to Rollo. "Stay here and guard him, Skip, you'll only slow us up. We've got enough here to do the job, me'n this big 'un of yores."

The Skipper of Otters nodded, he understood. "If'n our friends are hurt, then give those birds blood'n'vinegar. Go on, mate, git goin'!"

Without a backward glance they charged through the rotting doorframe of Ninian's. Jackdaws scattered everywhere as they tried to escape from the warriors who teemed in roaring the Abbey battle call.

''Redwaaaaaaallll!''

Scruvo their thieving leader and another of his band had Gerul on the floor, tearing savagely at him with their wicked beaks. Rangapaw hit Scruvo across the head with her otter javelin, the force of the blow shattering the weapon's haft and slaying Scruvo instantly. The other jackdaw gurgled its life out at the thrusting point of Log a Log's rapier. Other birds fell to the deadly nemesis of otters and shrews, though some of them fled, winging off into the night, never again to be seen in Mossflower.

Skipper and Rollo hobbled up to the gate in front of Ninian's. Log a Log and several other shrews were binding Gerul with strips from their tunics and ditch mud mixed with herbs to staunch his dreadful injuries. Skipper hastened to his friend's side. He stared down at the owl's homely face. "Is he alive?"

Log a Log shrugged, totally at a loss. "Aye, mate, there's still life in this owl, though why that should be I don't know the bird's taken enough to kill any three of us! I counted four jackdaws in there that he'd slain. I've seen some tough 'uns in my seasons, but none like yore mate Gerul!"

A heart-rending cry, like that of a dying beast, escaped Rollo's lips. Rangapaw strode slowly out of Ninian's carrying a forlorn little bundle in her hefty paws. Log a Log held Rollo back as he tried to intercept the big otter. The old Recorder's body was racked by sobs.

"No! No! Not Piknim, my little friend! Say she lives. Please!"

Tears rolled openly down the sturdy face of Rangapaw. She clasped the limp form to her as if nursing a babe. "Pore young maid, she'll always live in the memories of 'er mates."

As Rangapaw walked off toward Redwall with her sad burden, Rollo tore free of Log a Log's grasp. Straightening himself up, he wiped his eyes upon his habit sleeves and turned to the other Chieftain. "Skipper, will you help me to do something?" he said.

The otter grasped Rollo's frail old paw. "Anythin', matey, just ask!"

Rollo pointed to the doorway. "Go in there and find a large pink pearl. It will probably be in the nest of the leader of those birds."

Skipper was not long gone. As he emerged, everyone held their breath. He opened his paw to reveal the fourth pearl nestling in his palm. He handed it to Rollo, who clasped it tightly.

"Now, I want you to put flame to this place and burn it down!"

Skipper's voice registered his incredulity at the proposal. "Burn it down?"

But there was no hesitation in Rollo's determined mood. "Aye, burn it down until it is just a heap of rubble and bad memories. This has become a place of evil. I have read in the Abbey Records that on two occasions the enemies of Redwall used this place as a refuge. The first was Cluny the Scourge in the time of Matthias the Warrior, then there was Slagar the Cruel in the time of Mattimeo, when I was but a Dibbun. Now it has been used a third time as a den of thieves and murderers. Burn it!"

Dawn the next morning was gentle and bright; a silence seemed to lie over Mossflower country, even the birds remaining mute. Goodwife Teasel and the badger Mother Auma stood together on the ramparts of the outer wall facing south. From where the path curved they could see a dark column of smoke rising above the tops of the woodland trees.

Auma nodded toward it. “Skipper and his crew are still down there, seeing that it burns to the ground and the fire doesn't spread. Will you pack some food for them, Teasel? I'll take it down myself."

The hogwife patted her friend's paw. "Aye, I'll pack plenty, knowin' wot good appetites yon otters 'ave. Though at the moment I detests to look at vittles or prepare 'em. Friar 'iggle, bless 'im, he sent me off from the kitchens an' stayed to fix hrekkist fer anybeast as wants some, but none came."

The hogwife threw her flowery apron up over her face and wept. "The pore liddle maid, to end up like that, an' she were so young too. I ain't no warrior, marm, but I 'opes those wicked birds got all they deserved off Log a Log an' Skipper's big gel!"

Auma stroked her friend's headspikes soothingly. "There, there, don't take on so, those birds paid dear for their evil ways. Log a Log told me all about it last night: 'twill be many a long season before we hear the call of a jackdaw in our land again, I promise you."

The grief at Piknim's death was so great in Redwall Abbey that Auma had to assume the mantle of Abbess and request that none came to the burying, because it would be far too upsetting for young and old. Accordingly at midday she and Rangapaw laid the young mousemaid to rest themselves. They chose a shady spot in the orchard, to one side beneath a great sweet-chestnut tree, where they held a simple ceremony. Small gifts of remembrance from every Redwaller were placed in the grave. When the task was done, both Abbey bells tolled slowly, their clappers muted with velvet to soften the tone.

Craklyn, Tansy and Rollo stood at an upper window overlooking the orchard, despite the protest of Sister Cicely regarding their condition. The otter Glenner supported Craklyn as she stood at the window and sang. Her sweet voice, which had sounded out in harmony with Piknim's many times before, was now alone. It echoed beautifully off the outer walls until it seemed to fill the entire Abbey and its grounds.

“ Fare you well upon your journey,

To the bright lands far away,

Where beside the peaceful rivers,

You may linger any day.

In the forests warm at noontide,

See the flowers bloom in the glades,

Meet the friends who've gone before you,

To the calm of quiet shades.

There you'll wait, O my beloved,

Never knowing want or care,

And when I have seen my seasons,

We will walk together there."

Glenner and Sister Cicely walked the three friends back to the room they were sharing at the infirmary. There they lay upon their beds, all with their own deep personal thoughts. Teatime passed and still they had not stirred. Tansy lay on top of her counterpane, fully dressed, watching the sunlight lengthening afternoon shadows through the window.

The door creaked open and Friar Higgle Stump crept in bearing a tray laden with slices of nutbread, a hot mushroom and leek pastie in gravy, a bowl of fresh fruit salad and a flagon of his brother Furlo's best dandelion and burdock cordial. He wiggled his nose at them.

"Good afternoon, friends. I couldn't bear the thought of you up 'ere bein' fed warm nettle broth; that shouldn't 'appen to anybeast. So I brought up a little summat to tickle yore appetites."

He placed the tray down, but they did not even look at it. The Friar shook his head sadly. “Dearie me, now if miss Piknim were about she'd 'ave beat you all to it an' gobbled everythin' up."

Craklyn sat up shaking her head. "No, she wouldn't. Piknim would have shared it with us 'cos we're her friends ... I mean, we were her friends."

Rollo sat up also, arching his eyebrows indignantly. "Were? You mean we're not still Piknim's friends?"

Then Tansy sat up, glaring at Rollo. "Craklyn never meant that. We'll always be Piknim's friends, her dearest and best most treasured friends, so there!"

A smile played around Friar Higgle's face. "I knows 'ow you can be such good friends with Piknim that nobeast'd believe it!"

Craklyn and Tansy spoke in unison. "How?"

The Friar perched upon the window sill, his face serious. "Just carry on like yore doin' now an' don't eat no more, you'll soon be reunited with yore friend by starvin' t'death!"

He winked broadly at Rollo, knowing the Recorder would recognize the wisdom in his words. Rollo did. He sat up, filled himself a beaker and chose a thick slice of nutbread, then, eating and drinking, he began to speak.

"I vote we carry on searching for the Tears of all Oceans. Now, you maids keep silent, just eat and listen to me. Eat!"

The old Recorder's voice was sharp and commanding; neither Tansy or Craklyn had ever heard him speak like that. Seating themselves close to the tray, they began eating.

Rollo tossed the fourth pearl in the air and caught it.

"See this thing? Piknim gave her life for it. Between us we vowed to find those six pearls because they may be needed to ransom our Abbot back from the enemy. I don't know about you two, but Rollo bankvole never breaks his word. I intend to find the other two pearls. Tchah! I'll wager Piknim would have had a very low opinion of us had she seen us a moment ago. Moping and moaning with no thought of carrying on the very quest that she died for. Is that the act of friends?"

Tansy slammed her paw down on the tray so hard that she broke the bread platter. "We'll find those pearls together, all three of us!"

Craklyn whirled her bushy tail fiercely. “Aye, and when we do we'll stuff 'em down the throats of those scum who kidnapped our friends, one by one!"

Friar Higgle crept smiling from the infirmary, murmuring, "Very nice talk for young Abbeymaids, charmin'. Enjoy yore tea."

Chapter 38

Tansy split the acorn shell that held the scrap of parchment. Unfolding it, she read aloud,

"There is a warrior,

Where is a sword?

Peace did he bring,

The fighting Lord.

Shed for him is my fifth tear.

Find it in the title here,

Written in but a single word,

An eye is an eye, until it is heard."

Tansy paused, shaking her head in despair. "Written separate to the rhyme is a pile of numbers which don't seem to make any sense at all. Listen to this: Lines. One of one. Eight of two. One of three. Three of four. One of five. Six of six. Two of seven. Four of eight."

She tossed the scrap of parchment to Craklyn. "There you are, friend, sort that little lot out!"

Chewing slowly on a wedge of pastie, the squirrelmaid narrowed her eyes, glaring a challenge at Tansy. "Do you think I can't?"

Rollo peered over the tops of his glasses at her. “We have great faith in you."

Craklyn took a great swig of her dandelion and burdock cordial. "Then you're both a pair of dimwits, 'cos I haven't the faintest clue what it all means!"

The three friends sat staring at one another for a moment, then broke out into spontaneous laughter.

Rollo dug his spoon into the fresh fruit salad. "If we're a pair of dimwits then that makes you a blockhead, so among the three of us we'll solve it. Hahaha!"

The Skipper of Otters was on his way upstairs to the infirmary when he met Sister Cicely coming down. Waving his rudderlike tail politely at her, he said, "Good noon t'ye, marm. I was just on me way up t'see Gerul. How is he today? Prob'ly still slee-pin' his injuries off, I wager."

The good Sister glared frostily at the husky otter. "Hmph!" she replied.

Ever the gentlebeast, Skipper nodded courteously at the Sister. "Humff, marm? I s'pose there's a wealth o' meanin' in the word, but it don't tell me naught about ole Gerul. The pore bird was so badly wounded he was at death's doorstep last night. Pray tell, wot's his condition today, marm?"

Cicely was in no end of a huff. "That... that.. . owl! He rose not an hour ago, refused all treatment and hurled a pot of my best warm nettle soup from the infirmary window! You want to know his condition, go and find out for yourself, sirhe's down in the kitchens, surrounded by otters, shrews and Dibbuns, cooking and eating everything in sight." Brushing Skipper aside, Sister Cicely flounced downstairs.

Friar Higgle and Hogwife Teasel had dismissed the kitchen roster for the day, leaving the place open to anybeast wanting to drop by and prepare something. Gerul and his friends had taken Higgle and Teasel at their word, and now chaos reigned in Redwall Abbey kitchens.

Gerul and Arven were demolishing a huge fruitcake between them, whilst issuing orders to Rangapaw, Diggum and some shrews.

"Ah now, don't be stingy, throw in a few more pawfuls of those luvly candied chestnuts. An' y'need far more meadowcream than that if yore t'make a decent sweet owl junket. As me ould mother used t'say, plenty more's better'n plenty less if yore cookin' fer more'n a few. Ain't that right, Arven me liddle mate?"

The squirrelbabe was sure it was. Waving a ladle at the cooks, he issued orders like one born to command. “Gerra more chess-nuts anna big buckit of cream, a hooj big 'un. An' frow some strawbees in, Arven like strawbees!" Then he turned to his owl friend with a serious frown. "Yore muvver musta been good an' clever."

Gerul dipped his talon in a pot of plum jam and sucked on it. "Ah, sure she was so clever she used to ask herself questions, so she did, it's no good knowin' wot y'know if you can't ask yer own advice, she always said. Log a Log, how's that shrew concoction comin' along?"

The shrew Chieftain looked up irately from a steaming pan he was stirring. "The vegetables are doin' nicely, but every time we get the pastry rolled out those moles keep pinchin' it. Ger-routofit, rogues!" He threw a wet dishcloth at Gurrbowl and several other young moles who were shuffling off with his latest batch of pastry.

Foremole blinked quizzically at them over the top of a special deeper'n ever pie he was creating. "Hurr, wot do ee wanten all um pastry furr, Gadgee?"

The molebabe Gadgee poked his snout out from under a floppy layer of pastry he was carrying. "Furr maken 'unnymoles, zurr!"

Skipper joined the little moles as they kneaded dough on a countertop, busy as bees and covered in flour. "Ahoy, mates, wot's an 'unnymole?" he asked.

Gurrbowl crossed his digging claws on his stomach, tuttutting at the otter's ignorance. "Chut chut, zurr! You'm doan't knoaw wot ee 'unnymole is? Lukk an' oi'll show ee, you'm pay 'tenshun naow!"

The molebabe rolled out a small patch of pastry, spread it thick with honey and placed on it a strawberry and a raspberry. Wrapping the pastry carefully over the fruit he coated the lot with a mixture of honey and damson juice. It looked nothing like a honeyed mole, but the molebabes thought it did. Gurrbowl licked his digging claws proudly and added his " 'unnymole" to several others on a tray, ready to go in the oven. He wrinkled his nose proudly at Skipper.

"Hurr, that'n be 'ow t'make 'unnymoles, zurr!"

Skipper winked broadly at the molebabe. "Thanks, matey, I'll remember that, should come in useful!" Then, opening a cupboard, he took out a bag of dried watershrimp.

Glenner sidled up with an expectant gleam in her eye. "Shrimp'n'hotroot soup, Skip?"

The otter Chieftain showed his white teeth in a mock-villainous grin. "Aye, matey, you go get the 'otroot, oh, an' some onions. Ahoy, Rangapaw, where do they 'ide the mushrooms in this galley? An' leeks too, we'll need lots o' leeks, aye, an' white turnips."

Gerul meanwhile had finished the last of the fruit cake, and now he and Arven set about making another, even bigger one.

"Cummon now, ye young rip, a tankard of October ale, flour an' honey, what's next?" asked the owl.

Arven counted off the ingredients on his paws. “Plums, damsins, 'azelnuts, chessnuts, blackb'rries, er, er..."

Gerul limped off to the pantry chunnering to himself. "Sure, we'll toss in a bit of everythin', as me ould mother used t'say, if y've got everythin' in a cake then yer sure t'have left nothin' out providin' it's all in!"

Sister Cicely had brought Auma down to the kitchens. She pointed a paw of condemnation at the shambles. "Just look at that. Did ever you see such a mess in your life?"

The badger Mother wandered over to where the molebabes had left their tray of honeymoles to cool, and popped one in her mouth. "Mm, very tasty! Cicely, let them have their funhave we not had enough sadness and misery in Redwall for one day? This bit of disturbance is easily cleared up, but it helps them to recover their spirits, especially the young ones. I look on this not as mourning the death of Piknim, but celebrating the happy life she led. Come now, Sister, leave them to their enjoyment."

Tansy, Craklyn and Rollo had deserted the confines of the infirmary. The early evening was soft and balmy, and it was far nicer out in the fresh air than lying about indoors and being fussed over by Sister Cicely. They sat on the gatehouse steps, staring at the rhyme and the puzzle that went with it, but the clue to the fifth pearl remained a mystery to them.

"Perhaps if we concentrate on the rhyme it may help."

Craklyn shook her head at Tansy's suggestion. "No, I'm sure the key is in these figures. Once we know what they refer to I have a feeling the rest will be easy."

Rollo polished his glasses and scrutinized the figures closely. "Hmm, I've a feeling you're right, miss. Let's concentrate all our attention on these figures for the moment. Lines. One of one. Eight of two. One of three. We'll take that bit first."

All three gazed at the parchment scrap, cudgeling their brains for inspiration.

Wullger the otter gatehouse-keeper was in the process of cleaning out his small domain. He opened the gatehouse door wide and began sweeping about with a heather-topped broom. So pleasant was the aroma of the heather that he took his own good time, brushing diligently in every corner and singing a song as he went about his chore.

"There was an otter by a stream,

Come ringle dum o lady,

Who fell asleep and had a dream,

All on the bank so shady.

He dreamt the stream was made of wine,

It flowed along so merry,

And when he drank it tasted fine,

Like plum and elderberry.

And all the banks were made of cake,

Come ringle ding my dearie,

As nice as any cook could bake,

That otter felt quite cheery.

He drank and ate with right good will,

Till wakened by his daughter.

She said, T hope you've had your fill,

Of mud and cold streamwater!'

Come ringle doo fol doodle day,

Come wisebeast or come witty,

A fool who dreams to dine that way,

Must waken to self-pity."

The three friends on the wallsteps outside heard Wullger's song clearly; they shook their heads and chuckled. As Wullger emerged sweeping dust in front of him, Craklyn called down, That's a good ditty, I've never heard it before."

The old otter smiled up at the squirrelmaid. "I'm glad you liked it, missie, 'tis a song that's been passed down through my family. If you like I'll teach ye the lines .. ."

Tansy leapt up, yelling, "The lines, it's the lines!"

Wullger stared in amazement at the three creatures dancing paw in paw on the wallsteps as they chanted together, "The lines, the lines, it's the lines!"

He shrugged and went indoors to continue his cleaning. "Maybe when yore not so busy dancin' an' chantin' I'll learn ye the song."

Tansy scanned the poem's first line.

"There is a warrior, that's line one, so one of one must mean the first word or the first letter of the line. What d'you think, Rollothe first word or the first letter?"

The Recorder was quite definite which it was. "It has to be the letter, one of one. Because the second clue states eight of two, but there's only four words in the second line, so we're looking for enough letters to make a word."

Tansy read out the lines, Craklyn counted the letters and Rollo scraped each letter upon the sandstone step with his quill knife.

"There is a warrior. One of line one. Letter T.

Where is a sword. Eight of line two. Letter A.

Peace did he bring. One of line three. Letter P.

The fighting Lord. Three of line four. Letter E.

Shed for him is my fifth tear. One of line five. Letter S.

Find it in the title here. Six of line six. Letter T.

Written in but a single word. Two of line seven. Letter R.

An eye is an eye, until it is heard. Four of line eight. Letter Y."

The friends sat but for a brief moment, looking at the word Rollo had scratched upon the step. Then Craklyn and Tansy dashed off towards the Abbey, with Rollo hobbling behind as they yelled, "The tapestry!"

Chapter 39

Sagitar did as she was bidden. Late night lay still and heavy from the day's tropical heat when she arrived at the Emperor's throne room. Six Trident-rats accompanied her, each one armed with a bow and quiver of shafts. Ublaz awaited them, clad regally in an umber robe bordered with silver filigree work and wearing a turban of dark green with silver fringes.

At the center of the room a small wooden log stood on its end. Ublaz directed the archers, one to each corner of the vast room, one by the window and one by the door. Moving himself and Sagitar out of the line of fire, he instructed the archers.

"I have raised my paw, thus. When I drop it you will shoot at the log. I want to see six arrows sticking from the log. Arm your bows and await my signal."

There was a swift rattle of wood as the rats set shafts to their bowstrings. Ublaz saw they were ready; he dropped his paw.

Ssssssthunk!

Six arrows thudded into the log before it fell, propped up by two of the shafts. The Emperor's mad eyes creased into a smile. "Excellent! Sagitar will show you your positions. Be watchful and stay well hidden. Tomorrow you will see me meeting with the fox Rasconza. As I move towards him I will hold up my paw in greeting. When I let it drop I will also fall flat to the ground. That is your signal to shoot the arrows. I need not tell you that all six shafts must find their mark, or none of you will be alive to see the sunset. Finish the task properly and you will all be well rewarded. Go now!"

Bowing low, the archers followed Sagitar out.

Down in the small cellar chamber Ublaz donned his crown with its six pearl spaces still empty. He held the torch level, watching as the coral snake slithered sinuously out of its water trough, glimmering gold in the torchlight. Gliding effortlessly across the floor, it reared dangerously in front of him, mouth open and fangs bared, beady eyes focused on him as he started to sway and chant in dirgelike tones.

"Golden guardian of my wealth,

Hear me now, be still,

Deathly fang and coiling stealth,

Bend unto my will."

The snake hissed, its dark flickering tongue vibrating as it drew back to strike. The eyes of Ublaz grew wider as he kept up his steady chant, swaying, swaying. Then the snake began to move in unison with Ublaz, weaving smoothly to and fro as he swayed.

Gradually the pine marten exercised his power over the serpent; it sank down into bunched coils, both eyes filming over, the venomous mouth relaxed and closed. Ublaz stroked the snake's head once, then turned and departed the room. The two guards on the door could hear his voice echoing back down the stairway as he made his way back to the throne room.

“ None can stand against Ublaz, my eyes conquer all, my will is stronger than that of any living thing. I rule, others obey!"

Midday sun burned like a great blazing eye upon the shallow valley in the center of Sampetra. On the ridge of a rolling hill searats and corsairs crowded, watching the lone figure of Rasconza standing bold and unarmed, awaiting the arrival of his adversary.

Atop the opposite hill a regiment of Trident-rats was marshaled. Ublaz left his position at their center and made his way down towards the fox. Wisely, Rasconza kept his eyes averted slightly to one side as the pine marten approached. Less than a dozen paces from Rasconza, Ublaz threw up his paw and called out in a voice laden with false cheer, "Ah, Rasconza, there you are, friend. Greetings!"

Now Ublaz was less than four paces away; he fell to the ground.

Silence. Looking up, he saw Rasconza, eyes still averted, chuckling.

"You got to watch yore step round 'ere, matey," said the fox, " 'tis dangerous ground. Only last night six rats tripped an' fell on their arrows, but they could be pardoned fer bein' clumsy, 'cos it was still dark."

Ublaz leapt up and was dashing back toward his regiment as Rasconza waved to the sea vermin and roared, "Charge!"

They poured down from the hill, cheering and shouting as they brandished a fearsome assortment of weaponry.

Surrounded by his Trident-rats, Ublaz fled back to the palace in shameless disorder. Robbed of his surprise plan, the pine marten was seething with rage. He broke clear and dashed ahead of his regiment's panicked retreat. Far speedier than any of the Trident-rats, Ublaz raced on with one thought uppermost in his mind. Had Rasconza secretly sent a force round in a wide sweep, to gain control of the palace? He had left it with only Sagitar and the remaining Monitors to guard it.

The first wild rush of the Wave Brethren subsided to a steady lope as, still yelling bloodcurdling cries, they continued in Ublaz's wake. Rasconza jogged along in their midst, a villainous smile fixed on his wily face as he called out to Groojaw and Buckla.

"Haharr, lookit 'em go, like frightened chicks with an eagle on their tails. Run, Mad Eyes, run, y'swab!"

The steersrat Guja, who had not been privy to his leader's plans, looked questioningly over at the fox. "But Cap'n, why aren't we chargin' faster? We could've beaten 'em in an open battle with our numbers!"

Rasconza winked craftily and chuckled. "Aye, may'ap we would, matey, but it would've been a great slaughter an' who knows 'ow many of us would've fallen to those long tridents. My way's better, Guja; now we'll 'ave the mighty Emperor just where we want 'im, outsmarted an' isolated!" Ublaz was astounded to find his palace unharmed. Monitors held gt;ipen the gates as he hurtled in ahead of his pawsore followers. Straight through to the throne room he hastened, to find Sagitar and a Monitor called Flaggard surveying the harbor from the window. The pine marten slowed, regulating his breath, allowing himself a brief smile of relief.

"So, the seascum did not attempt any attack here. How foolish of Rasconza, he might have taken this place in my absence."

Sagitar pointed down to the deserted jetty. “Sire, after you left a small force of them sailed in to the jetty aboard the vessel freebooter. They have made it seaworthy again. They towed -way all the ships that were docked there, from right under our noses. Lord, they laughed at us and waved their swords in the air. It was as if they knew that we could not desert the palace and go outside to do battle with them."

Ublaz dismissed the Monitor with a nod, then poured wine tor Sagitar. His mind was forming a plan even as the wine gurgled into the two goblets. Sagitar looked slightly bemused that her master was not angry. He gazed at the empty harbor and nodded.

"The fox has won a battle, but I will win the war. Come!"

Rasconza and his vermin stood on the rocks, a safe distance away from the rear of the palace. Guja the steersrat perched on top of a rocky outcrop, his keen eyes watching the high back wall of the building.

Then Rasconza addressed his captains and their crews.

"Ole Mad Eyes is trapped like a rat in 'is own cage now, buckoes, he ain't got nowheres t'go. We got the ships, so we rule the seas. We got the island too. Looks like we're in charge as long as Ublaz is bottled up in there. Any signs o' movement, Guja?"

Shielding his eyes, the steersrat peered toward the wall. "Nah! ... Wait! Aye, there 'e is, ole Mad Eyes 'isself, an' the rat Sagitar, too, if'n I ain't mistaken. Hah! Sagitar's got a bow an' arrow. Look out, she's about to shoot!"

Rasconza flicked his favorite dagger high, catching it as it spun downward. "Hoho! They kin fire shafts all day, we're well out o' range!"

The arrow cut the air in a high arc, dipping to hit the ground far short of the Wave Brethren.

Rasconza nudged a couple of rats. "They ain't shootin' to slay nobeast, that's some kind o' message. Go an' fetch it, mates, we'll see wot Ublaz has t'say."

Rasconza read aloud the message written on a parchment attached to the arrow.

"The five ships you have are useless without rudders and tillers. I still hold the timber stock needed to repair them. At dawn tomorrow I will meet you where this arrow fell to earth. I will come alone, unarmed, ready to reach an agreement. My compliments to your skill as a leader and an adversary. I do not wish any further enmity to you; we will make peace and rule together.

Ublaz"

Rasconza tied a red silken kerchief to a speartop and waved it back and forth, signaling agreement to the meeting. As he did so, he said to his captains, "So, wants to talk peace, does 'e? Haharr, I'd trust that 'un like I'd trust you lot with a keg o' grog. But never fear, buckoes, I knows wot Mad Eyes is up to, an' I'm ready!"

Ublaz tied his green silk kerchief to Sagitar's bow and waved heartily in reply as he gave instructions to his Chief Trident-rat.

"This time there will be no mistakes. You have your orders."

Sagitar averted her eyes from the mad hypnotic stare. “Sire, your orders will be carried out."

The pine marten continued waving the kerchief, his voice laden with menace.

"Fail me this time and your trident shall be fixed to the jetty, Sagitar. With your head mounted upon it!"

Chapter 40

It took quite some time for the Abbot to muster up his courage and uncover his eyes. Lowering the blanket slowly, he peeped out at the head of Lask Frildur protruding through the smashed panel of the cabin door. Durral sat fascinated with horror, staring at the big lizard's head, until gradually the truth dawned upon him. There was no foul-smelling breath, the mouth was loosely open and the reptilian eyes were glazed over, half closed. Then the old mouse heard the drip drip onto the floor from a hideous slash beneath the scaly chin, right across the neck ...

The Monitor General was dead!

Durral began to shake all over, his frail body quivering with relief. Slowly he rose and ventured towards the door.

"Hello, is anybeast out there?" he called.

A low, hoarse voice answered. "Ahoy, mouse, 'tis yer old messmate Romsca. Open the door!"

Fearfully, the Abbot shifted the table that had been wedging the door. Trying not to look at the slain monster he unbarred the shutter, pulling inward. Hampered by the weight of the Monitor the door sagged open; Durral hurried past the dead lizard, out onto the open deck.

Romsca sat with her back to the mast, a cutlass clutched loosely in her paws. With an effort she lifted her head and smiled weakly at the Abbot. "You ain't goin' t'start callin' me yore child, are yer?"

Durral shook his head numbly, trying to ignore the scene of carnage around him. Deadbeasts were draped everywhere on the silent ship as it ploughed the watery wastesfrom the masts, over the rails and on the deck, from stem to stern. Waveworm resembled a floating slaughter house. Romsca's head fell forward and the cutlass slipped from her grasp, her voice half chuckle, half gurgle.

"Pretty, ain't it? There's only you'n'me left, Durral."

Hurrying to the corsair's side, the Abbot cradled her head, using the blanket he had brought with him as a pillow.

"Friend, you're hurt!" he cried.

Romsca's head lolled against Durral's stained habit. "Aye, that's the truth, bucko, but I fixed ole Lask good'n'proper, didn't I! Aaahhh! Don't move me, there's only this mast holdin' my back t'gether..."

Durral tried to glance over the ferret's shoulder at her back. She winced and shook her head slightly. "Don't look, you don't wanna see wot that lizard's claws'n'fangs did ter me, mate. Now lissen careful, 'cos there ain't much time. Let go of me easy like, an' make yer way t'the tiller. She's still 'eaded due west, so take a stern line an' lash 'er steady. Go on, Father Abbot, do like I say!"

Making Romsca as comfortable as possible, the old mouse eased himself away from her and scurried aft. Taking the stern rope he tied it to one side of the gallery rail, looped it several times round the tiller and tied the other end to the opposite rail, lashing the ship on course, due west. Then he went on a tour of the vessel. Stumbling over a slain Monitor and two searats he found glowing embers in the brazier in Lask's cabin. He added wood, lamp oil and sea coal and soon had a fire rekindled. First he put on some water to heat, then hunted around until he found an old canvas and some blankets. It was still drizzling lightly when he returned to Romsca; she had dozed off. Durral made a lean-to with the canvas and covered the corsair ferret with blankets to keep her warm, then he resumed his search of the ship.

Noon found the sky darkening. Bruised purple clouds hung over the oily foamless swell of billows, and now the drizzle had turned to steady rain. It was still warm, though, and steam rose from Durral's fur as he bustled out to Romsca with food and drink.

The corsair opened her eyes feebly. "Yore a good creature, but an ole fool. Take care o' yerself. I ain't worth it, my string's played out."

Durral cradled Romsca's head as he ladled soup into her mouth. "I'm afraid it's only dried fish and ship's biscuit with some water, but 'tis the best I could do, friend. You saved my life, and you were good to Viola too. Without you we would both have fallen victim to those lizards long ago. Drink up, now."

Romsca turned her mouth away from the ladle. “Water, just give us a drop of water, matey. I'm parched."

The Abbot carefully guided a beaker to her mouth. Romsca sipped the liquid and winked faintly at him. "You 'earken t'me, Durral, y'could never sail this tub back ter Mossflower, but she's bound due west, and with luck y'll landfall at the isle of Sampetra. I've got mates there, tell 'em yore my pal. 'Tis yer only chance, may'ap they'll 'elp you."

Durral stroked the corsair's tattooed paw. "Now, now, my child, none of that talk. You'll live to see your friends again, I'll make sure of it."

Romsca smiled, her voice growing fainter as she replied, "I 'opes y'make it back to Redwall Abbey someday, it looked like a nice place t'be. Hmph, you won't be bothered with types like me then, corsairs an' searats an' all manner o' wavescum ..."

She shuddered, and Durral drew the blanket up to her chin. "Hush, now, and rest, my child."

As Romsca's eyes closed, she murmured drowsily, "My child. I like that. Thank ye, my Father."

Her head lolled forward onto the Father Abbot of Redwall's paws for the last time.

Durral sat nursing the dead corsair until it grew dark, heedless of the rain that soaked him as Waveworm sailed silently westward on the drifting swell with its lone cargo. One old mouse.

************************************

BOOK THREE

When Tears Are Shed

Chapter 41

Viola was wakened by the sounds of low voices nearby. It was Martin and Grath talking together. The logboat was almost stationary, bobbing in the warming dawn. Seaweed hawsers trailed limply along the boat's sides, and the sealfolk were nowhere to be seen.

Martin stood in the prow, staring up at a mountain that reared out of the ocean. "Well, it's big enough," he said, "but it doesn't look like we can land anywhere. Why did the sealfolk slide off and leave us here, I wonder? It's nought but a mountain thrusting up out of the water."

Grath was as puzzled as the mouse warrior. "Maybe there's somethin' or somebeast here they wanted us t'see. Let's use these broken struts as oars an' paddle o'er there."

Plogg poked his head from under the canvas awning. "Gwaw! I'm stiff as a board. Where are we?"

Welko thrust his head up alongside that of his brother, grinning. "Nice'n'warm, though," he said, "looks like it's goin' t'be sunny. I'm starvin'is that ole cooky awake yet?"

A long paw reached out and cuffed the shrew's ear. "Ole cooky indeed, you graceless, scruff-furred wretch. I, sir, am Cleckstarr Lepus Montisle, of the far northern Montisles doncha know. An' furthermore, young feller m'lad, I don't well appreciate foul young blots like y'self snorin' down my delicate ears all night. As for breakfast, 'fraid you'll have to whistle for it. Clean out o' grub, we are, wot!"

Viola shook her head in disgust. "Well, there's a fine thing, those seals sliding off without so much as a by your leave, and us without a bite of food, floating around goodness knows where, with nothing to show for it but a hulking great mountain shoving itself out of the water!"

Grath could not help smiling at the complaining volemaid. "Well tut tut, missie, grab a cob o' wood an' start paddlin'. We won't talk ourselves outta this fix, that's for sure."

The rock was massive: smooth-sided, high and impregnable, and there was no discernible opening in it. They paddled most of the day, skirting the stone monolith, searching for a place to land, but the quest seemed fruitless. Sometime around midaf-ternoon they stopped to rest, sweltering under a hot sun.

Clecky gazed longingly at the clear blue sea. "Looks wonderful, don't it? I say, chaps, if I don't get something soon to wet my jolly old lips, I might try a drink o' that."

"I wouldn't recommend it, seawater can be nasty stuff!"

Clecky nearly fell overboard with shock. A young female otter had slid gracefully into the logboat and was sitting beside him.

"Who the flippineck are you, miss, an' where's y'manners? Jolly well near scared two seasons' growth out of me ears, pop-pin' up like that! Kindly don't do it again, bad form, wot!"

The little ottermaid smiled prettily, twitching her nose at them. "Beg y'pudden, sir, but what are you? You're not an otter."

"Hmph, I should say not, m'gel. I'm a hare, actually. Name's Clecky."

"Pleased t'meetcher, mister Clecky. I'm Winniegold of the holt of Wallyum Rudderwake. I 'spect the Hawm and his seal-folk brought you here to see us."

Clecky twitched his ears rather irately. "Tchah! Well, if he did, he never said anythin' to us about it. Blinkin' feller should say where he's takin' a chap, instead of all this haaaawmin' an' haaaaarin', wot wot!"

"Excuse me," Martin interrupted, "but if you two could break off this pleasant conversation long enough, perhaps you, miss, could show us to the holt of your father Wallyum Rud-derwake."

Realization suddenly struck Plogg. "The seals were sayin' Waaylumm! Maybe that's 'cos they couldn't say Wallyum properly!"

Clecky absentmindedly cuffed Plogg's ear. "Huh, I know that. Seal language, speak it perfectly, old chap, perfectly. I think friend Martin's right though, missie. You'd better take us to your dear old pater, wot!"

Winniegold directed them to take the logboat further round the side of the rock. A cable made from twined seaweed and kelp hung from a niche carved into the rock; it trailed away into the sea like a great thick serpent. The little ottermaid unhooked the cable, and passing it to Grath, she explained its purpose.

"Look down into the water, what d'you see?"

Grath stared downward into the clear depths. "There's a hole like some sort o' tunnel in the mountain, right near the surface here. The cable goes into it!"

Winniegold lowered her voice as if revealing a secret. “If we wait, the sea will lower itself and the tunnel will appear in front of us. My father says it is the trough between every nineteenth and twentieth wave that washes against the east side of our mountain; suddenly the sea level will sink and expose the cave mouth. If we all lie flat in your boat and heave on the cable, we can pull ourselves through to the inner island."

Viola leaned over the boat's edge, gazing at the great hole in the rock fearfully. "But it's underwater," she cried, "we'll all be drowned! I'm scared!"

Winniegold giggled at the timid volemaid. "Silly, there's no need t'be feared, you'll see. I haven't been countin' the waves, but I think it's best we all lie down."

Without warning a wave lapped high, sending the boat up on its crest, then it dropped sharply. There was a swoosh as if some gigantic monster had exhaled and they were looking straight into the mouth of the tunnel, wide and dark and dripping seawater, directly in front of them.

"Get down, mates, lie flat!" Winniegold yelled.

She gave a mighty heave on the cable and the logboat shot into the opening, like a tiny fish into the mouth of a whale. They were surrounded by an eerie blue light shimmering from the tunnel walls. The logboat rose, stopping no more than a paws-length from the shell-encrusted tunnel ceiling. As Winniegold tugged on the cable their vessel shot forward, and the entire logboat crew seized hold of the thick kelp and seaweed hawser and, lying flat on their backs, began pulling. The little craft sped along inside the tunnel. Limpets, barnacles, shells and hanging fronds almost scraped the prow of the boat, and great crabs scuttled about in the bluish light above their faces. The transition from sudden bright tropical sunlight to aquamarine dimness caused golden sunbursts upon their vision whenever they blinked. It was the oddest of experiences.

Suddenly it was bright, hot daylight again. Still holding the cable they stood up slowly and gazed awestruck at the scene surrounding them. Where the cable ended it was made fast to a treestump on the banks of a broad stream. Fields stretched about the entire area, ending in trees, which gave way to dense vegetation and shrubbery climbing the mountain's inner slopes.

Martin turned full circle, staring up at the high circular rock-rim. "It's like some kind of a massive crater, as if the mountain had had the heart taken out of it. We're in a big basin!"

Cupping both paws to her mouth, Winniegold cried out, setting echoes bouncing and ringing from the surrounding heights: “Rudddaaaawaaaaaaake!''

Otters came bounding from everywhere, dashing across the fields, tumbling down the banks and popping from the stream's surface. They crowded around the logboat, staring silently at the newcomers. Everybeast, male and female, even the babes, was fully armed; slings, clubs and javelins were much in evidence. Then a murmur ran through the ranks and they parted.

A magnificent male otter, fully a head taller than the rest, strode purposefully forward. His fur was dark, almost sable, and he was forbiddingly muscled through his sleek neck and broad shoulders. Grath stared curiously at the big bow he carried, a shaft set ready upon its bowstring. Over his shoulder she could see a quiverful of red-feathered arrows. He glanced down from the top of the bank, noting that she also carried a bow and arrows, then he nodded and stood to one side.

From behind the big otter another appeared, old and gray, but radiating a presence of wisdom and calm. The old otter carried an oak staff and was garbed in a long, homespun tunic of light brown color. His voice was deep and warm.

"Do you come to Ruddaring in peace? Are you friends?"

Martin realized who the patriarchal-looking beast was. Leaving the boat he waded ashore and, bowing low, placed his sword on the ground in front of the old otter.

"Peace be upon you, Wallyum Rudderwake, and all of your holt. I am Martin the Warrior of Redwall Abbey. The Hawm of sealfolk delivered us to your island. We are friends."

Wallyum's grizzled features creased into a gentle smile. He nodded to Grath. "Which holt come you from?"

Grath inclined her head to one side, allowing her rudder to rise and tip beneath her chin in a courtly old-fashioned gesture.

"I am Grath Longfletch of Holt Lutra, Sire."

Wallyum appeared extremely gratified by Grath's politeness. 'Well said, maiden. It is a long time since I saw such courtesy in an otterwould that half of my holt had your good manners! You and your friends look as if food would do you no harm. Come, I always find conversation far more pleasant over a good meal. Inbar, will you carry our friend Grath's bow and arrows for her?"

Wallyum's huge, dark-furred son leapt forward willingly, missing the smile that passed between his father and Martin.

The old otter picked up the Warriormouse's sword. "I will carry this for you. 'Tis a blade that I have only once seen the like of, the sword of a great warrior, ancient and beautiful."

Helped by numerous otters, the friends set out along the streambank to Holt Rudderwake.

Chapter 42

The holt was a sprawling comfortable cave in the mountainside, next to where the streamsource bubbled from the rocks. Thick woven rushmats and rockslabs for tables were the only furniture; a fire was kept under an oven made of baked clay and stone.

The otters were partial to great soups and stews of seaweed and shellfish. Also much in favor, owing to the tropical and fertile nature of their island, were magnificent fruit salads. As they ate, Martin related their story to Wallyum and his wife, a great fat old grandma otter called Dorumee, who seemed always to be surrounded by grandbabes climbing over her and swinging on her apron strings. Wallyum listened carefully to Martin's narrative, as did several of the holt elders.

Clecky was the center of attention with the rest of the otters. His ever-present appetite for staggering amounts of food astounded them. The hare declined shellfish, but did justice to everything else.

"Can't abide the old edible mollusks, wot!" he announced. "Cockles'n'mussels an' all that bring me out in an itchy paw rash, chaps, sorry. Oh, I say, you fellers, this big ball tastes rather splendid!"

The otters hooted with laughter.

" 'Tain't a ball, mate, that's a melon. Yore not supposed to eat the seeds, though."

"Oh, I dunno, taste pretty good t'me. 'Scuse me, old chap, d'you mind not hoggin' that seaweed soup? Nice salty taste, sort o' contrasts jolly well with these peach thingees. Owch! My word, y'could use these stones to chuck from your slings, great lumpy things. You there, otterchap, have the decency to unstone that big peach for a feller, will you, that's the style!"

Inbar was admiring Grath's bow and arrows. "Nice string, well twined. I don't know which has the stronger pull, your bow or mine. Our arrows are the same length, too."

Grath closed one eye, sighting down the shaft of one of Inbar's red-feathered arrows. "Mmm, good'n'straightthey'd fly true!"

The normally taciturn otter tested an arrowpoint on his paw. "That's my full nameInbar Trueflight. I'll show you where I usually practice, maybe we can loose off a few shafts together?''

Grath agreed, a hint of challenge in her smile. "I'd like to do that, Inbar. We'll match each other arrow for arrow after we've eaten."

Wallyum's wife Dorumee was speaking to Martin, whilst her husband took the little otters off to watch Clecky. The babes had never seen a hare before.

"Our Holt of Rudderwake's lived on this isle I don't know 'ow long. It goes right back into the mists of time. There's some say that it were four otter families who escaped from a corsair vessel an' found their way to this place purely by accident. Anyway, Martin, our ancestors made Ruddaring Isle their own. They fought a great battle with the lizards that used t'live 'ere. Wot lizards they didn't slay were driven off to another isle 'way west o' here, may'ap 'tis that Sampetra place you talk of. That was more seasons ago than a score of otters could count. Ruddaring Isle is our 'ome now. Searats an' corsairs passin' in their ships don't even know this is an island, to them 'tis just a mountain pokin' up out o' the ocean with no place to land upon. Nobeast knows we're livinere, 'cepting the seals an' you an' yore friends, Martin. Swear if ever you leave 'ere not to tell a livin' creature of our isle."

The Warriormouse patted Dorumee's paw. "I swear it will be so. I'd hate to think of me or my crew being the cause of ever bringing unwelcome visitors here to your beautiful home."

Viola, Plogg and Welko were trying to learn an otter dance. They found it very difficult, not having the balance that an otter's rudderlike tail affords. Winniegold and her chums were whirling and wheeling about, balancing first on one footpaw, then hopping onto the other with a skilful tailspin between each leap.

A deep-voiced old otterwife beat two drums with her tail as she sang for the dancers.

"Ho comb yore whiskers, brush that tail,

Place a flow'r behind yore ear,

Wash those paws in my ole pail,

We're off a dancin', dear! Oooooooh!

Paws up high, rudder on the deck,

Pace up to yore partner, check!

Rudder in the air, paws on the ground,

Whirl that otter round an' round!

Vittles onna table, drink's there too,

Hear the music playin',

Smile at me I'll dance with you,

Every otter's sayin'! Oooooooh!

Shuffle back an' clap both paws,

I'll clap mine an' you clap yours!

Turn away now back to back,

Slap those tails down whackwhackwhack!"

Giggling and laughing, they fell to the floor exhausted.

Clecky looked up from a wild grape trifle, shaking his head. "Do y'self a mischief, prancin' about like that after eatin'. Don't you chaps know any good slow ballads t'settle the jolly old digestion?"

He was immediately beset by several young otters. "Sing for us, mister Clecky! Oh, please do, sir!"

Finishing his trifle in two great gulps the hare was up on his paws, ready to sing, but denying it strenuously. "Oh, have a heart, you young rips! I haven't twiddled the old vocal cords in an absolute age, doncha know!"

"Now leave our friend alone if he don't wish to sing," Old Wallyum remonstrated.

The hare took the center of the floor as if he had not heard Wallyum's remark. "Oh well, if you insist, I'll just do one. A very bad salad, er ahem, I mean sad ballad. Right, here goes, chaps ..."

Drooping his whiskers and quivering his ears in a most pathetic manner, he clasped both paws and stared soulfully at his audience.

"This is the story of Corkal hare.

Which is most terribly tragic, horribly sad an' pretty awfully fearfuuuuuuuul!

So pray give attention, list' to my song an' don't fall asleep,

Although 'tis not too cheerfuuuuuuuuuuul!

Poor Corkal fell foul of an evil fox

Who was mean an' horribly cruuuuuuuuuel!

An' foolishly he challenged him,

Next mornin' at dawn to a duuuuuuuuuuuuel!"

Here Clecky paused and glared at Plogg and Welko. "Either of you rogues spit another melon seed at me an' I'll kick y'little fat tails halfway up yonder mountain. Ahem, beg pardon for the untimely interruption, chaps, now where was I? Oh, yes.

“ Both creatures chose as their weapons,

To hurl at each other, salaaaaaaaaaaad!

Good job they never chose soup or else,

I might never have wrote this ballaaaaaaaaad!

So the very next mornin' as dawn did break,

All bright'n'hot'n'warm an' sunneeeeeeeeeeee!

Which considerin' it was the dead o' winter,

Our hero did not find too funneeeeeeeeeee!"

Clecky jumped and clapped a paw to his tail, glaring at Plogg and Welko, who were sitting looking the pictures of innocence. "Just one more melon seed, you rotters, just one more ..."

He continued his elongated recitation.

"There in the field the two creatures met,

Each beast with salad ladeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

A terrible sight not fit for the eyes,

Of any tender young maideeeeeeeeeeeen!

An' the lettuce an' the carrots an' the onions they all flew like lightniiiiiiiiiin'!

An' they fought'n'they ate, an' they ate'n'they fought,

The scene was pretty frightniiiiiiiin'!"

Clecky twitched his nose as a melon seed bounced off it. He narrowed his eyes and pointed vehemently at the two shrews. "Right, that's it! Soon as I'm finished this heartrendin' ditty you two are in for it!"

He finished the song at top speed as if it were a fast jig:

"But now my friends I've reached the end of my most sad renditiiion,

At the end of the epic battle royal this was the sad positiiiion,

Neither the fox nor the hare had won, they were both in bad conditiiiiiiion,

Sufferin' from fierce indigestion because they'd ate all the ammunitiiiiiiiion!''

With a bound he was away after the two shrews, who shot off like sardines with a shark on their tails. The audience fell about laughing helplessly.

Dorumee held her tubby sides, shaking with mirth. "Oho-hohohooohooh! That'll teach 'em t'spit melon pips at 'im!"

Viola and Winniegold were chuckling so hard that tears coursed down their cheeks as they confessed. "Heeehee, it wasn't heehee Plogg or hahaha Welko spittin' those pips ... Hoohoohooh! It was us. Heehahaheehohoho!"

Wallyum Rudderwake and his otters were excellent hosts to the first land visitors they had ever received. Entertainment, singing, eating, drinking and dancing went on far into the night, only stopping because everybeast was totally exhausted. Interspersed with the weary logboat crew, otters slept where they fell, everywhere about the cave. Babes, youngsters and parents lay draped over rocks or curled on rush mats in a tangle of paws and tails.

Wallyum sat in the light of the oven fire. He and Martin were the only two left awake. The otter patriarch stared piercingly at the Warriormouse until eventually Martin felt he had to speak and break the silence.

"'Tell me, Wallyum, how did you come to know the seal-folk?"

The otter shifted his gaze to the fire and shrugged. "We have always known them. My father and his father before him treated the sealsbulls, wives and pupsfor injuries and ailments. So it has fallen to my lot now. I am their Healer. Hawm and his followers have great respect for the Holt of Rudderwake; they would do anything for us. Lucky 'twas that you had an otter in youe crew, or they might never have brought you to my island."

That seemed as much information as Wallyum was willing to impart. Silence fell on the two creatures as they sat together in the soft tropic night, staring into the ash-shrouded embers burning low beneath the oven.

Martin felt slightly uneasy in the presence of Wallyum. From the corner of his eye he noted the otter had transferred his gaze from the fire. Hairs on the back of the Warriormouse's neck began to prickle. He turned suddenly and locked eyes with Wallyum's piercing stare. "Friend, is there something you are hiding from me?"

Rising slowly, Wallyum beckoned Martin to follow him. “Let us walk together in the moonlight," he said.

In the limited view of sky surrounded by the high mountainous crater, a summer moon hung like a pale gold coin, shedding its light on the two figures strolling through lush grasses toward the streambank. Wallyum Rudderwake spoke when they were out of hearing from the cave.

“ Hearken to me, Martin of Redwall, I have things to tell you, things that I could tell to no otherbeast, lest they think I am growing feeble in the brain. Would it surprise you to know that I already knew your face, that I had seen you long before you came to this island?"

The Warriormouse sat down on the streambank. "It would surprise me greatly. Tell me more, Wallyum."

Leaning on Martin's shoulder, the old otter lowered himself to sit upon the bank. He tossed a twig into the stream and watched the water bear it away to the seas.

"Three moons ago I had a dream. That was when you appeared in my mindbut was it you, or one who looked just like you? It was a mouse, a warrior like yourself. When you arrived at my island today, I knew then, it was you! You were not wearing armor like the mouse in my dream, but your face was the same as his and the sword you carried was the same wonderful blade. I knew this for certain when I picked up that sword to carry it for you. I could feel it in the hilt and the blade."

Martin nodded, understanding beginning to dawn on him. Wallyum had been visited in his dream by the first Martin of long ago. "Did the mouse speak words to you, friend? Was there a message?''

In the darkness, the otter's eyes opened wide with surprise. "Yes, he did! I felt a great calm come over me. His voice sounded like a distant bell, echoing, warm. These are the very words he spoke. My name is Martin of Redwall. You are a goodbeast, Wallyum Rudderwakehelp my friends to defeat evil and bring happiness back to our Abbey. Do this thing for me and the name of Holt Rudderwake will be remembered on the stones of Great Hall."

The old otter grasped Martin's paw firmly. "Tell me what to do, Martin of Redwall, and I will help you!"

Chapter 43

Auma the badger Mother sat at supper flanked by Skipper and Foremole, the three of them highly amused as Arven and the Dibbuns served the meal. Further up the table Sister Cicely sniffed, "Those babes should have been abed hours back!"

Skipper glanced down the table. "Trim me sails, wot's the matter with the Sister? She looks as if she's swallered some of 'er own nettle soup."

Auma directed the otter's attention to Diggum and Gurrbowl trundling a laden trolley towards them. "Pay no heed to Cicely. She's got a knot in her tail because her patients have deserted the infirmary and she's got nobeast to boss around. Will you look at these babes, how nice of them to serve us supper!"

Diggum clambered up onto the table, her tiny face creased in a serious frown as she set about tying table napkins around the necks of Auma, Skipper and Foremole.

"Yurr, you'm keep'n these on, et'll save ee splashin' zoop all over ee. Doan't ee take em off, or boi 'okey oi'll send ee all oop t'bed wi'out no zupper. Hurr!"

Gurrbowl ladled out hotroot soup for all three, which Auma attempted to refuse, saying, "No thank you, sir, it looks a bit too spicy for me. I'll just have salad and a little nutbread, please."

The molebabe glared at the big badger Mother. "Yoo'll 'ave wot oi gives ee, marm, an' sup et all, 'tis gudd for ee. Cummon, finish et oop an' ee'll grow gurt'n'strong loik oi, bain't that roight, Skip?"

The Skipper of Otters nodded vigorously. "Oh, 'tis right enough, matey. I'll see she eats it all, you go'n'attend to the others. Sister Cicely looks famished, serve 'er."

The Dibbuns ambled off, pushing their serving trolley.

Arven was trying to feed a mousebabe, arguing furiously with him. "Likkle maggit, eatta up all dese scones or grayshuss me I tell badgermum to baff you inna baff wiv lotsa soap uppa nose, ho yes!"

The rebellious mousebabe flung a scone at Arven. "No! I h'ain't got 'nuff teeths to eat 'em, um like rocks, you maked d'scones, you eat 'em!"

It was at that point that the door slammed wide as Craklyn and Tansy rushed into Great Hall, shouting, "The tapestry! The tapestry! The secret's in the tapestry!"

Immediately the diners deserted their seats to crowd round the Abbeymaids.

Foremole held up a huge digging claw, calling over the ensuing din, "Yurr, missie, wot be in ee tarpesty?"

Rollo came panting in and fought his way to the front of the huddle. "The fifth pearl, of course," he said, "at least that's what the clues say."

Arven wriggled his way through and stood facing the tapestry. "Well, wherra purl, Tansy pansy?"

Tansy tweaked the little squirrel's bushy tail. "We'll tell you when we find it, nosy!"

Auma's huge voice boomed around the hall. "Stand back, everybeast back, please! Make room for Rollo and those maids to do their job. Move yourselves, please!"

Reluctantly the Redwallers shuffled back a pace. Auma joined Rollo. "I don't like intruding, but perhaps we can all help. How did you know the pearl is in the tapestry?"

Rollo unfolded the parchment scrap, and spreading it on the floor, he demonstrated how they had solved the puzzle of the poem lines and letters to make up the word tapestry.

"That's as much as we know at present, but we're convinced the fifth Tear of all Oceans is hidden somewhere in this tapestry."

All eyes were on the mighty needlework hanging from the wall.

It depicted Martin the Warrior in the bottom right hand corner, armored and leaning both paws on his swordhilt. The warrior had a reckless smile upon his handsome features, and all around him was a woodland scene showing vermin, some lying slain, others fleeing in all directions from the Hero of Redwall.

Auma read the rhyme aloud:

"There is a warrior,

Where is a sword?

Peace did he bring,

The fighting Lord.

Shed for him is my fifth tear,

Find it in the title here,

Written in but a single word,

An eye is an eye, until it is heard."

Foremole scratched his dark-furred head. "Hurr, 'tis a gurt puzzlement, if'n ee purler be 'idden in um tarpesty oi doan't see et. 'Ow do ee foind the h'objeck?"

Craklyn picked up the parchment and strode back and forth in front of the tapestry. "Here's how, we dismantle the poem bit by bit, eliminating the pieces we don't need until we find the vital line. Right... There is a warrior." She pointed at the figure of Martin, continuing, “Where is a sword?''

Foremole indicated the blade that Martin leaned on. “Thurr! Wot do et say nex', missie?"

"Peace did he bring."

Tansy pondered for a moment. "Doesn't sound like a clue. Carry on, Craklyn."

"The fighting Lord."

"No, that's not much help. What's next?"

"Shed for him is my fifth tear."

"That means Fermald gave the fifth pearl to Martin," Rollo interrupted. "Continue."

"Find it in the title here."

Skipper thumped his tail thoughtfully. "Title, wot title?"

Arven snorted impatiently. Marching up to the tapestry, he gestured. "There, that'sa tykle, there!"

Embroidered on the bottom border of the work, right beneath the figure of the mouse, was a word. "Martin."

Craklyn could not conceal her excitement. "Aye, that's it, listen to the next line. Written in but a single word. A single word, and that's it. Martin!"

A buzz of conversation arose from the onlookers; everybeast seemed to be speculating and arguing with one another.

Skipper was forced to roar over the hubbub to restore order.

"Quiet now, silence! Stow the gab an' let these maids git on with it. Oh, sorry, Rollo sir, an' you too. Wot d'you think?"

Rollo polished his spectacles carefully. "I think we should hear the last line. Craklyn?"

The squirrelmaid read out the poem's final line: "An eye is an eye, until it is heard."

The silence which had fallen over Great Hall deepened. Everybeast stood looking at the tapestry, mentally repeating the line.

Gerul limped forward from the table, where he had sat through it all, staunchly chomping away at every morsel in sight. He waved a slice of heavy fruitcake at Craklyn and Tansy.

"Sure aren't none of yer lissenin'? As me ould mother used t'say, 'tis as plain as the paw behind yer back in a fog."

Tansy folded her paws resignedly. "Oh, that's a great help. I thought you were going to tell us all something intelligent for a moment there!"

The owl pecked a few crumbs from his wing feathers. "Faith, an' so I am, missie. Will ye think of the line for a moment. An eye is an eye, until it is heard. Does it not tell you any thin'?"

Tansy shook her head. "Not a thing!"

Gerul pointed at one of his eyes. "What pray is this?"

Tansy's reply was swift. "An eye, it's your eye!"

The owl chuckled. "Ah, the brains of the young are surely marvelous. Now tell me, what's this?" He pointed at Tansy's right eye.

The hedgehog maid gave a long sigh of impatience. "It's an eye, my eye! What are you getting at?"

Gerul went to a nearby table and took up a knife. "Me ould mother always used t'say, if y'can't see with yore own two eyes what's in front of them, then y'better off closinem an' goin' t'sleep, 'tis far more restful!"

As he was speaking, the owl was scratching something on the floorstones with his knifepoint. He pointed at it. “Now, what would y'say that was?"