Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Shaking his head, Skipper expressed an opinion to Buckler. "If'n that Sable Quean an' Zwilt have a crew of over tenscore vermin, I think we'll have to secure the Abbey. Armed guards patrollin' all walls, an' others watchin' all

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four gates. You an' Diggs should be able t'help there. We need warriors like ye, mate, Salamandastron trained."

Buckler strode to the walltop. Leaning on a battlement, he stared out over the western plain. "Oh, we'll do the best we can for ye, Skip. But what bothers me is the stolen little uns. What d'ye think this Sable Quean intends on doin' with 'em?"

The Otter Chieftain shrugged. "That I don't know, Buck. It's a puzzle, ain't it? Pore young things, it don't bear thinkin' about, wot a crowd o' vermin scum could do to them."

Even though it made him shudder at the thought, Buckler tried to address the problem logically. "Hmm, one thing we can be sure of, the Sable Quean isn't stealin' the young uns just to slay 'em."

Skipper agreed. "Aye, mate. I'll wager me rudder they're all alive someplace.... But where?"

His companion smote a paw on the battlement. "Somewhere out there in Mossflower, this Zwilt rascal is hidin' 'em. Right, let's see if we can squeeze some more information out of that ferret who Diggs nabbed. Vermin usually know more'n they'll tell you."

The Otter Chieftain clenched his strong paws. "I think we'd best git him up 'ere on the walltop. We don't want to upset any gentlebeasts. Squeeze him, d'ye say? I'll squeeze the blaggard until he sings like a brace o' nightingales!"

Gripchun was feeling much better since he had been taken to the kitchens and given good Redwall fare. The absence of Diggs added to his well-being; he felt his natural vermin insolence returning. It came as an unpleasant shock when Skipper strode in and seized him by the scruff of his neck.

Gripchun tried to wriggle free, snarling, "Git yer paws off a me, riverdog. Who d'ye think ye are?"

The brawny otter pinned him to the wall with one hefty paw. He began clouting the ferret's ears with the other.

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Skipper explained who he was, accentuating each word with a stinging smack.

"I'll tell ye who I am, Dibbun robber! I'm the beast who's goin' to knock yore head off if'n ye tell any lies, or give me any more of yore lip!"

Gripchun began sobbing relentlessly. "Please, sir, don't 'it me no more. I've told ye all I know, I can't tell ye no more, honest I can't!"

Diggs ambled in, munching on an oversized vegetable pasty. "Oh, hello, Skip old scout. What's that rascal been up to, wot? I say, d'ye mind holdin' my pasty whilst I give him a few smacks? I feel sort of responsible for the scoundrel, havin' captured him an' all that!"

Skipper left off cuffing Gripchun's ears long enough to explain, "Me'n'Buckler thinks this un knows more'n he's sayin'. I'm takin' him back up to the walltop so we can question him without upsettin' everybeast."

Diggs brushed pasty crumbs from his chubby cheeks. "Good idea. I'll lend a blinkin' paw--you take one ear an' I'll take the other, wot!"

They went off with Gripchun, hobbling tippawed between them and wailing pitifully, "Owowow--leggo, you'll pull me lugs off!"

Oakheart joined them as they left the kitchen. " 'Pon my word, does that wretch never stop bleating?"

Halfway across the lawn, they met Granvy, who enquired where they were taking the captive. On being told, he decided to tag along.

Gripchun cowered against the battlemented wall, nervously licking dry lips as he looked from one to the other of his interrogators.

Diggs was finishing off his pasty; Skipper was flexing his paws. Oakheart had taken the liberty of bringing along a wooden oven paddle, which he was tapping on the rampart stones. Granvy had sat down, taking from his belt pouch a piece of bark parchment and a thin charcoal stick. He smiled at the ferret.

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"Just to take down anything you tell us."

However, it was Buckler who was causing the captive some real apprehension. The young Blademaster was honing his long rapier blade on a whetstone. Without looking at Gripchun, he spoke, testing the keen edge against his paws: "I want you to think very carefully. I must have an answer to every question I ask."

A lump appeared in Gripchun's throat as he swallowed hard. He nodded furiously.

Buckler continued in a level tone, "Are the young uns alive and well?"

The ferret kept nodding as he found his voice. "They're all still livin', as far as I knows, sir."

Log a Log Jango Bigboat came bounding up the wall-steps. "I heard a kitchen helper sayin' you was tryin' t'make this scum talk. Has he said anythin' yet?"

Granvy looked up from his writing. "He says the little uns are all still alive, as far as he knows."

The Shrew Chieftain's blade was out in a flash, its point a hairsbreadth from the vermin's throat. Jango's voice was shaking with rage. "As far as ye know? I'm the father o'three of those youngsters! So ye'll have to do a bit better'n thinkin' ye know. If'n they're alive, yore chief must be keepin' 'em hid somewhere...."

Jango's voice rose with his rage. He drew back the short Guosim rapier, readying it for a thrust. "I'm right, ain't I? My liddle uns are bein' held prisoners. Where? Tell me where, ye useless cob o' flotsam. Tell me or die!"

Gripchun gave a hoarse screech as Jango swung the blade. Fortunately, it was knocked to one side as Buckler deflected it with a deft flick of his long rapier.

The ferret threw himself flat on the walkway, sobbing hysterically. "I keeps tellin' ye, I don't know nothin'. All I does is carries out Zwilt's orders. I ain't got a clue where Althier is, on me oath I ain't!"

Oakheart bounded forward. Heaving the vermin up

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right, he shook him like a rag, bellowing into his face, "Althier, what d'ye mean, Althier?"

Gripchun rattled on like a babbling brook. "I 'eard Zwilt sayin' it, an' I didn't think nothin' of it at the time, honest I didn't, sirs. But just now the name came into me mind. Althier, I think that's the name of the place where they keeps yore little uns!"

Oakheart dropped the hapless vermin. "Well, well. What d'ye make o' that, friends?"

Granvy ceased writing. He whispered to Skipper, "I believe him, but let's not frighten him into telling lies to save his skin. Leave this to me. Maybe I can persuade a bit more out of him."

Diggs gave the Recorder a broad wink. "Aye, but first allow me to jolly well scare the blighter a bit more. Then you can come in, all blinkin' kind'n'gentie, eh, wot!"

Diggs dived at the ferret, hauling him up once again and bellowing aggressively, "So then, you mouldy rotter, you were fibbing when y'said you'd told me every bloomin' thing. Hah, an' I was tryin' to be nice to you. Right, that's it! No more good old Uncle Diggs for you, m'laddo, c'mere!"

Even though he was tubby, Diggs was a hare of some strength. With a grunt, he swung Gripchun over his head and held him above the battlements.

"One thing a chap can't abide, an' that's a fibber! So it's over the wall for you, mudface. You're free t'go--though it's a bit of a way down from the top o' these flippin' walls. Hah, your pals will prob'ly need three sacks an' a spade to shovel you up an' carry you off, wot!"

The vermin screeched despairingly, "No, noooo, mercy, sir, I begs ye! Owoooo 'elp!"

That was when Granvy interceded. He pulled Diggs back, managing to take possession of the prisoner. "Mister Diggs, sir, there's no need for all this violence. I'm sure this creature would sooner talk to me, right?"

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The ferret began kissing Granvy's footpaws. "Right, sir, yore right. I'll talk to ye, fair'n'square, honest I will, sir. Just keep that fat rabbet off me!"

Diggs was about to fetch him a good clout for his insolence when the old Recorder held up a calming paw.