Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The others were immediately intrigued by this statement.

Skipper thumped his rudder excitedly "Things? Wot sort o' things, matey?"

Oakheart whispered confidentially, "No secrets here, sirrah--you can tell us."

164

The old scribe chuckled. "Later, perhaps, when Buckler gets back from the clutches of Sister Fumbril. I'm afraid I don't know everything yet, so I may need a bit of help and some quick-witted ideas."

Diggs brightened up slightly. "Chap t'help with quickwitted ideas, d'ye say? Hah, you're lookin' at the very fellow, old lad. My quick-wittedness is legendary at Salamandastron, wot wot!"

Jango chuckled. "I'll wager it is--tryin' to work out how t'get more vittles than the rest, figurin' how ye can pinch pies from the cookhouse an' so on."

Diggs wrinkled his ears at the shrew. "Steady on, there-- that's a jolly hurtful thing t'say about a chap, y'know. Still, I wish I knew where I could pinch a bloomin' pie or two right now. Most unusual for me, but I do feel a bit bloomin' peckish."

Granvy smiled. "Right, then, shall we say after supper let's all meet in the gatehouse?"

Diggs nodded. "Supper, a capital idea!"

Abbess Marjoram pushed the tray of untouched food toward Buckler as Sister Fumbril tended to his wounds. He hardly glanced at it.

She chided him jokingly, "Tuck in, young sir. Even warriors have to eat, you know."

Buckler did not even flinch as Fumbril washed his neck wound with hot water and herbal cleanser. He sat on a sickbay bed, gazing bleakly at the wall.

Dymphnia Witherspyk looked up at him as she began bathing his footpaw. His dark mood was plain to see. "Don't take it to heart so much, Buck. You did all you could have done. 'Twas very brave of you."

There was a bitter edge to the young hare's voice. "Did all I could've done? Huh, I had to run away like a frightened babe. Very brave, I'm sure!"

Log a Log's wife, Furm, passed him a bowl of hot summer

165

vegetable soup, commenting, "Oh, I see, you'd 'ave much sooner stood yore ground and gotten shot full of arrows. That would've made ye feel better, eh?"

Buckler's eyes, still hot with seething anger, swept the ladies. "That Zwilt ... that piece of filth! He was wearing my dead brother's medallion--aye, an' wielding his sword, too. That tiny leveret, the one they had in a sack, I've never set eyes on it before, but I'll take my oath that the babe's my nephew. Where else would they get a little hare around here?"

Trajidia clasped her paws, declaiming dramatically, "Oh, the agonies you must have suffered, sirrah, standing there helpless in front of your tormentors!"

Catching her mother's icy glance, she trailed off into silence. Sister Fumbril bound a neat light dressing of sanicle and dockleaf to Buckler's footpaw.

"There, you're as good as new, matey. How d'ye feel?"

Buckler touched his neck, which was smeared with a healing unguent. He stood up, testing his weight upon the paw. "Better, thanks. I don't have to stay here, do I?"

Abbess Marjoram moved the tray out of his way. "Not if you don't want to. Could I tempt you to take a little food before you leave?"

She spoke as Diggs entered the room. The tubby Subaltern beamed, thinking the remark was addressed to him. "You certainly can, Mother Abbess, marm!"

Plonking himself on the bed, he pulled the tray to him. "What ho, Buck, you look jolly chipper. Still, I was just sayin' to old Log a Thing, takes more'n a couple of mis'rable vermin arrows t'stop a Salamandastron chap, wot!" He swigged off the soup and wiped his lips. When he looked up, his companion had gone.

"Well, now, didn't stop to chat, did he? My word, what'n the name o' fur'n'feathers ails him?"

Furm shook her head. "Huh, warriors. No tellin' wot goes on in their minds. I should know, I'm married to one!"

166

Diggs bit into a plum turnover. "Say no more, dear lady. Know exactly what y'mean. Us warriors are a jolly odd lot, wot, wot!"

Supper was a very subdued affair. Everybeast was mulling over what had taken place that day. Most Redwallers were feeling apprehensive following the appearance of a vermin horde at their very gates. They ate in silence, keeping their feelings to themselves.

Skipper finished eating quickly, then nodded to Buckler. "D'ye fancy a stroll over t' the gatehouse with some of us? Ole Granvy reckons he's onto somethin' that might help with our problem."

Buckler had hardly touched food; he stood promptly. "Lead on, Skip. Anythin's better than sittin' round wondering what t'do next."

The Abbey Recorder looked about at the assembly in the little cottage. Skipper, Buckler, Diggs, Jango, Oakheart and the Abbess. He tapped his quill pen on a stack of yellowed scrolls, obviously ancient writings. "Listen now, friends, I've been trying to piece together a few things which might reveal the location of where the Dibbuns are being kept."

Oakheart scratched his headspikes. "Aye, sir, but will it do any good? You may be bringing disaster on our young uns heads. D'ye recall what that scoundrel Zwilt said? If we try to follow them, or find the babes, then they'll harm our little ones."

The sound of Jango's teeth grinding together was clear-- the Guosim Chieftain practically spat out his words. "So wot d'we do, eh? Sit about twiddlin' our paws, an' let those scum have all their own way? Never trust wot a vermin says, Oakie."

Skipper's rudder thwacked the floor. "Aye, yore right there, matey. We should be doin' all we can to free the little uns, an' quick about it, too!"

Buckler had hardly spoken thus far, but now he came

167

to the fore, firm and decisive. "Are we all agreed, then-action must be taken?" They called out as one, "Aye!"

The Blademaster nodded. "Good! So, then, Mister Granvy, what've ye got to tell us?"

The Recorder adjusted the little spectacles on his snout. "Right. First things first: I don't think that the Dibbuns are being held more than a day's march from here. Why should the vermin keep them any great distance away? It doesn't make sense. Agreed?"

Abbess Marjoram nodded. "Agreed, that's my feelings. Also he said that they would return to our Abbey before too long, so they can't be far away."

Granvy acknowledged Marjoram. "Thank you, Mother Abbess. Now, this word, Althier, is a strange name, not one we'd know around Mossflower. I kept repeating it to myself-- Althier. You may say that I have a quirky mind, and so I do, friends. So I wrote the name down and tried to decipher it. D'you know, I think it's actually made up from two words. The first one would be probably a word we use all the time-- the! The pond, the Abbey, the orchard, the kitchen. And it's definitely there. So, take away the word the, and what are we left with? Four letters. A ... L ... I... R. What does that suggest to you?"

After a moment's thought, Oakheart spoke out. "Rail!"

Granvy shook his head. "What word might we associate with most vermin, eh?"

Diggs shouted out, "Liar, that's the word. Hah, didn't Jango say that only a moment ago? Never trust a vermin, an' why? 'Cos they're all liars, flippin' liars!"

The solution dawned on Buckler. "Lair. Vermin hide in lairs, that's what Althier means ... the Lair!"

Granvy patted the young hare's back. "Well done, Buck. The Lair. So, what are we seeking?"

Oakheart sounded excited. "A vermin lair within a good march from Redwall!"

Diggs began chunnering. "Dearie me, it must be a jolly

168

big lair. Somewhere large enough to take all those bally ravagin' rascals, plus the young uns. Anywhere that bloomin' size you could spot from a flippin' league away. Sounds like a pile of balderdash to me chaps, wot!"

Granvy shook his head. "No, no, you're wrong. Didn't Gripchun say that he didn't know where Althier was? That suggests Zwilt and the Sable creature keep the main body of their army well away from it. There's lots of places in Mossflower where you could set up a camp for a mob of vermin. Doesn't have to be particularly secret--nobeast is going to attack that number of armed vermin. But Althier, now, that's the secret hideout, where only the chosen few are allowed to be. The Quean, Zwilt, some guards and jailers and, of course, the captives."