Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The look in his eyes, and the set of his powerful body, told Flib that it would be unwise to argue the point.

She tried to appear nonchalant. "Do as ye please. 'Tain't none o' my business. When'll ye be back?"

Axtel crouched down in front of her. He smiled and ruffled her ears. "Oi'm gurtly sorry you'm can't cumm, Miz Flib, but this bee's wurk oi does best alone. Naow, thurr's vikkles an' drinks in moi pack, if'n ee gets 'ungered. Oi gives ee moi wurd, oi'll cumm back yurr soon as oi can."

Flib nodded. "Fair enough, mate, but have ye got a weapon t'leave with me, just in case ... ?"

Axtel went and rummaged in his pack. He chuckled. "Yurr--oi tukken this frum a vermint, he'm won't be a-needin' et no more."

He passed her a long dagger, a typical vermin weapon. It was a stiletto, both edges sharp, with a keen point.

She wielded it, feeling the balance. "Huh, heavy enough t'do a bit o' damage with, eh?"

The mole produced a walking staff and a length of cord. "Ee'd do well t'make a spear of et, miz."

The Guosim maid applied herself to the job. When she looked up, Axtel Sturnclaw had gone.

Flib lashed the cord tightly, securing the dagger by its handle to the pole. Hiding it under some dead leaves within easy reach, she lay down, murmuring to herself, "Hah, any vermin out there plannin' on payin' us a visit, just come on, that's all I've got t'say. Just come on!"

Back down inside Althier, the captives found themselves in a different cavern. It was smaller and had a narrow entrance but no door to keep them locked in. However, there were four guards posted there, tough-looking rats, two armed

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with crude swords, the other two with spears. After a while, as the prisoners were fed and watered, Midda sat with Tura, feeding the babies as they discussed their position.

Midda spooned warm cornmeal to Borti, commenting, "At least the food's better than it was. There's a bit more of it, too, and the water looks fresher."

Tura was trying to feed the two harebabes at once. They fought greedily for each mouthful. The young squirrelmaid nodded toward the guards. "They seem better, too, not cruel like those two foxes."

Jinty, the Witherspyk hogmaid, sitting nearby, huffed, "Better, are they? Well, just you try gettin' by them an' escapin' from here. Huh, you'll see how much better they are!"

Midda cleaned little Borti's face up with a damp rag. "Don't talk about escape anymore, Jinty. Not with Flib and Flandor both dead."

Jinty's twin brother, Jiddle, picked up a pebble and hurled it angrily at the wall. "Well, what are we supposed to do? Just sit down here 'til we die like a pack of silly frogs?"

The pebble he had thrown bounced off the rock wall. It ricocheted, narrowly missing one of the guards, who strode across to Jiddle and jabbed him none too gently with a spearbutt.

"Did yew chuck that stone just now, eh?"

Midda put Borti down. She stood up, facing the rat aggressively. "He never chucked any stone--I did!"

The rat, whose name was Gilfis, was slightly taken aback. "Er, well, don't throw any more stones, see!"

Midda imitated her sister Flib, acting tough. "An' wot'll yew do if'n I don't, eh?"

One of the other rat guards had heard the exchange. He swaggered over, paw on sword hilt. "I'll tell ye wot we'll do, cheekyface. We'll give yer a good hidin', that's wot we'll do!"

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Tura was tugging Midda's sleeve to make her be quiet. However, the shrewmaid was not to be silenced. She thrust her chin out belligerently. "Why don't ye call yore two mates, eh? Between the four of ye, it shouldn't be hard. I'll bet yore good at beatin' up helpless prisoners. Big brave vermin!"

The one called Gilfis pulled his friend away. "Leave it, Fidra. If'n we lay a paw on 'er an' the Quean gets t'find out, we'll both be in the soup!"

They retired to the cave entrance, with Midda calling after them insultingly, "Go on, quick, afore yore scummy vermin Quean finds out. Lissen, rats, I'm a Guosim shrew from a real warrior clan. One Guosim's worth ten of yew scringe-tailed cowards!"

Tura managed to gag Midda's mouth with her paw. "What are you acting like this for, friend? Be quiet!"

Midda pulled her friend's paw away. She chuckled. "I'm enjoying it--my sister Flib was like that. She was a real tough one. I could be just like her, you know."

One of the captives, a mouse of about four seasons, upbraided Midda. "Aye, an' get yourself killed like your sister. Wot'll happen to your baby brother then?"

Midda subsided and clasped Tura's paw. "I'm sorry. I really spoke out of turn there. I won't do it again, promise. It only puts us all in danger, making enemies of the guards."

Tura smiled at her friend. "I'm glad you realise that." Suddenly the squirrelmaid began to chuckle. She had to cover her mouth to hide the merriment as she spoke. "Did you see that vermin's face, though? He didn't know what to do when you challenged him!"

Jiddle was good at impressions; he aped the guard. "Er, well, don't throw stones anymore, see!"

His impersonation was so good that all the captives began laughing. One of the guards called from the entrance, "Belt up in there an' stop that silly laughin'!"

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Jiddle shouted back, repeating the words exactly like the rat guard. Helpless laughter broke out amongst the young captives; even the babies joined in. The one called Fidra stormed in, waving his sword.

"Shuttup, all of ye! Silence, or there'll be no more vittles for ye, not a single bite, d'ye hear?"

Midda was rocking back and forth with baby Borti in her paws. They were both giggling hysterically.

Then Jinty yelled back at the guard, "Go on then--starve us t'death, wot do we care? But I wouldn't like to be you if'n yore Quean finds out. She'll have ye roasted alive, then slain!"

This time there was no reply from the vermin. Tura commented bleakly, "I think they got your warning. But wot's the use of it all? There's no more chance of escape. They can do exactly wot they like with us down here. We might never get out of this place."

Little Tassy sobbed brokenly. "Never see the sun again, or the woodlands, or Redwall Abbey. I couldn't bear it-- I'd sooner just die!"

Midda glared at the squirrelmaid. "Thanks for that, Tura. You've really cheered pore Tassy up. Listen, if'n ye can't say anythin' good, then keep yore mouth closed, that's my advice!"

Tura felt immediately sorry; she hugged the tiny Red-wall squirrel to her. "Hush now, Tassy, don't cry. Why, I'll bet there's all sorts of search parties from your Abbey scouring Mossflower to find us at this very moment. Right, Midda?"

The Guosim maid nodded confidently. "No question about it, mate. Aye, an' wot about my dad, Jango Bigboat? He's a Log a Log Chieftain. Hah, he'll have the woodlands teemin' with Guosim warriors just searchin' for us. They'll find us sooner or later, I'm certain. Come on, dry yore eyes, little un."

Tassy managed a damp smile, snuffling. "I 'ope it's sooner an' not later!"

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For some of them, it really would be sooner. Axtel Sturnclaw was at that moment burrowing his way back into Althier. For an expert digger of his strength, it did not pose any problems. He soon found the place where his tunnel had collapsed under him. Hefty digging claws ripped into the earth, making soil, roots and clay fly out behind him.

Stopping for a moment, he sniffed his surroundings, probed around, then muttered to himself, "Hurr, this'n bee's whurr they'm was a-maken thurr excape."

Straight down he dug, right into Flib's partially excavated tunnel. The rest was pretty much easy going. Axtel widened the tunnel, leaving plenty of room for his departure. Encountering a large boulder blocking his path, he dug around it. Finding a thick section of oak root, he jammed it alongside the boulder to hold it still. Tying a length of cord to the root, he tossed it behind himself, where it could be recovered easily. That done, the Warrior mole pressed on.