Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

"This is Mumzy's Mansions, such as it is. Nothin' fancy, but 'tis good'n'safe, t'be sure. Sit ye down now, an' take a beaker of me own special brew whilst I tell ye of wot I've seen."

The brew was delicious, a hot cordial of coltsfoot, dandelion and pennycress. They sat in the little cave, which was lighted by a small fire. It was very cosy, with moss-and-dried-grass-padded ledges, which could serve as seats or beds.

Mumzy bustled about, tidying up as she informed them, "Those ravagin' villains are about in Mossflower tonight. Earlier on, I spotted five o' the dreadful scum, four weasels led by the big boyo, the one they calls Zwilt, tall sable beast, wears a long cloak and carries a big sword. As if that wasn't enough, they'd no sooner got out o' sight, when I see tracks, two rats an' two foxes. The tracks split--rats went one way, foxes t'other. So I follows the foxes' tracks. That's when I found you three. There's no sense in sittin' on yore tails out in the woodlands with that lot roamin' abroad. You bide 'ere with ould Mumzy 'til the coast clears, eh?"

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Gurchen looked worried. "But wot abowt Axtel, marm?"

The water vole set about pulling hot food from a clay oven at the back of her fire. "If'n Axtel's a warrior, as ye say he is, well, he should be well able o' takin' care of his-self. I'll find him for ye when things quietens down out there. Here, now, have ye ever tasted whortleberry an' chestnut flan? 'Tis a fine ould recipe I got from me good uncle Shaym, an' he was after bein' a top champeen cook, so he was!"

The flan was exceedingly tasty but rather hot.

Flib did not seem to want either food or drink.

Mumzy sat in front of her, staring into the shrewmaid's blank gaze. "Hmm, an' ye say she's a shrew, one o' those Guosim, I'll wager. I spent a few o' me salad seasons with 'em. Sure, they were a grand lot, those beasts. Maybe I can snap Flib out of her mood. Let's try an ould Guosim lullaby Reach me that there vole o'lin, young Guff."

Guffy passed Mumzy the instrument. It was a tiny three-stringed fiddle, which she played by bowing it with a dried water-violet stalk. The water vole had such a pleasant, soothing voice that Guffy dropped off to sleep on a moss-covered ledge.

Gurchen politely stayed awake, though Flib's eyelids began drooping as Mumzy sang the Guosim lullaby.

"When the warm sun sinks gently from out of the sky, hear the tired old breeze sigh a yawn, and the bees cease a-humming, now dark night is coming, to blanket the earth until dawn.

"Then the logboat of dreams drifts away o'er the streams, as we sail on it, baby and me, past meadow and vale, without paddle or sail, we both slumber on down to the sea.

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"Where birds circle silently, winging on high, deep waters run silent and calm,

'neath the soft gentle bloom of a honeydew moon, with no wind or wave to cause harm.

"Then the logboat of dreams will grant wishes it seems, all a little one's heart could require

'til rainbow-hued dawn turns to fresh summer morn, and a world full of hope and desire."

No sooner had the last strains of the quaint vole o'lin faded than Flib blinked, as though waking from a dream. "My ma used t'sing that un. I never bothered learnin' it, but me sister Midda did. She sings it t'Borti--he's our liddle brother."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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