The Lutra - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 09 - The Pearls Of Lutra

Tansy repeated the first line of the rhyme aloud, "I shed my second tear, into the cup of cheer!"

Rollo slammed the volume shut, sending up a small dust-cloud. "Of course, a pink pearl in pink wine!"

There were a lot of firkins, each one identical to the next. They stood on end, two high. Furlo bade Tansy and her friends stand aside as he lifted each one down for inspection. They could not help smiling at the fashion in which hedgehog cellar-keepers wrote the names on different firkins, though they did not laugh aloud for fear of offending Furlo Stump. The powerful hedgehog lifted down one firkin after another for their inspection, and Rollo translated the simple spelling.

"Persnup corjul, ahem, that'll be parsnip cordial. Pinnycludd win, er, that'll be pennycloud wine. What's this onerabzerry viggen?"

Furlo chuckled. "That's raspberry vinegar, sir. Us cellar 'ogs ain't the best o' scholars, but we know our own marks when we sees 'em!"

Tansy and Craklyn dusted off the bottom of a firkin which Furlo had laid on its side. Piknim read out the faint green lettering, "Ambrows Spiks faymiss Kopachir?"

Tansy said the last word several times before it dawned on her. “Kopachir ... Kop a chir ... Kup a chir ... Cup o' chir ... Cup of Cheer!"

Rollo stroked the aged wood reverently. "This is the one, made long ages ago in the winter of the deepest snow. Ambrose Spike's famous Cup of Cheer!"

It took quite a while for the cellar-keeper to tap the bung. With his coopering hammer, he knocked a sharp spigot through the center of the firkin bung without losing a drop of its contents. Then, with a mighty heave, Furlo lifted the firkin onto a table and began running the liquid off into an empty barrel. They watched the pink rhubarb wine splashing out in a shining stream.

Rollo caught some in a beaker and tasted it. "Delicious, but very strong, perhaps Sister Cicely could make use of it in the sick bay for cold and chills."

Tansy could not resist adding, "Instead of warm nettle broth!"

When the firkin was empty Furlo removed both tap and bung and began shaking it; something clattered around inside.

Piknim had the smallest paw; she reached inside and felt around. "Move it a touch this way, please, mister Furlo, a bit more ... Ah, got it!"

It was a tiny stone beaker, of the type used for medicine doses. Its top had been sealed over with beeswax. Furlo cut the wax away with a small quill dagger, and out fell an exquisite pink pearl.

"My, my, that 'un's a fair beauty of a treasure," the cellar-keeper remarked admiringly. "Ain't never seen anythin' as 'andsome in all me born days!"

Tansy, however, was far more interested in the thin fold of paper lining the bottom of the beaker; she picked it out and unfolded it.

Auma looked around the worried faces inside the gatehouse and spread her paws placatingly. "Please, friends, let's not do anything hasty. There's still time for the Abbot to return yet. I've often known him to stay out far later than this."

"But not when there are corsairs and vermin abroad in Mossflower," said Martin.

The badger Mother turned her gaze on him. "What do you suggest we do?" she asked.

The Warriormouse stared out of the window at the evening sky. "I think the best thing is to wait until dark. If Viola and the Abbot are not back by then, something is surely amiss. I can lead a party out into the woodlands by night. We know the woods better than strangers do, and they will not be expecting us."

Skipper seconded Martin's proposal. "Yore right, matey. I'll go along with you. Hark, what's that?"

Wullger the gatekeeper knew immediately. "Somebeast poundin' on the main gate outside. It ain't the Abbot, though, 'e knocks proper like a gentlebeast, always three taps. I'd advise you go atop of the wall to see whatbeast is makin' that sort o' din!"

Martin, Auma and Skipper raced out of the gatehouse and up the wallstairs. They stood on the main threshold over the gate, staring down at a band of creatures, the leader of whom seemed to make the rural twilight sinister and unclean with its presence.

Even tough Skipper was taken aback. "Seasons o' slaughter!" he whispered to Martin. "Am I 'avin' a bad dream, or is that thing real?"

Surrounded by half a crew of corsairs and searats, the Monitor General stood head and shoulders over his remaining five lizards. Lask Frildur made a horrific and impressive sight. His flat reptilian eyes watched the Redwallers as he pointed a monstrous scaled claw and rasped officially, "Open your gatez, I have wordz to zay to you!"

The Warriormouse showed no fear. His voice rang out like steel striking an anvil. "I command these gates, not you! Say who you are and what you want, but don't try giving orders to me!"

The huge Monitor puffed out his throat balefully. "I am Lazk Frildur, Monitor General to the mighty Emperor Ublaz. I come here to collect zigz pearlz called the Tearz of all Oceanz. They were ztolen from my mazteryou will return them!"

Auma leaned towards Martin, her voice low. "I don't like this. That reptile wouldn't turn up here demanding anything if he didn't have something up his sleeve."

Skipper's lips barely moved as he muttered, "She's right, matey, you'll 'ave to see if'n y'can bluff 'im!"

Martin kept his face grim and resolute as he murmured to his friend, "I certainly will have to bluff my way along; we don't have six pearls and it could be a long while until we do. Let's see if I can find out what's making this lizard so confident."

Lask's tongue was beginning to flicker impatiently. "I am waiting, mouze!"

Martin leaned carelessly against the battlements. "Supposing we did have these six pearls to give you, what would we receive in return for them?"

"The livez of your Abbotmouze and a bankvole!"

Martin felt his heart sink, but he kept up a nonchalant attitude. "You lie, lizard. How do I know you are holding them?"

At a signal from the Monitor General, one of the lizards hurled up a small bundle weighted with a stone. It clattered on the threshold. Auma seized it and tore away the vine-wrapped rags.

Martin felt his worst fears confirmed as he saw Skipper pick up two pairs of Redwall sandals, one pair slightly larger than the other. It was hard for the Warriormouse to keep his voice calm as he said, "These are just two pairs of sandals, they could belong to anybeast..."

For the first time, Lask Frildur smiled, showing yellowed rows of evil-looking teeth. "The Abbotmouze iz called Durral, Viola iz the maid'z name. You want more proofhere!" Lask's claw shot out as he hurled something up.

Auma swallowed hard. She picked up the delicate object, both finely polished crystal lenses smashed. "Father Abbot's glasses. Look, Martin."

Blood rose in the Warriormouse's eyes. Raging and roaring, he tried to tug free of Skipper and Auma, straining to climb over the battlements at his foe. “Touch one hair of their heads and I will slay you, scalescum! You and all your rabble, I will send you to Hellgates!"

Lask had never seen such ferocity from any creature. He realized that Romsca's warning had not been an idle one: these Redwallers did indeed have warrior blood in their veins. Steadying himself, he called back to the raging beast on the walltop, "Your friendz are unharmed, but they are far from here on a vezzel anchored out on the great waterz, you cannot rezcue them. Bring me the pearlz and I will releaze the captivez to you!"

Having delivered his ultimatum, Lask marched off quickly with his followers and dodged smartly into the cover of Mossflower Wood.

Auma held Martin tight. He was still struggling, tears of helpless rage flowing openly down his cheeks, and she had to exert all her strength to hold him.

"Skipper, let's get him back down into the gatehouse," she said. "We need to think this out calmly. Grab his footpaws, he has the power and wildness of a badger Lord. I've never seen Martin like this!"