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

"With your permission, I would make Martin's companions six, father."

Wallyum clasped his son's paw. "I know you would, Inbar Trueflightever since the boat arrived at our island and you two set eyes upon another. You have been a good son and Ruddaring is a tiny rock in the ocean. It will be a good thing for you to see the world outside, knowing that you may return to your home if it is not to your liking. Go, my son, and may all your seasons be filled with happiness!"

Inbar nodded his head vigorously, shaking off a teardrop into the sea. He clasped his father's paw tightly. "Thank you, sir. May the holt not need another leader for seasons untold. Would you wait here while I go back for my bow and arrows? I left them on the riverbank."

Grath patted the weapons lying alongside her. "I have them here, Inbar. Your father was not the only beast who could see that you wanted to come with us."

Wallyum smiled, nodding fondly at Grath Longfletch. “Take good care of each other," he said.

Then the old otter slid into the water to join the other otters who had swum through the tunnel. He held up a paw to the seal king. "Gittawooom, nugorra omminsawll. Gittarra, Haaaaaaaaawm!"

The seal king barked sharply, his voice echoing from the mountain. "Feryoon Waaaaaylumm. Gittarra!"

Leaping to the logboat's trailing cables, the sealfolk sent a huge bow wave spraying high as they sped off southwest.

Viola tugged at Inbar's paw. "What did they say?" she asked.

The big otter smiled down at the volemaid. "My father said, 'Go with the waves, let none harm you, Ruler of Waters, go with all speed, great king.' Then Hawm replied, 'Stay well, Wallyum,' then he told his seals 'Gittarra,' which means, go with all speed, or, literally, cut the waves."

Clecky, who was already selecting from the provisions for the midday meal, sniffed. "I knew that! Huh, seal lingo, speak it like a jolly old seal I do, y'can't fool the great Haaaaaaawm Clecky, y'know!"

Grath turned, looking back at the island. "From 'ere y'd think it was just some straight-sided rock stickin' up out of the sea, nobeast'd ever guess wot it looks like inside."

Inbar looked up from the chunk of beeswax he was rubbing upon his bowstring to protect it. "Aye, that's what has always kept the island safe for the otters of Holt Rudderwake. Tell me, this place, Redwall Abbeywhat's it like to live there?"

Grath borrowed the beeswax from him and began working on her bow. "I couldn't say, mate, never been there, though I'd like to."

Viola interrupted the two otters, not attempting to hide the note of pride in her voice. "I was born and bred in the Abbey of Redwall. It's the most wonderful place you could wish to be. I'll tell you all about it."

Martin perched in the for'ard peak of the speeding logboat as it skimmed the sunlit waves, a fine seaspray causing him to blink as he gazed down at the Hawm of sealfolk. Shining like dark mottled glass, the great bull's sleek form cut the waters a paws-length beneath the surface, towing the boat with his seals, as easily as a feather upon the breeze. Touching the hilt of the sword slung across his shoulders, the Warriormouse stared at the horizon, watching for the first glimpse of Sampetra and wondering what fate and fortune awaited them at the perilous isle of the mad-eyed Emperor Ublaz.

Chapter 46

Arven was stealing the hazelnut cream pie from beneath Tansy's nose. The young hedgehog maid knew he was, but she could not be bothered trying to stop him. Pulling dreadful fierce faces, the squirrelbabe puffed his cheeks in and out as he helped himself to her beaker of rosehip tea, then, climbing up on the table, he performed a somersault and landed right in front of her face.

"Tansy pansy toogle doo. Boo!"

Glum-faced and pensive, Tansy lifted him down to the floor. "Oh, toogle doo yourself, you little nuisance, go and play outside with the other Dibbuns. Go on, be off with you!"

Arven waggled his bushy tail sternly at her. "Shuddent talk t' Arven like dat, me a h'otter wurrier now. Kyah! You not funny any more, Arven goin' a play!"

Hopping and skipping, he bounded from Great Hall out into the warm late afternoon orchard to see what mischief he could create with his Dibbun comrades. Tansy watched him go, then turned back to the table, leaning moodily, chin in paws.

"My, my, what a long face! You look as if you've just had a good dose of my warm nettle soup! What ails you, miss?"

Tansy made no reply, merely shrugging at Sister Cicely's enquiry. But Cicely was not one to give up easily. She persisted with her interrogation of the hogmaid.

"You suffered no permanent damage at Ninian's and your friends Craklyn and Rollo seem to be in good health. Come on, Tansy, this is not like you. What's the matter?"

Tansy pushed away her plate and beaker. "Do you know where to find the purple arrowhead, Sister, or the rose that blooms ever fair, or the right hip for that matter? Because if you do I'd be pleased if you'd tell me, but otherwise I wish you'd please leave me alone. I mean no disrespect, Sister, but I've got such a lot of thinking to do."

Sister Cicely sniffed rather frostily. "As you wish, Tansy, but I hope you solve your problem and it brightens up your disposition a bit."

Tansy rose dispiritedly from the table and wandered off towards the gatehouse. Even before she reached it, Craklyn's voice could be heard repeating the sixth rhyme aloud.

"My sixth and last tear I give unto you,

When Redwallers lie abed,

At midnight see, in full moon view,

The purple arrowhead.

Travel east, six rods from the tip,

To the rose that blooms ever fair,

See if you can find the right hip,

Turn west and you're halfway there."

The gatehouse door was wide open, and Tansy walked in. Dust motes floated everywhere in the sunrays streaming through window and doorframe. Rollo sat poring over old copies of Abbey Records.

Craklyn lay sprawled in the armchair. She looked up at Tansy, and said, "It's no use, Rollo has searched and rummaged through all the back records and we haven't come up with a single clue."

The old Recorder slammed a volume shut in a cloud of dust. "Atchoo! Oh, 'scuse me. Craklyn's right, though, I've been hard at it since dawn and there's not a single mention of purple arrowheads anywhere in the records. Great seasons, Wullger's going to have a fit when he sees the mess we've made in here he cleaned the gatehouse out only last evening. Well, misses, it looks like we're really stuck this time. If only we had one clue, just one tiny thing to help us! Time is running outgoodness knows where the Abbot is now, with Martin gone after him. And Viola still not foundshe may have been seized again by rogues and vermin. We may well need those pearls for ransom. We must be ready. Remember what we said, we must find those pearls for Piknim."

Suddenly Tansy recalled the previous night. "Before I fell asleep last night I thought I heard the voice of Martin the Warrior. He said to me, the Abbess will find it for Piknim on the same ground where the fifth was found. At least I think that's what he said. I can't recall anything else because at that point I must've fallen asleep."

Craklyn hurled an armchair cushion at her friend. "You great puddenhead, Martin spoke to you last night and you've only just thought to mention it now?"

Tansy caught the cushion and threw it back. "Well, that's because I only recalled it now! Tell that bushtailed buffoon, will you, Rollo!"

The old Recorder took the cushion as Craklyn aimed it for another throw. He stared at them both over his glasses and said, "Now, now, young maids, no fighting please. Tansy's right, Craklyn, the remembrance of our dreams is often triggered by somebeast saying a certain phrase. For instance, a moment ago I said that we must find those pearls for Piknim. Martin mentioned the words find it for Piknim, and that's what caused Tansy to remember. Though it does sound rather odd, 'the Abbess will find it for Piknim.' Which Abbess? Redwall only has an Abbot, fates and fortunes rest favorably upon him wherever he is now. We don't have an Abbess."