Brian Jacques - Redwall #06 - The Outcast of Redwall

Duddle tugged his headspikes respectfully. “Wotever you say, Tutty, my liddle bankblossom!

The cabin hut was very chintzy, with brightly coloured tablecloth and curtains, thick, bright-dyed rush mats, and a large square stove on which various dishes bubbled and stewed. Bryony and Togget were seated at a semicircular window table and given beetroot-and-raspberry wine in small mugs to revive them. Tutty Pollspike busied herself at the stove, while her husband, Duddle, shooed their two young hoglets, Clematis Rosetea and Arundo, out of the way.

“Landing party, my darling ducklings, play ashore awhile until yore dear mama an my goodself get the vittles ready.

Bryony and Togget introduced themselves and told their story while Duddle and Tutty prepared the meal, Duddle tasted soup on a spoon tip, smacked his lips several times, and muttered, “Needs more fennel, splendid herb, always like it. Well, let me tell you, young uns, yore ferret has probly taken the river route if he has a grain of sense, its the only way ttravel. Easy on the paws, never goes uphill, an ycan take the home too.

Tutty placed fresh bread on the table, smacking Toggets paw away. “Crabsnclawlegs! Yore worsen my Duddle. You can travel with us for as long as you pleases, mayap youll find yore ferret. But ifn you touches any vittles afore the table is set, Ill chop off yore tails afore you can blink. Got that?

She fixed Togget with a warning stare as he nodded and said, “Got et, thankee, marm, youm be a cutten off ee tailers if usns be a touchen-afore vittles be ready. Ho urr!

The two hoglets were called in from play when the meal was ready. Duddle poled the raft from the bank and it drifted downriver, with the tiller lashed in position while they ate.

There was thick watercress-and-turnip soup; warm, brown wheat bread; a deep dish of cheese, mushroom, and leek bake; and a blackberry jam roly poly pudding with meadowcream. Afterward they sipped borage-and-rosehip tea. Duddle went out on deck to tend the tiller, while the friends were entertained by young Clematis Roselea, who recited a poem taught by her mama.

“I have learnt to wash my paws, An say sir an marm,

An dont act daft when on this raft,

Lest I do come to harm.

To sit up straight at table time,

An go to bed when told,

Mama says Im a precious hog,

In fact Im good as gold ... So there!

Young Arundo was about to flick an appleseed at her, when be caught his mamas stem eye, and he shrugged philosophically instead. “Thorry! I dont want my tail cut off with a thingle thwipe!

“Ahoy in the hut, molenmaid, all paws on deck an see this!

At the sound of Duddles voice from outside, Bryony and

Togget left the table and went to see what he had found. Tutty set her stern gaze on the hoglets, who had half risen from table. “Rhubarbnrosebuds! Did anybeast tell you two to move?

Arundo settled back glumly, making a chopping motion with his paw. “Thame old thtory, chop off our tailth!

The bodies of the two old foxes were caught up in the s branches of a half-submerged bush in a shallow cove beyond a curve.

Duddle pointed them out to the friends. “Dreadful end for anybeast, even two villains like them. How dyou figger it happened?

Togget nodded knowingly. “Oill bet an acorn to an apple twere maister Veil did et!

Bryony wagged a reproving paw at the mole. “Oh, Togget, bow could you say that? Veil wouldnt have killed them. Perhaps it was just some kind of nasty accident!

Togget turned away and trundled back to the hut, muttering, “Aye, an praps twill snow this evenin, et bein midsummer!

Sometime during the next night, when Veil lay sleeping on the willow trunk, a slipstream came up and flowed off on a slight slope. Not being awake to control the log. Veil slept on, unaware that the current had steered his craft off the main river. The willow trunk drifted silently into the slipstream, bearing the sleeping ferret away toward the distant mountains and fast-running rapids that led to a waterfall.

The same wet dawn that had sent Bryony and Togget scurrying for the pine copse broke over Salamandastron. Rain sheeted out in curtains over the still, waveless sea; hordebeasts huddled miserably among the rocky outcrops on the tideline, protecting smoky fires from guttering in the downpour. Swartt crouched with several of his Captains and Nightshade, their fire sheltered by an old tent canvas pegged to the side of the fock groyne. Those around the Warlord remained silent, not knowing which mood chose to possess their leader on such a cheerless day. Neither the ferret nor his vixen had spoken to anybeast of their latest plan.

Both watched the mountain, its top shrouded in mist. Though Swartt and his seer did not speak, both their minds were concentrated on the same thing. Was the Wraith inside the caves and passages of Salamandastron, stalking their Sunflash with his lethal stone blade?

38?

Wraith lay panting on a narrow ledge, halfway up to the window of the Badger Lords bedchamber. Though the weasel could move speedily over short distances, he had never been a strong creature. Granted, he was endowed with a natural cunning and the fantastic power of camouflage, but there his powers ended. He lacked strength and stamina. Wiping rainwater from his pale eyes, he glanced upward. Sounds of breakfast bustle and banter reached his soaking ears. Checking that his deadly stone knife was dry and safe in its sheath, Wraith hauled himself wearily up the rain-slicked mountainside as the downpour continued its relentless course.

Folrig and Ruddle were merciless jokers, and wherever the opportunity presented itself for a bit of fun, the two otters were certain to be involved. Unwittingly, the fat, food-loving hare Forty had presented himself as an easy target. Sunflash had pointed him out at breakfast.

Folrig and Ruddle came bounding into the dining hall, hungry from dawn sentry duty. Roughly they elbowed their way in beside the Badger Lord and began helping themselves to his hot oatcakes.

“Move over, ole frightface, make way for two starvin riv-erdogs! Were fightin fit an ready to eat anybeast to a standstill!

The big badger pushed hot blackberry pie and mint tea in their direction, commenting dryly as they ate ravenously, “You two uglymugs are mere babes when it comes to victualing. See that fat young hare over there, Forty? Now theres a bucko Id call a good scofferwhy, hed eat you two out of house and home while he was waiting to be served. Watch him!

Both otters did, their own food forgotten as they observed Forty with fascination. In rapid order a full apple pie, a plate of dried fruits, a big pitcher of strawberry fizz, and an enormous carrot and mushroom pastie were devoured by the insatiable hare. Mopping up the gravy from the pastie with half a crusty loaf, Forty eyed his neighbors plate covetously. “Mmmf grmmmf snch! Er, I say, old lad, if ycant tackle that measly bowl of pear crumble, then chuck it along this way, wot?

Ruddle shook his head in admiration. “Wot a beast! Cmon, mate, weve got to meet that furry feedbag!

After breakfast Sunflash went up to the bedchamber window, where he stood with Sabretache and Colonel Sandgall. They viewed the rain-swept beach and the saturated hordes gathered round their sputtering fires amid the rocks. Polishing his monocle, the Colonel twitched an ear to the sky.

“Good ol rain, wot! Nothin like it for dampen! n vermin spirits, give em a chance to reconsider their bally position. Wetnworried, Id say, by the look of the blighters!

Sabretache clapped paw to the hilt of his fighting blade. “Mayhap, sah, but what about when the jolly old precipitation Ceases, what then?

The Colonel stared at him blankly. “Precipitation ceases? Explain yself, laddie buck!