Here's a fic that uses many of the same characters from my Urthblood stories, but takes place along a slightly different timeline. I wrote it after The Crimson Badger and Highwing: A Sparra's Tale, but before The Shrew War. Astute readers may note subtle differences, such as the absence of Arlyn, or the fact that Vanessa seems a little older and more mature here than in TCB, and yet there are no hares living at Redwall, or any mention of Urthblood at all. Simply put, this is a story that could have happened had Urthblood never visited the Abbey at all and things had kept ticking along there without any Badger War turning the lands on their head. So, think of this as non-canon to the rest of my fics featuring this cast, and read it as a stand-alone tale. Hope you like it!
00000000000
The great fish was not pleased.
It considered itself the absolute lord and master of its watery domain, and any intrusion into that realm by the creatures of the dry places above was a challenge to its authority. For the lesser aquatic life the great fish spared not a thought, since there was none that could match it in size or strength. The slower, smaller fish were its food, nothing more, as were the shrimp that infested the reed-choked shallows, and even the big creeping snails whose thick shells provided no protection against the powerful crushing jaws of the water king. But when outsiders came to steal its food, the great fish was provoked to unreasoning rage and instinctively moved to defend its territory.
It lay half-buried in the silt and mud, its cold dead eyes fixed upon the trespassers. It knew little about the land creatures since they rarely ventured deep into these waters; never had it tasted their flesh. Perhaps they were not even aware of its presence ... not that the great fish was capable of such complex thoughts. It knew only that a theft was taking place, by creatures who did not belong here, and that must be made to stop.
The interlopers used a large flexible skin to harvest quantities of the shrimp. Twice before the fish had attacked the nonliving skin, ripping and tearing its mesh strands until it was rendered useless. This time, two of the sleek-furred thieves swam below the surface with their fake skin stretched out between them. The great fish observed them for a short time, their dark shapes silhouetted against the sun overhead. Then it launched itself at them with three powerful strokes of its muscular tail that drove it up off the bottom and toward its quarry like a flash, its heavily-toothed maw agape for an attack.
00000000000
"How in the name of Martin did a pike get into our Abbey pond?"
Montybank, Redwall's burly Skipper of otters, gave a shrug. "Dunno, Nessa. If I hadta guess, I'd wager he was a stowaway."
Abbess Vanessa, a comely mouse of middle seasons, arched an eyebrow. "A stowaway?"
"Why, shore," the otter said. "As yore aware, we hafta restock the pond from time t' time with shrimp an' fish from the River Moss. Yon pike was prob'ly just a small fry when we scooped it up with th' rest, and we brought it back to the Abbey an' released it without even realizin' it. Somehow it managed to avoid gettin' eaten by th' bigger fish ... an' now it's king o' the pond."
"Yes ... and now it's also attacking Redwallers," said Vanessa. "Poor Stroker was lucky not to lose a leg. And he'll have some nasty scars on his tail until his dying day."
"That devil fish caught us by surprise, true 'nuff. Won't happen a second time, now we know it's down there." Monty hefted the shredded net. "At least this clears up a couple o' mysteries. This is the third shrimp net we've lost this season. We all assumed they was gettin' snagged on rocks or some ol' barrel or somesuch. Also explains why our shrimp harvests 'ave been so poor of late, even when the nets didn't tear. That nastygills must've been down there a long time, keepin' himself hid from sight."
"Well, he's not hiding anymore. Monty, I want you to post a guard of your otters around the banks of the pond to keep the young ones away from there. If that monster can maim a full-grown otter, a mousebabe or molebabe wouldn't stand a chance against it. I know it will be difficult keeping everybeast away from the pond in the midst of all this fine summer weather we're having - I was quite fond of paddling my paws in the shallows myself. I won't be doing that anymore, and I don't want anybeast else taking unnecessary risks. Not until we figure out what to do about that pike."
"Y'got anything in mind, Nessa?"
"You're the otter. I'll leave that to you."
000000000000
The fish could remember, if only vaguely, a time when it had not been master of its universe. Indeed, its early life here had been fraught with danger at every turn. Once it had been tiny, its entire length scarcely more than one of the diminutive shrimp that it now consumed by the mouthful. But the savage will to live that was a hallmark of its species served it well, as did its innate ability to know when to fight and when to flee. It may have been small, but in its brain and muscles it possessed an aggressive cunning unmatched by any fish in its new home.
And so, as the seasons passed, it bided its time ... and grew. Always it was wary to avoid confrontation with any fish bigger and stronger than it was. Over time, the number of those serious competitors grew fewer and fewer. It went from subsisting on the scraps left by others to catching and killing its own shrimp ... and before long it was filling its belly with its fellow fish, those who were now smaller that it was. Still it steered clear of the true monarchs of this limited watery world, content to let them reign until the time was right. As for the others who were suddenly its juniors, they came to live in terror of this new and growing menace among them. It was almost as if they recognized that it did not belong here, but were helpless to do anything about it.
Two winters had passed since the last fish bigger than it was had been taken away by the land creatures above, and that was a lesson the great fish was not to forget. Clearly, those who dwelt in the suffocating dryness above the water could catch and kill even the largest of fish. Falling back on its natural cunning, the great fish took to hiding in the shadowy depths or partially burrowing into the muddy bottom or concealing itself within reeds or other growths whenever the land beasts made their presence known. In this way, it was able to keep its existence a secret from those who could still do it harm.
And still it grew, larger and larger with each passing season, until the very demands of its continued existence forced a change in tactics. Although it lost nothing of its hunter's swiftness and agility, its increasing size made concealment more and more difficult. Moreover, it required greater and greater quantities of food to satisfy its hunger. No longer could it just lie by and allow its resources to be plundered by those who did not even dwell within its realm.
It would fight to protect what belonged to it. And if that meant war with the land creatures, so be it. The great fish was crafty enough to avoid the traps which had snared the other, lesser fish; it would not fall prey to those simple devices.
Its seasons of hiding were over.
00000000000
"Well - " Montybank thoughtfully stroked his heavy whiskers as he stood with Abbess Vanessa gazing down into the pond, " - I reckon we could always just starve it. Ought not to take too long, goin' by how fast its goin' through alla our shrimp. We barely got two pawfuls from our last sweep with the nets."
Vanessa furrowed her brow. "Won't it turn on the other fish after the shrimp run out? We depend on this pond too much for it to be left completely lifeless."
"Oh, I doubt it'll come to that," said the otter. "There's always gonna be some shrimp an' small fry hidin' in nooks 'n' crannies where that brute can't get to 'em. All I do know fer shore is that it'd be no use tryin' to restock our pond while that monster's lurkin' down there. All our work'd just go back into its greedy belly."
"True. Hmmm ... I suppose we've nothing to lose by trying it your way. It's not as if the Abbey larders are low; we're well stocked with this summer's early harvests. But I know how you otterfolk like your shrimp and hotroot soup. Think you can go without it for awhile?"
Monty's face grew mournful. "S'pose we'll just hafta, I reckon."
00000000000
Plonk! Plonk-plonk-plonk! Plonk-plonk!
Brother Geoff, Redwall's Recorder mouse and Abbey historian, watched from the ramparts of the outer wall as the fusillade of arrows hit the surface of the pond. Shaking his head, he turned to the squirrels lined up on the walltop beside him. "You don't really expect this to work, do you?"
Alexander, the chief of Redwall's squirrels, nocked another arrow to his bowstring. "Well, it's worth a try, Geoffrey ol' chum. Nobeast else's doing anything about that fish, aside from keeping all of us away from the pond. I'm no otter, but I like an occasional swim when summer's at its height. It's been ten days since the attack, Stroker's still hobbling around on crutches with a bandaged-up leg, and we're no closer to reclaiming our pond from that menace. I says let's give this a shot."
"Several dozen shots is more like it," Geoff smirked, referring to the number of arrows Alexander and his companions had already unleashed. "Your chances of hitting it randomly from up here are just about nil. But even if you could get a clear shot at it, I wouldn't be surprised if your arrows just bounce off it, or stick in its side without doing any real damage. Pike are notoriously tough creatures."
Alexander traced the sightline of his drawn arrow across the expanse of pond below. "We squirrels have keener vision than most creatures. No offense, Geoff, but you spend so much time with your spectacled snout buried in your books, you can't appreciate the sharpness of our sight compared to yours. A couple of times now I'm sure I've seen that pike sauntering just below the surface ... "
"I am fairly certain that fish do not saunter," Geoff corrected.
"Yah, well, whatever you want to call it - hey! There it is again, near the south shore!"
He needed to say no more; instantly another volley of arrows hissed through the air and rained down onto the pond. All the squirrels lowered their bows, intently scanning the waters to see if their work bore any fruit. Even Geoff, curious in spite of himself, scrutinized the scene to see if the impossible may have happened.
A fish broke the surface, floating belly-up, transfixed by at least two arrows. But there were no cheers from the squirrels.
"Congratulations. You've just killed a half-grown grayling," Geoff remarked snidely. "And thus is the superior vision of squirrels proven."
"Oh, put a pawsock in it, Pin - "
A pair of massive, ugly toothed jaws rose up around the slain grayling, clamping onto it and pulling it under. By the time any of the squirrels could react, the pike and its prize had vanished into the depths, leaving them with their arrows set uselessly to their bowstrings.
"And I'm sure," Geoff added, "that our friend the pike would like to thank you all for the meal you've just provided it. You saved it the trouble of having to kill that grayling itself."
Alexander gnashed his teeth. "I hope it chokes on those arrows ... or gets indigestion at the very least!"
00000000000
Later that same day, after the rain of arrows over the pond had safely ceased, Montybank strode back from the water's edge to where Abbess Vanessa awaited the results of the latest shrimping excursion. The downcast otter extended one flipper toward the mouse; in his palm lay exactly two of the feebly-wriggling crustaceans.
"Guess this makes it official," he announced dejectedly. "This lonely twosome's all we got from an entire sweep of th' south shallows with th' net. Our pond's clean out of shrimp."
"I thought you said that wouldn't happen," Vanessa inquired. "That there would always be a few of them remaining."
"Well, shore," Monty responded, "scattered 'mongst the reeds an' such. Nothin' we'd be able to harvest. Shrimp ain't like fish, that you c'n hook one atta time. If there's not enuff of 'em to gather in th' nets, there might's well not be any t'all, far as we're concerned." He tossed the two shrimp over his brawny shoulder, where they plopped back into their watery home. "Took less time t' come to this pass than I'd reckoned. Looks like that big brute's won this battle."
"But not the war," Vanessa declared. "At least not yet. If it's going to eat itself out of house and home, it will defeat itself on its own. All we'll have to do is wait. We'll stick with your suggestion for now, Monty. If it's thinned out the shrimp so drastically in such a short time, this might end sooner than we imagined."
"Hope so, 'cos it still ain't goin' fer any of the baited lines we put out. Tho' I don't know what we'd do with th' thing even if we could hook it in. Pike ain't even good eatin'."
00000000000
Night lay over Redwall Abbey, and the murky depths of the pond were cast into a deeper, almost impenetrable gloom. While nearly all the woodlanders slumbered peacefully in their beds, there was no such contented bliss for the great fish.
It lay in the bottom mud, its ever-wakeful senses keenly attuned to every nuance of its environment. In its simple brutish mind it cycled its immediate problem over and over, dwelling dullishly on the dilemma without reaching any solution. Its thought processes were of the most basic kind, practically devoid of any rationality or reason. But even its primitive brain could grasp the problem facing it now.
The shrimp were gone. There were a few straggling survivors, to be sure, the paltry leftovers that the fish might be able to chase down or weed out from the reeds with a little extra effort. Not for a moment did it expend the energy to ponder how much of this shortage had been caused by the land creatures and how much was due to its own voracious appetite. It ruminations were done on an almost instinctive level: the shrimp were gone, therefore there would be no more shrimp, therefore it could eat no more shrimp. It knew enough of the ways of the pond to understand that the scant few shrimp remaining could never rebound in numbers ... not in time to do the great fish any good, no matter how fast they bred.
It would need to find a new food source to replace what had been lost. So, in the lightless depths of the night pond, the great fish turned its primitive thoughts to what that source might be.
00000000000
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brother Geoff asked with undisguised concern.
"Shore, why not?" Montybank said nonchalantly. "We're th' real shipmasters of this pond, an' we're not gonna let that fish ferget it."
The Recorder mouse and otter skipper stood on the north banks, looking on as other otters splashed and swam and gamboled and played in the pond. Nearly all the Abbey's children were lined along the shore, watching in delight as the aquatic mammals brazenly braved the dangers of the pike in a blatant display of reclaiming the pond for their own. Maura, the hulking badger mother of Redwall's youngsters, presided over her charges with an unblinking vigilance, warning them away from the waterline when any ventured too close for her comfort. A few of the children cast wads of bread upon the surface; they'd all heard that the big fish in their pond was hungry, and they wanted to lure it so they could catch a glimpse of this now-legendary monster for themselves.
"Vanessa wanted you to keep everybeast away from the pond," Geoff reminded his otter friend. "She'd hardly approve of so many of you actually going into the water."
"What Nessa don't know won't hurt her. An' we got safety in numbers, Geoff matey. Us otters ain't just anybeast. We know 'ow to handle ourselves under wave 'n' wake. If that nastyjaws fancies 'imself a match fer an entire otter troop, he's more'n welcome t'try his luck!"
"And if he pokes his ugly head up to come after any of my young ones," put in Maura from Geoff's other side, "I'll give him a pound on his skull that'll send him into next autumn!"
Geoff didn't doubt that. Maura was the biggest and strongest creature at Redwall, and if anybeast could stand up to the pike, she could.
"Such a glorious summer day as this!" Montybank spread his paws wide as if to soak up more of the sunshine. "Be a cryin' shame if'n we couldn't enjoy a swim fer ourselves on such a morn!"
"I just hope you know what you're doing," Geoff muttered dubiously.
00000000000
Two carp and another grayling had disappeared into the gullet of the great fish since the shrimp had run out. But it was not satisfied.
The smaller fish with which it shared the pond were more difficult to hunt than the shrimp had been. More important, the taste of their flesh was bland and unfulfilling, and the energy provided by their meat was inadequate fuel for the great fish's needs. Chasing down this more challenging prey was a drain on its reserves that was barely replenished by ingesting this quarry. Clearly this could not go on.
The land creatures persisted in venturing into its territory. The more skilled among them could swim almost as well as the great fish itself. Even though there were no more shrimp to catch and the land dwellers made no effort to snare any of the other fish, still they intruded into its realm. It did not occur to the fish that they might be naturally and instinctively drawn to the water themselves; they were creatures of the dry places and had no business in this domain. And the concept of swimming and playing for pleasure was utterly beyond its simple powers of reason. The fish was a merciless and unforgiving engine of survival. That was the only thing it understood.
And now it needed a new kind of food to survive.
The land swimmers stayed together in a school of sorts, their numbers nearly as great as some of the lesser fish that schooled throughout the pond. At first their ranks intimidated the great fish, as did their disregard for it presence, and the fish did not pursue them, except feebly when one or two would dive deeper toward it as if taunting their nemesis. At last, however, it could no longer ignore their direct challenges, and kicked up its internal mechanisms into hunt mode.
Waiting for one of the smaller landbeasts to approach it in the deeper layers, the fish lashed its tail, darting forward in a driving attack unlike anything it had shown its tormentors thus far that morning.
At such close quarters, the land creature's attempts to elude those relentless, questing jaws were futile, as were its efforts to bring to bear its double-pointed stick. The weapon was knocked from its grasp by the impact and thrashing struggle, as the fish locked onto flesh and bone and refused to yield.
The landbeast grappled and punched, clawed and bit to free itself as its blood clouded the waters. And then there were two, three, four of its companions descending to aid it. The fish tried to retreat to the bottom with its captive, but the beast in its jaws was too big, still too strong in spite of the damage inflicted upon it, and the fish could not overcome such resistance in the face of these overwhelming odds.
Releasing its warm-blooded prey, the fish shot away with a speed none of its pursuers could match, leaving them to bear their injured comrade back up to the dry places.
00000000000
"Can I impress upon you enough how incredibly stupid this was?" Abbess Vanessa said through clenched teeth as she and Sister Aurelia stitched up Turoh's various gashes and lacerations.
The wounded otter lay in an Infirmary bed, wincing and groaning with each necessary indignity from his caregivers. A large crowd of otters and other Redwallers stood around, waiting breathlessly to see whether their fellow Abbeydweller would survive his horrible injuries.
"This is even worse than what that fish did to Stroker," Aurelia commented as she traded a blood-soaked dressing for a clean one. "Legs, tail, side ... "
"At least none of the vital organs seems to have been damaged," Vanessa assessed. "Looks like this was your lucky day, my foolish young Turoh."
The otter gave a pained grunt. "If this's my lucky day, I'd shore as shivers hate t' see my unlucky one."
Vanessa glared up at Montybank. "What in the fur were you thinking, Monty? Sending your otters into the pond knowing full well what that pike could do?"
"We all thought ... uh, we was all armed, Nessa ... and there was so many of us. We wanted to show that fish we wasn't afraid of it ... we just ... " The otter Skipper's lame explanations trailed off and he hung his head in shame. He was his otters' leader, and what had happened rested fully on his shoulders. "'m sorry, Nessa ... "
"As well you should be. And with all the Abbey children looking on, too. The sight of Turoh being pulled half dead from the water sent them into hysterics. Maura's down in Cavern Hole trying to calm them. They'll be having nightmares for seasons after what they saw today."
"Not Droge," Aurelia said out of the corner of her mouth. "That impudent little 'hog wanted to wade right into the water and give that fish a piece of his mind!"
"Listen to me," Vanessa said sternly, snipping the thread of her third stitch job on Turoh's legs. "I do not want anybeast going near the pond while that pike is in there ... and that means otters, too. Do I make myself clear?"
"Clear as a midwinter's morn, ma'am," Montybank nodded.
"Yeah," Turoh seconded. "I won't be lookin' fer another go at that monster anytime soon ... "
Vanessa shook her head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself.
00000000000
That night, the great fish lay in a grotto in the very deepest part of the pond, an inadvertent cave formed by discarded stone blocks more ancient than Redwall itself. In its primordial mind it replayed the attack over and over - the satisfying crunch of its teeth into the land creature's meat and bone, the scintillating flavor of that hot blood washing over its tongue, the delectable sensation of some of that tattered furred flesh sliding down its throat and into its ever-demanding stomach. Although it had experienced only the barest taste of this strange new warm flesh, the merest of samples, that was enough to fire its appetite in a new direction. Never again would the great fish settle for feeding upon its fellow fish unless it absolutely had to, unless it faced certain starvation. It had found something much better. The energy-rich blood and meat of the land dwellers was the substitute for the depleted shrimp that it had been searching for, a food source befitting its exalted status as the lord of these waters.
And so it bent its mind to the problem of how it might secure more such prey ... and how, next time, it might be able to feast on more than just a few drops of blood and scraps of flesh.
00000000000
The robin circled high over Redwall Abbey, his red breast a splash of vibrant color against the gray of the overcast afternoon sky. The visiting bird chirped his hellos to some of the friendly sparrows, or Sparra, who dwelt in the attic spaces of the Abbey, then swooped gracefully down toward the lawns, gardens and pond below.
It landed in the orchard and hopped around under the trees, looking for old dropped fruit that might contain a succulent worm or two. His search was in vain; the Redwallers took too much pride in their grounds to allow rotten apples and plums to lie about for very long. But the robin knew of another place in the Abbey where delicacies were to be found, and flapped his way aloft between branches heavy with pears and damsons.
An otter named Pronk and a squirrel named Flashtail were standing sentry on the outer wall and saw the robin appear from the treetops and glide over the grounds to alight adroitly on one muddy bank of the pond.
"Hey, look at that!" Flashtail pointed.
"S'pose he's come fer a gander at our fine fish?" Pronk jokingly speculated.
"I wouldn't be surprised if news of our pike problem has spread throughout most of Mossflower Woods by now," Flashtail said. "D'you think we ought to warn it away?"
"Naw." Pronk waved a paw. "Birdfolk're quicker'n any land or water creature. Naught t'worry 'bout, I'm shore."
The robin, in truth, was completely unaware of the danger lurking beneath the water's surface, and was concerned only with finding morsels to put in his red belly. He knew from his previous visits to the Abbey that tasty shrimp could often be plucked from these shallows. Oddly, though, there were none to be seen today. Perhaps the lack of sun was keeping them in the deeper waters. No matter. These perpetually damp banks could always be counted on to yield the fattest and juiciest worms anybird could ever want.
The robin had his head down, bill probing into the soft earth, when the waters in front of him erupted. He just had time to lift his head and spread his wings in surprise when a nightmare maw of sharp curved teeth closed over the top half of his body.
Pronk and Flashtail stared in unblinking, slack-jawed shock as they watched the unfortunate robin dragged down into the dark depths. "Did ... didja see that?" the squirrel asked.
"I saw it, awright," mumbled Pronk. "But I don't berlieve it."
00000000000
When Vanessa heard their report, she asked Pronk and Flashtail to bring her out and show her exactly where the tragedy had occurred. Geoff, Monty, Alexander and Maura tagged along; none of them could credit that any fish, not even their fearsome pike, would be able to catch a bird.
Careful to survey the scene from safely back on the landward side of the bank, Vanessa could clearly see the splay-footed talon tracks in the moist earth. And there like an ugly wound among them was the trough the pike had made with its heavy body when it had flung itself halfway out of the water to go after the unlucky bird. How the fish had managed to drag itself back into the pond at all was anybeast's guess.
"It just came up, grabbed that bird an' pulled it under, easy as y'please," Pronk explained. "Damnedest thing I e'er saw ... er, s'cuse th' language, Abbess."
"No, it's all right. I might've said the same thing myself had I been here to see it." Vanessa gazed gravely at the depressions in the mud. "What really bothers me is that this could just as easily have been one of our sparrow friends who met this fate. I don't suppose it's occurred to anybeast to alert our Sparra to this danger?"
When nobeast spoke for several moments, she held up her paws. "No, forget I said that. I'm Abbess; that's my responsibility ... and I should have thought of it long before now. Maura, would you be so kind as to go up and ring the Matthias and Methuselah bells to summon the Sparra? We must tell them about this at once."
"Of course, Abbess." The badger lumbered off to do Vanessa's bidding.
The Abbess regarded the murderous scene and shook her head. Just one more thing to worry about.
00000000000
Vanessa'a fork stopped halfway to her mouth, her stewed rhubarb dangling limply beneath her whiskers as she gaped at Brother Geoff. An awkward silence had settled over the head of their table in Great Hall as everybeast within earshot stopped eating to stare at the Recorder mouse.
"Poison, Geoff?" she said in disbelief. "I'm shocked to hear you even suggest such a thing!"
Geoff, chagrined, seemed to shrink down into his habit. "Well, do we want to be rid of that fish or don't we?"
"Not like that," the Abbess scowled. "Wherever did you get such an idea?"
"Well, I was perusing some of the old records, and I came across several references to poisoner foxes and the mischief they caused, and I figured, why don't we use those methods for good for a change?"
"Because," Vanessa said pointedly, "we are not foxes, and poisoning is not Redwall's way." She rescued the stalk of rhubarb that had slithered back into her bowl and slurped it between her lips like a wet noodle. "We'll find some way to deal with that pike, a solution that won't stain our conscience."
"I dunno, Nessa," Montybank put in from two seat away. "That devil's already chomped otters an' done in a poor li'l birdy. It's a right hazard, shore 'nuff."
Balla, the stout hedgehog cellarkeeper who happened to be passing by with a large flask to refill empty cups and goblets with mild ale, said jokingly, "Why don't I just roll all my barrels 'n' casks out to the pond and empty 'em inta it? That fish'd be feelin' no pain in no time at all. Then you otters could just swim down an' carry it outta the water. T'wouldn't be in no shape t'resist you, I'd wager my spikes on it!"
This little snatch of jovial absurdity was just what was needed to lighten the mood around the dinner table, and everybeast - even Geoff - chuckled at the mental picture of the terrible pike laid low by Redwall's store of spirits and cordials.
All except Vanessa, who remained very contemplative and quiet for the remainder of the meal, lost in private thoughts of her own.
00000000000
"Yes," Vanessa said to herself, "I'm very sure it can be done."
She and Sister Aurelia sat at the little table tucked into the back corner of the Infirmary, poring over old journals of healerbeasts past. The night was late, and they spoke in whispers so as not to disturb the convalescent Turoh who slumbered several beds away. They did their reading by the low light of a single partially-shaded lamp, and their eyes were growing weary.
"It would help if I knew exactly what we were looking for," Aurelia said somewhat testily.
"I told you - sleep potions, sedatives, a drug that's powerful enough to knock out even the largest creature ... "
The younger mouse stifled a yawn. "Oh, I can guess what you have in mind, Vanessa. But all the remedies and recipes in these volumes are for the furred and feathered folk, the warm-blooded air-breathers. We have no way of knowing whether any of them would even work on a fish. And even if we could know that for sure, what would we do then? Have Montybank and his otters swim down and say, 'Please open your mouth, Mr. Pike, while we spoon some of this delicious medicine down your throat?'"
"I'll admit I don't have all the finer details worked out. But the answer we're looking for - or the start of it, at any rate - is somewhere in these books. I feel sure of it."
Aurelia stretched, several of her stiff joints cracking in protest at once. "I'm sorry, Vanessa, but I'm done in. If I force myself to stay awake much longer I'll be no good to anybeast, tonight or tomorrow."
"Oh, by all means, get some sleep. You've already put in longer hours than I could have asked of you."
Aurelia stood. "Ooo, my bed will feel good tonight. Are you coming?"
Vanessa shook her head. "I want to keep at this awhile longer. I can't help but feel I'm on the verge of discovering what we need. Remember, I'm used to pulling all-nighters from my own days as Infirmary keeper."
"Yes," said Aurelia. "So you should know better than anybeast that the brain doesn't do its best work when it's all full of cobwebs. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my pillow."