2
Abbott Varrus listened to a soft warbling of a bird. He could not tell what kind it was, but the sound of the singing was so sweet, it drove him near to tears.
"Abbott, you wanted to speak to me?"
It was Arly Punto, the accented labourer-cum-cellar keeper. Only recently, the body of Slade the Sane had been found in his cellar. He had been a crazy old beast, who would gibber and laugh uncontrollably.
Someone had murdered him. Varrus was indefinitely sure of it.
He now looked at the hedgehog, "Have you rounded up the visitors and kept them from leaving?"
Arly nodded unsteadily, "I got em' all in, in, the Great Hall, know what I'm sayin'? I mean…' He reddened, forgetting that he was speaking to the Abbott, 'I mean I have em' secured. Foremole is looking after them for now."
The old otter nodded solemnly, "Very well. Thank you Alonzo." He could never stand calling him Arly. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had known Arly from infanthood. The hedgehog had, in fact, been best friends with Jander, but decided to stay when Jander went off alone.
Arly blushed and smiled fondly, as he always did when someone called him Alonzo, and glanced enquiringly at the Abbott, "So what now?"
Varrus sighed deeply. He was very tired, having been haunted the previous night by the ghost of Slade. It had been so hellish, and so reminiscing of his past.
A past that few truly knew about.
The Abbott looked at Arly, "I would like you to tell me how many there are."
Arly looked thoughtful, "Well… there's an otter named Hella, but she's a regular visitor of Redwall- Skipper's actually taken with her- so I doubt she's the one. There's three bank vole brothers, can't remember their names. There's an old fox- Elial or something- we were looking after 'im in the Infirmary. There's a mouse-Hal Copland- from a farm outside Mossflower. Oh yeah, and there's also that young lady squirrel that asked to rest for the night. Finally, there's a very strange animal that I've never seen before."
Abbott Varrus glanced at the hedgehog, "What is its name?"
Arly shrugged, "I haven't spoken to him before. He looks like a vermin-type, only 'e's got spots an' stripes on his body. Got a dark face and a tail as long as 'is body."
Varrus was surprised. This was certainly an unusual description; it was strange, something that he had to see for himself.
"Could you request his presence here, Alonzo?"
Arly blushed, but managed to nod solemnly. He spoiled his pose by taking a deep drink of ale before leaving.
Varrus looked back, listening intently for the bird, but there was no more singing. 'It must have flown off.' He thought.
Slade. Why would someone murder Slade after all these years? Varrus could only fearfully think of one answer. It was a warning to him.
He tried to check himself for fearing that it could resurface after so long. Then he realized that it was useless to forget it any longer. Slade was dead, murdered, and someone meant something by it.
He turned to the sound of footsteps.
Arly had returned, and in front of him was a strange animal.
It matched Arly's description. The creature had the build of a ferret or a weasel, but its tail and limbs were longer. There were stripes on its tail, and large spots on his body had connected together. Smaller spots abounded elsewhere, except his face. It was a darker grey than the rest of the body.
Varrus looked into the face of the creature and felt a very deep shiver down his spine. He then felt an even greater shiver, for he realized how this creature brought back terrible memories.
The creature's face was pointy, like a weasel's, but it was, in so many ways, far more sinister; and the fact that Varrus was sitting in a dark room lit by candles brought no improvement to the blackness and mysteriousness of the golden eyes. However, the most chilling part of the creature's face was the look that said it knew every dark secret you had. Maybe Varrus was just feeling guilty, but he had a feeling that this creature knew him more than the eyes were warning him.
"Who are you, my son?" Varrus asked politely. Looking closer, he saw that this creature was not so young as he had first appeared. The creature was fully-grown, and middle-aged.
The animal was silent for a brief second, before answering in a deep, hugely accented voice, "My name is Adisa, Varrus." He gave a surprising look then; it was a dark smile, but also one with a fondness that he would get when seeing an old friend who doesn't remember him.
Varrus recognized that fondness, "Should I know you, Adisa? I can assure I don't remember seeing your kind before."
"That is indeed a pity, Varrus, for you have seen my kind before. Does the term, 'civet' have any meaning to you at all anymore?" The voice was fluid, musical even. It was almost enchanting, and the strange accent brought an exotic sound to it.
Varrus was silent; that word rang a bell in the old halls of memory.
Arly, however, had not ever heard of the word, "Civet? That's what a creature like you is called?"
Adisa's face snapped to the right as though he had been struck. His eyes gazed at the big and muscular hedgehog, "I am indeed a civet. You of course, may not have heard of such a creature.' He slowly turned back to Varrus, 'But I know for certain that Varrus should know what a civet looks like, let alone is."
Varrus frowned, "Adisa, you are being very unhelpful and secretive. Have you something to hide from us."
Adisa paused, and finally responded, in a very strange tongue. Abbott Varrus blinked, hit with something the sounded oddly familiar; Arly was completely blank. Adisa smiled, and repeated it. This time, Varrus realized that he could understand it. Adisa had said, "No more than what you are hiding from yourself, Varrus."
A very cold dislike of this creature was developing in the old otter, but also a crazy sense that he came from events in his past.
Abbott Varrus stood up, "That will be enough for now, Adisa. Alonzo will show you to your room."
Adisa's smile vanished suddenly as Arly turned to go for the door. It became grim as the darkness, as foreboding as the deepest nightmare.
He snarled in the language. He said a lot in the shortest time, it seemed to a frozen Varrus. He understood it all, and it made him want to tear his ears out if could reverse what he had heard. It all brought out the past that Varrus had desperately tried to hide for so long.
Then time resumed as normal, and Adisa followed Arly to his chamber.
Varrus collapsed on the chair beside his bed. He felt his paws shaking. His past, furious at all the years it spent in the most shadowy corners of Varrus' mind, had come to the surface.
With this dark messenger proclaiming it.
"" "" "" "" "" ""
He woke up the next morning, feeling slightly refreshed from his fears. Adisa was locked away in a chamber, unable to bother him, or anyone.
Varrus went down to breakfast, eating toast and sipping new milk. The abbey of Redwall had awoken, and the new day was starting off as usual. Mother Sara was kept busy cleaning Dibbun faces messed up by berry juice and porridge. Foremole was deep in mole-speech conversation with his crew. Brother Gores was writing an entry upstairs, and would doubtless return to breakfast before the food got cold.
Varrus suddenly felt emotional, looking at Redwall's inhabitants, so happy, so good-hearted. He thought of Adisa; he was going to disrupt it all with treacherous knowledge.
Suddenly, one of the little Dibbuns-Jul, Varrus thought he was named- knocked over his cup of milk, making a mess. Immediately, someone began cleaning it up, and the conversations and activities resumed.
Varrus felt his emotion sink into melancholy. Why did all this have to happen? He had been so happy, everyone had been happy. It had all started when Judos' father had been found…
Varrus shuddered, and almost instinctively fell into a conversation with Brother Dreyfuss, the abbey's fishermouse and administrator of the Abbey Pond.
As breakfast progressed, many began to go about their duties of the day. Varrus was about to get up and leave, when Sister Val, the Abbey healer, confronted him.
"Father Abbott, I have finished the autopsy you requested from Slade."
Varrus stiffened, "So what are the results?"
Val shuddered, and her expression became sick, "It appears that someone took a dagger, slid it down his throat, until he had almost swallowed it. His spine was broken too, and it looks like there is a bite across the back of his neck." She gave a half-sob, half-choke, as if holding back vomit.
Abbott Varrus was stunned, if not mortified by the cruel way Slade had been killed. What animal had done this?
