CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

"Looks like they're putting on a burst of speed," Alex observed, straining the limits of his keen squirrel vision to study the distant knot of Gawtrybe far ahead. "Whatever that bird had to say to them earlier, it seems to've put some urgency into their step. I'd hoped we'd be able to overtake them before dark, but now that's not looking likely."

"Yah," Clewiston agreed, paw to brow, "an' that sun's droppin' low too, shinin' right in our literally blinkin' peepers. They might try'n use that opportunity to lay a false trail an' go to ground somewhere t' throw us off track, or else change direction without us catchin' on."

"I doubt they'd go to ground, since I imagine they're in a hurry to get Latura to Salamandaston. And they can't change their course too much, if their goal is the hidden pass through the high mountains. Even if we lost track of them altogether, we could just press on toward the mountains ourselves and seek the pass on our own."

"Unless His Bloodiness has found a second secret pass over or through that range that we don't know about. Wouldn't put it past that devious devil." The Colonel puffed and exhaled, raising his paw to indicate his need for another rest. "Jolly well regardless of whether they're pullin' out ahead of us or not, fact is we'll still not be able to engage 'em as a twosome. But I can think of one thing that'd light a fire under their bushtails, an' which would be the best bally news for us I can think of." Turning about to search behind them, Clewiston sighted along their path travelled. "An' whaddya know? Here they come, right on ... no, that's not right. Not right at all, wot?"

Alexander joined him in scanning the Plains behind them. "I see them too. But, what has you sounding so fretful?"

"There's one figure 'mongst that lot standin' out above all the others. I knew to expect a half-dozen hares, based on my orders to Mel an' Traveller, but it looks like we've got a lot more than that, with one big bruiser stridin' right in their midst. I wonder ... "

"Do you suppose it's Kurdyla? He'd stand head and shoulders above even the tallest hare of the Patrols." Alex scrutinized the still-distant but approaching group. "Hmm - Kurdy might stand that tall, but not half so wide. That looks almost like ... "

"Only one species boasting that much height and breadth. Looks like we've got a bally badger joinin' up for this rescue."

"Yes, but who? Maura would never leave the Abbey's youngsters and babes alone at such a time as this."

"Then I'd say that narrows it down to a field of one, chap. An' the fact we're seein' him t'all shows he's in this fight for real, since it means our reinforcements have gotten past that shrew line behind us. Be very curious to hear how that scrape went."

"Unless ... " Alex studied the approaching company some more. "Be nice if we had one of Urthblood's long glasses, but I'm pretty sure there are a lot of much shorter creatures marching along with those hares and badger. You don't suppose they worked something out, do you? Negotiated some kind of truce, and now your Long Patrol and Urthblood's shrews are on their way to let us know?"

"Stranger things've happened, I s'pose. It'd be convenient if our Sparra friends hadn't so completely abandoned us, wot? Then they could've kept these line of communication open, an' spared us these guessin' games. Didn't honestly think they'd bail on us like that, but just goes t' show you never can tell."

"I'm sure they debated long and hard whether to obey Vanessa's recall order. They may be debating it still, for all we know. If they show, they show, and if they don't, it looks like we'll still have muscle enough to force Matowick to relinquish Latura, if it comes to that."

"Hmm. Guess there's no point pressin' on 'til we find out wot's wot, wot? Don't wanna go chasin' after those in front of us if those behind us have already hashed matters out on their own." Clewiston cast about, surveying the scant spring vegetation offered by the wide Plains. "Whoever they are, hope they've brought along some tuck they're willin' to share. Rotter of a thing about rushing out of the Abbey like we did, is there was no time to properly fortify an' provision ourselves for an expedition that could last days, an' foragin's mighty sparse hereabouts, by the look of it."

"I think water's more an issue than food. I'm growing quite parched myself. I know the Western Plains are full of springs, pools and brooks, if you just know where to look, but unfortunately our path hasn't taken us near any of them. We'll have to do something about that, and soon, if we want to continue this pursuit."

While Clewiston settled down on his haunches and gnawed at some new grass and dandelion sprigs, Alex jogged a few dozen paces away to crest a small hillock, to gain a better view of the approaching party. After staring at them for some time, he called out to the Colonel, "Well, looks like I was off the mark with my speculation earlier."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I was right about these being shrews coming our way, but not about their identity. Urthblood's shrews don't sport brightly colored headbands. These are Guosim joining us."

"Ho ho! Good show! Should've known old Log-a-Thing wouldn't care to be left out of this rigamarole! Wonder if that very shrewscamp's leadin' th' bally charge? Not that it matters much; with or without him, his scrappers will be mighty welcome."

"On the other paw, it means they got past the Northland shrews one way or the other. We can only hope it didn't get too ugly; that would hardly help matters between Urthblood and Redwall any, such a large party coming out from the Abbey to join the chase, and inflicting casualties among his forces."

"Oh, I dunno, Alex chappie. Think it over: You got hares of th' Long Patrol, who'll be actin' independently of Redwall or your Abbess's stated wishes; shrews of the Guosim, who aren't really Redwallers either; an' a Badger Lord who hails from an entirely diff'rent region of Mossflower. None of 'em can be tied directly back to Redwall, if they disavow such connections an' insist the Abbey's leadership played no part in plannin' this jolly escapade."

"Which leaves me as the odd beast out," Alex solemnly noted. "I am one of the Abbey's chief defenders, and unlike you hares, the Mossflower Patrol has always been based out of Redwall. There's no credible way I can claim such autonomy, or divorce myself from my home in this matter. I hope it doesn't complicate the situation too much, or come back to bite us in any way - whether we succeed in freeing Latura or not."

"Stop worryin' your red fur gray, ol' sport. You're not exactly obeyin' your Abbess's orders in this, are you? I'd say that gives you cover to spare, wot?"

"Maybe. But then, if you're right and Urthblood really is looking for any excuse to go to war with Redwall ... " Alex shook his head in frustration. "It's just so hard to know what to do, not knowing what he's going to do. Or what he has in mind, or what his long-term plans are."

"Hah. Welcome to my bloomin' world, Alex chum. Tryin' t' get in that badger's head's a game that'll keep you up nights if you let it. So, think we should tarry here 'til our smidgen of an army arrives, or keep on with our slowpoke's pursuit?"

Alex lifted his arms and waved toward the nearing party. Almost immediately, the badger and several of the hares and shrews answered with similar gestures of their own. "Well, they've seen us, so they'll know we're up here ahead of them, whether we're still in this spot when they get here or not." He turned to gaze west. "And Matowick's gang isn't going to stand still and wait for us to unite our forces. I say we head off again, at a pace to let our companions catch up with us in good time, without having all of us fall too far behind."

"Sounds like a bally plan." Clewiston popped up onto his footpaws again, his brief rest having rejuvenated him almost as much as the promise of a bolstered company of comrades. "Lead on, my good bushtail, lead on!"

00000000000

"Sir, he's slowing us up too much."

Brisson's expression of concern prompted Matowick to glance back at Palter. The male rat, paws bound behind him and looking ridiculous in Latura's flouncy peach dress, stumbled along with flagging steps, clearly pushed to the edge of utter exhaustion and verging on collapse at any moment. Fear shone in his eyes - fear that this torture might continue, and an equally strong fear that this expedition's grim leader might agree with his underling this time, and end Palter's participation in these events once and for all with one flash of a knife blade - Latura's prophecy notwithstanding.

His second, more primal fear was allayed by Matowick's weary reply. "He's not outlived his usefulness yet." This hardly cheered Palter, who knew the alternative to a quick release and deliverance from life's hardships was this continued punishing pace that threatened to run him into the ground - perhaps literally.

"All due respect, sir," Nixalis picked up from Brisson, "but now that the sun's gone behind the mountains, they'll have a much better view of us - and with a long stretch of daylight still left. We won't be able to pull off this masquerade much longer."

"We've still got time, Nix. They're not that close yet. Right now all they'll be able to see is the dress, not the rat wearing it - which is exactly what we want."

"Even so, their main force got past our shrews who were supposed to stop them, or at least slow them down. And they did it without taking a single life, if that last gull messenger was to be believed - which gives them the moral high ground, and will make it harder for us to justify using lethal force against them when they do catch up to us. Which they will, and long before we reach the mountains." Nixalis glared at Palter. "At least at this speed."

"The important thing is that the one rat we came all this way to get is ahead of both us and our pursuers - and as long as we've got Captain Klystra and Commodor Altidor at our beck and call, it will remain so. Even if the Redwallers succeed in overtaking us, they'll never catch up to her."

"Those birds won't be able to get her over the mountains and to Salamandastron on their own," said Brisson.

"Actually, if things unravel any more than they already have, it might very well be up to them to do just that." Matowick regarded their captive for long moments, then sighed. "All right. It's time to wring the last that we can out of this ploy. We'll wait just a bit longer, to make sure they can see us clearly. When we make our move, I want it to look like we're panicked and acting out of desperation. Briss, Delk, you're to break off to the south, and take our prisoner here with you. Make sure to march on either side of him, so that it's clear from the tracks that you've got a rat with you. The rest of us will press on ahead until we rendezvous with Klystra, and continue on as planned - or until we're forced to change plans again."

Nixalis wasn't the only squirrel there to greet this announced strategy with a furrowed brow. "Split our forces, sir? But we've barely any hope of standing against their numbers as it is ... "

"They're not looking for a fight, and neither am I - at least not yet. They want Latura, not us, and they'll go after whichever of us they believe has her. So I want to draw them as far off our trail as I can, make them waste that precious time while the rest of us forge ahead to increase our lead - a lead we'll hopefully be able to hold all the way to the mountains. After that, it will be up to our winged comrades to hold them off. In the meantime, it won't matter if they overtake Briss and Delk and discover we've tricked them; what will they be able to do about it then?"

"Easy for you to say," Delk mildly groused. "You won't be there with a peeved Badger Lord, and equally peeved Long Patrol and shrew fighters, when they learn the truth of our little ruse."

"Then don't wait for them to catch you. When you see them pulling near, ditch the rat and go on without him. Circle back to rejoin us if you can, or make your way to the coast in your own time, but by then, hopefully we'll be beyond their reach - us and Latura both."

"Hmm - I'm starting to think having Klystra and Altidor get our target back to Salamandastron on their own might not be such a bad idea after all, if they're up for it," Brisson grumbled.

A short time later, Matowick gave the word, and Brisson and Delk separated from the group, bearing Palter between them to the south while the other four Gawtrybe angled slightly to the north - all of this done with an exaggerated air of alarm sure to be noticed by their pursuers, even at the distance still dividing the two companies.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Nixalis asked his captain as their quartet bustled further into the Western Plains, their pace faster now that the bound rat no longer encumbered them.

"They'll go after whoever they think has Latura - they have to. So why wouldn't it work?"

00000000000

"It's their own damned fault."

Harth, standing on the east walltop in the last of the late afternoon sun as he oversaw the burial of the four slain rats at the forest's edge, glanced aside at Truax with a scowl. "Stupid or not, they were my rats. An' I hate seein' even a single one of 'em bein' put in th' ground."

The former Northlands captain snorted and gave a dismissive shrug. "A good commander knows when t' stand by his soldiers, an' when t' step back. What those rats did - barricadin' themselves inside the Infirmary, takin' Lady Mina hostage, threat'nin' harm to both her an' the Abbess - coulda got you an' all yer rats thrown outta Redwall ... an' mebbe me 'n' my family along with you. Dunno how the Abbess was able t' put 'em all down like that, if that's even what happened, but I'm glad she did. Saved us all a world o' grief."

"Mebbe they were fools," Harth conceded. "But it coulda been our best shot at gettin' Lattie back, so I'll not fault 'em fer tryin', even if their strategy may've been a bit ... misguided."

"You don't know that, Gen'ral. 'Bout that bein' our best chance at gettin' Lattie back. We got seven hares, a score o' shrews an' a Badger Lord chasin' out after those thieves. Could be they'll succeed ... altho ... "

"Altho what?"

"Well, havin' served under Urthblood fer so many seasons, I've seen fer myself that if he wants sumpthin' bad 'nuff, he goes all out t' get it. An' right now, seems he wants Lattie pretty bad. Not sayin' our rescue's doomed t' failure - fur knows, if anybeasts can get it done, it'll be that lot who's chasin' after her now - but I think it's safe t' say Urthblood ain't gonna make it easy."

"Hrm. You know the Abbess never even clued 'em inta that? That's what she told me after she came outta the Infirmary: She never mentioned to my four rats up there that th' Long Patrol an' them shrews an' badger've gone out on their own t' try'n get Lattie back. 'Never came up,' she said. Just a minor little detail that mighta made 'em reconsider their folly, mebbe even give up that squirrel princess an' walk outta that mess with their lives. 'Never came up' ... "

"Careful with that bitterness there - some of it's liable t' drip off on me."

Slightly farther along the walltop, Geoff and Winokur also stood looking down at the solemn burial detail, an octet of otters who'd been spared from sentry duty to tend to the slain rats. Not long before, a patrol of Gawtrybe had stopped by to investigate this activity but, examining the corpses and finding them dead to their satisfaction, they'd moved on to see if they could find other rats to molest who had a little more life in them.

"At least the hornet swarm's subsided," Geoff commented. "That's one complication we don't have to deal with anymore, on top of everything else. I still can't believe all that's happened ... and this incident in the Infirmary was the last thing we needed. How did those rats even know the way up there to begin with? They didn't waste any time in moving to seize Lady Mina once they learned Latura was gone."

"Sartor was Areti's husband," said Winokur, equally somber.

"Who?"

"The ratwife who gave birth day before yesterday. Sartor had been up to see her and their babe a few times. He knew the way, and must have led the others." The otter Recorder stared down at the graves. "We all thought he was showing such admirable paternal concern, but it might have been better for him if he'd never visited them at all."

"Hmm. Well, I can't be expected to memorize the names of everybeast who's sought sanctuary with us this season, with all that's been going on. At least the babe will still have his mother, and that's the important thing. I just can't fathom what's happening with Vanessa. She's gone from being an irresponsible, troublemaking, insolent nuisance to a commanding, ruthless hardnose in the blink of an eye, expecting all of us to kowtow to her every edict. The Nessa I've known since we were young mice together would bristle at the mere thought of taking a life, and yet today ... " Geoff shuddered. "It's uncanny ... and makes me seriously question whether she really is fit to serve as Abbess again."

"She would say the paw of Martin is evident in these events."

Geoff shot Winokur a searching glance. "Do you think it is?"

The otter gave a perplexed shrug. "It's as good an answer to these mysteries as anything. There's still so much about all this that I can't fully understand or explain. Like why an Abbess who's dedicated her life to easing the suffering of others would so cold-heartedly send away an innocent soul who sought sanctuary with us, likely condemning her to horrors we can scarcely imagine."

"At least she had a good reason for surrendering Latura. If it saves us from an armed conflict with Lord Urthblood, I cannot fully disagree with her reasoning, as much as I might have urged her to try to find another way out of that particular dilemma. And after all, she did rather present that to the rest of us as an accomplished deed after the fact, didn't she? The rescue party of Long Patrol and Guosim probably amounts to the most we would have been able to do anyway, even had Vanessa not decreed we were to let Matowick have Latura. No, I'm far more troubled by what happened in the Infirmary. It's one thing to make a decision, no matter how harsh, about Abbey affairs, but quite another to take lives with one's own paw. That disturbs me, and disturbs me greatly."

"You and me both, Abbot," Winokur agreed, looking down at the gravedigger otters tamping firm the earth atop the four forlorn burial mounds. "You and me both."

As the sun dipped below the main Abbey building, casting the east walltop in a shadowed gloom fitting the occasion, the mellow boom and bong of the Matthias and Methuselah bells sounded, calling everybeast to an early evening meal. It was the standard dinnertime tolling; at Vanessa's orders, there was to be no special toll to commemorate the slain rats or their interment, due to the manner in which they'd violated the sanctuary extended them by Redwall. And if anybeast was to gainsay the Abbess in this decision, it certainly wasn't going to be Cyril and Cyrus, and so the bells rang in accordance with her wishes.

"At least Friar Hugh has kept to his kitchen schedule through all of today's upheaval," Geoff remarked. "And while the day's events do weigh on me, I've not had anything to eat since breakfast, as I'm sure must be the case for many of us. A simple dinner will hit the spot right now, even if my appetite might not be at its keenest."

Back by the rats, Grota had joined Harth and Truax at the battlements. "Willya lissen t' that, sir? Four of our own dead 'n' buried, slain by th' Abbess's own paw too, an' now they're gonna go back to their feastin' an' merrymakin' like naught ever 'appened. T'ain't right, I'm tellin' ya!"

"Doubt there'll be much merrymakin' by these folks this night, Grote. Most of 'em're as put out by Lattie's abduction as we are, an' some of 'em even disobeyed their Abbess's direct orders to try'n get 'er back. But ye're right - it does grate, an' sticks in my craw too."

"This was s'posed t' be our sanctuary, our proteckshun. We was s'posed t' be safe in 'ere. How safe was Lattie?" Grota nodded down toward the quartet of fresh graves. "How safe were any o' them?"

Harth looked unflinchingly at his lieutenant. "Mebbe so - but woudja rather try yer luck outside these walls, on yer own? Our situation might not be all we'd prefer, Grote, but it's still th' best option we got."

"What if she's mad, sir? I mean, we've known since we got here that mouse t'weren't right in th' head, but what if she's turned out 'n' out murd'rous? What if she takes t' butcherin' us all?"

"There's a lot more o' us than there is o' her. I'd like t' see her try."

"We got no arms, sir. An' she got all these Abbeybeasts at her beck 'n' call. What if she orders 'em t' turn 'gainst us?"

"Then we'd still be no worse off than if we'd never made it t' Redwall in th' first place. At th' moment, most of us're still doin' a damn sight better'n Lattie is, an' as long as we watch our step 'round here, mebbe we'll avoid endin' up in th' same boat she is." Harth regarded the scene below for long, silent moments, working his jaw wordlessly. Then he turned from the battlements. "Still, I gotta know exactly what went on up in that sickbay. An' I'm gonna go find out!"

Winokur, taking note of the abruptness and manner of the rat general's departure, said to Geoff, "Not sure I like the looks of that. I doubt he'd try to cause any more trouble after what happened in the Infirmary, but I think I'd better tag along to make sure." Satisfied that the Abbot had enough squirrels and shrews up on the walltop with him to ensure his safety, Winokur took his leave and started after Harth.

"Be careful, Wink," Geoff called after him.

At the bottom of the wallsteps, the otter caught up to Harth - mainly because the latter had been accosted by Patreese and Castor. Momentarily disregarding the two village rats, Harth scowled back at the otter. "Followin' me, 'Greenpup?'"

"Let's just say I'm curious as to what had you leaving in such a hurry, and thought you might appreciate the company." Turning to the father and son, Winokur said, "I'm afraid there's not likely to be any word on Latura until tomorrow, at the earliest. The Gawtrybe just had too big a head start."

"That's not what we was gonna askcher 'bout," Castor responded, "tho' the thought's much 'preciated. Naw, t'were one of our other own we were puzzlin' over. Has anybeast seen Palter about?"

00000000000

Harth paused at the Infirmary doorway and looked to Winokur, whom he'd been unable to shake since the wallstairs. "Y' know, she might not be willin' to speak so freely with you listenin' in."

The otter Recorder was hardly put off by Harth's gruff attitude. "Has it occurred to you she might not be willing to speak freely with you around?"

"Pah! I know my own kind! I'm her former General, after all."

"Exactly my point ... General."

Harth scowled as the full implications of Winokur's barbed rejoinder sank in, then led the way into the sickbay with the Redwaller at his heels.

The door still hung half off its hinges, but the beds had all been put back in their proper places and re-made with crisp sheets, smartly-turned blankets and plumped pillows. The floor was swabbed clean of any blood stains, and the pilfered surgical instruments had all been returned to their cabinets and drawers. Mina slept soundly in her bed, her stitches thoroughly checked by Arlyn and Metellus, who'd then given her a sedative so she could rest more fully after her latest tribulations. The Gawtrybe Lady's soft snores were the only sound in the chamber.

Harth and Winokur turned their pawsteps toward the bed much closer to the door, the one tucked back into the nearer corner where the ratmum - and now widow - Areti lay nursing her newborn. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Harth entering the Infirmary and approaching her, but she seemed calmed by Winokur's presence as well. Harth helped himself to a seat on the adjacent bed, where he could slump forward conspiratorially while they conferred; Winokur remained standing at the foot of the bed, arms casually crossed over his green habit robes.

"Retti," Harth began, voice cool yet urgent, "I gotta know what you saw up here. How'd the Abbess put down four o' my trained fighters? Is that what really happened, or did she have help?" He inclined his head ever so slightly toward the slumbering squirrel.

Areti's eyes went to Winokur. "Is it a'right t' speak with 'im liss'nin' in?"

Harth shot Wink an I-told-you-so glance, then nodded. "It's fine. 'ee's Lattie's Greenpup, 'member?"

"I'm as curious as anybeast to know what went on here. Our Abbess certainly isn't very forthcoming about the matter."

Areti considered this, the satisfied suck-suck of her babe at her breast mingling with Mina's snores from across the room, then she nodded and turned back to Harth. "T'weren't like aught I e'er see'd afore, sir. She baited an' goaded 'em right from th' start, like there was four o' her an' only one of 'em, 'stead o' the other way 'round. An' there might as well've been, when it came time t' spill blood. She dodged right around th' one who was holdin' th' sword on 'er, ducked past th' blade an' tore it from 'is grasp like he was my own babe! Before any of 'em could rally - before they even knew what was happ'nin' - she'd cut 'em all down, easy as y' please. Only took one stroke each - such skill I ne'er see'd in any bladebeast in my life. Even Tazerra, who tried t' use th' squirrel queen t' shield 'imself behind, might as well've been a terrified whelp struck still with fright."

Harth's eyebrows stood most high. "You make it sound like she'd be a match even fer me."

"All respect, sir, you'd not've stood a chance 'gainst 'er. She'da cut you down easy as she did them, an' naught you'da been able t' do about it neither."

Harth sat stunned to silence, astounded that any rat under him would dare so openly and boldly disparage his own fighting skills in contrast to those of a female Abbeymouse. At length he looked to Winokur. "That's some mean paw yer Abbess's got there. Did she train long in her youth?"

"Not a single day, as far as I know. Down in Great Hall you'll see an old sandal hanging on the wall where we also display Martin's sword and shield. That's the sandal Vanessa used in her novice days to fight the wicked Sparra King of old. My understanding is that's the only weapon she's ever wielded. She has no battle training; she's a mouse of the Redwall order, and a former healer, dedicated to peace and aiding others."

"Then ... how ... "

"I don't know," Wink admitted. "All I can speculate is that she's been in a bizarre state these past three seasons, and that sometime during that period something must have come to her ... almost as if in a dream ... "

Harth snorted. "If that's th' case, wouldn't mind havin' some dreams like that m'self."

"Would you really want to get struck in the head by a near-fatal blow and reduced to an imbecilic state for three seasons just to improve your sword skills a bit?"

"Hrm. When you put it like that ... Imbeciles don't fare well in hordes, so I doubt I'd've lasted one season, much less three." He turned back to Areti. "An' th' squirrel didn't help her at all?"

"Nay, she'd been knocked out cold by Tazerra right 'fore the fight started. Matter o' fact, that seemed t' be what set the Abbess off. But she was groggy 'n' pained 'n' moanin' the entire time, doubled over on her bed clutchin' her belly with her eyes screwed shut. She didn't even see any of it happen."

"Hmm. So ye're the only witness ... "

Areti nodded. "An' I was terrified fer my life. Thought mebbe she'd come after me next, leave not a soul t' tell. Could be my babe's all that stayed 'er paw, an' kept me alive."

"Vanessa would never slay an unarmed, nursing mother," Winokur protested. "She'd only have harmed you if you'd tried to harm her, or somebeast else, first."

Areti leveled an accusing stare at the otter. "How c'n you even say that, after just confessin' she ain't actin' like she's ever acted afore, that she's showin' fighter's ways she never coulda picked up in 'er mortal life? She was a berserker, not any peace-abidin' Abbeymouse. She mighta been capable o' anything!"

Harth shook his head. "Nay. Not a berserker. Too much discipline, too much skill 'n' finesse, t' do what she did. That's the opposite of a berserker. Not sure what I'd call it, though. A warrior, fer sure, but beyond that ... "

"A warrior ... " Winokur murmured, his gaze suddenly far away.

"This means sumpthin' to you?" Harth asked him.

"Only in the realms of legend, and ancient Redwall history. Areti, I'm very sorry about your husband, Sartor. "I know it must be - "

"Sorry?" she cut him off. "Well, I ain't. That rat was a brute, an' foul-tempered, an' showed me 'is mean 'n' vicious side only after 'ee wooed me an' trapped me inta bein' his wife. Now I don't hafta be afraid o' him no more." Areti's gaze went to Harth. "Don't hafta be afraid o' you no more neither. This's Redwall, where we're all equal, an' nobeast gets t' be boss over others. Ain't so tough now, are ya? All yer weapons stripped away an' cowerin' behind these stone walls, hidin' from those brushtails who'd haul us all away t' slavery in chains. Well, t'day I saw a mouse who could best you any season you care t' name, an' I'm bettin' she ain't the only Abbeybeast who could! The old days an' old ways - th' horde ways - 're over, an' they ain't never comin' back fer me! I'm at Redwall now, an' this is where me an' my babe'll be stayin', t' live as respectable beasts an' never be part o' thievin' 'n' fightin' 'n' killin' ever again!"

Harth visibly bristled at being told off in such a manner. "Watch yer tongue there, wench!"

"Or ye'll do what? Cut it out? Then I'll stand on th' walltop laughin' as them squirrels drag you off to th' searats, 'cos there's no way these good folk would let you remain amongst 'em after doin' sumpthin' so barbaric. So call me wench all y' want, but it'll roll off me like water off a riverdog's back! 'Cos I'm better'n that now, an' I know it!"

"Just don't go fergettin' who it was who got you here. May've been Lattie's vision, but without me you'd all still be stuck back in that valley, waitin' to be rounded up an' marched off in bonds, if y' hadn't been already. An' if you think Bryn 'n' Negril 'n' Snosso coulda saved you, or even I coulda saved you, knowin' what we know now 'bout these Gawtrybe an' their badger master, you ain't even got th' smarts to be raisin' that whelp o' yers there."

"Er-HRM!" Winokur loudly cleared his throat, bringing the verbally-sparring rats to silence. "I, uh, would say we've gotten what we came here for, General. And perhaps a good bit more besides. Nothing to be gained by upsetting this new mother further, or risking waking Lady Mina, who needs her rest. Let us be gone, shall we?"

Harth gave Areti one last long, lingering, baleful look - which the ratmum returned unflinchingly, measure for measure - before joining Winokur on the way out of the Infirmary. As they passed into the hall between the knot of Abbeybeasts stationed there to prevent another siege or any further action against Mina, the otter Recorder gently teased, "Guess that didn't go exactly as you'd planned, did it?"

"Th' story of my season so far," Harth grumbled in return.