CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
The oversized tub in the center of Foxguard's cellars called to Mona.
She found herself, and not for the first time in recent days, standing in the doorway to Trelayne's workshop, staring in at the giant vessel. The sculpting of the glass memorial statue for Machus had reached the point where the marten artisan and his fox assistant now spent most of their work day out on the lawns, since the finished product would be too big to easily or safely move up the stairs or through the narrow doorways. It made much more sense to carefully carry small batches of the tempered vitriol up and out to where the massive block of newly-wrought crystal stood being meticulously shaped, over the course of many days, into the likeness of Lord Urthblood's first Sword.
And the amounts of the corrosive fluid required for this endeavor had proven prodigious indeed. Already, Trelayne and Kyslith had burned through an entire master vat of the vitriol, necessitating the distillation of a second tubful. It was that near-brimful vessel of the concentrated substance which stood before Mona now. With nobeast else around to stop or caution her, she did what she'd so far never dared, and stepped over the threshold into the chamber.
Ever since that morning when raised voices had drawn her to this room and she'd arrived to overhear the tail end of an argument between Trelayne and Custis as to whether somebeast might have been disposed of in the vitriol, something inside Mona had stirred as it hadn't in many seasons. She found herself pulled to this place, seduced by a morbid fascination she could neither explain nor deny. When Tolar had first informed her to expect Trelayne's arrival and asked how she would feel about the marten working with the vitriol within Foxguard, she could not have predicted her emotions with any certainty, in spite of her assurances to her mate. Did the prospect fill her with foreboding, render her anxious or unable to sleep or concentrate, or instill a sense of paralyzing dread? To be honest with herself, she'd felt none of these things - just an empty and curious expectancy, as if she herself were waiting to see what feelings would manifest themselves. Even after the marten's establishment of his workshop - indeed, even after that first batch of concentrated vitriol had been formulated - Mona felt nothing special in regard to the presence of the deadly liquid which held such personal and tragic connotations for her; it was all just part of the work that needed to be done. But once she heard others discussing the idea of somebeast being immersed in the vitriol under nefarious circumstances, her emotions toward this situation had finally been triggered.
They were not the feelings she would have anticipated.
Mona stole slowly into the chamber, senses tingling, every nerve alert. Her pawpads gently scraped against the cool stone floor, transmitting to her brain every nuance of the smooth surface, and her fur faintly bristled with excitation as she gulped in mouthfuls of the vaguely vinegar-tinged air. The tub's heavy lid had been left raised, since Trelayne and Kyslith would be coming and going for more of the vitriol as they needed it, and the fluid's acrid odor permeated the workshop - not enough to make the eyes sting or irritate the throat, but enough to be noticeable. Lamps and lanterns cast the scene in a gloomy glow, not too unlike what she herself worked under in her own surgery just down the corridor. It almost made her feel at home here.
Savoring the thrill of a young kit doing something she wasn't allowed, Mona breathlessly crossed to the open vitriol vat.
"Be careful, sister."
"I know what I'm doing," Mona replied to the ghostly visage of her older sibling, hanging back in the concealment of the shadowed recesses, just as she always did. "But I have to do this ... I must face this, on my own terms."
A simple wood trestle, like an elevated bench, had been positioned along one side of the vat to provide an additional work counter for Trelayne and Kyslith. Tail twitching in anticipation yet hesitant still, Mona climbed up onto the trestle and squatted down on her haunches upon it, now level with the vessel's rim.
Looking down, she beheld the calm expanse of the vitriol spread out before her like a miniature underground pond. Reflected lamplight glittered upon its placid, mirrorlike surface like stars in a mountain lake on a clear autumn night. The only sound was the light rasp of her breathing and the thumping of her heart in her ears; the weasels elsewhere in the cellars must have been taking one of their frequent breaks from their own labors, lending a rare silence these days to Foxguard's lower level. So peaceful, so still - it was easy to see how anybeast who didn't know better might mistake the vitriol for something utterly harmless, perhaps even water.
But Mona knew better.
Staring at the lethal fluid as if held in its trance, Mona softly murmured, "What was it like for you, sister? What did you feel in your final moments?"
"What do you want me to say?" came the voiceless reply from the corner of the round room. "That it burned like liquid fire until I blacked out? That it felt like drowning and burning at the same time, with the stuff going in my eyes and up my nose and down my throat as I screamed my last, all that flesh being destroyed on contact before I could even taste or smell what was annihilating me? I suppose I might not have felt much at all, being so overwhelmed so quickly I might as well have been smashed in the face by a Bloodwrath-gripped badger's battle mace. I am not sure I remember, and not sure I want to."
Mona continued to gaze raptly at the still, sparkling surface. "Still, to be so consumed ... to be rendered from a living, breathing, feeling, thinking, healthy beast to absolute nothingness in a matter of heartbeats ... to go from full life to utter nonexistence like that ... "
"It wasn't absolute nothingness. There were still a few fizzling bits of me floating around in the vat, and some sizzling residue clinging to the sides - as you may have noticed, if you'd not been hiding in the cabinets under the work tables."
"Where you put me."
"True. And it worked, didn't it? You survived, while I ... "
Mona shifted on her haunches, leaning slightly forward over the vitriol, steadying herself with one paw while she reached out with the other, lowering her arm until her splayed pawtips threatened to make contact with the shimmering, caustic surface. "I wonder ... I ... "
"Mona! What are you doing?!"
The alarmed shout shattered her reverie, throwing her off balance - and with her center of gravity already shifted forward as it was, Mona was seized by a moment of panicked terror as she realized she was pitching forward into the vat.
Perhaps she only fleetingly imagined her peril, for the next thing she knew, strong paws had gripped her tail and arm and pulled her back down to the safety of the stone floor. Catching her breath, wobbly on shaky knees, she found herself staring into the concerned eyes of Kyslith.
"Mona! What were you thinking?!"
"I was fine until you came along," she shot back defensively. "You startled me."
"What are you doing down here? You shouldn't be here - it's dangerous!"
"My own work area happens to be here on this level, just a few doors down. I pass by all the time. And I'll remind you that Foxguard was my home long before you and Trelayne came here to set up shop, so I will go where I please."
Kyslith stood momentarily at a loss; Mona seemed to have collected herself almost at once, asserting her dominion over this situation and brooking no argument. Why, she came across as less rattled by the incident than he was! "But ... Mona, what were you trying to do just now? It almost looked as if ... "
"As if what?" Her demanding gaze did not waver, holding fast on him.
"Mona, you would never seek to harm yourself, would you?"
At first she gaped at him as if his words were gibberish. Then she barked with harsh laughter. "Is ... is that what you think I was doing? Oh, no! No no no! Nothing like that! I was merely ... curious. That's all."
Kyslith considered this. "And has your curiosity been satisfied?"
Mona took several moments to answer. "I think so. I faced what I came here to face."
"Well then." The male fox took her by the arm with firm courtesy and walked her toward the hall. "In that case, I think we should be going now ... and I think you should ask permission before coming in here again, be Foxguard your home or not."
"Yes ... yes, you speak wisely, Kyslith. I can see why Master Trelayne would want such an intelligent creature as yourself for his assistant. But, didn't you come down here for something? Please don't let me keep you from your work."
"It's no trouble, ma'am, none at all. Let's see to getting you someplace more fitting for a gentle healer vixen. My errand wasn't anything that can't wait."
"As you say." Mona stole one last glance back at the silent tub as they passed out into the curved corridor ... and with that glance she knew that she wasn't done with this matter. That, indeed, she might just be getting started.
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Custis and Tolar stood side by side in the Sword's third-floor meeting room, jointly regarding a map of Mossflower the Gawtrybe had brought with them from Salamandastron. The spread, smoothed parchment took up most of the large tabletop, and presented detailed depictions of all the region's prominent and noteworthy geographical features. In light of what the preceding days' reports had brought, the squirrel captain did not like what he was looking at.
His paw moved from landmark to landmark. "We've got vast expanses of forest north of us, some going all the way to the Eastern Sea, with the Moss running right through it, making easy travel and operations difficult. We've got equally vast tracts of woodlands all around Redwall and Foxguard stretching south to the Big Inland Lake, where if anything they grow even thicker and alternate with impassable bogs and water meadows. And then there's the high wall of the Dancing Cliffs - I don't see us getting beyond there before autumn, at the earliest."
Tolar gave a smirk. "It could be worse, Captain: Lord Urthblood could have assigned you Southsward as part of your immediate campaign as well."
"I'm sure that will come in its own good time," Custis replied primly, ignoring the fox's stab at levity. "Something this big must be taken in stages: the Northlands first, then Mossflower, and then, if it be our master's will, Southsward. Beyond that, Tratton can round up his own rats."
"I still don't see what the problem is," said Tolar, returning to the subject at paw. "The Northlands presented variations in landscape and terrain similar to Mossflower, if not moreso, and by all accounts the campaign there went smoothly and quickly. Mossflower may be a little bit larger, I'll grant you, but I'm sure Lord Urthblood will provide you with more beastpower if you request it."
Custis scowled at the map. "It's not just the size of the territory, or the number of Gawtrybe at my command. See here - the Western Plains? And beyond them, a mountain range which effectively cuts off the coastlands from our zone of operations. There was nothing like that up north. I've no doubt of our ability to execute our sweeps and gather up all our targets - or deal with those who resist - but it's conveying them to the coast once we have them that's the hitch."
"Isn't that what the shrews are for?"
"That was the plan. But once we've passed our resettlers on to them, they still have to go all the way around the mountains to the north or to the south to get the prisoners to the coast for processing, and then make it back here for the next group to convey to the shore. That's a round-trip that can take half a season, so even if we stagger the escort teams as we'd planned, there will always be a portion of Captain Choock's forces - perhaps a large portion - who won't be here where we need them. And that doesn't even address the question of how many subjects we should give them at a time. If we burden our shrews with too many, they may not be able to manage so many resisting beasts over such a lengthy march. Too few, and we're wasting precious beastpower we could really use here. It is a dilemma, no two ways about it."
"And such problems never arose in the Northlands?" Tolar probed.
"The Northlands boasted a robust river system which made the resettlement efforts far easier than they would have been otherwise."
Tolar studied the map. "Mossflower has rivers too."
"None that we can easily use. The Moss was deemed too close to Redwall, and now that the Abbeybeasts know our purpose, they could try to disrupt any boating traffic we send downstream, if they suspect us of using it for transport. The next closest is the one two days to the south, where Lorr Bridge spans it - but, you'll note from the map, that river doesn't flow all the way to the sea, disappearing under the mountains, which means even if we did convey detainees along it, the crews and their charges would have to disembark and finish rounding the mountains on foot anyway, so it would hardly be worth the trouble. And the one below that would take us all the way down to where Doublegate was, and I'm not looking to extend the early phase of this campaign that far south - not yet. I'd much prefer to get central Mossflower all cleared out first, so as not to spread ourselves too thin, and that means all the forest between here and the Northlands, down to that first river by Lorr Bridge. That could take until early summer - and that's assuming we can find some way to expedite the passage of resettlers to make the process go faster than it is now."
"Do you have any ideas on what we can do about this?"
"I do. Use the Moss anyway, and the Redwallers be damned. Our original strategy did not take into account nearly two hundred rats seeking sanctuary at the Abbey. Between them and all the freed slaves who've settled there, I've a feeling Redwall will find itself far too occupied to worry overmuch about what's going on outside its walls. That should free up the Moss to use as we see fit, without meddling from them."
"So, you've become resigned that you'll not be getting those rats out of Redwall after all?" Tolar asked, voicing what in recent days had come more and more to be taken as a given at Foxguard.
"Oh, I've not forgotten them, not at all. We're watching the Abbey day and night, just as we have all along, so that if they're ever thrown out of Redwall because the residents have finally grown tired of them, or if they attempt to sneak away on their own, we'll be there to take them. On the bright side, our cordon has ensnared a number of additional rats who've sought to reach the Abbey, so our sentries there aren't being totally wasted. And another undeniable advantage is that as long as those rats are bottled up in the Abbey, they're not free to spread word of the campaign throughout Mossflower. That works to our favor - not that any rat forewarned of our operations would have anywhere to run where we still wouldn't track them down eventually."
"And if the Redwallers use their birds to spread news of the Purge?"
"Our birds trump theirs. We've more of them, they're bigger and have greater range, and are better versed in military ways. We're not above engaging in a little aerial intimidation to keep those Abbeybeasts in their place, although so far it hasn't proven necessary; as far as we can tell, aside from flights here and to the quarry to keep lines of communication open, the Sparra have limited themselves to their usual foraging in the woods and meadows immediately around Redwall. But even if they were so inclined as to try to warn the local rat population, how would they do it? Fly right into vermin settlements squawking, 'Flee for your lives, the terrible squirrels are coming to get you?' If they could make themselves understood at all, they'd likely be laughed at and derided with scorn and ridicule - and then find themselves spitted over a roasting fire. No, I think the Sparra represent a minimal potential impediment to our efforts." Custis shot Tolar a critical gaze. "And don't call it a 'Purge.' That's the degrading name our opponents give it."
"It's happening to them. One might say that grants them the privilege of what to call it."
"It's our operation, not theirs. They don't get a say in the matter - and it is not 'the Purge.'"
"Captain Truax, from what I gather, would beg to differ."
"Truax is a captain no longer - just a disgraced fugitive who chose to flee with his family instead of following orders, abandoning his fellow rats to face their responsibility to the Accord while he huddles behind high stone walls like a coward. His opinion is not worth the air we're wasting now talking about him."
Tolar realized pressing the matter would be a waste of his own breath. "Well, that horde to the northeast did you something of a favor, by recruiting most of the rats from that area and consolidating them all in one place."
Custis looked at the fox askance. "A lot of good that does us, now that they've all escaped to Redwall."
"It does still help, Captain. That horde's activities thinned out the rat population in this part of Mossflower sufficiently that the relative few remaining have proven very easy to take care of, without much risk of escapees being able to spread warning to other parts of this region."
"Yes, that is true. Then again, it has forced us into ranging farther afield for our collection expeditions, since few rats remain in the nearer woods."
"You would have had to do that anyway, once you'd cleared out the nearer forest. You've just gotten to it quicker."
"True. And what's left of that horde seems, from all reports, to be in a state of total disarray, so that's good, at least. One less thing for us to worry about." Custis stabbed his paw at the map once more. "So, if we are to use the Moss for resettlement transport, we'll need at least one main staging area right on the river - and right now, Foxguard is pretty much it."
Tolar tried not to let his bristling show. "What about Gawdrey?"
"Who said Gawdrey is built on the river?"
"Ah. I was simply assuming ... "
"And in any case, the advance construction contingent is only still setting up their base camp for the project. It will be at least another half-season before Gawdrey is established enough to serve as any kind of operational stronghold. For now, only Foxguard is in any state and position to fulfill our needs. So I guess the question now, Sword, is just how far are you willing to go to demonstrate your cooperation in these matters?"
Tolar met the squirrel's expectant gaze. "Have I extended you anything less than my fullest cooperation since we put that misunderstanding over Mykola behind us?"
"This would be a far more involved partnership than what we've had so far. I'm talking about having this garrison become a staging area, detention facility and processing center, fully involved in the deportation of our charges by way of the Moss. Are you and your foxes up for this?"
"My foxes are up for whatever I tell them, so don't you worry about that. I should remind you, however, that our dungeons were never designed to hold more than a dozen beasts - maybe a score, if we crowd them in there."
"This entire fortress is a dungeon, if we make it so. Unclimbable walls, only a single way in and out, armed swordsbeasts to watch over them - that will be the easy part. My Gawtrybe will have all the hard work to do, sweeping them up and marching them here."
"My foxes - even our cadets - think of themselves as warriors, so getting them to become wardens might take some convincing. I'll convince them, though, if that's what the situation calls for. Do you think you'll recall all of Choock's shrews to serve as ferrybeasts? They would naturally be suited to such work."
"I don't think so. They're all still on the other side of the Moss, and it might be best for them to remain there, to help with our western operations. Even if Foxguard and the Moss become the main conduit for this campaign, there will still need to be supplementary transit routes as well. And, once we've taken care of northern Mossflower, we may find it more efficient to to shift our base of operations down to one of the southern rivers. We'll have to wait and see about that."
"What of boats? Our sole ferry raft is all we have here ... and we need that in case we have to cross the Moss ourselves."
"Of course. Right now the only strength of vessels on the Moss is the raft group we built for Redwall's quarrying expedition, and they're not about to let us have use of them, even if we were the ones who built them."
"Hardly," Tolar agreed with a smirk. "Relations with the Abbey are tense enough as it is. And speaking of which, do you imagine the Redwallers at the quarry might seek to prevent us from using the river? They're downstream of us, so we'd have to sail right by them."
Custis shook his head. "It's not their river to say who travels it or not, and in any event, they've not yet started ferrying across any building material. It could be nearly summer before they have enough stone cut and shaped to make crossings worthwhile, and that will leave us plenty of opportunity to avail ourselves of these currents."
"Not if we don't have any craft of our own."
The squirrel dismissed this concern as well. "We built those barges for the Redwallers; we can build more."
"Not without pulling a portion of your Gawtrybe off the sweeps for boat building duty."
"The interruption will be worth it, if it expedites the campaign overall."
"You also had shrews and otters helping you on that previous occasion. I still think you'll need to recall at least some of Choock's squad. Once we've built the transports, somebeasts will have to pilot them down to the sea. Do you Gawtrybe even possess the river skills for such duties?"
"Hmm. That is a point. It's one thing to get a raft punted from one riverbank to another, and something else entirely to navigate a vessel downriver on a voyage which could last days. Shrews would certainly acquit themselves better under such circumstances, and I would be loathe to lose any of my squirrels for such a length of time. We own the forests like nobeast else, but we're hardly riverfaring experts. You may be right, Sword - I may need to recruit some of Captain Choock's shrews for this assignment."
"Two heads are better than one, eh?"
"As long as they work together, yes they are. I'll write up a simple message to be flashed to Salamandastron this afternoon, before the sun gets too low; that's actually the best time of day to catch the low rays and send them back west, and I'll want Lord Urthblood's sanction before I embark on any course requiring redeployment of assigned forces."
"Why not just send a messenger gull?" Tolar asked. "They come and go all the time these days, so if there's not one outside right now as we speak, there will be soon. They could deliver your query to the mountain nearly as promptly."
"I'd prefer not to divert any of our winged comrades from their aerial reconnaissance if I can help it; their scouting has proven invaluable. And a message flashed from the signal mirror will arrive instantly, and with no chance of the messenger getting lost or waylaid. Why? Are you still sore about my previous 'unauthorized' use of the mirror?"
"Not at all - Captain. I was merely thinking in terms of practicality, and the resources we have on paw. Your reasoning makes sense. I'll even let you and your squirrels send the message yourselves if you wish."
"Thank you, Sword. We may just ... " A knock at the meeting room's closed door interrupted Custis, and before either squirrel or fox could ask who it was or bid them enter, the latch clicked and the door swung inward. To their surprise they beheld not one of the stronghold's military beasts but the assistant glassmaker Kyslith. "Yes?" Custis snapped, irritated at this display of impropriety by a creature who clearly didn't know better. "Sword Tolar and I are in conference. Why do you interrupt us so?"
"My pardons, sirs, but I am here at the bidding of Master Trelayne. Sword, an incident occurred which we feel warrants your attention ... "
"An incident? Has there been some kind of accident? Is anybeast injured?"
"No, although they could have been, very badly. If your discussions here are not too pressing, we would ask that you come right away."
It was Custis who answered, "Not until you're a little less cryptic as to what this is all about."
Kyslith swallowed. "It concerns Mona - and the vitriol."
Tolar immediately straightened. Glancing at Custis and then back at Kyslith, he said, "Our talks here were nearly finished anyway. I'll be right there."
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"Mona, what were you thinking?"
Kyslith had withdrawn to leave the swordfox chieftain and his healer vixen alone on the walltop after showing Tolar to Mona. Now the two of them stood alone, gazing out over southern Mossflower from the low battlements of Foxguard's outer wall.
"I was perfectly fine," she shot back. "I knew what I was doing."
"Did you? Kyslith said he only just managed to catch you in time to keep you from falling in. Mona, you could have been killed!"
"Killed?" Her gaze and voice became distant and dreamy, as if focused on something else. "No ... no, I don't think so."
"What were you even doing down there? I'd have thought you'd want to stay as far away from that stuff as vulpinely possible."
"I was simply satisfying my curiosity, that's all. The vitriol is perfectly safe, as long as you treat it right. Trelayne and Kyslith work with it all the time."
"Trelayne and Kyslith wear heavy protective smocks and gauntlets when handling the concentrated vitriol, and sometimes masks and goggles too. And even they admit such precautions would not save them if they were to fall in, or have a large spill of it wash over them. They have many seasons of experience working with the vitriol, and if they still have their lives and all their limbs, it's only through a large measure of luck and careful practice. You recall what happened to their mouse assistant at Salamandastron."
"That was under battle conditions, when many other creatures were being maimed and slain in ways no less gruesome. If Tratton ever bombarded Foxguard with stormpowder, you can rest assured I'll keep myself far away from any vitriol."
"Mona, this is nothing to joke about!"
"I'm not joking. In fact ... " She gave a long pause. "I think Foxguard should have its own stock of vitriol on paw from now on, even after Trelayne leaves. For weapons purposes."
"Weapons purposes? Mona, you're making no sense. We're swordsbeasts, inside a nearly impregnable fortress. We'd have no call for such a thing. How would we even deploy it in any kind of battle scenario?"
"A way would be found. Captain Scarbatta has bolstered his squadron greatly over the past two seasons, and he has many more gulls than are necessary for the defense of Salamandastron. Some could be assigned here on an open-ended basis, in case they were needed."
"Needed for what? What possible enemy could we face that would warrant such measures?"
"You might have welcomed the vitriol in your arsenal when Snoga attacked. Who's to say more such villains aren't still to be found in Mossflower, waiting to pounce when our guard is down?"
"Our guard is never down. That's what Foxguard, and our lookout tower, is all about. And you can be sure Captain Custis and his Gawtrybe will turn up any hidden threat to us in the course of their sweeps. There's only one horde anywhere in nearer Mossflower, and that one has by all accounts been thrown into utter disarray by the desertion of their rats, and represents no danger to us at all. The vitriol is unnecessary, and probably unworkable too, not least of all because Trelayne is the only beast who knows how to make it. Are we to have him permanently stationed here as well?"
"He could show me how to make it."
"What?! If anybeast alive has reason not to have anything to do with that lethal solution, it's you, Mona. Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
"Because I know what it can do. I'll be able to treat it with the same respect Trelayne does. I can master it, instead of letting it master me."
Tolar crossed his arms. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? That's why you singled out the vitriol, and not the flaming oil, or the poisonous yellow vapors. If Foxguard's defense were your only concern, those other weapons would do just as well. You're still obsessing over what happened to Sathara, and looking for some way to cope with it."
"So what if I am? My points are still valid. It would be a potent weapon to add to our defenses."
Tolar shook his head. "This is too dangerous. The vitriol is not something you can use as your own personal plaything, or add to your list of macabre healer's experiments. After that stunt you pulled just now, I don't want you anywhere near it. Once Trelayne is finished with his work here, he's leaving, and leaving none of his vitriol behind. There's no place for such a thing at Foxguard, and I'll not have it here."
Mona grew silent, almost petulant, staring off into the forested distance. At that moment, Tolar realized a battle of wills might be brewing between them ... and he wasn't at all sure he would emerge the victor.
"I will see you later, Mona. For now this discussion is over." Turning, the Sword circled around to the nearest flight of wall stairs, descended the stone steps and strode across the lawns in search of one particular creature. He found the fox he sought down in the cellars, helping to oversee the weasels who were hard at work there.
Remillard looked up with mild surprise at his Sword's unanticipated appearance in this noisy work area. Tolar beckoned his fellow fox out into the hall and down the corridor toward, appropriately enough, Mona's surgery. They stopped, however, still within sight of the open doorway to Trelayne's glass shop.
"How goes the work?" Tolar asked over the echoing clangs and poundings from where the weasels labored.
"As expected, Sword. The treasury grows apace. We will soon have enough to start distribution and disbursement."
"Fine. That's not why I came down to see you, however."
"Oh?"
Tolar pointed toward Trelayne's central chamber. "Since you are our resident blacksmith, I'd like you to drop everything else and fashion a door for that room - a door with a solid latch that can be locked with a key."
"Doors are hard, Sword, and lockable doors doubly so. That's why we still have so many doorless rooms in Foxguard. Can't it just be a simple affair that can be secured with a sliding bar from inside?"
"No, the whole point will be to make it so it can be locked when nobeast is inside. How soon can you have it done?"
"That depends. Can I pull a couple of the weasels off their minting duties to help with the carpentry?"
"Do it. This is your top priority."
"Then, two days."
Tolar nodded. "Get right on it. In the meantime, I'll post guards until it's finished."
"Guards?"
"I'll tell you about it later. When you're done, I'll want exactly two keys made for it: one for me, and one for Trelayne. No more, no less - and Mona is not under any circumstances to have access to either."
"As you say, Sword. All will be done to your specifications."
"Thank you, Rem. Let me know if you need anything, and I'll make sure you get it." Tolar turned and headed for the stairs up out of the cellars. He might not have complete control over everything that was going on in and around Foxguard these days, but he could certainly make sure that Mona went nowhere near the vitriol again.