CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Even as the six healthy Long Patrol mustered to charge up out of the valley of the Flitch-aye-aye to resume and accelerate their chase, the gulls who'd shadowed the divided rescue party all morning engaged in a shocking and abrupt change of tactics, dropping from their higher altitude to plow into the Sparra flock like white thunderbolts, casting into disarray the flight patterns of the avian Abbey escorts. In some instances they rammed right into the smaller birds with aggressive bodily collisions, sending the Sparra into panicky, fluttering downward spirals; in others, went for the Redwallers with savage pecks at eyes, wings, tails and any other spot which might cause distress. The sparrows, finding themselves so suddenly and unexpectedly besieged, rallied to evade their attackers, being nimbler and more maneuverable than the brutish seabirds, but the gulls gave chase, intent upon harrying their targets into a full disengagement and retreat ... which left the Sparra fully occupied with this new predicament, to the exclusion of all else.

The Long Patrol didn't even notice this development, their attention focused on the Gawtrybe ahead of them. The trailing party of Alex and Sodexo and the Guosim did notice, but realized they could do little to aid their feathered allies. The gulls took care to limit their harassment to heights above slingstone range, leaving the Sparra no choice but to fly much lower to the ground - which largely nullified their effectiveness as any sort of long-range surveillance force - or else remain at their present altitude and open themselves to the continued predations of the bullying gulls.

One gull who dipped too low suffered a pierced wing from one of Alexander's launched shafts; after that the rest knew not to venture too close to the red-furred archerbeast.

And meanwhile, to the west, the main force of Urthblood's gulls dispatched from Salamandastron winged its way ever closer, darkening one small stretch of the horizon.

00000000000

"Hey, Bird Bird! What's for breakfast? I'm gettin' hungry!"

Klystra had let Latura sleep well past sunrise, welcoming the respite from her flighty, nattering nincompoopery. But now the full brightness of the day roused her to pesky wakefulness, the prolonged night's rest having rejuvenated her after the previous day's forced run.

Sighing, the falcon dug into his travel pouch once more, pulling out another batch of hardtack for the ratmaid to break her fast. Latura accepted it, making a face and sticking out her tongue. "Yuck! This agin? Don't want this - 's like eatin' wood!"

"Is all we have. Eat, or don't. Your choice."

Latura ruefully regarded the bland biscuit. "Want a bilberry muffin, or some acorn crunch, or maple honey scones. Hey, Cap'n Feathers! Think you could fly back t' Redwall an' pick up some fer us?"

"Prefer fish for breakfast. For lunch and dinner too. But no fish for me, no Abbeyfood for you. Hardtack until Salamandastron, for us both."

"Oh poo." Latura sat down on the grass, gnawing on her only breakfast option. Glancing about her, she declared, "This place's boring. Fly me somewhere else, Feathers!"

"We stay put here until Gawtrybe catch up, or until ordered to move you further on. This is no game. Don't like scenery? Close eyes and sleep again."

"Aw, ye're no more fun than that nightbird who stopped by last night!"

"Mm hm."

Absently forcing herself to finish the flavorless rations, Latura gazed idly at the rolling Plains and wide sky about her, when suddenly distant movement on the horizon made her stand up again. "Ooo, look!"

Klystra twisted his head around, and quickly spotted the approaching gull flock which had captured his prisoner's attention. The falcon clacked his beak in enthusiastic approval; during his last nocturnal consultation with Saugus, the owl captain had made mention of both the Gawtrybe pushing on through the night and the possibility of avian reinforcements from Salamandastron, but Klystra had not expected such a large force as now winged its way toward them.

Together they watched as the gull squadron ate up the aerial distance between the mountains and their own position in the midst of the Plains, and then the attack birds were overhead and passing.

"Birdies!" Latura squealed in delight at the majestic sight, clueless to the fact that they pushed their way eastward expressly to engage her rescuers.

"Yes. Birdies," Klystra agreed, unable to think of any more appropriate response to his charge's imbecilic glee.

And then they were past, flapping onward without so much as a squawk of acknowledgment directed Klystra's way. "Aw, they're gone," the ratmaid lamented. "Think they'll come back?"

"Yes. Think they will." Klystra turned himself around to face east, and the battle to come.

00000000000

One thing Browder and Tibball discovered they shared in common was a most un-Long Patrolish tendency to sleep well past sunrise whenever circumstances allowed. Thus is was that the hare and the rabbit found themselves heading up to the west walltop with their plates of pancakes and scones to join Melanie, Givadon and Mizagelle for a late breakfast under the spring sky.

"Well hullo there, sleepyheads!" Mizagelle greeted, bouncing Chevelle on her knee as her sister and mother did likewise with Faylona and Lysander. "Was beginning to think we'd not see you at all before noon!"

Melanie welcomed the delinquent pair of late-risers with considerably less cheer. "Not sure how any hare could rest so easy, given wot's at stake."

"Oh, yes, uh, er ... " Browder, careful not to tip his fully-laden plate, took the place on the stone wall bench his wife scooted aside to clear for him. "Well, consid'rin' all the ruckus an' body-tirin' comings-and-goings that went on here yesterday - largely instigated an' executed by these innocent-looking troublemakers here - is it hardly surprisin' a harried haredad might catch an extra jolly long snooze to refresh himself after all that?"

"Funny, I don't recall seeing you exerting yourself nearly as hard during yesterday's crisis as Clewy, or Sergeant Peppertail, or any of the other hares and shrews who are out on the Western Plains this very moment, seeking redress for the wrong that was done to Redwall."

"Yah, well, Mel m'gel, 'tis oft been said, and by better hares than I, that I lack a soldierbeast's constitution, and I'll not deny it. Let those that can do, and th' rest of us stand strong to bear witness an' remember their bravery, wot?"

Givadon snorted, while Melanie contented herself with looking away dismissively.

Tibball, meanwhile, had chosen to seat himself on the outside of this gathering, next to Givadon and separated from Browder by all the others. He displayed a similar care with his full plate, but more obvious abashedness over Melanie's mild rebuke on their late showing. In all his days at the Abbey so far, Tibball remained somewhat nebulous concerning the precise relationship and standing between Browder and the other hares. That Browder was not a member of the Long Patrol had been apparent at once, in spite of the thespian hare's marriage to a runner and haremum of that esteemed military force. But Browder was anything but a fighter, and in this sense Tibball felt a certain kinship with him; while the actual Long Patrol left the rabbit somewhat intimidated due to his awe of their reputation and legend, Browder was ... well, just Browder, and not exactly anybeast a fellow could become starry-eyed over. That left the player easier to relate to as an equal, even while he could still be hare-ishly admired. A member of the same species as the renowned Long Patrol, but not of the Patrols themselves, and thus more on Tibball's own level.

As to Browder's exact standing with the Long Patrol, this issue left Tibball in more than a little confusion. He'd heard of treachery committed by Browder while serving the other hares' mortal enemy, but nobeast had as yet fully explained just what that treachery was, and Browder hardly struck Tibball as the treacherous type, with his stitched ear and frequently hapless demeanor which was half pompous buffoon and half forlorn misfit. And if there really was such bad blood between them, how had Browder ever managed to woo and wed into the Patrols? The whole affair left Tibball exceedingly trepidatious and tentative as to just how fully he ought to embrace Browder, or to openly seek out and welcome the solitary hare's company and companionship.

It was hardly the kind of situation - and conundrum - he'd expected to encounter at Redwall.

"Has there been any word from the Sparra about - well, about what's happening out there?" Tibball inquired of the harewives, nodding over the parapet toward the Plains.

"Not a peep," answered Givadon. "Sun might be out an' shining bright as you could want, but we're still in the bally dark!"

"Well, there y' go then!" Browder declared with forced cheer. "If they'd met with any kind of diabolical disaster, those flighty featherpests would've been back here in two flippin' flaps to report it, wot? No news is good news, an' all that. A sure sign that nothing's amiss, wouldn't you say?"

The others showed little inclination to buy into Browder's puffed-up pep. "They'd have flown back here to report if their efforts had met with success, too, " Melanie pointed out.

"Oh. Right, I s'pose. Which can only mean the mission's still ongoing, with heroics an' derring-do yet to be fully realized. Hardly reason for gloominess, hm?"

Mizagelle patted her husband on the knee. "That's wot I like about you, Browds - always looking on the bright side of things! Cheer 'n' optimism's wot we need right now, and I'll take any reminder of that we can get!"

Buoyed by this spousal support, Browder looked to the leverets. "Kinda hard not to be cheery in your outlook, when you live at Redwall. That's wot this place is all about, even in times like these. So, how're our terrible tykes this fine morn? No lastin' trauma from wasp stings, smoke chuffing or pond water down the old pipes?"

"Arlyn and Metellus gave them all a clean bill of health," Melanie replied, "thank fates an' seasons. Our two healers certainly had their paws full with yesterday's pandemonium. I'd wager Redwall suffered more wasp stings in one day than in all its prior seasons put together!"

"Maybe," Givadon allowed. "Now that our dear old Abbess is back to her proper wits, wonder if she'll take over the Infirmary again?"

"She sure took it over yesterday," Mizagelle commented. "An' four dead rats to show for it!"

"Derrats!" Lysander gleefully parroted, always looking for any opportunity to flex his fledgling verbal skills.

Browder and Tibball both grimaced at the harebabe's rather bloodthirsty choice of phrase to echo. "Er, yes, that. Let's have a care wot we're lettin' these tots of ours pick up, eh wot?"

Disregarding Browder's squeamish profession of parental caution, Melanie picked up on her daughter's speculation. "Yes, and it seems our Recorder and Badgermum are the only ones Vanessa's taken into her confidence about wot's really going on with her. They've all been rather stiff-spined an' tight-lipped ever since emerging from the study last night - in fact, there they are now down in the orchard, just the three of 'em, plotting 'n' hatching who knows wot schemes. Somebeast has got to get to the bottom of all this; we can't have our Abbey leaders keeping secrets from the rest of us."

"But, if she's really back t' fully bein' Abbess now, don't we hafta follow her lead?" Givadon asked. "I mean, if she's plannin' things, well, isn't it the place of the jolly Abbot or Abbess to plan things for all of us? As long as it doesn't go against Redwall or endanger or harm this Abbey in any way, shouldn't we all just stand back an' support her an' let her be Abbess?"

"That's assuming she's fit to be Abbess. She's already made some unpopular decisions, and demonstrated some questionable behavior."

"She's sure fit to swing a sword," Mizagelle offered, "or wotever it was she did to those rats yesterday. If she's not fit to serve as Abbess, maybe she can try out as Redwall's next Champion!"

"Rather see her return to bein' Infirmary keeper, assuming she remembers all the proper lore for it," Melanie said. "Although I daresay she'll need to polish up her bedside manner a bit, as far as any rat patients go. But I'm sure Arlyn and Metellus would welcome her back. It's hardly fair, placing such a burden on an old retired Abbot and a badger far from his adult seasons."

"We might need all three of them, depending on wot state our rescuers are in when they get back," Givadon put in. "Pity they're too far out into the Plains now to glimpse 'em. It'd be nice t' know how things're goin'. Maybe some of the Sparra who stayed behind could fly out to scope out wot's happening with everyballybeast. You'd think they'd want to know how their own featherfriends 're faring, wouldn't you?"

"We're all on tenterhooks about this, Givvy, an' will be until our loved ones are safely back through our gates - ideally with one ratmaid in tow." Melanie nodded toward a spot just down the walltop from them, where Hekko and Bostany stood gazing out over the battlements to the west. "Look at those two - wife and daughter of a peaceable honey trader who also happens to be a Badger Lord of southern Mossflower. They came here thinking this would be a nice little Abbey vacation of sorts, expectin' no trials 'n' tribulations at all, an' now their patriarch's off on a quest that ends nobeast knows how. That badgermaid's been at nothing but loggerheads with her parents since arriving here, not even caring to be seen with them, and now she an' her mum are joined at the bally hip, waiting to see how this all plays out and hoping for the best. I tell you this: With such selfless and stalwart allies as this Abbey has in that badger, Redwall will never want for worthy supporters in times of need."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Givadon admitted. "They were just here for a bloomin' holiday, an' as honored guests too. Nobeast would've thought any less of 'em if they'd decided to stay outta this. We're Redwallers, an' the Long Patrol too, so we were bound to act on this - even if our newly-restored Abbess warned us not to. The badger brute went above 'n' beyond the call of duty when he volunteered to join the bally chase."

"We could use a chap like that back on the throne of Salamandastron," Mizagelle added with a sigh.

This voiced sentiment, clearly shared by everybeast present (or, if not quite everybeast, at least Tibball and Browder had the good sense not to air any dissent), cast a contemplative silence over the group as they fondly reflected back on what they'd had with Lord Urthfist, and what they could know again someday under a true and proper Lord of the Mountain.

Melanie broke the spell at last. "We'll wait until Clewy and Alexander return, and see how their party fared. Then we'll decide wot to do about Vanessa, if anything, once we've got a fuller slate of Abbey leaders here than we do now. Something like that, the more heads the better."

Farther along the walltop to the other side, Cyril and Smallert stood with Jiriel, who in turn was sticking close to Elmwood. As an avid and accomplished archer herself, the mousemaid had formed a fast friendship with the squirrels of Redwall's Forest Patrol, and Alexander's inclusion in the rescue expedition concerned her as much as it did the other archerbeasts who called Alex their chief.

"Think he'll make it back okay?" she murmured.

"'Course he will," Elmwood assured her, although his tone carried less confidence than his words. "This is Alex we're talking about. Besides, he's got Lady Mina waiting for him here, and that's enough to get any red-blooded malebeast to make sure he makes it back!"

Cyril, showing perhaps less tact than he could have, said, "Although the way things are going between them lately, I'm not sure how true that is anymore. I mean, he did choose to go after Latura instead of staying at Mina's side in the Infirmary."

Elmwood mulled this over. "You know, in spite of all that, I think he still does love her, and she him. That's what makes this whole thing so hard for them. Events have conspired to let conflicting loyalties and clashing philosophies intrude and come between them. Their feelings for each other haven't changed, but everything else has."

"I may be a bit of an outsider in all this," Jiriel said, "so maybe it's not my place, but it seems to me Mina's the only one with conflicted loyalties. Alex has always been a Redwaller to the core, and this Abbey will always come first for him. His wife's the one who has to decide whether she wants to be a Redwaller, or place her loyalty elsewhere."

Elmwood nodded in appreciation of her candor. "Well said, lass, Sometimes an outsider's eyes see the clearest of all."

"And the strife between them's hardly over," Cyril added. "If the rescue expedition fails, Alex might find it hard to forgive her, and if it succeeds in bringing Latura back safely, it'll set them against each other all over again. I mean, she did try to kill Lattie! Might she try to do it again? Or will Urthblood try to snatch Lattie some other way, or even move against Redwall more openly, as the Abbess fears? In some ways, rescuing that rat might cause more trouble than if we fail."

"There is that," Elmwood admitted. "Although the group we have out on this chase aren't ones to fail easily. The Long Patrol, the Guosim, Alexander himself ... throw in a Badger Lord and our Sparra, and I'd say those Gawtrybe have met their match and then some. And after hearing from the Sparra last evening how Sodexo took care of that line of Northland shrews, I'd say Matowick won't stand a chance once we catch up to him. With their arrows all honeyed-up thanks to Vanessa, they'd best just give Lattie over if they know what's good for them!"

Jiriel expressed her skepticism at such a prospect. "I've never met this Lord Urthblood, but I've met his shrews outside these walls with no Abbey mores imposed on them, and I've seen the Gawtrybe under such conditions too, and I don't picture that badger and his forces seeing themselves as ones to fail either. He risked open strife with Redwall, first over the Purge itself and now with Latura, and I think that right there says how far they're willing to go. His squirrels were about ready to slay Lord Sodexo during our journey here when they thought he was prying too much and asking too many unwelcome questions; I can only imagine what they'll do if we try to take Latura back by force!"

"Yes, but we outnumber them," Elmwood reminded her. "Six squirrels, stuck on open, unsheltered plains without even the benefit of their bows, up against our combined force. And with a prisoner slowing them down, I don't see how they'll keep from being overtaken long before they reach the mountain range, much less Salamandastron itself. I'd say that puts the odds in our favor, no matter how formidable Urthblood's fighters are at close combat, or how dedicated to their cause."

Jiriel's gaze travelled down along the ramparts to where Pirkko stood with his pals Droge and Budsock, all three staring intently out toward the Western Plains as if their shared scrutiny could safely and successfully recall the shrewlad's father from his quest. "I hope you're right, sir, because it seems almost everybeast at Redwall has a personal stake in this desperate measure."

Cyril looked to his weasel friend. "What's your take on this, Smallert? You're the only one here who's ever served directly under Lord Urthblood. How do you see things turning out?"

The one-eared weasel considered his words. "Well, not meanin' to throw cold water on ev'rybeast's hopes, but one thing I c'n say is that that badger wants what 'ee wants, an' if he sets 'is sights on a goal he deems important 'nuff, he usually gets it. An' pore Lattie seems pretty important to 'im. I'd not be surprised at anything he pulls t' make this turn out 'is way."

The others digested his comments, and then held their silence even after that, for what more was there to say?

And so all the onlookers along every stretch of the walltop - hare, squirrel, mouse, shrew, badger, hedgehog and weasel - continued their morning vigil, gazing west with all the hope against hope they could muster.

00000000000

"Is it safe to talk here?"

Vanessa replied with a nod. "I hear what Redwall hears, Maura. If anybeast comes within earshot - or, for that matter, tries to read my lips or decipher in some other manner what we're saying - I'll know it."

Winokur digested this. "That is ... somewhat scary. If you don't mind my saying ... "

"Not at all. If the three of us can't speak freely between ourselves after last night, then I don't know if anybeasts can."

It was almost as if the other Abbeybeasts knew not to intrude upon the Abbess, Badgermum and Recorder as they sat in the shade of the orchard's fringes, holding court amongst the three of them as they looked on at the comings and goings of everybeast around them. Their proximity to the sprawling rat encampment may have helped discourage the woodlander segment of Redwall's present population from approaching idly or without urgent need, but the rats themselves also hesitated, giving Vanessa a wide berth after the previous afternoon's Infirmary incident. Thus did the mouse, badger and otter have their small outdoor table to themselves, free to confer and discuss the matters of the moment.

"So," Winokur broached, "how are things going out on the Western Plains? Everybeast here is wondering, and wants to know ... "

"I wouldn't mind knowing for myself," Maura added in her typically earthy manner.

"You mean just at the moment?" Vanessa allowed herself a slight smile. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. Events unfolding in the lands abroad aren't always clear or open to me, even when Redwallers are involved. I can catch glimpses, or perhaps a general feeling or impression, but it's not like these incidents play out right in front of me, before my eyes. All I can say, regarding our ill-advised rescuers, is that they have yet to either succeed or fail - which is pretty much what everybeast has already figured out on their own. Once the situation tips one way or the other, then I might know more. Until then, I see only the grayness of possibilities unrealized."

"And what of Latura?" probed Winokur. "What can you see of her?"

"See? Not much. Feel? That is a different matter."

"And what do you ... feel?" Maura prompted.

"She's fighting me. She's fighting both of us. Urthblood pulls at her, willing her forward to Salamandastron, even as I push, urging her onward to the coast, and her fate. But she is powerful, a kind of wild power I have never seen before, and she resists us both, perhaps without realizing she does so. It may be she will never make it to stand before Urthblood at all, and all our planning and preparations - his and mine both - will amount to nothing. This play is still being written, and I am not about to predict the outcome."

Winokur seemed to take some silent satisfaction over the prophetic ratmaid so disrupting the plans of creatures and spirits seeking either to destroy her or to make her their puppet, but Maura displayed a more mercenary attitude. "So, what do we do?"

"Do?" Vanessa seemed about to laugh, and it would not have been a mirthful one. "What can be done has been done. This is Latura we're talking about. The pieces have been set in motion, but the central piece possesses a stubborn, uncontrollable will of its own. She may yet be delivered before Urthblood, or she may not ... and it has nothing to do with the group from Redwall chasing after her. But if this wild shot of mine goes wide, I cannot predict where it will land, or what will happen. Latura has it within her to cause upheaval to the lands on a scale equal to anything Urthblood himself could bring about, and if his blade fails to find her, I suspect she will not be anybeast's to master."

"So, when will we know?" Winokur asked.

"We'll know when we know. Obviously, if our batch of questors succeeds or fails, we'll know it when they come back through our gates - or, more likely, somewhat before that, since the Sparra are likely to precede them, bearing advance word of the outcome. But if they return without Latura, that's still no guarantee of how things will go. Will she make it to Salamandastron, and if so, will Urthblood act toward her as I anticipate?" Vanessa shrugged. "These things will only be revealed in time."

"Yes, but revealed how?" Winokur pressed. "If Urthblood slays Latura, will you know of it? If he fails to do so, will you somehow sense it? And if fate determines to deposit her somewhere other than the destination you and Urthblood have chosen for her, will you be able to follow her progress and know where she goes? I guess what I'm saying is, how will we know when the deed is done?"

"Latura is like a pebble constantly thrown, always disturbing the calm surface of the next world. As long as she inhabits this one, I will detect her presence, if not her exact state or location. If events unfold as I believe they will, I do not know whether I will perceive the moment of her demise. Will it be a pinprick upon my awareness, or a cataclysm fit to knock me off my footpaws - or will the moment pass entirely unnoticed by me? I may not recognize the exact moment, but I will certainly notice her absence once she is gone.

"As for what the inhabitants of this living world will see, Latura's sacrifice will become plainly evident for all to behold when Urthblood's power starts to crumble. His followers should see it almost at once; indecision where there used to be certainty; incompetence where there used to be mastery; blindness where there used to be foresight; and questioning where there used to be unwavering loyalty. By this time next season, he will no longer rule Salamandastron, or anything else."

"But then Tratton will take it," Winokur warned.

"Tratton can have it. That place won't be fit for decent creatures for a long time. Not after Urthblood."

"And if Latura never makes it to the mountain?" queried Maura. "Then we'll still have Urthblood, who you insist is the greatest threat of all, still commanding his myriad forces, as well as Tratton maintaining his naval power, and then Latura on top of that, running around unleashing Martin only knows what chaos ... um, I mean ... "

Vanessa turned a bemused smile upon the Badgermum. "But Martin doesn't know. Not this time." Her smile faded to a mask of thoughtful intensity. "And now I think we had best change the subject to the weather, or perhaps what Friar Hugh has planned for lunch. Somebeast's coming."

Maura and Winokur tore their attention away from the conversation to behold one of the ratlads, apparently egged on by some of his peers, breaking away from the main rat encampment and approaching the three seated Abbey leaders with tremulous steps. Halting a few paces from them, he nervously ventured, "Excuse me, Brother Otter sir, but are we gonna have any classes t'day? My friends 'n' me were wondr'rin' ... "

Winokur showed surprise at this request. "Well, there's an awful lot going on, and I really don't think - "

"Would you like to have classes?" Vanessa asked the young rat, cutting off the otter Recorder.

The youth shot her an apprehensive look, but continued to address Winokur. "I really think we oughta, sir. It'd help take our minds off Lattie, an' you've allers got just th' right story fer ev'ry occasion. Mebbe you c'n tell us a story that'd help make sense o' what's goin' on now."

"I think that's a splendid idea." Vanessa cast an admiring look upon Wink. "Brother Winokur knows all of Redwall's stories - at least the ones that are fit to tell. I'm sure he can come up with a good one for today."

"Well, Abbess, if you insist ... "

Vanessa turned back to the rat. "See? This can be a fine place for everybeast, can't it?"

The ratlad continued to pointedly ignore her, and it was plain what he was thinking.

"Come here."

The rat eyed her, but stood his ground.

"Come on - I don't bite."

"You slay rats," the ratchild said in a voice too small to be fully accusing.

"I slay enemies of this Abbey. And I will slay anybeast who threatens the family of Redwall. Do you want to be part of the Redwall family?"

"You sent Lattie away ... "

"No, I only tricked her into going outside, in a friendly game of tag. Urthblood's the one who took her away, and means her harm. He means you all harm. None of you would be here at all if it wasn't for his Purge. And I am sworn to protect you all, as long as you obey Redwall's simple rules and dwell among us in peace."

"You didn't protect Lattie."

"No. No, I didn't. And while I hardly expect you to understand today, you must believe me when I say that allowing Urthblood to take Latura was part of protecting all of you too."

"I ... don't understand."

"Of course you don't. And your parents and elders don't either. But that doesn't make it untrue. Now come closer, so I can tell you something very important."

Winokur and Maura both nodded encouragement, even if they weren't sure themselves what the mouse had in mind. "Go on," the otter Recorder gently urged. "It's all right."

Hesitancy in every step, the young creature forced himself to comply, until he stood close enough for the seated Abbess to reach out and rest a paw on his shoulder - which is exactly what Vanessa did.

"I want you to stay here," she earnestly told the ratchild. "You, and all your friends, and your families - and yes, even Harth and his fighters too, as long as they can bring themselves to behave. These are dangerous times for your species - times I do not approve of, and had no paw in shaping. I would have stopped Urthblood long before it came to this, had such been within my power. But it wasn't, so now I will do the next best thing, which is to grant sanctuary to the creatures he would persecute and banish from their own lands, and deliver into hardships unimaginable. As long as this Accord of his persists - as long as he pursues his Purge of your kind - we will shelter as many of you as we are able, and stand in opposition to his actions. We will welcome you as part of our community - and as part of Redwall, you will be safer than anywhere else. As part of Redwall, if Urthblood moves against you, he moves against all of us. And we know how to fight to protect our own."

"You say you want us as part o' yer family, but I betcher you don't even know my name, do you?"

Vanessa put on an air of theatrical umbrage. "Now, what kind of Abbess would I be if I didn't know the names of those under my care, Tristan?"

The ratlad seemed startled at being proven wrong, but then, as Vanessa's mischievous, conspiratorial smile worked on him, he smiled too. This Abbess, this power of Redwall, may have been many things - protector of the vanquished, slayer of rats, conscience of goodbeasts - but she knew his name. The Abbess knew his name!

And that made all the difference in the world.

"Now go run along and have a good lesson with Brother Winokur. I know he enjoys sharing his stories with you almost as much as you enjoy hearing them. And make sure you tell all your friends: I want you all to stay here. I want you to be safe. I want you to be part of Redwall."

"Yes, Abbess! I'll tell them! You c'n be sure I will!"

As otter and rat ambled off, Vanessa noticed the Badgermum staring hard at her. "Yes, Maura, what is it?"

"That was uncanny to witness. Your little pep talk to Tristan - it was far more than just a pep talk, wasn't it? You were using your ... influence on him, weren't you?"

"Naturally. Our rat guests need to have their minds put at ease - and where better to start than with their young ones?"

"Hmmm. Was it even his own idea to wander over here to speak with Wink in the first place?"

"I'll leave that for you to ponder." Vanessa gave Maura a knowing smile. "But I notice you now remember his name too!"