CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

When Rafter came winging back into the Abbey high above the east battlements, nobeast thought anything of it, for Redwall's Sparrafolk came and went as they pleased at all hours. And when the eaves entrances up around Warbeak Loft began to buzz with fluttery commotion, it drew no undue notice either, for sparrows were renowned far and wide for their argumentative, mock-combative natures; some of the Abbey's less-refined residents - namely, the hedgehogs and otters - would ofttimes refer to their feathery neighbors rather indelicately as "shrews with wings" for that very reason. But Redwall's mammalian population was soon to learn that on this day, what they took for ordinary Sparra unruliness did in fact herald events far from the ordinary.

While Highwing, alerted to the situation by Rafter, flew down to seek out Abbot Geoff, the rest of Redwall's avian contingent made a show of themselves in a most spectacular and unexpected fashion. Within a matter of moments they flocked to the east walltop and settled upon the stone crenelations there, descending and landing by the dozen until the ramparts overlooking Mossflower stood so packed with plumage-fluffed bodies that it left hardly a free spot for the hares and squirrels on lookout duty to peer out past them. Making this unanticipated display all the more uncanny was the lack of any words of greeting or explanation from the birds, who let the rush of their wingflaps do all their talking for them. And, once alighted, the scores of sparrows held their positions like silent sentries, affixed to the ancient stonework like statues standing vigil over the dense expanses of the eastern forest approaches.

"Ooo, birdies!" Vanessa grinned and danced in delight at this show of numbers, but those around her were less than enthused and entirely at a loss as to this bizarre behavior from the resident Sparra.

"I say, wot's all this about then?" Lieutenant Gallatin demanded to know.

Harpreet, Skytop and Brybag, nestled close to the hare officer's station, wasted not a moment in puffing themselves up in mock haughty imitation.

"I say I say I say!"

"Wot wot wot, wot!"

"Bally bloomin' blinkin' bafflin', don'tcha don'tcha don'tcha know!"

Gallatin stiffened in exaggerated affrontery. "Hey, now! No mockin' of your superiors, wot? Jolly bad form, don'tcha know."

This set the Sparra youths twittering in shared amusement at the mere notion that a lumbering, wingless hare might consider itself their superior in any way.

"Yes, but what is going on?" Cyril inquired from where he stood with Smallert, Metellus and Vanessa.

"Big happenings, big happenings," the sparrow trio chirped, then Brybag added, "Cyril, you best get going. Abbot Geoff will need you to help sound the bells."

"What? But lunch was only a short time ago, and it's nowhere near dinnertime ... " Then understanding lit the mouse's face. "Oh, is something that dire about to happen?"

"Not dire. Not really. Just ... big."

"Bigbigbig!" Harpreet and Skytop affirmed in unison.

Cyril was about to question the birds for more specifics, but Smallert's paw on his shoulder forestalled further inquiry. "Don't look now, Cyr, but here comes the Abbot even as we speak! Both of 'em, in fact!"

Down on the lawns, Geoff and Arlyn could be seen bustling across the grass - the elder Abbot's bustle a little less bustling than the younger's - toward the east wallstairs. Above them Highwing lopsidedly circled and fluttered, making his own way to the walltop in his own ungainly airborne fashion. Alex and Mina and Colonel Clewiston trailed behind the two mice, along with Lekkas and Clovis, all wearing intrigued if not anxious expressions.

"Wot ho, looks like all th' top brass is turnin' out for this bally picnic, wot?" Gallatin turned to the Sparra. "Just wot could they've been told that would have kicked up such a ruckus, hm?"

"You'll findout, findout!" the three sparrow students teased, refusing to divulge anything further. As it turned out, those on the walltop wouldn't learn much more from the Sparra leader, as Highwing fluttered down onto the ramparts and immediately sought out the bellringer amongst them.

"Ah, Cyril, there you are! Abbot Geoff would like you to go sound the bells for a special tolling," the Sparra chief said, reiterating what Brybag had just inferred to him. "Cyrus has already been informed - you can meet him at the belltower. Hurry along now!"

Cyril, somewhat perturbed at being so ordered about in this manner - for Redwall's birds generally did not issue commands to the Abbey's ground creatures - was tempted to strike a pose of recalcitrance and refuse to take any orders but the Abbot's. "What's this all about? Why are we ringing the bells at this hour? Are we under attack?"

Highwing tilted his head knowingly. "Not an attack, as I am given to understand. Let's just say you'll be sounding the toll for welcome!"

"Welcome?" Cyril echoed, as confused as those around him.

"I'll say no more, until we see more. I don't know all the details myself, and I'd hate to risk spreading false rumors."

Seeing that Geoff and Arlyn had nearly reached the bottom of the wallsteps, Cyril relented and set off so that he'd not be bumping into the two Abbots on the stairs on his way down. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going!"

The knot of Abbey leaders, seeing Cyril start his descent, waited at the foot of the stone staircase until he was down. Then, as the mouse bellringer sped away across the lawns to join his brother in the belfry, they climbed the steps up to the walltop.

"Ah, Abbot," Gallatin greeted them, "or should I say 'Abbots,' wot?" He snapped off a quick salute to Clewiston. "Colonel, sah. Mebbe now we watchers can jolly well get some straight answers, because these pillowstuffin' beakbrains've been no bloomin' help in that regard. So, wot's th' bally bruhaha?"

"We've been told to expect a large number of guests," Geoff replied. "Guests who should arrive at any time, and be greeted as friends, and who may be staying at Redwall for some time. Beyond that ... " He shrugged. "I'm afraid Rafter and Highwing are being somewhat unforthcoming with any further details."

Gallatin narrowed his gaze at Rafter, who perched alongside the three student Sparra on the battlements. "Permission t' wring some information out of 'em, sah."

"Stand down, 'tenant," Clewiston advised. "we'll have no neck-wringin' here - much as I might wish to engage in such activities m'self."

"Yes, it seems our birdfriends have insisted on presenting us with something of a suspenseful mystery," Geoff remarked. "And normally, I would hold that there's nothing wrong with having a little bit of a puzzle or surprise to serve as an intriguing diversion from our daily chores and duties, but in this case, with the Abbey already so overcrowded and now the prospect of many more visitors on the way, I'm having some difficulty seeing this as merely fun and games."

"More like a blinkin' conspiracy if you ask me," Clewiston opined, joining Gallatin in fixing the Sparra with an accusatory glare.

"I don't see why it should be any hardship for us," said Mina. "We just had tenscore Gawtrybe and all of Captain Choock's shrews staying with us, in addition to all the Guosim, who were yet to leave at that time. With all of them gone, surely we'll have room for any new visitors - especially with most of our moles and half our otters away at the quarry as well."

"That may well be, Mina," Geoff reminded her, "but even taking into account our absent friends, we've still nowhere near enough beds. Half the former slaves are still sleeping down in Cavern Hole - and they'll likely all be back to sleeping there once our moles and otters return, since it will still be some time after that before even the first residences of Freetown are ready for occupancy. And if these mysterious strangers coming upon us now mean to dwell here for any length of time, as Rafter has strongly hinted may be the case, or even to settle here permanently, well, we simply haven't the space!"

"Who do you suppose they are?" Lekkas wondered. "Could it be Tolar and his foxes?"

Arlyn shook his head at this. "They've visited us a number of times before, most recently just at the start of this season, and we've never received any such extravagant warning of their arrival. Besides, with the Gawtrybe staying at Foxguard now, I should think Tolar and his foxes would be far too busy to even contemplate a visit to Redwall at this time."

"Unless those bossy treewallopers bossed those brushtailed swordswingers right outta their own fortress," Clewiston joshed, eliciting a frown from Mina. "Wouldn't put it past 'em, wot?"

"Do you think it could be more slaves, liberated from Tratton's empire?" Alex wondered.

Lekkas pursed his lips. "I don't see how. They're coming from the wrong direction for that. Any more freed slaves would be headed here from the coast, from the western shores, where the domain of the searats meets the land."

"Well, there is an Eastern Sea as well," Geoff reminded everybeast. "Who's to say Tratton never had ships and camps out that way as well?"

"I suppose ... " Lekkas conceded, but he didn't sound very convinced.

"Well, we'll know soon enough," said Geoff. "I just hope that whoever they are, there aren't too many of them - or if there are, that they don't plan on staying too long. Extending our hospitality to travellers is all well and good, but even Redwall's capacity for hospitality has its limits. So tell us, my feathery friends, if you refuse to reveal who this is we can expect, or even how many of them there are, can we at least know how much longer before they'll be here?"

"Won't belong, won't belong!" Rafter promised, not even realizing himself the healthy dollop of double meaning contained in his run-together Sparra speech.

Moments later, the mellow, sonorous booms and bongs of Redwall's twin bells, rung to life by the sure paws of the sibling bellringers, tolled out from the tower across the Abbey and its grounds, resounding throughout nearer Mossflower and the Western Plains. The long-seasoned mastery of Cyril and Cyrus gave the peals a sense of serene peacefulness rather than any strident urgency - the toll of welcome which Geoff had requested of them, at Highwing and Rafter's behest.

Not long after, Gallatin twitched an ear and cocked his head. "I say, wot's that I hear?"

Mina relished this opportunity to deliver a smug retort. "Those would be the Matthias and Methuselah bells, if I'm not mistaken."

The Long Patrol lieutenant shot her an acerbic look, but quickly resumed his aural vigilance. "Very funny, marm. Almost humorous. But I'm talkin' about wot I'm hearin' below those blinkin' bells."

Clewiston joined his underling in cock-eared attentiveness; he and Gallatin, being hares, possessed the keenest hearing of anybeast present. "I do say, I believe the lieutenant here's jolly spot-on. Unless these loppy lugs of mine deceive me, I detect singing coming from the forest, dead ahead."

"Singing?" asked several of the others at once.

"Most certainly. Can't decipher the tune just yet, but it's growing louder. Whoever it is, they're headed this way. No doubt about it."

"Shall I send somebeast to go tell Cyril and Cyrus to stop ringing the bells?" Geoff asked. "We might be able to hear them more clearly that way."

"Don't see much point in that, Abbot. By th' time we could likely get those boomers to stop bongin', our guests'll like as not be in view. Besides, isn't the whole point of sounding the welcome toll to welcome 'em? What would they make of it if our bells fell silent just as they drew within sight of our walls?"

"Well, that does make sense, doesn't it?" Smallert agreed, scratching around his missing ear as he was wont to do. "Still can't hear it m'self - havin' only one ear does have its disadvantages, 'specially at times like this."

"It's not just you, Smallert," Arlyn told the weasel. "I don't hear any singing yet either - although in my own case I suspect age might have more than a little to do with it."

"Well, I can claim neither a missing ear nor advanced seasons," Geoff said, "and I'm in the same boat as you two. All I can hear is the Abbey bells."

Clewiston and Gallatin grinned in satisfaction at being able to hear what nobeast else - not least of all Lady Mina, their favorite verbal sparring partner - could. "Just keep your earhorns open 'n' alert, don'tcha know, an' you'll all be making it out soon 'nuff."

The Colonel's prognostication proved entirely accurate. As the moments passed, first some of them and then the rest were able to discern the gruff melody reaching the walltop through the forest, until even Arlyn and Smallert could hear it.

"Tramp tramp tramp, these shrews are marchin',

Through forest thick and friendly rolling plains ... "

"I recognize that tune!" Alex declared. "That's what the Northland shrews were singing, a few days ago when they left Redwall! It must be Captain Choock's company back again!"

"I can't imagine how that could be," Mina countered. "Their assignment was to patrol the borders of the Western Plains. There would be no reason for them to be coming from the east ... or for them to be returning to Redwall at all, for that matter."

"But, it's the same song, Mina!" her husband insisted. "They're even singing about themselves! It's got to be them!"

"Not necessarily," Geoff corrected his old squirrel friend, adopting his academic historian's demeanor. "Pirkko was heard to remark that the Northland shrews' marching song was one he'd heard the Guosim sing as well."

"But that wouldn't make sense either," Alex maintained. "The Guosim are all out at the quarry, and set to leave from there later this season to commence their summertime wanderings once their labors with helping Foremole are finished. Unless ... "

Geoff picked up on Alexander's inference right away. "Unless something very unforeseen has befallen them." Turning to the Sparra, he asked, "Has some misfortune struck our quarrying expedition?"

"Misfortune?" Rafter echoed, the ghost of a smile playing about his beak. "Maybeyes, maybeno. Depends on whosays!"

Highwing stepped in to put the Abbeybeasts' minds at ease. "Abbot, I assure you that if this had truly been any dire emergency or calamity, we'd not be keeping anything from you like this. Nobeast is in any jeopardy or peril, as far as I am aware. Let us just say that those coming to us now had good reason to give advance notice of their arrival, and to do so in such a way as to properly prepare everybeast so that they would not come upon us unawares and create too much of an uproar or alarm."

Geoff sniffed at this. "I would say that if it was an uproar they sought to avoid, they've failed rather spectacularly. At least now we can hear they're shrews, so we know that much. I suppose we'll just have to wait to find out which shrews they are, and what news they bring."

If the hares, possessing the most astute hearing of all the Abbeybeasts, had been the first to hear the songmaking of the approaching shrews over the rolling, musical din of the Matthias and Methuselah bells, then Alex and Mina were the first to spot the travellers between the trees, their sharp squirrel vision unparalleled by that of anybeast else upon the wall. "I see them!" Alex called out, even as his wife straightened upon catching sight of them herself. "Here they come!"

"Are they our Guosim, or Choock's Northlanders?" Geoff asked, his impatience betrayed by his tone as he and everybeast else strained forward to see out between all the perched Sparra.

"Can't tell quite yet. They'll have to get closer, and more fully emerge from among the trees, before I can be sure. It would help if we had one of Lord Urthblood's magic long glasses, but without it, you'll just have to rely on our naturally keen squirrel sight!"

"Of course, of course." Again, Geoff's voice could not hide his frustration over this entire situation.

As the moments crawled by, the distant singing gradually grew louder until it competed with the song of the Abbey bells. Alex screwed up his face, struggling to make the visual details of the nearing creatures come into focus at the earliest possible instant. And, when they finally did, he swayed back on his footpaws, a perplexed expression on his features.

"Well, they're the Guosim - that much is clear from their colored headbands. But ... "

"But what?" Geoff squinted, willing himself to see as much detail as the squirrel could, but falling far short.

Alex looked to his Abbot. "But most of those creatures marching with them aren't shrews."

Mina, for her part, stood mute and ashen-faced, gaping at the advancing column as if witnessing something utterly impossible ... and not at all welcome.

"Yes," Geoff muttered, "yes, I can see that there are beasts of different sizes, but who are they? The otters we sent with them to the quarry? Our moles? Have they abandoned their mission there altogether?"

Alex scrutinized the newcomers anew. "I'm not seeing any moles among their company, although I do see a few otters - most notably, one in a green habit at the head of the marchers. But most of them aren't otters, either."

"Well, what then?"

Alex looked Geoff in the eye, his face taut. "Rats."

"Rats?" Geoff spoke the word as if it were entirely foreign, for it surely had no place in their present conversation.

"Scores of rats, by the look of it. They're by far the most numerous of all the species I can make out."

Gallatin, whose hare vision was still sharper than that of any mouse present, scanned the forest with paw to brow. "I'm thinkin' he's right, much as I hate t' say it. Looks like a big old gang of those gnarltoothed uglyheads, bein' herded straight to us by our shrew friends."

Mina continued to stand silent, eyes wide as she took in this most unexpected spectacle. But now she had company in Lekkas and Clovis, who wore stupefied mortification like paired masks. For these former slaves of the Searat Empire, what they beheld now was like a nightmare slouching toward them out of their dread past.

"But ... but ... how could this be? What in the name of Martin could they possibly be thinking?"

Vanessa, who'd been leaning out over the battlements between Skytop and Brybag, whipped her head around at this imprecation from the Abbot. "I heard that, Pinky!"

Geoff stomped right up to Highwing and Rafter. "Okay, no more games from you two! I want explanations, and I want them now, before that horde reaches our gates! Did you know rats were on the way here?"

"I apologize for this subterfuge, Abbot," said Highwing, "but Winokur thought it was for the best, and had Rafter impress upon me that this was the way to receive them."

"Winokur? What has he to do with any of this?"

"From what I am given to understand, Abbot, this is not a horde at all, but a community of sanctuary-seekers who came upon our party at the quarry and asked for help. And Winokur, upon hearing them out, decided that their cause was just and agreed to escort them to Redwall."

Lekkas found his voice at last. "Sanctuary-seekers? You can't mean ... Abbot, those creatures must not be allowed inside these walls! Not after everything we've endured at the paws of their kind! Our newest residents moreso than any of us! It would be more than we could bear!"

"I understand fully, Lekkas, and I assure you that no rat shall set paw or claw across our threshold until I have gotten to the bottom of this ... and then we shall like as not send these filthy vagabonds packing back to where they came from. Winokur must not have been thinking straight; he would have to realize what effect the presence of so many rats would have on woodlanders who suffered under searat enslavement."

"I do not believe he acted as impetuously as you seem to think, Abbot," Highwing hastened to explain to the flustered, indignant mouse. "Rafter was most clear that Winokur believes these rats have some connection to Redwall, and to Vanessa in particular - that one among them is linked somehow to our former Abbess, and that forces of destiny are at play here."

"Destiny? That's ridiculous! They're rats, not fated beasts! I'll hear no more of such silliness, from you or from Wink ... and when that otter gets here, I'll have a rudder to straighten out!"

Arlyn stepped up to Geoff, a pensive look on his face. "This might not be silliness. For days now, Vanessa has been going on about rats, about them being inside the Abbey even. You might like it or you might not, but she knew they were coming. She knew, and none of us heeded her."

Geoff shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a buzzing gnat. "No, I don't believe it! It's just a coincidence! Vanessa is always prattling nonsense, most of which doesn't even mean anything!"

"I must beg to differ, Geoff. You remember how adamant she was that Winokur accompany our expedition to the quarry? The very same Winokur who has decided that these rats must be brought here ... and the very same quarry where these rats journeyed in quest of whatever salvation they seek. She not only knew they were coming, but she wanted them to come here."

Geoff was reduced to wide-eyed silence, caught between reluctance to disagree with Redwall's elder Abbot and refusal to accept what he was hearing. Down the walltop a few paces, Vanessa squealed, "She's almost here! I think I can see her!"

Lady Mina finally turned away from the battlements. "All this speculation is neither here nor there. Lekkas is right: Those rats must not be allowed inside this Abbey. We must dispatch a Sparra messenger to Foxguard at once, to summon Custis and the Gawtrybe. They will know how to deal with this."

"I hardly think that's necessary, Mina," Geoff stated, regaining his composure somewhat. "We have more than enough able-bodied defenders here to cope with any trouble those rats think to cause - especially if, as we've been told, they're not a horde at all but just a travelling company in quest of shelter and sanctuary."

Alexander studied the column, whose leading elements were even now threading their way along the forest trail between the last of the trees before the woods gave out to the narrow clearing just beyond the Abbey walls. "I don't know, Geoff - a lot of those rats look like fighters to me. And they're all still armed."

"Log-a-Thing and Wink must jolly well trust that lot," Clewiston surmised, "to've let 'em keep their blades 'n' bows."

"We can't know what kind of truce they worked out between them," said Arlyn, "or what kind of accommodations or understanding they've reached. Besides, even peaceful creatures have the right to arm themselves, and often do. It doesn't mean they're hostile ... and in this case they can't be, since they're marching freely with Redwallers and Guosim. Something is going on here that none of us can explain, and I suggest we not rush to any rash judgments or conclusions until we know far more than we do now."

Alex ran his gaze across the vanguard of the marchers. "I suspect you're right, Arlyn, because things just got weirder. Unless my eyes deceive me, they've got a hare with them as well. Colonel, perhaps you'd care to verify that I'm not seeing things?"

Clewiston and Gallatin both followed the squirrel's gaze, focusing on the creature in question. "I'd rather say you're seeing more than wot's there, if anything. That's no hare down there, not by an ear's length; that's a rabbit."

Smallert looked to everybeast else. "So, um, does that make it more strange, or less so?"

"I think we can be sure of only one thing," Arlyn said, folding his paws into his habit sleeves as the Matthias and Methuselah bells trailed off into a fading silence. "And that is that we will have many stories to hear from the company which now stands outside our eastern gate."

Down below, the marchers drew to a halt twoscore paces from the base of the wall. All the rats gazed up in wonder, scarcely daring to believe that they now stood within the shade of the legendary Redwall Abbey.

"Looks like yer bird friend got a big welcoming turnout for us," Harth commented to Winokur. "Long as none of 'em have shafts, stone or spears they mean t' send our way ... hey, the bells have stopped. What does that mean?"

"Probably that they've still got th' sense that seems to've abandoned us," Log-a-Log grunted, "and have decided not t' welcome you after all, now that they've gotten an eyeful of you."

"That's what we're here t' find out, ain't it?" Harth looked to Winokur again. "This's your play, friend - we'd not be here if not fer you, an' I s'pect we're not gettin' through that gate without your further help. So, what now?"

"Well, I - "

"Yeowch!" came a shrill cry from their left, followed by the muted thump of a body hitting the ground.

Up on the walltop, Vanessa had dug into her supply of candied chestnuts and let one fly with vicious velocity toward the rats at the head of the now-halted column. All heads turned to her with the realization of what had happened. "Vanessa! What do you think you're doing?" Geoff scolded as she loosed another with equal ferocity. Alex lunged forward and grabbed her arm before she could launch a third edible projectile.

Arlyn gazed down at the two fallen rats. "Well, so much for a warm welcome ... "

Harth barely had time to glance aside and register Palter's prone form before cries arose from all around him.

"It's an attack!"

"They're hurlin' slingstones at us!"

"Fall back! retreat!"

Harth ducked and covered his head, silently castigating whichever rat had issued a retreat order without his authorization, even as the second chestnut took Patreese in the knee and brought the rodent patriarch to a clumsy, half-fallen squat. Latura, who seemed not the slightest bit flustered by this unprovoked fusillade, reached down to retrieve the object which had struck her father, sniffed at it, then popped it in her mouth and happily, loudly crunched away even as so many of those around her dove and scattered.

"Mmm ... tasty!" she declared, and ambled over to Palter. Ignoring the downed and moaning rat, she plucked up the first thrown chestnut and gobbled it as well. "Yum! I been dreamin' o' these!" Latura beamed and waved up at Vanessa. "Thank you, nice mousie!"

Harth slowly, cautiously arose from his defensive crouch. "Uh ... what th' fang just happened?"

Log-a-Log had all he could do to keep from guffawing. "That t'weren't no attack, an' it didn't come from any fightin' beast neither. An' if that's all it takes t' set yer skintails runnin' like frightened babes, I reckern y' ain't so tough after all."

"Hrmph." Harth straightened his tunic, looking to Palter and Patreese. "Are those two alright? Not that I really care about the scrawny one ... "

Winokur helped Castor lift Patreese gingerly back to his feet. "Just a glancing blow, I'm happy t' say," the older rat reported as he flexed his leg. "At my age, I'm afraid it don't take much t' put me on my knees, 'specially after all that marchin'. Think I'll be awright."

Two of Harth's other rats went to check on Palter; the slight rodent lay on his back clutching at his bruised temple and the welt rising there. "Ooo, my head ... !"

Harth stood watching Latura chewing her prizes. "So, what was all that about, anyway?"

"Remember how I was telling you about our Abbess who wasn't quite herself after she suffered a head injury? The one who seemed to share some phantom bond with Latura?" Winokur nodded toward the walltop. "Well, she's just introduced herself, in a manner of speaking."

"How delightful. One daft fool has delivered us to another."

"Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?" Winokur said with a grin. "So, I was thinking I should go in first, with maybe Log-a-Log, to fully explain to the Abbey leaders what's going on while the rest of you wait outside. Normally, for a company as large as this, we'd have you come around to the main west gates on the path, but there's no point in doing that until the decision is made whether or not to admit you."

"Gotta get in, Greenpup!" Latura swallowed the last of her sweet chestnuts and arced her paw toward the Abbey. "Gotta be inside th' walls!"

"Um, yes, we'll have to see about that, won't we? Anyway, as I was saying, I think you'll all be more comfortable waiting here on this side, where you can relax in the shade of the forest trees, or going around to the south wall, where there's a nice sunny meadow for anybeast who prefers warmth and soft ground to rest upon. It's up to you; feel free to do whichever you like."

"Shouldn't one of us go in with you, like at the quarry?" Harth asked. "Me, or Lattie an' her pa, or all three of us? Your leaders'll wanna hear our story, so why not hear it from us right at th' start?"

"I'm ... not sure they're ready for that yet," the otter Recorder explained. "The quarry was neutral territory, not owned by any creature or faction, so meeting there as we did only made sense. Redwall is my home, and I know it as well as I know myself, so trust me when I say that having any rats inside our gates at this time would ... present certain challenges, shall we say?"

Harth nodded. "Yeah, all those former slaves o' searats you told us 'bout, right?"

"Exactly. I think I'll have some waters to smooth over, some fur to smooth down, and some nerves to settle before we can even think of inviting any of you in. I'm sure you understand how your presence here has undoubtedly affected any number of our current residents."

Harth shrugged. "Whatever. Lattie wouldn'ta led us all this way if it wasn't gonna help us, so we'll abide out here until you Abbeyfolk get it all sorted out 'mongst yerselves. We can wait all afternoon, or night, or however long it takes."

"Fine." Winokur turned to Log-a-Log, and found the shrew chieftain deep in whispered conversation with Tibball. "Well, are we heading in now?"

Log-a-Log stepped back toward the rest of his Guosim, motioning for the rabbit to join Winokur instead. "On second thought, Wink, I think I'll stay out here an' help see to our guests, an' let Tibball go in my place. He's eager to see Redwall, an' he'll not ruffle feathers or fur the way th' rest o' this lot would."

Harth bristled at this unexpected change of plans, worried what the rabbit might say when he was able to speak freely without any rats around to intimidate him. Sure, Tibball had played along to the rats' benefit so far, but what was to prevent him now from revealing to the Redwallers how he'd been treated and threatened upon first encountering the rodents, and coloring the woodlanders' perceptions and feeding their fears and prejudices until the Abbey gates were locked against the refuge-seekers?

He shook his head. "No. The rabbit stays here."

Log-a-Log flashed Harth a superior grin. "In case you ain't've noticed, ye're at Redwall now. You don't get t' give orders here. This bunny wants t' go in, so that's where 'ee's goin'. An' if you got a problem with that, then mebbe that'll tell us what we need t' know about lettin' you in."

Harth clenched his jaw, quickly realizing he'd miscalculated and had no choice but to relent. "Of course, ye're right. Don't wanna get off on the wrong foot, now do we?" He strode over to Tibball, throwing an exaggerated companionly paw around the rabbit's uncertain shoulders. "You go on in, with my full blessin', Tibbs, an' don't ferget to make sure these folk understand how well we've been treatin' you. Lattie an' her kin an' all these ratwives 'n' young 'uns 'n' oldsters 're countin' on you t' do the right thing."

"Um, yes, of course ... "

"Great. Now run inside an' have fun!"

Eyeing the rat leader warily, Winokur took Tibball by the arm and escorted him to the small east wallgate, upon which he rapped with authority. "Open up, in the name of Redwall!" he called out in a voice pitched to penetrate the wooden barrier. "You got a land-weary otter and a tired bunny asking for admittance!"

The gate latch quickly clicked and the door swung open. Two Long Patrol hares stepped out to usher them within with all haste; Tibball's eyes were so wide with amazement at the sight of the two magnificent fighting beasts that he nearly walked into the open door until Winokur steered him around it. As soon as the four creatures were past the threshold, the gate slammed shut with unapologetic abruptness.

Log-a-Log looked to Harth with another domineering grin. "Well, just us wanderers 'n' ruffians left out 'ere now, eh?"

"If that's what you wanna call yerselves."

A few paces away, Latura stood with her father and brother, arms wrapped around herself as she gazed up at the high wall. "Can't stay out here. Gotta get in. Greenpup's gotta get us in ... "

Harth went over to her. "So, whaddya see fer us now, Lattie? We made it to Redwall. We're here. Ain't we safe now?"

"Only safe inside th' walls. That's the only good red. Out here, th' bad red c'n still get us ... "

"Won't the Redwallers help us, even if we stay out here? Isn't that why you brought us here?"

"Never said they'd help us. Only that we'll be safe inside. Not out here. Inside."

These words confused Harth; all this time, he'd acted on the assumption that the Abbeybeasts were bound to aid them, which was the entire purpose of their march to Redwall. If Latura was now saying something different, if he'd somehow misunderstood the entire nature of her prophetic warnings ...

He glanced to Castor and the wobbly-kneed Patreese, but they clearly shared his own confusion over the matter. "Lattie, what happens now? Are we safe, or ain't we? What does yer vision show you? What lies ahead fer us?"

"What happens?" She continued gazing up at the walltop, without meeting any particular set of eyes amongst all those who gazed back down at her. "Can't really see. It ain't really clear. Other warrior's thick here, an' that's makin' things all confused an' mixed up an' misty, like back on th' path. It's like that fog agin, only in my head. Can't see through it, or past it. No way o' seein' what comes next."

Grota, who'd been standing near enough to overhear this exchange, looked to his General with concern. "So, um, what does that mean, sir?"

"It means we tell ev'ryrat that we're safely at Redwall, jus' like we aimed to be, an' jus' like we're meant to be. That's all anyrat needs t' know. No sense in spreadin' worries over somthin' that could be nuthin'. Just 'cos Lattie can't see beyond this moment doesn't mean somethin' bad's gonna happen. Could mean just the opposite, in fact: That she's delivered us where we hadta be, an' she can't see our future anymore because her work's done, an' so she doesn't have to."

"Yeah ... that could be it ... " Grota said dubiously.

Latura took a few steps closer to the wall, craning her neck. "Hey, mousie up there! Got any more o' those sweet nuts?" She opened her jaws wide and pointed into her greedy, gaping maw, as if inviting Vanessa to lob a candied chestnut right into it. "Gnnahaaahaarmph!"

"Then again," said Grota, worried creased furrowing his brow, "mebbe th' rat we put our fate 'n' faith in is just plain nuts."