Part Two: Redwall

Chapter Twenty-one: Portraits and Tapestries

Swike felt pulled between panic, despair, and urgency. She had to deliver a good report to Lord Koron this night; she had no other choice. With this thought on her mind, she skipped her usual dawn nap and became one of the first beasts at the breakfast table, called by the morning bells. When Maren stumbled sleepily into the room, her eyes fell on Swike and she marched over to the girl.

"You're up early," she said with a smile. Swike just nodded. "What's that?" asked Maren, pointing at the object on the table before Swike.

"It's my journal," said Swike, looking down at the notebook as well. "I keep my sketches and diary entries in here. I just felt like drawing today."

"Oh that's right," said Maren, hastening to sit down. "Lifil said you were a good artist. Can I see some of the things you've drawn?"

"Sure," said Swike, pushing her journal up to her face so that she could crack the book open without anybeast else seeing what was inside. "But only a few of the drawings. Most of them are just sketches and I'd rather that nobeast saw them." Finding a picture of trees overshadowing a stream, Swike let the book open wider and set it down on the table.

"Ooo! That's so pretty! If you can draw beasts as well as you draw landscapes, you'll give Chinley a run for his money!"

Swike blinked as she heard, again, the name of the old squirrel in the attic, but she simply brought her journal back to her nose and flipped to a picture of two moles. As she let Maren look at it, she asked the question on her mind. "What do you know about Chinley?"

Maren chuckled. "Now there's a mysterious beast! I don't think anybeast 'cept Haley, and maybe the Abbess, know much of anything about Chinley. Badgermum told me once that he was a loner even when he was young. Never played much outside. She said she used to find him in the oddest places though; he'd find his way into cupboards and cabinets that everybeast was certain had been locked before he crawled inside. And he'd usually be found with some handicraft or other in his little paws. Even when he comes downstairs for meals nowadays, you can't expect much from him. He's just so quiet, reserved, you know? About once a season, he gives one of his crafts away, either to one of the older beasts who knew him from his younger days, or to the abbey as a whole. I could show you some of them, if you'd like. Most have been stored either in Cavern Hole or the gatehouse over the years."

"I'd like that," said Swike, lying down her book to show Maren the picture of her "baby brother" who had been drowned.

Swike continued asking questions about Chinley of whoever would speak with her that day, but Maren was right in assuming that nobeast knew much about him. The two mousemaids spent the first part of the morning examining many of his works of art. He had done many small sculptures which had been set up in Cavern Hole along one wall. Swike could see that his tastes varied. Some of wood, others stone, still others metal. A few of the sculptures were easily identifiable: a mouse sitting in a chair, a sparrow preening its feathers, a painted wooden cake that looked so good that Swike wanted to cut herself a slice. Other sculptures were completely unrepresented though. They looked like a hodgepodge of shapes and textures. Most of these sculptures held no value in Swike's eyes, though one caught her interest. Somehow, Chinley had constructed a metal obstruction which balanced on a thin, metal rod which slimmed to a point at the top. The balancing piece of metal could even be given a push so that the entire object spun in a circle. Maren finally had to drag Swike away, reminding her that Chinley had more artwork in the gatehouse.

Clouds of dust rose as the two mousemaids walked into the old gatehouse. Swike's paws were itching to crack open a few of the scrolls and books around her, but she couldn't with Maren at her side. Instead she simply tagged along as Maren walked her around, pointing up at painting after painting and drawing after drawing hanging on the walls. Swike lost interest quickly as she thought of the portraits which she herself would have to draw that day. Within no time, she convinced Maren to follow her outside where she planned on starting her first drawing.

Swike shifted her footpaw nervously.

"Oh come on!" said Maren. "I know she'll say yes. What are you worried about?" With that, Maren knocked on the door.

After a short pause, the door opened creakily. "Yes dear? How may I help you?" The Abbess' smile seemed to create wrinkles on top of her wrinkles.

Maren began bobbing up and down on her heels with excitement. "Oh, Rosethorn wants to draw a portrait of you! Can she? Can she please?"

"A portrait of me?" The Abbess grinned. "Little old me? And what have I done to deserve such an honor?" Swike sighed inwardly. The Abbess was pleased, maybe even genuinely flattered. The elderly mouse opened the door wider and motioned for the two mousemaids to enter. "Do I need to sit still for you? My old joints don't hold as well as they used to." She sat down in a plump chair near the window.

"No, I can draw you even if you're moving around. I'll probably look more at my drawing than you once I get started anyway."

"That's good dear. But please, don't make me look so old and wrinkly. I do have my pride." The mouse smiled.

"I'll do my best Abbess." Swike sat down on a wooden chair in the corner. Maren sat down beside her but kept jumping up at odd moments, and as Swike drew, she kept up an animated conversation with the old mouse before them, often reassuring the Abbess that Swike was an exceptional artist and had even draw a self-portrait only that morning. Swike grinned as she picked up Maren's obvious hints that she wouldn't mind a portrait done of herself.

Over dinner that evening, Swike felt exhausted. She stared straight ahead, but she didn't see or hear anything around her. She just sat without moving, except for her writing paw which she continually flexed. She had never drawn so much in her life, and she knew she still had a bit more artistry to do as well as her report to write up. At least I can use the excuse that I'm tired since I got up so early and they'll let me go to bed early. I can start on my report right after dinner instead of waiting a few more hours. She yawned hugely.

A paw shook in front of Swike's face. The spy turned to look at the mouse beside her, blinking sleepily.

"You look like you're going to fall right to sleep in your deeper 'n ever pie," remarked Maren. "If you're not terribly hungry, you can go to bed now."

Swike's stomach felt like an empty pit, but it was more important for her to finish her report and send it off than it was for her to eat. "I'm not hungry," she lied, "just tired." She got up and made her way to the stairs. Nobeast hindered her or asked her why she was turning in so early. Before she knew it, she was standing in her room.

"If only I could splash some water in my face," she mumbled. She yawned as she began rifling through her journal to the drawings she had done earlier that day. She took out a blank page and lay it over the drawing of the Foremole, beginning a quick outline sketch of it. She had already done a sketch of herself and the Abbess to fill back in later. She had told everybeast whom she had drawn that day that they couldn't have their portraits until she put the finishing touches on them.

Swike sighed heavily as she worked on the mole's sketch. This drawing had been particularly hard to do. The Foremole had been more than a little embarrassed when Swike asked if she could drawn him and the entire time he kept blushing and covering up his face with his paws. Still, Swike had managed to finish the portrait, and when she had shown it to the mole, he beamed with pride, saying he couldn't wait to show his wife. "He'll have to wait at least a few days," Swike mused aloud.

Finishing the sketch, she set the actual drawing aside. It would be rolled up with the others to be sent to Lord Koron. Swike pulled out her drawing of the Skipper and a clean piece of parchment. This drawing was the least life-like in appearance. She would have to apologize profusely in her report for its poor quality, but it was the best she could do based on memory alone. As she sketched out the outlines of the otter's face onto her separate piece of parchment, Swike was grateful that she was such a quick artist. It would have been impossible for her to pull off this feat otherwise.

As the sun began to set, Swike lit a candle and got to work on her actual report. She didn't have nearly as much to say as she should have after receiving such a fierce reprimand, but her excuse was in the amount of time it took to draw up the four portraits. Mostly, she sent apologies and promises in her report, but at the moment she was too tired to be overly nervous about how mad Koron would be with her.

With every intention of exploring the tunnels under the abbey building and sitting up for a few hours in the gatehouse the next day, Swike rolled up her report and portraits. She stuffed them into an arrow, grabbed up her bow, and left the room.

Stepping outside, the cool breeze helped to wake Swike up a bit. Really, just holding her bow helped her to open her eyes wider. She loved shooting and she had never once shot an arrow mid-yawn and didn't plan on doing so today. Swike climbed to the walltop and found her oak tree in the dark. She shot off her fourth report, watching it fly away from her into shadow.

Unstringing her bow unconsciously, Swike stood where she was, her eyes and ears narrowed onto the huge tree. She heard the wings first and then she saw a dark shape rising above the trees. Her report was on its way and a response would probably be winged down to an archer before morning.

Swike started. An archer! Why hadn't I thought of this before? Of course, Swike knew that Lord Koron's response had been delivered to her that morning via an archer, but she hadn't thought about who that archer might be. Somewhere out there, there's an archer, right now. Swike squinted into the night. Where? The wood? Or maybe the ditch. Swike began walking across the wall toward the northwestern corner. She gazed out across the road but nobeast was visible down below. I probably know the archer, thought Swike, biting her lip. I spent time with them when I was with the army. I spent time with Riss. Swike could see the tall rat in her mind's eye. Her actual eyes scanned the ground again, hoping against hope to see the archer who would deliver all of her commands.

I'm being silly, Swike thought sudden, heading for the nearest set of stairs. There's no reason for me to be thinking of Riss anyway, no reason at all. Annoyed with herself now, Swike quickly made her way toward the abbey building. I'm too tired to be thinking about anything unnecessary. I still have to wake up before dawn tomorrow.

Riss…

Swike squeezed her eyes shut as she entered the Great Hall. She didn't know what was wrong with her that she was having such thoughts. She had a job to do! Opening her eyes again, Swike began charging across the Great Hall. Her thoughts were more on Riss and the fact that she shouldn't even be thinking of him than on where she was going though, and she didn't see the beast standing in the room until she was on top of them.

Quickly, Swike jumped back, but it was too late. She had knocked the beast over; the creature was lying on the ground. As they stirred and sat up, Swike saw just how suspicious she would appear. She had been out in the grounds after dark; she now held a bow but no arrows. In a panic, Swike held her bow behind her back with one paw, but it was a useless action. Anybeast would see she was hiding something, and even in the dark Hall, they would most likely see what that something was.

The creature at Swike's feet began rubbing their eyes as if they'd been asleep. Otter, thought Swike. She blinked in surprise.

"Lifil? What are you doing here, now?" She hadn't seen Lifil all day. She had assumed that the young otter was off sulking somewhere since she hadn't been able to accompany the other warriors in pursuit of the serpent the day before.

Lifil glanced up into Swike's face and then looked at the wall. Swike found the otter's actions so odd that she followed the maid's eyes to the wall as well. Both beasts were right in front of the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. The moonlight coming in through the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the Hall touched neither beast, but it fell bright across the mouse in the tapestry.

The hairs on the back of Swike's neck stood up.