CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"So, will you aid us in this campaign?"

Deltus, chieftain of the Barrenoak squirrels, sat on his haunches across from his visitors. Barrenoak's miniature city of a drey - a sprawling, multilevel collection of platforms and shelters built within the branches of an ancient, leafless oak supported by guy lines lashed to surrounding trees - lacked any formal gathering hall or reception chamber. Its residents generally kept to themselves, their home largely unknown to most of the creatures in Mossflower, so they seldom had occasion to entertain outsiders, and when it came time to hold any sort of celebration, the tribe members simply spilled all throughout their settlement and into the surrounding forest as they pleased. This part of the woodlands was theirs, and they used it as their own.

Now they found themselves hosting a rare visit from the wider world beyond their immediate territory, made by scouts who'd actively sought out Barrenoak with the purpose of serving as envoys to the secretive squirrel clan. Meeting in Deltus's private quarters high in the upper branches, the trio of seekers sat facing the squirrel chieftain and as many of the other Barrenoak elders and warriors as could squeeze into the fairly confined space. Many more sat, lay, hung or dangled from and upon the limbs just outside the arboreal chamber, following the conversation as best they could through the open door and windows.

Deltus raised his cup of acorn ale to his lips, studying the Gawtrybe contingent over its rim. "And just what kind of 'aid' did you have in mind?"

Corporal Arway set down his own cup, half-drained to his satisfaction. "You've most patiently heard us out here, friend Deltus, and for that we are most appreciative - as we are for your hospitality, which we were given to understand is only rarely extended to outsiders such as ourselves. I have laid out for you Lord Urthblood's plans for this present campaign, in as much detail as I am allowed. What I wish to know now is, simply, will you cooperate with us in this endeavor?"

Deltus took a long draught of his tribe's custom-brewed beverage, savoring the oaky sweetness and apparently not caring in the least about keeping the threesome of Northland delegates waiting. Smacking his lips, he replied, "As you have already heard me say, my tribe and I are no friends to vermin an' villains, having put many in their graves over the seasons. Our usual routine, when such vile types intrude into our domain, is to shadow them to make sure they're not up to no good. If they traverse our woods without raising our ire or making a nuisance of themselves, we may let them pass unmolested. But the moment they reveal evil intent, we take care of them the Barrenoak way. I should hope you're not asking us to alter our longstanding customs in this area?"

"Not at all," Arway assured the clan leader. "We would never ask any settlement to lower its vigilance or compromise its defenses. You must of course always look to the safety and security of your squirrels, and the other goodbeasts sharing this part of Mossflower with you. If you determine for yourselves that a legitimate threat is to be eliminated after your own fashion, that will always be your right and your discretion to exercise."

"And that wouldn't ... interfere with your campaign?" Deltus queried.

"Why would it? Once a beast is dead, it's of no account to us. It's the living ones which concern us."

"During my visits to Redwall, I have heard much of the legendary archery expertise of the Gawtrybe. Are you sure any will be left alive by the time you're finished?"

Arway seemed genuinely taken aback by this suggestion. "We aren't conducting a campaign of extermination here."

"Call it what you like. But I've no doubt that when you meet with resistance - as you most surely will - those arrows of yours will come out of their quivers. And when they do, I'd not like to be the beast on the receiving end of your shafts."

"We are not cruel, Chief, or heartless. But we will do what we must - to satisfy the conditions of the Accord, and to maintain the fragile peace between Terramort and Salamandastron that Lord Urthblood has worked so hard to achieve."

"So what would you have of us? Murderers and thieves we can slay, but we are no guard force. Barrenoak is not a garrison. We can neither arrest beasts nor detain them, even were we willing to do so - which I am not sure we are."

"That would, of course, entail you becoming a fully active participant in these campaigns," said Arway. "If you were willing to go that far, we would certainly welcome you as allies. But even if you are not, there might well be certain other levels of ... cooperation which would benefit our cause, and earn you Lord Urthblood's appreciation and thanks."

"I suppose there are worse creatures to have indebted to me than a Badger Lord of Salamandastron. Go on."

"At the very least, Lord Urthblood enjoined me to guarantee two promises from you. The first is that, even if you should decline to play an active role in this campaign, that you swear you'll take no steps to oppose it, or to interfere in any way."

"I should safely be able to promise that much," said Deltus, "since, from what I gather, most of your activities will likely take place beyond our territory, and what you do in the wider lands is none of our affair. As to what happens in our part of the forest, perhaps we shall have to wait and see how that unfolds, and what complications arise. Sometimes these things are best decided on a case-by-case basis. We certainly will not seek to aid your quarry, but beyond that, I am not prepared to promise anything just yet. And the second guarantee you sought from us?"

"Only your discretion. That you will not share what we have discussed here today with anybeast outside Barrenoak. At least not until our campaign is well underway, and becomes common knowledge throughout Mossflower."

"That promise should not be too hard to keep, since we keep to ourselves, and to this neck of Mossflower. But may I ask why you would demand this of us? I would think you'd seek more alliances, just as you have with us."

"Not everybeast dwells in the heart of the wilderness as you do, or can thus appreciate the villainy of wicked creatures through firstpaw experience. Some - particularly those who dwell behind the safety of high, thick walls - follow a custom of compassion those without such walls could ill afford to practice. One might even wonder whether, in matters such as this, they may have grown too compassionate for their own good."

"You speak of Redwall."

"I do."

"The Redwallers and I are friends, Corporal. Just so you know."

"Of course. Lord Urthblood himself considers Redwall an invaluable ally. He is pledged to come to their aid in times of trouble, and has personally seen to the strengthening of their defenses. But the ways of a peaceful Abbey are quite different from those of a badger warrior looking to avert, if he may, the greatest crisis these lands have ever faced."

Deltus allowed a smirk to curl his lip. "I know some hares living there who are convinced Lord Urthblood is the crisis."

"The enmity of the Long Patrol is well known to us .. and is to be expected, I suppose, from creatures who chose to face us on the field of battle, and lost badly. Now, I'm not saying that Redwall is bound to oppose us on this matter, but there is always the chance that they will allow their misguided ideals to get the better of them. And with agitators and provocateurs like the Long Patrol living among them, they may be stirred to action they would not otherwise take. Their sanctuary is big; can you imagine how matters might be complicated if large numbers of asylum-seekers start showing up at their gates? Now, if we can keep these goodhearted Abbeybeasts from knowing any of this, until our work is largely underway ... " Arway shrugged. "Perhaps it would all be to their own good."

"I find it odd that you should speak so strongly against compassion, when your own Lord showed compassion enough to take large numbers of vermin into his service and treat them as he would goodbeasts."

"That was always more a matter of taming them rather than rewarding them - less about compassion than doing what needed to be done."

"I will not lie to my allies at Redwall."

"And we would not ask that of you. But I see no Redwallers here at the moment, and I have very good reason to believe they will be kept too busy by their present circumstances for any of their residents to get away from the Abbey for a visit to Drey Barrenoak. So busy, in fact, that they would not be able to properly entertain you should you be considering the trek up there."

Deltus helped himself to another long drink of ale. "It just so happens, I was looking forward to another Redwall visit now that the weather has turned warmer. Perhaps before this season is out."

"The season has only recently begun. That should give us the time we need. Although, if you could belay your travels to early summer, all the better - for everybeast involved."

"Everybeast but the ones you'll be hunting, you mean."

"The Accord is the Accord, Chieftain. Its conditions must be upheld."

"I never signed that Accord, nor was I ever consulted on it, nor was anybeast else in Mossflower. That said, I have no intention of getting in your way, and as long as you go about doing what you need to do without causing too much fuss or disruption, I can't imagine you'll encounter much resistance from other woodlanders either. And if the Redwallers object to your aims and methods, well, you've made it pretty clear they won't be in much of a position to do anything about it - and I suspect that will be true whether we work to keep this from them or not. But this is your Accord, not ours, and we feel no obligation to help you enforce it."

"Your stance is duly noted. I still hope, however, that you might entertain a modest level of cooperation between us, which would involve only minimal participation on your part."

"And that would be?"

"To act as an extra set of eyes and ears for us in this part of Mossflower. You just said yourself that when you observe any villainous types encroaching upon your territory, you sometimes allow them to pass through unmolested. I am not asking you to do anything differently - except to notify us if you should see such a thing in the future."

"Notify you?" Deltus seemed genuinely confused by this request. "And how would we do that? In the time it would take for us to dispatch such a runner to your base, wherever that's going to be, and for you to respond with a force of any size, the intruders are likely to be far beyond our jurisdiction. We're not about to start ranging through all of southern Mossflower to keep tabs on your quarry for you. Unless you're planning to keep a squad of your Gawtrybe permanently stationed here ... ?"

"Nothing as drastic or intrusive as that. And you would not need to put yourselves out to anywhere near that extent. You see, we will never be farther away than your tallest treetop." Arway nodded to one of his fellow Gawtrybe, who burrowed into his haversack and produced a folded fabric of unusual whiteness. Presenting it to Deltus, Arway said, "Lord Urthblood's birds keep watch over all Mossflower. If you agree to cooperate with us in this, they will keep special watch over Barrenoak territory. Then, if you should chance to spot any number of the kind of creatures you know would be of interest to us, you'll need only display this white flag from your high treetops, where no landbound foebeast could possibly see it but where it will surely draw the immediate attention of our winged scouts. They will fly down at once to take your report, and then will fetch the nearest forces of Lord Urthblood's in Mossflower to hasten here and see to the matter themselves. No squirrel of Clan Barrenoak will have to step one paw's breadth beyond your familiar woods or loose a single shaft for you to fulfill this simple thing we ask of you."

"I met one of Lord Urthblood's bird fighters, last summer. A most impressive creature it was. Barrenoak has never had much to do with the birdfolk - the smaller ones are nuisances and the larger ones are dangerous hunters - but Captain Klystra earned my respect in very short order, with his discipline, dedication and fearlessness. And now, after meeting with you, I am coming to see that this seems to be the kind of creature Lord Urthblood keeps under arms in general."

Arway flashed a proud smile. "So you will do this for us?"

Deltus accepted the white signal banner from him. "I have seen a brave and formidable winged warrior who calls Urthblood Lord. I have now met with earnest and forthright fellow squirrels who call him Lord. And I briefly knew a stoat who, while guilty of a terrible deed, possessed a good heart and saved several youngbeasts from a miserable slave's existence - a stoat who could never have proved himself thus without the guidance of Lord Urthblood, who recognized in him the potential for decency and worked to turn a vermin into a courageous and true goodbeast of conscience and compassion. If these are the kind of creatures who willingly serve that badger, then I would consider myself to be in very good company. And if this is all that you would ask of us, then it would be churlish of us to refuse, wouldn't it? We accept your flag, and we will use it if occasion to do so arises."

Arway extended his paw, and Gawtrybe and Barrenoak squirrels shook warmly. "Then my mission here has succeeded as fully as I'd hoped it would."

00000000000

Later that afternoon, having taken their leave of Deltus, Arway and his two fellow emissaries stood in the middle of the main north-south path, waving farewell to their Barrenoak escorts who'd seen them this far before melting back into the trees. One of Arway's companions gazed longingly northward.

"Two days' march that way, and we could be at Redwall, enjoyin' their delicious food an' soft beds ... "

"What," Arway jibed, "swinging hammocks weren't good enough for you? Along with acorn ale, acorn muffins, acorn salad, acorn cheese, and acorn soup?"

The third squirrel grimaced. "Never thought I'd get tired of acorn-based fare, but now I know you truly can have too much of a good thing! So whaddya say, Corporal - a quick stop at Redwall, as reward for a mission accomplished?"

Arway shook his head. "Sorry, lads, but by the time we got there, Lieutenant Custis probably would have moved on, and then we'd be playing catch-up all the way to Foxguard. No, we'll stick with our original itinerary, and strike out due east until we hit the River Moss, then turn north." He eyed the distant tower of the fox fortress, days away and yet still clearly visible above the tree line. "Tolar's expecting us, and the Lieutenant's likely to beat us there too - and those are two beasts you don't want to keep waiting!"

00000000000

"You want me to do what?!"

Cyril hadn't the slightest idea why Arlyn and Winokur had summoned him to the retired Abbot's gatehouse cottage for a private meeting. These days, the elderly mouse seemed to be spending all his time training Metellus in the healing arts - a field of only limited interest to Cyril, despite his fleeting infatuation with the subject after his younger brother's near-fatal injury two summers before - while Winokur, as Redwall's current Recorder/historian and teacher, had far more occasion to work closely with Cyrus than with Cyril himself. But now that he'd been told why the two Abbey leaders had requested his presence, he found himself wishing he'd ignored their invitations.

"You're the perfect and logical choice, Cyril," Arlyn patiently explained in his most persuasive and understanding Abbotly tones. "You and Vanessa have shared a certain special ... connection ever since her malady beset her."

"Connection?!" Cyril sputtered. "She's been all over me! She thinks we're gonna be sweethearts, or something! It's ... it's just wrong!"

"Now now, Cyril, you know Vanessa hasn't been herself ever since she took that stone to the head," Arlyn reminded his fellow mouse. "She has no memory of ever being Abbess, or ever having reached adulthood at all, for that matter. And she certainly can't serve as Abbess in her present state, so perhaps we should stop thinking of her thus, just as she has. Would that make it easier for you?"

"Not really, Abbot sir. She's old enough to be my mother, or very nearly so, but she still acts like a schoolmouse. It's unnatural."

"On that, we can certainly both agree. But if she has started to progress toward a recovery - or, just as importantly, regress to an even more impaired state - we'll want to find out as soon as we may. And the only way we can determine that is through constant, careful observation - precisely the kind of close scrutiny she would never knowingly tolerate, the kind she would resist and chafe under and make impossible for us to carry out. But, since she's naturally inclined to want to spend a lot of time with you anyway, you'll be able to keep a close eye on her for us, without her even realizing she's under observation at all!"

"Think of it this way," Winokur weighed in. "After the way she's pestered you these past three seasons, maybe now you'll get a chance to return the favor, and pester her right back!"

"But, what if she still wants to get romantic? What if she wants to hold paws? Or to ... to kiss?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, from what I've heard," Winokur joked, drawing an unappreciative glare from Cyril.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Arlyn sought to reassure his would-be monitor. "You've grown into quite a strapping young mouse, and I'm confident you'll be able to head off any such inappropriate advances from her before anything, ah, comes of it."

"I don't know, Abbot ... " Cyril knew perfectly well that his stature was quite ordinary for a male mouse of his seasons, and that "strapping" was a word few of his fellow Abbeybeasts - outside of perhaps the afflicted and starry-eyed Vanessa herself - would likely use in regard to his unimposing physique.

"What she's got is more a schoolmouse crush on you," said Wink. "A youngbeast's simple infatuation. I highly doubt she'd be capable of seeing it in anything other than such juvenile terms."

"It may even be," Arlyn warned, "that the moment you show the slightest interest in returning her attentions, you'll no longer rank as an object of fascination for her. In which case, this entire scheme of ours will come to naught."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," Cyril lamented with clear sarcasm. "And just when she was starting to leave me alone more of the time."

"Yes, that has been true, hasn't it?" Wink said. "I'd thought I'd noticed that, but I really couldn't be sure, as busy as I've been with my classes and journal-keeping. Maybe she is changing, and has been for some time, but it wasn't apparent to us until her behavior became so extreme that we couldn't help but take note."

"That would be ironic, wouldn't it?" mused Arlyn. "We're finally about to make use of Vanessa's attachment to Cyril, and she's no longer interested in him!"

"That would suit me just fine," Cyril practically harrumphed.

"Now, Cyril, where's your Abbey spirit?" Arlyn playfully chided. "This really isn't any huge thing we're asking of you ... although it could be a very important thing."

"But, Abbot, what am I to look for? I don't have any healer's training, aside from a few lessons I took with Sister Aurelia seasons ago. I mean, what if she goes into another one of these dead faints of hers when I'm alone with her? No heartbeat, not breathing? What do I do?"

"Why, you'd simply run and fetch either myself or Metellus, just as any Abbeybeast would, and we'll come as fast as we may. As to whether we'd be able to do anything for her either ... " Arlyn gave a shrug. "We could only hope that she follows the pattern she's set so far, and comes back out of any future fainting spells of her own accord, because if she doesn't, I don't think there's anything Metellus or I could do for her."

Cyril stared down at his paws. "I'd hate to be with her when she died. I mean, she is still the Abbess, after all, even if she doesn't know it. The Abbess who presided over Redwall for most of the time Cyrus and I were growing up."

"Yes, it is strange," Arlyn admitted. "When I retired, I just assumed Vanessa's tenure would endure until long after my own seasons had run their course. She was so young when she became Abbess - not much older than you are now, in fact, and very close to Winokur's present age - that I imagined her reign as Abbess might well last for scores of seasons. Who could have supposed such a bizarre tragedy might befall her?"

"It's only a tragedy if she never comes out of it," Winokur reminded them. "And if there's any chance she might - any at all - we've gotta help her along any way we can."

"That's the spirit, Wink! We Redwallers never give up hope, however slim it might be. So keep your eye on her, Cyril, and watch her closely to see whether she remains a willful, impudent rascal, or if she starts to exhibit glimmers and moments of the mouse she was, or any signs that she might be progressing in some other direction. Even if we might ultimately prove powerless to affect the course of her affliction, we can at least be aware of any changes to her mental state and temperament, and perhaps formulate some strategy to deal effectively with the situation."

A long silence settled over the room, until at last Cyril broke it. "Okay. Okay, I'll do it. I'm not exactly thrilled by it, but I was always brought up to obey my Abott or Abbess, and to do what was asked of me for the sake of Redwall. If this might help Vanessa, or help us deal with her, I'll do what I can, and hope it all works out."

Arlyn beamed at him. "Splendid, Cyril, splendid! I knew we could count on you!"

"Just don't go running off with Vanessa anywhere to pursue the lives of warriors," Winokur couldn't resist saying.

Cyril shot the otter Recorder a sour glance at this poke at a mildly embarrassing incident from the mouse's youth, then looked back to Arlyn. "Okay, so when should I start?"

"No time like the present, is there? Why don't you go see if you can find her right now ... although that might prove no small feat, with so many creatures currently inside our walls for her to lose herself amongst. I shouldn't be surprised if some of them are bunking here in my cottage before Freetown gets built! It might well take you until suppertime to chase her down. You can invite her to sit with you for the evening meal in Great Hall. As fine a way to kick things off as any, don't you agree?"

Cyril grimaced at the idea of having to sup with the bothersome nuisance of a former Abbess. "That's a sure recipe for indigestion ... "

Winokur grinned, enjoying Cyril's discomfort entirely too much. "Oh, don't be such a gloomy gus! Friar Hugh's delicious fare, Balla's sweet libations, and the company of a maiden fair! What more could anybeast ask?"

"Maybe a little help, since Vanessa can be such a pawful. You two hatched this plot between the two of you. Can't either of you sit with me to help keep her in line if I can't, or at least create a diversion for me to make my escape if she proves too much for me to cope with?"

"Isn't that the strategy you've been using to deal with her for the past three seasons?" Winokur asked with a smirk. "Sorry, Cyr, but I'll be far too busy. Not only do I have to try to find some way to fittingly write about all these days' events in my journals for the edification of future generations, but it's looking as if my class sizes are about to double or triple with the addition of all the former slave youngsters. I'll have all I can do just to keep up with all of that!"

"And as for me," said Arlyn, "Metellus and I just had to suspend our lessons so we could spend all day performing examinations on many of our newest Abbeybeasts - and I suspect our work in this area is far from finished. I don't know how many seasons are left to me, or even if my remaining time in this world is more aptly to be measured in days instead. I need to spend ever moment I can working with Metellus on his training, because once I'm gone, he'll be the only healer Redwall has."

"Unless Nessa really does come back to herself," Winokur reminded the elderly Abbot.

"Yes, of course. But, Cyril, the whole point of this enterprise is to keep you and Vanessa at each other's side so you can keep her under observation. Adding a companion for you into this mix might prove too much of a distraction for her, especially if it's me or Winokur. If that were to keep her from wanting to spend time with you, it will rather defeat our purpose."

"Oh, I dunno, Abbot," Wink countered. "If Vanessa behaves toward Cyril anything like she has in the past, I hardly think she'd be intimidated by anybeast else being about. In fact, she might even welcome an audience!"

A short time later Cyril emerged from the gatehouse to find Smallert sitting on the step waiting for him. "Have you been out here this whole time?" the mouse asked, surprised.

"Too crowded to go anywhere or do much of anything. So, what'd they wantcher for?"

"A special assignment. Abbot's orders. Well, one of our Abbots, anyway."

"Ooo! Sounds all secretive an' important! Are we gonna go on some hush-hush mission, or spy on somebeast?"

Cyril regarded the one-eared weasel. "We?"

"Well, we been doin' so many tasks 'n' chores t'gether lately, I figgered ... but naw, if this's sumpthin' y' gotta do on yer own, I unnerstand."

Cyril grinned at Smallert. "Well, now that you mention it ... how'd you like to help me round up an Abbess?"

00000000000

Colonel Clewiston wove his way through Great Hall, balancing his filled dinner plate precariously as he navigated the crowded chamber in search of somewhere to sit amongst the packed benches.

Spotting the burdened hare, Montybank gave a whistle and waved his flipper for Clewiston to join him. "Ahoy there, Colonel matey! Steer yoreself this way, an' I'll clear a berth for you!"

Clutching his platter with both paws to keep from spilling any of his precious load of bread, cheese and salad, Clewiston gratefully accepted the otter Skipper's invitation. As the Colonel stepped over the bench to avail himself of the spot cleared for him, Monty couldn't help but notice how gingerly he raised his legs and settled himself down onto the seating trestle, his movements slower and more exaggerated than usual. "Many thanks, my good fellow. Never let it be said politeness is lacking at Redwall, even though we're stuffed to th' bally gills with so many newcomers, an' Urthblood's rabble too."

Monty gave the officer hare a snort of admonishment, staring down his wide-nostrilled snout at Clewiston. "What's that y' said 'bout politeness? Seems to me courtesy's a stream than flows both ways."

"Pah! Admit it, that red-armored brute's Northland bullies rub even your fur th' wrong bloomin' way. Haven't seen much improvement in their manners an' attitude since th' last time they were here in any numbers, when one of their shrews got Broggs drunk, costing us both that rare fellow of a stoat along with Sister Aurelia. Or had you forgotten that little mishap?"

"Naw, I ain't forgotten. But I've not seen any shrew or squirrel 'mongst this lot who'd match th' low bar set by Fryc. Fact, most o' these Gawtrybe seem as well-mannered as any woodlander. More or less."

"More or less?" Clewiston cocked a knowing brow.

"Aye, that's what I said. So, still sore from all yore dancin'?"

"That, an' lack of proper shuteye."

"Really? Haven't seen you up an' about all day. Or most of yore hares, fer that matter. Figgered you'd be doin' naught but shuttin' yore eyes since this mornin'."

"Well, 'tween th' Dance two nights ago, then stayin' up all o' last night to keep an eye on Urthblood's gang, we fell a bit behind our quota of forty winks, don'tcha know."

"Pity. You should've been 'round fer th' little show Alex 'n' me put on this afternoon. You woulda gotten a chuckle outta it, I wager."

"You mean with th' carts? Yes, I'd heard about that. Sorry I missed it. So, wot was that you were sayin' 'bout trustin' these blinkin' well-mannered vermin in woodlander clothes?"

"I shore am glad Lieutenant Custis an' Cap'n Choock've got all their troops outside, Colonel. Distrust 'em as ye may, we're still Redwallers, an' they're still our guests, so y' may wanna stow that kind o' talk when yore anywhere they might hear."

"Umhrmph," Clewiston replied noncommittally, tucking into a mouthful of salad.

"'Sides, I reckon that whole business with th' carts had more t' do with what was goin' on 'tween Alex 'n' Mina, an' him thinkin' there was sumthin' important she was keepin' from him."

"Well, turned out to be true, didn't it? A whole new flippin' garrison for those bushtailed treewhompin' terrors, t' go along with that intrusive red tower we got peekin' over our walls day 'n' night. Wotcha make of that yourself, Skip chappie?"

"What's t' make of it? They're gonna be here in Mossflower, they gotta have someplace t' stay, an' Foxguard hasn't got th' room. Makes sense t' me. Long as it ain't here at Redwall, they're welcome t' set up whever it suits 'em." Monty refrained from sharing with the overly suspicious hare Alexander's own suspicions that Mina still might not be sharing everything Custis had reported to her. Gazing across Great Hall to the Abbot's table, he saw the squirrel couple seated with Geoff and some of the other Abbey leaders; Alex and Mina dined this evening with a visibly stiff formality toward each other which was quite a contrast to their usual relaxed and open mutual affection. "Wonder if Alex is gonna be sleepin' in th' gatehouse this night ... "

"Hm? Wot was that?"

"Nuthin'. So, where's yore wife t'night, Colonel? Don't oft see you suppin' without Mel at yore side."

"Oh, she's down in our nursery, helpin' out with th' bally babes. Gotta tell you, 'tween our quartet of happy leverets an' the younger tots as well, we've got enough going on t' keep any ten harewives' paws full!"

"Aye, I 'magine that's shore true 'nuff. An' Florissant's due soon too. What'll that be, harebabe number eight?"

"Nine, actshully, chum. An' with Mizzy 'n' Browder's second, Thimbleberry, almost walkin' now, you'll soon have enuff leveret shenanigans goin' on 'round here to keep you amused morn, noon an' night!"

"Hmm. Bet Wink can't wait 'til they're old 'nuff t' join his classes. An' he thought them three Sparra were a flipperful!"

Clewiston smiled. "If anybeast 'round here c'n keep fidgety leverets in their place, it's that scholarly riverdog of ours. He's got a natural way o' gettin' young rips on his side - lays down th' jolly law to 'em even as he pals around with 'em an' makes school lessons seem like an honest-t'-goodness holiday. Wish I'd had that touch when I was drillin' Long Patrol cadets an' raisin' up green recruits."

"Yeah, Wink's a natch'ral born teacher an' historian. Then again, all of Redwall's history's been one big grand story, and what beast, young or old, doesn't wanna hear a good tale?"

The Colonel's gaze strayed to a distant table, where he spotted Cyril sitting with Vanessa, Budsock, Droge and a few of the other Abbey youngbeasts - the kind of situation the now-adult mouse bellringer generally avoided like a bad case of Dryditch Fever. But, to the hare's surprise, Cyril seemed determined to stay there, even as Vanessa, egged on by the others, dabbed generous gobs of caramel flan onto the lobes of Cyril's ears. He became quite agitated by this, swabbing at his ears with his napkin as he reprimanded the giggling Vanessa with some very choice and utterly ineffective words.

Clewiston shook his head. "Somebeasts've got a way with young rips, an' some don't. Cyrus may be Wink's teaching assistant, but I doubt we'll be seein' his brother conducting classes any season soon."