A/N: Another month, another messed timezone.

Alex: Whoa, you actually reviewed! I almost expected you to think Before Meteor was going on, but I'm glad you're here. Veil's fun to write, and I'm glad you enjoyed him. This is actually the best introduction I've ever written, but if you consider the other ones, it's not hard to see why. Still, I'm very glad you appreciate everything I write!

Jared: I just love writing Veil. Despite the need to keep him in-character with his canon self, he's quite easy to write once you're in the mood to write him. He's a pretty good foil to Kiormund, and the kid needs the motivation desperately. I wish I could have shown a scene of Margane and Dennol/Bodvar being together to actually show their relationship, but hey, it's never too late to do stuff.

Chapter 3

Out of Water

Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present. - Meditations, Marcus Aurelius

"You don't have to tie my paws together!" said Kiormund indignantly. "You might as well put a leash over my neck!"

"I'm sorry, but it's standard protocol for prisoners." Urza's face betrayed no emotion at all, unlike every single prior time she talked to the hapless otter. "Can't have you flee into the Floret streets when we're not looking. You might also have to stop giving me ideas if you want to keep most of your body free. Paws under your rudder."

Kiormund sighed as Margane produced a short rope. He was quick to reach his paws back and clasp them under his tail, while the marteness wound the rope around his wrists and looped it around the rudder's base.

The otter was all too happy to depart the ship. Despite its name, Kiormund's time aboard the Aureous Gale had been anything but golden. Even in Urza's cabin, with strongboxes full of maps and charts of the Western Sea lying around the floor, Kiormund was too worried to find anything interesting to look at.

"Are we done?" asked the otter, instinctively tugging on the rope and feeling his heart race as his paws would not come free. He silently screamed at himself to struggle as hard as he could, to break free and make a swim for it, but that was tantamount to suicide. The best he could do was to flex his paws and wait.

"I think," replied Margane, checking if the ropes would loosen when given a light tug. They didn't, and she patted Kiormund's shoulder. "Don't worry. This won't take long."

"Up here, you two," said Urza, gesturing to above the deck. "Bodvar and your brother have already docked the ship."

Kiormund prepared to walk up the staircase and follow the vixen, but when he tried to move his paws, the rope stopped him, and he fell flat on his muzzle. Margane smirked as she lifted the otter up, and they proceeded to journey up to the deck.

The docks of Floret were as vast as Kiormund had read, but it was something that had to be seen to be believed. Ships of every make, from the smallest of cogs to the greatest of galleons could be seen, boasting sails of every colour. On land, the smell of fresh bread, dried fruit and salted fish was everywhere, mixed with that of the just as salty sea. A small crowd of beasts gathered near the docks, either sending off or welcoming their family or friends, and it took a second for the otter to realise that almost all of them were staring at him.

Kiormund gulped as suddenly the ropes seemed to tighten around his arms, and his discomfort magnified tenfold. Of course they're all looking at me! It isn't like a bound prisoner steps off the docks of Floret every day.

Urza gave Kiormund a small shove, and the otter walked forward slowly, followed by Bodvar and the martens. It didn't take long for the crowd of beasts to focus their attention on Kiormund. After all, memories of vermin being bound and led into the city by woodlanders was the norm in the Southern Realms for the last few centuries, but the reverse was inconceivable - at least until now.

Even if Kiormund closed his eyes, he could still hear the city in action. Beasts talked to, shouted at and greeted each other. Gamblers made bets on card games Kiormund had never seen, and merchants sold Ilsadian wine and Travrikan salmon. Farmers invited cityfolk to buy their crops, all fresh from the harvest. Hammers rung on anvils, doors opened, children cried. All the beasts making these noises were staring at him.

"Keep moving, pup," urged Urza, prodding Kiormund to walk with hastened steps. The party passed through an alley of grocers and another one of jewellers, before the vixen dragged him into a building. Judging by the barrels, the tables and the stench of alcohol, it was most likely a tavern or inn of sorts. Nobeast was sitting, though. The day was too early for that.

The otter turned to the fat hare at the counter, who smiled at the sight of Urza. "I see you've got someone again! Looks quite young. Stole an apple or something?"

"Nah, far worse," replied Urza, winking at Kiormund. "Rikart's up there, right?"

"Correct. So is Lars, by the looks of it." Lars? Who's that? Probably another armybeast. Who else could it be?

"Right. Margane, buy yourself and your brother something for lunch. Bodvar, go home. Or follow your comrade. Your choice. As for you…" Urza grimaced as she turned to Dennol. "Just get out of my sight." The trio went off into the street one by one. Bodvar raced out to catch up with a smiling Margane, Dennol patted Kiormund on the back before scooting away, and Urza was alone to escort her captive up the stairs.

The vixen knocked on the door of a room three times, followed by a pause and another four knocks. There was a brief moment of tension before a hedgehog opened the door. He was in one of those smart green uniforms that everyone in the Southswarder army seemed to wear, and the medals pinned to his chest signified some sort of high-ranking soldier.

But it was the other figure in the room who surprised the otter. He too was a brown-furred otter, and he was wearing a red and yellow tunic, an attire fitting for a merchant. However, Kiormund knew from the new otter's mannerisms and expression that he was far higher in status. He was Lamont Streambattle, lord of more places than any sane beast could ever recall, Steward of Castle Floret and Kiormund's uncle.

"If you are trying to pretend you don't recognise me, try harder," said Lamont, the latest in a swarm of beasts to do nothing but stare at Kiormund.

"Uncle Lamont. What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"

"A noble can't be seen fraternizing with criminals, Kio."

He was quickly interrupted by the hedgehog with a smirk. "Aye, wouldn't want His Prissiness sullyin' up your family reputation now, would you?"

Lamont shot the hedgehog a withering look, and sighed when that failed to faze him. "Yes, yes. Exactly as General Rikart says." He turned to Urza. "Do cut him loose, fox."

Without a word, the vixen drew a dagger and, with a smooth flick, severed Kiormund's bonds. The otter brought his paws forward, rubbing them and the base of his tail.

"I do hope you had a wonderful journey, dear nephew," said Lamont, ruffling Kiormund's headfur too roughly for his liking. "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time here in Floret."

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Kiormund, shaking himself free.

"Give you a warm room to live in, good food to eat and the best of company, of course. As a fellow Streambattle, you can consider yourself an honoured guest." Seeing Kiormund's confused expression, Lamont shrugged. "Well, Redwall treated you well. Gates, you've been building up weight! We Southswarders can't just let ourselves be outdone by the bumpkins up North, can we? Come, we'd best be going."

"Leaving so soon, wot?" asked the hare bartender, pushing a barrel to the corner of the room.

"Oh aye, matey. Takin' my nephew out for a walk. Can't wait t' have him meet the rest of the family!" Lamont turned his muzzle to Kiormund's ear and whispered. "Do play along."

"Ah, cracking right! It's bally time you get the Imp side of your family to Floret! Just think of all the sights to see! The belltower, the castle, the market…"

"We'll get t' those." replied Lamont, rushing out of the doorway with his nephew in tow. "Thank ye for yer time!" Once they were both out of earshot and back in the streets, Lamont breathed a sigh of relief.

Kiormund took another few glances at the lane they were in. As the sun started making its way up the sky, the usual market-mongers started to flood back into their homes, bags full of produce of the day, carrots, lentils, parsnip and a number of fruits the otter had never seen in Redwall Abbey.

"The audacity of the vermin to bind your paws! Hard to believe they thought you'd run away," said Lamont, patting the younger otter on the back. "Oh, do ignore the crowd. You're too shy to live in Floret, I suppose. It's quite crowded here."

"I know that," replied Kiormund, trying to get away from his uncle's smothering grasp. "Why are you pretending to be a merchant of all beasts anyway?"

"To keep an eye on every single part of the city without gathering attention, of course." Lamont shot Kiormund a smile, before grabbing his paw and walking even faster. "I have to do everything the King asks myself - I cannot risk giving my tasks to the wrong beasts - and His Highness is almost too good at assigning every single duty of his to me. It all began with the Adders - have you heard about the Adders?"

"No."

"Well, it's a long story, but I'm sure you'll love it. They were a gang of criminals, up to no good as usual…"

Lamont smiled as he and Kiormund turned left, towards the imposing steps leading up to the even more imposing Castle Floret. The Steward rambled on and on, but Kiormund's attention was directed towards the castle. Perched atop a hill and surrounded by a moat and cliff face, the cream-coloured fortress gazed upon the city in the usual regal fashion. Built during the reign of the first Southswarder king (whose name eluded the otter's mind for the time being), it had only fallen to Southsward's enemies twice, and neither time had it been taken by force. It was the pride and joy of the kingdom, designed to keep all its foes out, until it was time to keep them in. Castle Floret may have been a dazzling place to live in, but being trapped within its walls was definitely not to Kiormund's liking.

"And that's how I brought them all to justice!" Lamont's fist slammed right into an open palm while his smile faded, being replaced with a frown in an instant. "Did you not listen to a single word of what I just said?"

A bashful expression overtook Kiormund's face as he almost tripped. "Er, not really."

"Oh, right," the Steward scratched his head. "You are tired from your journey, and I should not have bored you with my long stories while you could be boring me with yours. How was Redwall? I'd like to know."

"It's the best place a beast could hope to be," replied Kiormund, finding a smile creep upon his muzzle. "I enjoyed good food and good company, and I made a few friends over there. It was such a fun place that I'm in no way frustrated or angry at having been kidnapped from there by a group of mercenaries hired by my family."

Lamont knew better to react, and simply turned his head away.

The pair of otters remained silent as they climbed the remainder of the stairs. Kiormund was tempted to sit and rest, but he knew that Lamont would have none of that. In two minutes they were at the top, before the massive oaken gates of the castle. A guardsbeast, somehow able to recognise his disguised superior, beckoned his fellows to open them, and soon both Streambattles found themselves in the cold embrace of the castle, greeted by half a dozen guards.

But it was the other presence in the room that managed to surprise Kiormund. "Oh, you're back! Remember me?"

"It's always good to see you, Finnbarr." Lamont's youngest son had his father's height and his mother's good looks, but the perpetually cheerful expression he wore reminded Kiormund of Graha of all beasts.

"I'm sorry for the circumstances of your arrival, but I'm glad you're safe and sound!" Finnbarr walked up to Kiormund. "How was Redwall? Was your journey comfortable? When did you last wash yourself?"

"I think Kiormund needs a rest," said Lamont, "and a bath. His journey was exhausting, to say the least." The Steward crossed his paws. "Why are you here? I thought you had lessons."

"Daghild said she had something to do, so she gave me a day off," Finnbarr responded, whiskers twitching.

Lamont raised a brow. "Really?"

"Really. You could ask her tomorrow."

"I see." Lamont rubbed his chin. "Finnbarr, see your cousin to his room. I have to report to His Highness. We'll meet again for supper."

"Yes, father." Finnbarr turned back to Kiormund. "I hope you'll have a good rest here."

Kiormund thought Veil would be all too enthusiastic to leap into the conversation with a wicked grin and a snide remark, but he heard nothing at all. Sighing, the otter nodded, then followed Finnbarr into a corridor.

"Are they here yet?" asked General Rikart for the fourth time.

"No," Urza simply responded as she sat on the bed. "Please wait for a few minutes. Daghild is a very busy beast." Rikart was her superior, but he was no Thaumaturge, so he didn't even try to remind her to add any honorifics. The pair were still in the inn's room after Lamont went back to Castle Floret, and they had absolutely nothing to do.

"I still don't understand what she's busy with," grumbled the hedgehog, starting to pace around the room again. She's just some sort of librarian who happens to have tutored beasts more important than she is."

"She's also one of the most powerful Conjurers to live, General. I wouldn't speak ill of her if I were you."

A Pathway opened in one of the room's darker corners, and out stepped a mole, clad in clean white robes held up by a wooden brooch - the badge of office for the Castle Archivist of Floret. Daghild's other, unofficial, role as Spymaster of Southsward required no such badge - that was a more clandestine sort of duty.

"Apologies for keeping you two late," said the mole, taking a deep bow. Unlike the moles in Mossflower, Daghild's ancestor Egbert had shed their strange way of speaking, and now she spoke like any other beast did. "Where would the martens be?"

"Er, not here," Urza's ears folded as she expected a disapproving glare from Daghild. "I was not told to bring them here."

"That would be my fault, and not yours," replied Daghild, placing a paw on Urza's shoulder. "I should have informed you about that."

"What are we to talk about today?" asked Rikart. "Two months ago, you managed to flip my world upside down by revealing that some sort of sorcery or conjury exists here. I doubt there's anything you could do more to shake my worldview."

"That's where you're wrong." Rikart turned towards the direction of the new voice and gasped. An adolescent otter stepped out of Daghild's Pathway. Wearing a simple brown tunic and black trousers, he would be indistinguishable in the streets of Floret if not for the sapphire pendant on his chest. Though his body was merely around Kiormund's age, the otter always spoke as if he was older, and the barely healed scar on the left side of his jaw made him more menacing than immature. Other than that, Urza's teacher looked almost exactly the same as her ex-captive. "There are always surprises, General Rikart. Did you not know?"

The otter was right, as usual. Every time Urza thought she knew all about the otter, he would reveal some piece of new information about himself that only he and Daghild had known prior to that. There was that time when he got very drunk with Daghild after Urza finally dealt with Isangrim on his orders, blurting out how much he loathed the fisher. The vixen could thank Vulpuz that Rikart had not been there that day, or anybeast else for that matter.

"I do, of course." Rikart did not flinch as Oswin approached him. "Who are you?" Clearly in the hedgehog's mind, the otter was merely one of Daghild's associates or subordinates that could be replaced with a flick of a paw.

The otter couldn't resist a little smirk. "My name is Oswin. I am a Conjurer from a faraway land."

"He taught Daghild and I everything we know," added Urza.

"Aren't you too young to teach?"

Oswin's lips curled in a mysterious smile. "Knowledge comes from unexpected places, and so do I, I suppose."

Rikart frowned. "That explains everything," he said, nudging Urza with an elbow. "What is he talking about?"

He completed another pace around the room before wheeling forward, pointing a claw up. "But there's always one question. Why are you here, and not off to somewhere where you might be of more service to the realm?"

Oswin shook his head in an equal measure of condescension. "I would recommend paying me more respect. I am here for Southsward."

"Fair enough," replied the hedgehog, finally deciding to stand in one place. "What do you have to tell me?"

"Ever heard of the Taggerung, General Rikart?"

"You don't mean-"

"Yes. The beast who brought our realm to its knees walks the earth again, with a different body."

"Then who-"

"Don't you worry. He or she will be on our side this time around, I think."

"Do elaborate," said the hedgehog. "And stop interrupting me."

"Remember the martens you picked up from Mossflower?" asked Daghild, breaking her customary silence to finally join the conversation. "They're the ones we're looking for."

"Dennol and Margane?"

"The child of Mossflower and the south shall be the bringer of ruin and salvation," recited Oswin. "Everything's horrendously vague, including the Taggerung's gender and species."

"But how do we know which one of the two is who we seek?" asked Rikart, an unimpressed look still etched upon his face. "It could also be somebeast else."

Silence blanketed the room until Urza asked for permission to speak, which was swiftly given. "It could mean up to a few thousand beasts, but the only other beast whose name we know would be the Streambattle pup we picked up from Redwall, but he's as weak as a wet blanket. We could ask Lamont to reacquire him-"

"We have no need for Kiordan's grandson for now," said Oswin, face contorting into a snarl. "We can only hope that his grandfather's evil taints him not. As for Dennol and Margane, train them well. They know how to hold their own in a fight, yes, but they have not seen the face of battle. War is on the horizon, but we do not know our enemies as we do ourselves. The martens need to be prepared for anything and everything, the foreseen and the unforeseen."

"I understand," said Rikart. "I should probably go and inform them now."

Without another word, the hedgehog flung open the door and left the room, earning a little chuckle from Oswin. "Somehow, I get the feeling that he has had a bad first impression of me." The wildcat turned to the vixen. "Now, what more have you to report?"

"Kiormund Streambattle has a spirit clinging to him," said Urza, watching as Daghild suppressed a twitch in her lips. Oswin, on the other paw, showed no reaction. "A ferret from Mossflower, who has a history at Redwall Abbey. I was fortunate to have seen a few glimpses of it."

"A Shade," said Oswin.

"Shade?" asked Daghild and Urza almost simultaneously.

"Lingering spirits of the deceased, bound too tightly to the world to head to the Dark Forest beyond this life," explained Oswin. "Like our old friend Martin the Warrior."

"Calling him a Shade's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" asked Daghild, earning herself a wilting look from the otter. "Ah well," she continued, attempting to salvage things. "Terminology."

"That's what we choose to call them, at least." Oswin finally turned his eyes away from Daghild, drawing a sigh of relief. Despite what she knew of the otter, why Daghild was so obedient towards him was still an enigma to Urza. Was she afraid? Enthralled? Or was that simply loyalty? In any case, it was but a small matter, and it be better for Urza to stop asking. She didn't want to end up like Kiormund, after all.

"Anyway, it would do you two well to keep an eye on the martens. And Rikart too. Just in case." The last sentence was punctuated by the opening of a Pathway and Oswin's pendant shifting from blue to a bright red. "I should return to my abode, and think of contingency plans should our interpretation of the foretelling be incorrect." With that, he stepped across the Pathway and vanished.

Almost immediately, Daghild turned to Urza. "Does he give you the creeps every time he talks to us? You seem to be a bit on edge."

"Every world connected to the Dreamscape is at stake, and all the lives on them, including ours," replied the vixen. "So yes, I'm a bit worried, to be honest. Why aren't you?"

"I suppose I'm just naturally better at hiding trepidation."