Chapter Three

"So that's the story of Martin?" Stormpaw asked, scratching her chin thoughtfully.

            "Yep, m'gel, the whole bally story, wot," Painttail replied, yawning widely. "Now, if'n y'likes, I'm off t'the ole kitchen agin. I c'n smell a pie a mile away; Brother Lanno's makin' pies agin, Dibbuns! Lessah go!"

            The little Abbeybabes squealed in delight at the mention of snatching fresh food. They scurried hastily after Painttail in the direction of the kitchens, laughing the whole way.

            "Kchakchakcha! He natrral mother, ain't he?"

            Stormpaw nodded without turning her head to look at the new arrival. "Aye, Rukkachun, he is. Say, watcha doin' out 'ere? Thought ye'd be far south."

            Rukkachun, a sparrow of sorts, impatiently perched himself on the window ledge next to Stormpaw. His sleek brown and gray body set him apart from the other sparrows in the area; he, his parents, and his two younger siblings were the only chipping sparrow in Mossflower. Rukkachun, or Rukka for short, liked to fly over the sea and visit Ruddaring at times. Rukka and Stormpaw were close friends, and the young sparrow was glad to have the otter in his territory.

            "Naw, Rukka bein' flyin' northa cos a Sarrico. He been huntin' sparras inna beach. Rukka losta his fam'ly t'Rugval."

            Stormpaw's attention was immediately on what Rukka had said. "Rugval? Rugval Sarrico, did yeh say?"

            "Yessie, Rukka did. Rukka norra know what he be-doin' inna Mossflo'r— Sarrico's sea- lovin'—b'he an' his group a bists arra killa alla fam'ly up. Rukka on'y chippin' sparra left t'live, Sto'paw."

            Stormpaw's paws clenched tightly. Through gritted teeth she growled, "Rugval Sarrico! The corsair stoat…he was the onn who slew all me folk!"

            Rukka shuddered visibly. "Rukka norra wanna think a what Sto'paw woulda do t'Sarrico. Firstee choppa his head offa his shoulders, then skin his fuzz offa—"

            "It's fur, Rukka, fur."

            "Fuzz, fur, wassa diff'rent?"

            Stormpaw growled impatiently. Rukka ended the argument and continued his message. "Sto'paw, Sarrico plannin' t'conquer. Wanna conquer. Wanna killa'n'slaya. Sto'paw… Rugval a-comin' t'Mossflo'r."

*                      *                      *

Brother Lanno, a stout mouse with a talent for cooking, continued taking the blueberry pies out of the oven. Steaming hot and smelling sweet, the pies were set on the window ledge to be cooled.

            "Mmm!" Sister Rosa, a thin, tall mouse—the complete opposite of Brother Lanno— exclaimed as she sniffed the pies eagerly. "Ooh, Brother, you have outdone yourself again! These pies smell simply exquisite! I cannot wait to serve them, let alone eat them!"

            "Then wait no longer, marm, coz 'ungry rascals like us'n warriors'll need lots o' bally tucker, wot!"

            Brother Lanno groaned. "Oh no, not that old hare again!"

            Painttail and the band of Dibbuns that had helped tell Stormpaw about

Martin banged open the kitchen doors and strolled inside, heads held high and noses in the air. Some Dibbuns even had their little chests puffed out. They carried sticks while Painttail carried his pike over one shoulder. The group nonchalantly walked inside, then Kippit strolled confidently past the others, who were standing at attention. Tibbin and Guddle flanked the young squirrelbabe, and all were carrying sticks.

            "Ten-hut!" Painttail commanded. The two rows of Dibbuns stamped a footpaw down hard, and turned to face the two kitchen mice, which were trying hard to suppress giggles.

            "'Pon Hen'ral Paint's o'dah, I o'dah you to cut us'n's up a pie!" said the mousebabe Tibbin, grasping his stick like a sword.

            Sister Rosa gasped in mock fright. "Oh no, Brother Lanno, look at those brave Dibbuns…"

            "Hurr, marm, we'm not Dibbuns! We'm wurriurs!" Guddle corrected, brandishing his short stick at her. "Us'n's be wurriurs, an' we'm 'tectin' Redwall h'Abbey frumm vurmints."

            The Sister smiled. "Of course, Guddle, you're warriors. Forgive me for my absurdity. Now, you would like pie?"

            The Dibbuns and Painttail nodded anxiously.

            Brother Lanno nodded slowly, smiling. "Well, we can't have starving warriors, can we now?" The fat mouse shuffled over to where the pies were being cooled and examined them. Selecting a sweet smelling cooled one, Brother Lanno separated it into sections and handed them to Painttail, who desperately tried not to eat it ahead of time.

            "Thankee koindly, marm," Guddle thanked. "Thankee, zurr."

            Kippit waved his stick in the air like a windmill, jumping up and down gleefully.

            "Yippee! We got pie! Redwaaall!" the little squirrel exclaimed jubilantly as he led the group out of the kitchen and outside to the lawns, screaming the Redwall war cry. "Redwaaaall!"

            "I say, wot!" Painttail told the babe as the band of little Dibbuns and one hare entered Great Hall. "Calm down, yer shakin' me ears off! If'n ye'd like a war cry, then try this 'un—eulaaliaaaaaaa!"

            Abbess Song, who had just entered Great Hall as well, hastily covered her ears with the long sleeves of her habit. "Painttail, my word, you and those young ones are causing such a racket that my head could pop right off!"

            Kippit felt suddenly ashamed. "Sorry, Mum, we're just making war cries."

            But Painttail was in no position to say his apologies. He had set down the pie and was busy staring strangely at the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. At the image of the warrior's feet was a familiar black-feathered arrow stuck deep within the cloth and embedded in the stone wall behind it. Rolled tightly around the arrow was a piece of parchment. As the Abbess and the Dibbuns rallied behind Painttail to look at what had happened, the hare took down the parchment and read out loud:

                        "Dear friends of the great Abbey,

                        Don't follow me unless you dare.

                        Lives will vanish in the blink of an eye,

                        So don't follow lest you don't care.

                        But if you do come, heed my words,

                        And follow the river of green.

                        Thou must turn unto the sea,

                        And track down Death's own queen.

                        Listen; the chipping bird calls,

                        His voice, the eagle among crows.

                        Beware the fiery mountain of hell,

                        But friends are there; who knows?

                        Leave the green river; follow the tide,

                        Where one will die unmercifully.

                        Rugval Sarrico will know no fear,

                        Till we set his wretched soul free.

                        To the gates of Dark Forest,

                        That's where Sarrico goes.

                        His death was written at his first breath;

                        The Death Queen will destroy her foes."

            Kippit clung frightfully to his mother's habit. "Mum, what did it mean?"

            "I'm afraid I'm not sure," Abbess Song admitted. "Painttail, was there anything else that drew you here other than the arrow?"

            The hare nodded grimly. "Stormpaw was 'ere afore we entered the jolly kitchen. She was alone, actually. An' then we came out, yellin' our wotsisthings—war cries—an' then she ain't 'ere anymore. Fringe me fur…I think I figgered this thingummy rhyme already, wot! Quick, Dibbuns an' Abbess, marm…bring me ter the Recorder!"

Young Wedge Bristle the hedgehog gatehouse keeper let Abbess Song and Painttail inside. (The Dibbuns, too preoccupied with their game of playing warriors, hadn't joined.) Wedge and his otter companion, Runn Rivereye, were the only ones in the gatehouse on most occasions. Old Recorder Rimrose Swifteye, Abbess Song's own mother, was a visitor to the gatehouse regularly, at least four times a season. Today, luckily, she was there, sitting in a comfy green armchair with a book in her lap.

            "Song! What a pleasure to see you here," Rimrose greeted. For a squirrel as old and frail as her, she was still lively and fit. Hugging her daughter, Rimrose continued, "You're just in time. Wedge was making his famous fruit salad. It's that special one with all the berries in it."

            "Thank you for inviting us to have something to eat, Mother, but we had already brought some pie Brother Lanno had given us," Abbess replied, holding out the blueberry pie.

            Runn grinned widely. He twitched his nose. "Oooh, Abbess marm, that wot I think 'tis? Berries innerside it! Thank yeh kindly, marm, yeh brought me fav'rite! Wedge, matey, c'mon an' git somethin' ter eat!"

            Wedge was a jolly hedgehog that always agreed to a good idea. He brought out polished wooden plates and forks and laid them out on a circular table in the center of the room. Painttail placed the pie ever so gently in the center while Wedge went back to fetch his fruit salad, which he placed next to the pie.

            "Bless us all for this food," Abbess said a swift, one-sentence prayer quietly. She looked at her three eager friends and her frail mother and nodded. Wedge, Runn, and Painttail attacked their share of the food in a mad rush while Rimrose, smiling at them as kindly as she could without laughing, ate slowly. Abbess Song sat herself down next to the old Recorder, picked at her slice of pie, and then turned to the three males. Painttail was getting the better of the other two and held two slices of pie, one in each paw. Runn and Wedge kept pushing each other aside, trying to reach the last slice. Rimrose sighed, rolled her eyes mockingly, and then snatched the pie from under their noses.

            "Rimrose, marm, why'd yeh do that?" Runn asked pleadingly.

            "Mother Abbess, stop 'er!" Wedge added.

            Abbess Song stood up again and glanced at the gluttonous hare. Painttail put his two pie slices down and jumped up on his footpaws. Then the Abbess spoke.

            "You three know the new otter, correct?" she began. "Just in case you don't, her name is Stormpaw Swiftwater, the last of Holt Rudderwake. She has killed some and has made an alliance with Painttail, Lunkin, and Maybell, along with Skipper of Otters and my Niklur. She was last seen in Great Hall next to Martin's tapestry. Moments later, she was gone. Painttail has figured this out already, or so he says. Painttail, would you please hand the parchment to my mother before you start?"

            Painttail nodded courtly and passed the parchment to Rimrose. The old squirrel Recorder donned her glasses and looked down at it observantly. She read the rhyme aloud to Wedge and Runn, and then looked up at Painttail when she finished.

            "I think I have figured it out, too, Painttail. It's not hard to decipher," the squirrel said. "First, tell me what you think."

            "I jolly well think Storm's gone t'find the blinkin' Sarrico blighter," Painttail began. "She never liked the lot; she told us'n's afore we came 'ere. She wants revenge. 'Er family died coz this wotsisname's crew attacked their bally island, wot! That's the beginnin' part o' it all."

            Wedge looked over the Recorder's shoulder at the parchment. "Wot's 'Death's Queen'?"

            "Simple, m'laddie buck!" Painttail replied. "Yeh might not know 'er much as Lunkin an' Maybell an' I do. Death's Queen can't be anybeast but Stormpaw 'erself!"

            Runn blinked, confused. "Why?" he finally asked.

            "Coz she's like a demon from Hellgates, that young un!" Painttail literally screamed in exasperation. "She can lay a fox low wi' one thwack of 'er blinkin' sword hilt an' can shoot an arrer like straight inter somebeast's 'eart! Wheeze me, wot, it's like speakin' ter a bally mole!"

            Abbess put a paw on the hare's shoulder. "Easy now, Painttail, let's not get to chaotic. Now for the second verse. What do you think it says, Mother?"

            "The first line simply means what it says," Rimrose replied. "Now, the second and third lines contain the riddle. 'And follow the river of green.' Do we have a green river?"

            "Aren't rivers blue?" Wedge wondered. "There ain't any green rivers 'ereabouts."

            Rimrose smiled. "Who says? Runn, you're an otter. Tell us—are there any green rivers near the Abbey?"

            "Why, no, marm," the otter replied. "There's the Great South Stream an' the River Moss…" It suddenly dawned on Runn. "Strike me colors, that's wot the rhyme meant! The River Moss an' the Great South Stream!"

            The old Recorder nodded. "That's right. I saw it, too. Both rivers aren't actually green, but moss is green and thus the River Moss is the answer to the first one."

            Abbess Song thought it over. "So the first part literally means that if we follow Stormpaw, then we must follow the River Moss."

            "'Thou must turn unto the sea…'" Wedge murmured. "Does this mean we turn west?"

            "But what o' the bally Great South Stream?" Painttail wondered. "We need t'follow two rivers."

            Rimrose intervened. "I think…I think I know what to do for 'thou'. See, it says 'thou must turn'. So we must turn thou."

            "But which of us will turn?" Abbess Song asked.

            "No, daughter, that's not what I meant. Turn 'thou'—uoth."

            "Ah…so yeh turned the word around," Runn observed. "But wot does 'uoth' mean?"

            "Try switching some more letters around."

            "Outh?"

            "Now, what does that sound like?"

            "Outh?" Wedge reiterated what his otter friend had said.

            "Yes, outh."

            "Mouth…trout…south…" Wedge stopped thinking. "South!"

            "See? We then follow the Great South Stream!" Rimrose retorted. "So Stormpaw is following Sarrico. If we follow her, we must follow the River Moss and then the Great South Stream to the sea, only southwards. Simple as that!"

            "Then wot about the other verses?" Wedge asked.

            "What's a chipping bird?" Abbess Song added. "I've never heard of anything like it."

            "Well then…off we go t'the best bird watcher'n all o' Redwall—Sister Rayna!" Painttail exclaimed excitedly.