49. The Spring Feast.
Heddin Wintersky indeed still lived, as Ewalt said, though calling that "life" was perhaps an overstatement. Immense vitality and tenacity kept him clinging to this world by the very tips of his fingers, but over half a moon he had maybe a few minutes of lucidity, spending the rest of his brief waking hours delirious and unable to tell a badger apart from a hare. And there was not a shadow of doubt that if Heddin was to crawl away from the doorstep of the Dark Forest – a miracle in itself – he will never be able to walk, swim or fight again. No healer had ever managed to fix a broken spine.
Heddin was alone in the dark when he finally woke up for long enough to think – in the quiet and impenetrable blackness that horrified him, until he saw a few stars in the moonless sky past the part of the window visible from his bed. Then his ears recognized a distant sound – the continuous hum, greatly muffled by stone walls of Salamandastron, and just barely audible. The mountain did not sleep this night.
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According to an old tradition, Salamandastron held a celebration every spring, just after admitting another batch of young hare cadets into the ranks of the Long Patrol, and before beginning of usual patrolling seasons.
This spring many hares were not sure if patrols would be sent out at all. Everybeast remembered crazed threats Akkla shouted as she was escorted away at a spearpoint. Not all hares, not even most of them, believed that the Rogue Crew otters would really decide to make war against fellow woodlanders, but there was a lot of gloomy talk around Salamandastron. Not tonight though. Tonight was the time to forget that soon you or one of your friends might die, whether in a war or in a routine patrol to keep vermin raiders away. Tonight was the time to forget your rank and position, be you an officer, a soldier or a simple working hare, and feast together as equals.
Guests of Salamandastron, usually meaning travelers caught there by winter, were invited too of course. And this time not all guests were sure that going to the feast was a particularly good idea.
"Welcome to the Spring Feast, lads and lasses." Aldwin stopped before the doorstep on the Mountain's main hall, turned to the four vermin, who looked notably reluctant to enter, and bowed, extending his left paw towards the door. "All the right stuff to put some shine in your fur and vigor in your paws awaits!"
Neither of the four felt welcome. An uproar of laugh from the inside made Smalltooth back away slightly. The idea of mixing with a massive crowd of rowdy wooldlanders made them uneasy, besides the fact that they did not feel too welcome in Salamandastron generally.
Kethra was still somewhat weak from her wounds and still adjusting to the deceptively slight shift in the balance of her body. But, she reflected, once you were foolish enough to step forward and lead others, that was your destiny for as long as you could walk. So she stepped forward once again, and the three others followed.
The greatest of Salamandastron's halls was a sight to behold, illuminated by countless lamps, candles and torches. Hares – with a few mice, squirrels and otters scattered among them – were everywhere, dancing in the open middle of the hall, singing, chattering excitedly, playing games of skill in the corners reserved for those, and, of course, eating and drinking. The last autumn's harvest was plentiful, so while many spring feasts were little more than drinking parties, tonight one could find everything that could be baked from flour, nuts, honey and dried fruit on the big tables – numerous sorts of bread, pies, pastries and puddings. There were finely grilled fish and rich seafood soups too. And, of course, plenty of booze – beer, ale, cider, punch, and wine. Loud voices and music mixed across the hall in a din of excitement and celebration.
"Oh, here you are." Rowanbloom popped up next to the four vermin before their minds coped with this picture. After grooming herself for the feast and donning a borrowed dress, instead of her baggy and worn-out travel clothes, she looked at least ten seasons younger and quite lovely, even if thin as an arrow. "Come, let me show you to your place at the table."
Many faces turned towards the vermin as they trailed behind the squirrel. But by this moment food, drink and good company already put nearly all hares in good humor. Those who minded seeing vermin faces kept silent, not willing to spoil the atmosphere. Those who didn't waved and called out welcomes. Even not the most thought-out welcomes, generally.
"Ahoy, vermin chaps! And chapesses, too!" Kethra felt her hackles rising, just before another cry caught her attention. "Oh, ain't that Kethra the ferret! Kethra the Brave!"
"What, is that how they started to call me?" she asked Aldwin, no longer angry.
"Aye," Aldwin rolled his eyes as he answered. "Not imaginative, I know. I'd prefer something more distinct, like "Kethra Skydowner", buuuut..."
"Well, thanks Vulpuz they didn't choose "One-Eye" or "Splitface"." Kethra fought off the urge to scratch the itchy jagged scar that now decorated the left side of her head, from the eyepatch-concealed empty pit to the tip of her jaw. The woodlanders sewn her face back pretty well, and she did not mind looking more fierce than pretty. Okay, she did not mind too much. She wasn't about to risk making her face look worse.
Then the vermin reached their table, and found there the rest of the crew that left Ergaph with them over five moons ago.
"Now that is what I call a feast!" Suran grabbed a large slice of steaming hot fish pie before even sitting down.
"Ain't seein' any meat anywhere, though." Tezza complained.
"Because there isn't any – pretty foul stuff, if you ask me, wot. Try some fish instead!" And then Aldwin went for a cup of plum wine, emptied it in one gulp, and was away in a flash.
"Good to see you here, Kethra." Ewalt, already at the table, noticed a shadow of worry on Kethra's face and reached over the table to push another full cup towards her. "Have a drink, it's really great."
The ferret did as Ewalt asked, though she still couldn't quite bring herself to relax. The very sight, smell and sound of so many woodlanders – so many unfamiliar creatures in general, for that matter – turned Kethra's nerves into taut strings, while having no weapons made her feel exposed, even though she saw that nobeast was armed at the feast. She knew not all woodlanders here were glad to see her. To confirm that she needed to look no farther than the opposite side of the table where Selvathy sat – since the day of their first meeting with Heddin the young otter said not a single word to Kethra. The ferret sipped wine slowly, while searching the hall for familiar faces.
She quickly found Lady Violet, engaged in what seemed a surprisingly informal conversation with a few young hares. The tall, stern-faced hare commander, Greyfield, wasn't that his name, at the table not so far away looked right back at Kethra's eyes, and she turned away to avoid a staredown match. And then there was Aldwin again, already whirling in a fast dance with Lieutenant Bascinette. Kethra wouldn't mind being so easygoing and festive, at least for a single night.
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Kethra was not the only creature nearby to look at that pair with some envy. Though Private Sovna's feelings were concentrated on Bascinette. The lieutenant was a great dancer, no doubt, elegant even when wild. And her footpaw apparently healed perfectly. As if being both beautiful and strong wasn't blessing enough. Bascinette was tall, slender, lithe and pretty-faced. Sovna knew that placed next to the lieutenant and the captain, she would resemble the latter much more – hearty, sturdy and muscular, if not as big, with the only pretty thing about her being soft smoke-grey fur. She also knew that compared to Bascinette she was an embarrassingly bad dancer – not that any hare was keen to check that for himself…
"Why such a sour face on a day like this, Sovna? Maybe a bit of jolly old dance would make ye smile?" Sovna hardly noticed the familiar face nearby until the hare moved ahead of her to talk. But to be honest Tesak of the Gallopers was not a very noticeable hare – a bit shorter than average and unremarkable in every aspect of appearance, one who melded in any crowd just as easily as in forest undergrowth. Sovna thought that Tesak disliked her quietly so when he bowed courteously, offering his paw in invitation, she was nearly stunned. Was this some sort of a trick, a jest? She suddenly remembered that Aldwin called Tesak a former outlaw.
Then again, maybe she just was unduly suspicious about her comrades-in-arms. Smiling was an unfamiliar experience, to be sure, but she tried her best, as she took Tesak's paw. "Why, let's see if it would."
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"Say, chaps, do any of ye per chance happen to know a song or two?"
The question came just when Kethra started to think that appearing at the feast was a mistake, and it came from Talwar, one of the Gallopers who, as Kethra remembered from the journey, certainly knew enough songs on his own, mostly marching songs and funny ditties. Some of them he just performed to hearty cheer of the crowd.
"Why, yes," answered Suran before Kethra said a word. "Hey, mates, how about "Wind, Make Our Banner Flutter"? Join me – that's not a song for a single fox."
Kethra paw jerked as she barely suppressed the renewed urge to scratch her scar. She knew that vermin mercenary song, taught to Marroch's old band by Suran, a good, simple song for and about beasts going into battle, celebrating fighting and plunder. The woodlander war songs she heard from the hares so far were a good deal more high-minded. On the other paw, she was bored and frustrated – if woodlanders did not want to hear their songs, they shouldn't have invited them to the feast.
"Go on!" Kethra waved to Suran.
Suran did not have much of an ear for music, but his voice was clear and strong, and the other three sang along with gusto. The song took Kethra to the happier times, when Marroch was alive and the only thing she had to think about was swinging her sword, so after the second verse she no longer cared where she was or what the crowd of woodlander listeners may think...
…so she was surprised when the song was over and that crowd exploded with cheers just as loud as those given to hare singers.
"Good grief, why you never entertained us with a song like this while we were dying from boredom in Flicker's burrow?"
"You never asked." Kethra answered to Aldwin before turning towards his voice and finding that at some point he changed dancing partners. Lady Violet stood right next to him, paw in paw.
"Forgive us, if our song seemed crude and bloodthirsty to you, Lady Ruler," she added almost by reflex.
Violet only smiled. "Oh, we do have a good deal of bloodthirsty and rude songs on our own. I suppose the Gallopers here just thought that singing "The Finest of the Vermin" or "The Long Patrol's Welcome" would not be courteous in your company."
"So we did." Talwar made a helpless gesture.
"Anyhow," Violet continued, "we all would be pleased to hear more of your songs."
"Why, of course, anything for a Lady so beautiful!" Suran waved her with a half-filled cup.
The four vermin, primarily Suran and Smalltooth, remembered a number of songs suited for an exuberant feast, some belligerent, some humorous, and some ribald. Was an average hare in the hall more sober, those songs likely would have been perceived as uncouth and distasteful, but now they were enthusiastically welcomed by the growing crowd of listeners.
But one beast right at the table remained sullen, not even eating or drinking much.
"Cheer up, Selvathy." Rowanbloom nudged the otter slightly. "Look, everybeast is merry for once."
"I'm, I'm tryin'." The otter looked down into her wine. "It's just…"
"Not like I have a paw to stand on here," said Ewalt, who sat on the other side of Selvathy, "but Rowanbloom is right. The more you let dark feelings gnaw on you, the hungrier they get. Come on, maybe you too know some songs? Or if you don't care about singing, there is a dart throwing contest in the corner that way, let's try it, aren't you quite good with knife and javelin?"
"Ain't as good as ye." This time Selvathy at least tried to sound cheerful. "But let's."
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"To think of it, there is still one beast not having any fun in this hall," said Rowanbloom to Ewalt some time later, as they watched Selvathy laughing and raising the cups together with an equally young hare who proved her toughest competitor in the contest – Ewalt wanted the otter to win today, so he aimed poorly on purpose, pretending that wine already got to his head. "You, of course."
"It's hard to have fun when I look at you and Selvathy, and wonder if you might one day retell her what I told to Kethra on the night before her duel," Ewalt thought. Of course, he could not say that. Instead she shrugged. "At least I did not lie, when I said I have no paw to stand on advising others how to deal with… certain feelings."
"If it's a joke it's not funny, Ewalt! This feast is meant to be the last chance to enjoy an evening and a night of happiness before more seasons of danger, and that is what we should do. Including you."
"I guess this is just not my image of happiness, Rowanbloom." Ewalt waved his paw in a wide arc. "Too much company for my liking, too many beasts, too noisy."
"Can you at least enjoy my company?" Rowanbloom took Ewalt by the paw.
"Well, it's not that I don't…" Ewalt found himself at a loss for words – for that matter, at a loss for coherent thoughts.
"Then try to forget about everybeast else, just for a moment. Say, how about we stop mulling over our… what you said, feelings? And have a dance instead, just for a change?" Rowanbloom pointed down the hall, from where sounds of another merry dancing melody just started flowing.
"Ehm, not sure I'm any good at that…"
"That would make you fit right in with half the beasts in this hall." The squirrel smiled, as she stepped towards the music, softly but insistently pulling the mouse after her. "Don't worry. I'll show you all the moves."
And so she did.
From the author: Thanks for your reviews and following my story at all everyone.
And by the way, the songs that Violet mentions are actual songs from Redwall books. I'm not sure if they were ever given specific names by Jacques himself, so I had to come up with my own. "The Finest of the Vermin" is one of Major Cuthbert's songs from High Rhulain, and "The Long Patrol's Welcome" is a Russa/Tammo song from The Long Patrol.