9
The swamp at night was more perilous than Fentress had expected. Even as they crept along the branches of the trees with the mire rippling beneath them, she had the impression that something essential to the geography of the place had altered since their last visit not two hours prior.
"How're you holding up, Sully?" she asked, to deter the creeping thought that they might be lost.
"Better'n you, even with my paw all banged up," came a whisper from somewhere behind her, far more distant than the oblique collection of shapes that made up Fentress's friend.
Fentress's plan had gone better in her head. When she first came up with it, she envisioned the two of them slithering silently through the trees, able to survey the situation undetected, scout the location of Martin's Sword, and then through some circus-act acrobatics nick it from whatever scaly claws it had fallen into while the owner of said claws snored comically, dreaming of whatever it is lizards dream about. And should for any reason the lizards actually discover them, they would be too high up to be reached—as Fentress remembered from their encounter earlier in the day, even the largest lizard of them all had failed when it tried to leap after them as they climbed onto the branches.
Perfect, right? Well, no. Because trees were loud when somebeast was crawling through them. Leaves rustled no matter how hard Fentress tried not to rustle them, which Fentress at first thought was a defect in the trees themselves until she realized that Sully even with her bad paw was able to make far less noise, which meant that the time-worn nursery rhyme was true:
An otter shouldn't ever bother to leave the water,
Unless called to supper by her angry father.
Trees were hard. Fentress kept slipping, losing her grip, nearly tumbling out. Their progress had been remarkably slow and Sully often gave a hushed whisper to hurry up.
And yet even more remarkable was the fact that they had not seen a single lizard since their return to the swamp. Fentress considered the possibility of diurnal behavior coupled with natural camouflage in the mostly dead-green swampland merely concealing them from view, but still. The silence was uncanny, as if the reason the ground below was dark whenever Fentress mustered the nerve to look down was not because of the night streaming through the canopy but instead because the ground had simply fallen away completely, leaving an endless abyss in its place that had swallowed up every creature in Mossflower simultaneously save for them because of their incredible foresight to become treebeasts at just the right time.
And then out of the dark something spoke.
"What's this strange fruit growing from the leaves?"
The voice was shrill enough for it to take a second for Fentress to realize it was not the voice of a lizard. She searched for the speaker, but saw nothing.
Fentress and Sully looked at each other in silent consultation about whether to address the creature or not.
"I do see you, of course. I see many things that my eyes do not."
Out of the dark below appeared two silvery eyes, reflecting the scant moonlight. They were not attached to anything, as far as Fentress could tell—two eyes staring out of the dark.
It was obvious that remaining silence would not cause the creature to leave. "Please," said Fentress, "Keep your voice down. This swamp is dangerous—lizards may hear you."
"There are no lizards here, girl," said the eyes. "There have not been lizards in this wood for some time."
"Maybe not, but there are now. You're in grave danger if you don't keep quiet."
"The three of us," said the eyes, "Are the only living creatures of note in this entire marsh."
Sully pushed her way next to Fentress on the branch and poked her head through the leaves to confront the creature below. "You dense lunk, we saw a whole clan o'lizards in this very swamp just before sundown, an' they were awfully hungry. An' who are ye anyway, blabberin' on all cryptic and mystic-like without the decency to show yore face?"
"Come down, girls," said the eyes. "And I will show you my face, and much more."
"We'll stay up here, thank you very much," said Fentress.
"What a disappointment. And you'll never learn about the Warrior's Sword you seek, and where it has gone, and who now wields it."
Fentress and Sully exchanged a glance.
"The Sword of Martin?" said Fentress. "How do you know about that?"
"I told you, I see many things my eyes do not. Come down, and share a cup of tea with me. I have much to tell you."
The silver eyes stared unblinking.
"I don't like this, Fen," said Sully.
"Also," said the eyes, "I can heal the squirrel's paw."
Fentress wondered if she had mentioned Sully's paw aloud anytime recently, and then she wondered if a beast observant enough could have simply inferred the injury from the sounds Sully made climbing through the trees. Of course, how would the voice have known that one of them was a squirrel, unless the voice could see more of them than they could see of it?
"Whoever this is," she said to Sully, "They know something of Martin's Sword. We ought to talk to them."
"An' what if they're tryin' to trap us?"
"It's no lizard, that's obvious enough." Lowering her voice to a whisper, she added: "I suspect it's a hermit, somebeast who has lived here a long time and saw where that rat ran off to with the sword. Whoever it is, they may try to trick us, but they have information we need to know. Keep your guard up."
Sully gave a nod.
Fentress turned to the silver eyes beneath. "Well then, good creature, we'll come down and have a nice chat. But first, would you mind telling us your name?"
"My name is Sosostris. I am a seer by trade."
Sosostris, a seer by trade. Fentress parsed her memory for any recollection of the name before, perhaps uttered by her father or her father's friends during their late-night conversations of war and strife and the state of Mossflower to which she was forbidden to listen and to which she listened anyway. A wise old hermit in the swamp, Sosostris… But nothing came of it, the name was unfamiliar, which meant little as it had been some seasons since those discussions had taken place.
Fentress and Sully climbed out of the tree. As Fentress hit the ground she realized that the branch to which they'd clung had been low, low enough for the glittering eyes to reach up and pull them down itself had it so desired. The knowledge gave her somewhat more confidence in her plan to speak with Sosostris, but unsettled her to think of what might have happened had the lizards discovered them.
The land was firm enough.
Up close, Sosostris remained an enigma. All Fentress could tell was that it was not a reptile, for it was wrapped in a ragged hooded cloak from which only the eyes and an indeterminate snout were visible, a snout that could have belonged to anybeast. As Fentress squinted to try and make out more features, a match suddenly lit and cast the area in a dull orange glow. Sosostris held the match to a lamp and set it atop a wooden surface of some sort behind her—a cart, rotten and overgrown with vines. Sosostris herself was a vixen.
"What kind of creature sits around in the dark by themselves when they got a perfectly good lantern right here and the means t'light it," said Sully.
Sosostris was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the cart, beside a stack of old books the pages of through which she flitted her paw absentmindedly. "I find it peaceful to meditate in the dark. With my external senses of no use to me, I can focus more on my internal ones." Her silver eyes sparkled. She was not an old creature; in fact, despite the rags, she was actually quite young, hardly older than Fentress or Sully. And despite being a fox and living in a swamp, she seemed clean enough. Of course, the time-worn adage "Never trust a vixen" echoed through Fentress's ears, but Fentress had never expected to trusted this creature anyway, vixen or not.
"Would you like some herbal tea," asked Sosostris. "I can fix you some."
"We're fine," said Fentress. "Let's get to the point. I don't want to hear a lot of smoke and mirrors. Where is the Sword of Martin?"
From the back of the cart Sosostris picked something up—it was a cup of tea, still steaming, although Fentress saw no way the seer could have prepared it. She took a sip before saying, "The warrior's sword is where it belongs: the sandstone abbey. Of course."
Sully stood up with a sigh, with only a slight wince afterward. "Listen t'this rot. A load of nonsense, what more would ya expect from a vixen seer? We know the sword ain't at Redwall, we saw it go into this swamp with our own eyes." She grabbed Fentress by the shoulder. "Com'n, Fen. Let's get outta here afore the lizards hear us."
"I told you, the lizards left in the afternoon," said Sosostris, taking another sip of tea.
"You didn't tell us that at all," said Fentress. "You said there had been no lizards here for some time. Which was a lie."
"'Twas nothing of the sort; I speak only sooth. Time means different things to different beasts. For some, seasons may pass in the blink of an eye. For others, many eons may pass in the frame of a second. I myself am a creature for whom time stands endless, immortal, expansive. To me, it has been some time even since we have started speaking."
"Mumbo jumbo," said Sully. "Some time can mean anything, sure, but it ain't a matter of time, 'tis a matter of some. A second is some time. A season is some time."
Sosostris took another sip. "You strike me as the type of creature who will one day look up and wonder how she got so old so fast and lament youthful days neither remembered nor much cherished 'til 'twas too late. Diverting this digression to the stream of our conversation, I will for your benefit assure you that whatever the meaning of some time, the lizards are here no longer."
It seemed true. They had not heard even a scuffle in the moss since they returned to the swamp, and Fentress doubted any creature, even an odd one like Sosostris, would so nonchalantly drink tea in the dark unless she were absolutely certain no harm would befall her.
Which meant she might also be right about Martin's Sword being back at Redwall. Which meant—
"The lizards aren't here because they went to Redwall, and they took the sword with them."
"Clever girl," said Sosostris. "But for a technicality, 'twould be correct. The sword is not in the possession of lizard, but rather a rat—the same rat you saw wielding it earlier today. That is a matter, I take it, of little consequence to you."
"Come on Fen, this is stupid." Sully had remained standing, tugging at Fentress's habit to get her to rise as well. "Even if we trust she's telling the truth, an' that's an if if I ever heard one, this so-called seer hasn't told us a single thing she couldn't've seen with her real eyes."
Fentress rose. "Thank you for the information, ma'am. You've done us a sight of kindness more than your kind usually would; I hope your intentions were to match."
"If we had anything for her to swipe, I'm sure she would've by now. Wonder she ain't filched the robes off our backs."
They had taken a few steps away from the cart when Sosostris said, "Fentress. Tell me about your dream."
Fentress froze. In all the commotion throughout the day she had forgotten all about her dream from Martin the Warrior, where his mouth had moved and no sound came out. Despite Sully's continued tugging on her arm, she turned around.
"How did you know about that?"
"She sees many things, yadda yadda," said Sully. "Or else a lucky guess. Come on."
"Take a seat," said Sosostris. "And tell me about your dream. Interpretations are a specialty of mine."
"Um—" Fentress considered what to say.
"Tell me about how the dream troubled you."
It was stupid to trust this creature, Fentress knew. Nothing about the vixen seemed trustworthy, not her odd demeanor, not her shifty approach. Besides, Fentress wasn't type to fall for a self-proclaimed seer's prognostics in the first place. Maybe she had let her guard down ever since the dream, or maybe the fact that it was late and she was tired had something to do with it, but she returned to the foot of the rotten cart where Sosostris sat with her tea and her tomes and her crossed legs and her glowing silver eyes.
Sully, exasperated, stood beside her as she explained the dream to Sosostris. "It's obvious what it means," said Sully when the tale had been told. "It's a riddle, same as always, same as in all the stories."
"Ah, yes. I know of the stories of the famed Redwall Abbey," said Sosostris. "Lore both ancient and folk is a specialty of mine."
"Then you've got nothin' else to add," said Sully.
Sosostris held a paw out in front of the pale glow of the lamplight. In it was held a small clump of dried leaves, which immediately crumbled into flecks and drifted to the ground.
"This is a changed land," she said. "Things are not as they always were. Waves drift from the south, vicissitudes of decay. A rot pervades amongst all things here. It seeps through the trees, the roots, the ground, the stone—even the stone of your beloved Abbey. Things have started to lean. Silence is but the start."
"What a load o'rot," said Sully, shifting her eyes over her shoulder at the dark expanse of the swamp.
"I'm not here to listen to riddles," said Fentress, "I'm here to have them solved. Do you know what my dream means or not?"
There was a pregnant pause. The fire in Sosostris's lamp had dimmed. The swamp was abnormally silent, lacking the chirp of insects, the caw of nightbirds, the sound of any living beast save their own ragged breathing in the dank marsh air. As if the silence of Fentress's dream had pervaded into their world somehow, with this swamp at its epicenter.
"The age of Redwall Abbey is drawing to a close," said Sosostris. "Your warrior does not speak to you because he can not. His power is ebbing."
"You're not just spoutin' nonsense, but lyin' through your teeth!" said Sully.
Sosostris held her paw over the flame of the lamp. "There once was a power here that controlled this realm and made things as they were, and those things were always good for your kind, in the end. A spirit you may call this power, a deity. He was neither. He has died now, and we are left alone to do as we like. And allow me to tell you. What we like—we as in I, as in my kind—is not what Redwall Abbey—"
"Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Something came crashing through the underbrush, flailing its way toward Sosostris, who leapt up with a startled yelp and became entangled in her cloak. She thrashed to the ground as the intruder, whipping and whooping, decapitated flowers and hacked its way through the moss. Fentress and Sully pressed their backs to a nearby tree and kept their heads low, lest a wayward lunge lop off their ears.
Sosostris tried to claw away but the thing overtook her and pinned her to the ground, holding a twitching rapier point to her throat. Standing directly in the dimming lamplight, the thing became somewhat recognizable as a hare, although one who had seen much better days, with a half-shredded uniform and no small supply of scars running along her face.
"And wot's a measly scoundrel like yourself doin' in these woods late at night haranguing a pair of poor maidens like these, eh?"
Sosostris managed to put up her paws where the hare could see them. "Apologies, ma'am, but the two will vouch that I was not saying anything to them that they did not ask to hear."
"That's debatable," muttered Sully.
The hare cast a deranged look toward Sully before prodding the rapier further, as though taking the squirrel's words for fact. Fentress stepped in before any worse could come.
"Please, put up your blade, ma'am. This vixen was doing no harm, at least not that I could tell. Let's not shed blood over trifles."
Up close, Fentress could tell the hare was out of her mind.
"No harm ye could tell, wot?" she said. "Well, that's not sayin' much, vixens are known to be treacherous beasts. 'Tis as my sergeant always used t'say, the only good vermin's a dead one, so howabout we test the adage with this'un here? I been trailin' her a good fortnight or something such of that sort, that I 'ave, but I can see now that 'twas a case of mistaken identity—course, that don't mean we ought to let her go just because she ain't the fox that we thought she was—only good fox's dead fox, and such-and-such—"
Sosostris hurled a pawful of dust into the hare's eyes. The hare recoiled, and in an instant Sosostris was gone, scurrying into the dark with only a rustle of leaves to mark her departure.
The hare bellowed and started after the vixen (in the complete wrong direction), but Fentress and Sully restrained her. "You need to calm down, ma'am," said Fentress, in what she hoped was a soothing and calming tone, "You'll just get yourself hurt blundering through a swamp in the dark like this."
"I'll get that fox, I'll get them all!" said the hare, lashing out a paw and clipping Fentress in the face. She immediately tasted blood.
Sully shouted and fell over and the hare tore away from them. She hurtled into the growth (in the right direction this time), hacking and slashing and snarling.
After a time the swamp went silent again.
Fentress went to Sully and helped her up. The squirrel winced, rubbing at her injured paw. "What in seasons was all that about?"
"Some unfinished business, I'd wager." Fentress wiped a slick of blood from her lip, which she had cut open on one of her teeth in the ruckus. "I'm not inclined to get involved, whatever the matter is. But we learned something important from that Sosostris character."
"Something important? We learned a lot of rubbish, that's what we learned! A lot of cryptic gobbledygook not a word of which I'll believe for a second. Martin's power is waning, Redwall Abbey is doomed… Exactly what a vixen would say, I'd expect no different."
Helping Sully over to the cart to sit down and rest, Fentress took a look at the articles that Sosostris had left behind in her hasty departure. Some old books, some rags, no food or drink besides the cup of tea, a few odd trinkets, and the lamp, but with no discernible method to light it. Fentress wondered if they ought to take the lamp while it still had light left to burn, but Sosostris might return for it, and Fentress didn't feel comfortable stealing, even from a fox. With what meagre supplies were in the cart, Sosostris could not be very well off. She was, after all, living in a swamp.
"Who knows what she meant about the dream and all that," said Fentress. "But I believe her that the lizards are gone. With all the commotion we made, we'd have seen them by now if that weren't the case."
"Good riddance," said Sully.
"But if they went to Redwall, like Sosostris claimed?"
"More lies. How would they even know where that is, let alone find it?"
Fentress opened one of the books and held the pages to the dimming light. It was not a book of spells or potions, as she had expected, but rather a story, written with scratchy paw. From only a quick glance she recognized it as the tale of Matthias, one of Redwall's most venerated heroes of yore, except written from the point of view of his adversary, Cluny the Scourge.
The book was illustrated with elaborate woodcuts of pestilence and death.
"The rat with Martin's Sword. He knows where Redwall is. Maybe he led them there."
Sully hesitated before replying. "Yeah, and maybe maybe maybe. Maybes mean nothing. Let's—Can we just get some shuteye before we start theorizin' and runnin' off somewhere else? I'm exhausted."
"Yes," said Fentress, thinking of Martin's Sword and Redwall and what Sosostris had said and the hare and all that had happened that day. A second home uprooted and ruined beneath her footpaws, dropping her lost and adrift into the endless expanse of the outer world and its agonies. "Yes, let's find someplace to sleep."