Chapter Twenty-Six

Klystra returned to the slaves as their procession was preparing to set up camp for the night on the open plains under a wide sky of crimson-painted clouds. The falcon clutched in his talons a sizable haversack which, when opened, revealed a liberal quantity and variety of foodstuffs. The travellers could scarcely believe the display of culinary riches spread out on the ground before them.

"Egads!" Granholm choked in delight as he sampled a candied chestnut - and then another. "There's enough here to feed us for a season!"

"Wouldn't go that far, chap," Browder cautioned, comparing the aromas of a fresh-baked loaf of spicebread and an equally savory oversized pastie. "But should be enough t' get us t' Redwall, if we jolly well watch our bally portions. I say, I don't recall any fare this fine last time I stayed at Salamandastron. Wot, were they hidin' all the good stuff from this poor hare?"

Klystra, standing back from the ecstatic woodlanders, shook his head. "Not Salamandastron. Redwall. Abbey closer, less distance to fly."

"Ah! Well, that jolly well explains it. Should've known tucker like this could only have come from there."

Wharff chewed blissfully on a shrimp and leek pastie. "Is all their food this good?" the otter asked hopefully.

"By all accounts," Browder said. "Though I was only ever there for part of one afternoon, an' the somewhat dire circumstances of that occasion kept me from relishin' my scoff to th' fullest. Um ... " The hare nervously turned to Klystra. "Don't suppose you mentioned to anybeast at the Abbey that I'm part o' this trampin' troupe?"

"Your name didn't come up," the falcon assured him.

Granholm regarded Browder. "Yeah, are you ever gonna tell us what the story is with you and those other hares? Or are we gonna hafta wait until we reach Redwall for them to tell us?"

Browder shuffled his feet and wrung his paws self-consciously as everybeast gazed at him waiting for an answer.

"Um ... well ... " He nodded toward Kurdyla, who squatted inspecting a sweet biscuit; the big otter was the only creature there still intent upon the food rather than Browder. "I already hashed this all out with him, don'tcha know, an' no use boilin' th' cabbage twice, wot? We agreed that maybe it's in everybeast's best interest if I step out o' the picture once we're within sight o' Redwall. I'll just fade back into th' thick o' Mossflower, an' they'll never hafta know I was ever with you t'all."

Wharff glanced at Kurdyla. "Well, it'd be nice t' hear what you two 'hashed out' from Kurdy 'imself, but unfortunately me matey there doesn't seem like he'll be formulatin' any strategies real soon, if y' know what I mean ... "

Clovis put a paw softly on Wharff's arm. "Do you think he's going to be all right? I'm worried about him."

Wharff flashed the young mouse an encouraging smile. "Us otters're tough, missy, an' Kurdy's tougher'n most. Reckon he'll get over them knocks on 'is noggin all in good time."

"If he's still behavin' out of sorts by the time you get to Redwall, they'll know wot t' do," Browder put in. "Those Abbeyfolk are reputed to be the best spankin' healerbeasts this side o' Urthblood's miracle foxes. They'll know what herbs 'n' potions to use to set him right. Why, just spendin' some time at that grand old place might be enough t' jostle his bally brainbox back where it should be."

Granholm went over to Kurdyla and squatted down beside him. "Hey, there, matey, how you like all this food our bird friend's gone an' fetched for us?"

The brawny otter stared at the squirrel with a not-quite-comprehending aura of innocence glazing his eyes. "'Tis fine."

Granholm fought to keep his smile from slipping. "Yes, fine. Say, do you happen to remember what you and Browder were talking about doin' when we got near Redwall?"

Kurdyla's vacant expression remained unchanged. "I heard Redwall's a nice place. I'd like to see it."

Now Granholm couldn't prevent his smile from becoming wistful - not that such a nuance would be noticed by the suddenly-simple-minded otter. "That you will," he said, patting Kurdyla on the back. "That you will."

"That makes one of us," Browder muttered as he turned his attention to getting their campfire lit for the night.

00000000000

The last day of winter found Salamandastron abuzz with activity.

Once more the skies were as gray as the sea, as the coldest season made one last bid to assert itself on its final day. Working beneath those steely skies, teams of squirrels and otters emplaced two enormous catapults on the seaward slopes, where they would be able to threaten any naval vessel that drew too close to shore. Elsewhere on the mountainside, positions were fortified for the rapid-fire crossbow wagons that Browder had seen being tested the day before his assault team had left Salamandastron. More of the bolt-hurling anti-infantry devices were being constructed for use inside the main entrance, where they would be able to cut down score after score of any enemy horde who succeeded in breaching the main gates.

Matowick stood at the Badger Lord's side as they oversaw the installation of one catapult. Both he and Saybrook had been thoroughly debriefed by Urthblood, who now knew as much about Tratton's new weapons as anybeast, excepting the searats themselves.

"I don't understand, My Lord," the Gawtrybe captain said. "Now that you've made an alliance with the seagulls and can use them to destroy Tratton's ships, why do we need such extensive defenses here on the mountain itself?"

"It is always possible that Tratton will be able to land a considerable assault force before the ships carrying them can be sunk. We should not have to rely totally upon the gulls for our protection. Remember, Tratton is now building ships of steel as well as wood, and fire will not work against those."

"No. But the glass vitriol will. That stuff eats through anything."

"One reason I have added it to my arsenal. But it may not do the job quickly enough against thick steel hull plating. We have to operate on the assumption that somehow, someday, the searats will succeed in landing an army and attacking in force. That is what we must prepare for."

Matowick directed a searching gaze at his badger master. "Have you ... seen this, My Lord?"

"It is common sense strategy, Captain. I do not need the gift of prophetic sight to know how to defend my own home."

But Urthblood was indeed still putting great stock in his alliance with King Grullon. Down in his workshop, Trelayne and his assistants were making and blowing glass as fast as they could - both the regular vessels for holding the flammable accelerants and the wax-lined globes to contain the corrosive vitriol. Trelayne himself personally concocted new batches of the vitriol, which was then stored in covered tubs; not only could the fumes be damaging to breathe if the fluid was left standing in the open for too long, but after the incident with Browder, Trelayne didn't want to risk enticing any other unknowledgeable visitors into making a potentially fatal mistake.

Meanwhile, by the shoreline, Saybrook and some of his otters were seeing off the logboat shrews. Urthblood had officially promoted Tardo to captain and issued the new commander his next assignment. Tardo and his shrews were to leave at once.

"So, where're y' bound fer, matey?" Saybrook inquired of his diminutive friend; he and Tardo had become fast companions during the journey back to Salamandastron. "If'n it ain't a secret ... "

"No secret y' don't already know 'bout, y ol' riverwalloper," Tardo said, "since you was there when it happened. Lord Urthblood's sendin' us inland t' safeguard that underwater rat ship he captured last summer."

Saybrook was genuinely surprised. "I thought he left that contraption in th' care o' the Guosim shrews?"

Tardo shook his head. "Th' Guosim go up t' winter at Redwall. There's been a local tribe o' otters who agreed ta temporarily move their holt t' where th' thing's moored so they c'n guard it over th' winter. But it might be well inta spring 'fore th' Guosim stir themselves t' leave Redwall, an' with all that's just happened with th' searats, Lord Urthblood wants extra security on that craft. There'll be more shrews comin' down from th' Northlands t' help us. In fact, we're gonna build ourselves a garrison there, right along th' river. Moles up north drew up th' plans, which our brother shrews'll be bringin' down with 'em. Who knows?" Tardo gave the otter a friendly elbow nudge. "Mebbe someday, we'll be usin' that bucket o' bolts fer ourselves 'gainst Tratton!"

"Oo, now wouldn't that be sweet irony!" Saybrook got down on one knee so he could embrace the smaller creature. "You take care o' yerself, li'l matey! After all you been through this season, y' don't need anymore trouble comin' yer way."

"What're ya blatherin' about, Cap'n Waterdog? You went through just as much as we did. Ye're th' ones who'll be out here on th' front lines if Tratton makes this inta a real war. We'll be sittin' on our scrimpy tails in our nice cushy Mossflower assignment, far away from all th' action - more's th' pity!"

"Yah, well, mebbe if it stays nice 'n' quiet out here, I'll come pay you a visit after you've got yer new homestead all set up. Mebbe even take that rusty rat tub fer a spin 'round th' river m'self!"

Saybrook and the other otters stood back as the logboat fleet was launched over the breakers and out onto the main, skimming over the foamy wavetops with the light grace of craft guided by expert rowers. Every boat would be going south with Tardo's shrews, the empty seats filled with extra provisions from Salamandastron's larders. They would not go hungry waiting for the growing seasons to bring forth the full bounty of Mossflower's edible riches.

In no time at all the logboat flotilla dwindled into the choppy gray-green of the winter sea, and was gone. The otters turned and trudged their way up into Salamandastron, to wait and see whether it would be peace ... or war.

00000000000

It was the second day of spring, and once again Klystra had been called away from Browder and the Redwall-bound slaves.

Altidor the eagle had come to them the evening before, informing the falcon that Urthblood was reassigning him to fly cover for Tardo's shrews while they sailed south along the coast and then up the broadstream that contained the captured searat submarine. And so, as dusk fell over the thawing Western Plains, the two raptors winged their way southwest, leaving the marchers once more without any aerial scout.

Not that it really mattered by this point. They were so close to Redwall, without any sign of any enemy between them and the Abbey, that they decided it wasn't even necessary for Browder to scout out ahead of them. It didn't help the hare's constitution when Granholm brought up the point that Browder's reconnaissance hadn't kept them from falling into the clutches of the Flitch-aye-aye.

"The food's the main thing," Lekkas the mouse quickly pointed out, seeking to shift the conversation away from any possible shortcoming of Browder's. "We just have to make sure we ration what we have so it'll last us 'til we get to Redwall, since Klystra didn't have time to fly to the Abbey to fetch us any more."

Wharff nodded, "Aye, an' water too. T'was nice o' them Redwallers t' throw in a few extra water pouches fer us, but they won't do us no good if'n we don't come across any streams or ponds t' fill 'em. At least when there was snow on the ground we could melt it fer cookin' an' drinkin', but it's all gone now ... "

"Yes, but the days are growing wonderfully mild!" Clovis inhaled deeply. "And smell that air! Ah, spring ... glorious!"

"Too bad the nights are still bitterly cold," Lekkas grumbled. "I nearly shivered my fur off these last two nights, even with our fires and my bedroll!"

"Yeah, I'd noticed," said another mouse named Thisal, "since I was sharing that bedroll with you, Lekky!"

"Well, we've got the Flitch-aye-aye to thank for not havin' enough to go around," said Lekkas. "If my shivering bothers you that much, Thiss, why don't you bed down with Fallace or Hegedus? Those 'hogs would be nice 'n' cozy, I'm sure!"

"Erherm!" Browder loudly cleared his throat. "Gettin' back to th' bally matter at paw, we should come within sight o' Redwall in th' next day or two. We might find ourselves a tad parched an' peckish on th' final leg of our stroll, but that oughtn't be a problem, long as we don't meet anymore unexpected delays."

Now, with the noontide nearly upon them, the travellers settled down for a spare but flavorful lunch amongst a circle of hillocks. While the others rested and ate, Browder and Granholm climbed to the top of the easternmost hill. Paws to brows, they scanned to the horizon.

"Hmm ... still no sight o' Redwall," the hare said. "Thought we might be able t' snatch a peek from this high ground, but I guess we're just a scritch too far still ... "

A movement overhead made Granholm glance up. "Well, this warmer weather's bringin' out the birds. That's a sparrow, unless I'm mistaken."

"Hey, watch where it goes," said Browder. "Klystra seemed t' think we might come across one more small stream 'tween here 'n' Redwall. Maybe that birdbrain can show us th' way to it, wot?"

"Worth a try, I s'pose ... though it seems more interested in us than anything, judging by the way it's circling overhead. Hope it doesn't think it'll be getting any food out of us, 'cos it'd be in for a mighty big disappointment!"

They could hear the clear, trilling chirps of the sparrow drifting down to them on the mild spring air, but they could not make out any words in the birdsong. Perhaps it was just the nonsensical chatter of a creature delighted by the arrival of this season of rebirth, singing its heart out in unbridled joy.

After one final circle, the sparrow shot off to the east, skimming along the fresh spring breezes like a feathery stone skipping across the surface of a still pond. As hare and squirrel watched, it dipped below another distant rise in the landscape.

"Think it just found the stream we're looking for?" Granholm wondered.

"Dunno, chappie. Worth a look, tho'. It swooped down into that bloomin' hollow for some reason. Might be its nest down there - "

"Don't think so. Sparrows nest in high places, not on the ground, and I doubt there are any valleys out here on the plains that are so deep they'd hide entire trees from us ... "

"Well, it's not too far for a slog. I'll just run out that way an' see wot's wot, wot?" Browder was about to start right off, but Granholm stopped him with a paw on the shoulder.

"Better take some of those spare water pouches with you, just in case you do find that stream. And maybe somebeast or two to help you carry them back - several full pouches might be too much for you to handle by yourself."

"Won't be able t' travel as fast as I could if I go alone," Browder countered.

Granholm sighted along the rolling plains. "Where that sparrow disappeared isn't too far off our present course. You wouldn't have to come all the way back here - just wait for us up ahead, and we'll meet you there."

"Sounds like a bally plan," Browder nodded. "Right, so who'll it be? Not a mouse or 'hog, need longer legs than that. Also somebeast with plenty o' brawn who can heft those pouches if they're full ... "

A short time later, Browder set out with Kurdyla at his side. The hare had approached Wharff for the task, but surprisingly the stricken otter had volunteered instead. Browder didn't object - Kurdyla was the biggest and strongest creature in their party, nearly a match for a badger - but secretly Browder suspected he might just as easily end up having to play nursemaid to the otter, given Kurdyla's present childlike condition. But the burly beast had been eager to lend a paw and enthusiastic about going to investigate the possible water source. Perhaps in his currently fractured mind he dimly remembered how he and Browder had started off as the two unofficial heads of their company, and this was his way of recapturing that. One thing was clear, though: even in this docile state, nobeast was about to tell Kurdyla what he could and couldn't do.

After the duo had left, Clovis took Granholm and Wharff aside. "I know Browder is talking about leaving us when we get within sight of Redwall," the young mouse said, "but I don't think he should. He came with us all this way, guiding us here from the coast, and we never would have gotten this far without him. Why should he be denied the hospitality of Redwall?"

"Because, by all accounts, there's a bunch of bunnies inside that Abbey who'd like to split our friend Browder from neck to bellybutton," said Granholm.

"Aye," Wharff agreed, "an' he still ain't come clean with us over what that's all about. If his bein' with us is gonna cause us trouble, then that's trouble we don't need, missy."

"Trouble?" Clovis repeated, eyes wide. "Are you both so quick to forget the trouble we've already had? Browder and Klystra risked their lives to come down after us and save us from the Flitch-aye-aye. They would have been well within their rights to have given us up for lost, and then we all would have ended up like poor Wexford! It's not fair if we repay him by casting him off when it's not convenient to have him around anymore!"

Wharff pursed his lips. "Yeah, that's a point. I reckon that flopears did save our lives. Or helped to, anyways."

"So what can we do about it?" Granholm asked.

"We can stand up for one of our own, that's what we can do!" Clovis spat emphatically. "You two are the biggest and strongest creatures here, and now that Kurdyla's not right, the leadership of our company falls to you. We have to stand up to those hares, and let them know that Browder's one of us, and we won't tolerate them harassing him!"

"Us?" Granholm asked, incredulous. "Stand up to the Long Patrol?"

"Why not? We were slaves of the searats and prisoners of cannibals - surely we can handle a bunch of hares? They are supposed to be goodbeasts, after all. They'll listen to us. We'll make them listen!"

"I don't know." Granholm was skeptical. "When goodbeasts are convinced they're in the right, they can be more terrible to oppose than any vermin. I mean, look at what the Gawtrybe did at that searat mill ... "

"Aye," Wharff added, "an' I heard tell that th' Long Patrols are fanatical 'bout anybeast they consider an enemy. They might not be inclined t' lissen t' reason in th' matter ... "

"Then we'll appeal to the Abbess!" Clovis insisted. "They'll dare not harm Browder if she forbids it. Why, once they hear everything we have to say, they'll see what a hero Browder is, and then they wouldn't think of hurting him!"

"First we'll hafta get 'im inside th' Abbey," said Wharff. "Won't be much we or th' Abbess can do if'n those hares're patrollin' outside Redwall an' get to 'im first."

"Then we won't let them! I'll put myself between Browder and anybeast who threatens him! They'll have to get through me first!"

Granholm and Wharff both smiled at the idea of a mouse putting herself in front of a hare twice her size to protect him from other hares twice her size. "Then we'll be standing right at your side, if it comes to that," the squirrel assured her. "But I think we're all overlooking one thing here ... "

"What?" Clovis and Wharff asked as one.

"What if Browder doesn't want to go to Redwall?"

Clovis looked confused. "Well ... why wouldn't he? It's supposed to be such a nice place ... "

"Granny could be right," Wharff said slowly. "Could be that place might have some bad mem'ries fer Browder. A nice place fer most o' us might not be a nice place fer everybeast ... "

"Well, yes, but if those hares are the only reason he doesn't want to go to Redwall ... "

Granholm patted Clovis on the shoulder. "Tell ya what. When Browder gets back, or when we catch up to him, we'll ask him. Simple as that. If he knows we're all on his side and we'd support him in any confrontation with those other hares, maybe he'll have a change of heart about staying clear of Redwall. For all we know, Browder could still be expected back at Salamandastron for a new assignment, or maybe he's eager to rejoin friends and loved ones up in the Northlands. But if the Long Patrol's the only thing keeping him from going to Redwall, well ... we'll just have to do something about that!"