Chapter 9

Building a Pact

There once was a weasel named Urbahn.

Urbahn liked to think that his best quality was his charm, and to his credit, he found it easy to talk with other beasts. Working in a travelling caravan of performers and thespians would do that. In his words, he "could charm the pants off a wildcat", or at the very least, a drunk and lonely vole. When it came to getting to Redwall Abbey, finding it wasn't the hard part. Everyone and their mother in Mossflower Woods at least had a general idea where it was. The problem was actually getting there in one piece. As much as Mossflower was hailed as a land of peace (something Urbahn thought was ridiculous), it had just as many bandits and criminals as any other land, and for somebeast as bad as fighting as Urbahn, that was an issue. His solution was to find somebeast who knew how to navigate the River Moss, as it would be the fastest and safest way to get to Redwall.

He found his transportation in the form of a vole who owned a small boat. Urbahn dressed up as a squirrel named Silas (since being an otter again would raise the question why he would even need a boat in the first place) and approached him. A brief hour of courtship later, and the vole, Mack, agreed to take Silas down the river.

Currently, Silas lay on the stern while Mack fumbled with the knots fastened around his knapsack. Silas raised a brow. In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best idea to get in a boat manned by a drunk vole, but it was better than nothing. "Do you need any help with that?" Silas asked in a patient tone.

Mack shook his head and laughed. "N-nah, I've got it allll covered. All covered. See, just watch- no, wait, okay, now watch." The vole picked at the string for an awkwardly long time before Silas gently pulled the bag away and undid the knots in a couple of seconds. "Thaaaanks, Silaaas." Mack smiled and grabbed his knapsack, pulling out two square cookies with designs intricately carved at the top. Although they were stale and likely damp, Silas thought they looked way better than anything he had recently.

Silas blinked, mouth agape. "How'd you-?"

"My last girlfriend was a baker," Mack said, handing Silas a cookie. "I tell ya, she reaaaaally had an eye for these things. I couldn't get enough o- I miss her a lot, I miss her so much, I was cryin' last night 'till you showed up."

Silas put aside the vole's odd revelation and smiled. "Hey, don't be scared, you've got me now," he said, quoting a romantic play he helped rehearse.

Mack tilted his head. "Do I look scared? Whaatever. You're adorrrable."

"Seriously?" Groddil's voice echoed through the woods. Silas sat up and looked around, flinching as he saw the fox spirit's lengthy body hanging from the trees like a snake. "Why are you doing this?"

Silas smiled and smoothly wrapped an arm around Mack, causing the vole to seize up. What's the problem? I'm makin' use o' the powers ya gave me.

Mack shuffled, hugging his arms to his sides. "Um, Silas?"

"Yes, Mack?"

"U- uh, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Who knows," Silas said with a coy smile.

Groddil slithered through the branches to catch up with the boat as it floated down the river. "That is the saddest excuse for a vole I have ever seen. How much has he told you in the past hour, despite the fact you two have never met?"

Quite a bit. 'Tis pretty pathetic. Silas snickered and leaned against the vole's tiny body. "If I may be honest, I've always dreamed of finding someone like this. It's so nice to know there is always someone for you."

Mack nodded. "That- that's a good dream, like, and some greaaat wise words. Glad to hear you say that. I don't wanna be alone anymore."

"Seasons." Groddil adjusted his spectacles and glared at the vole. "You know, Urbahn-"

Call me Silas. I'm in character.

"No. Urbahn, I've been meaning to ask, do you have a plan for dealing with Martin when we arrive at Redwall Abbey? As powerful as I am, Martin watches over that dreadful place with a diligent eye."

No, I don't.

Groddil grumbled and rubbed his forehead. "Of course. Listen, I want you to remember anything and everything you can about the beasts living in this area. Hopes, dreams, fears, or anything else that would be useful for crafting a dream world. I am confident I can mask our activities from Martin to a certain extent, but we need to delay him finding out about us as much as possible. That means we need to find potential distractions."

Silas glanced at Mack, who was swaying side to side. Noted. There is only so much we can do, though. From what I heard about that mouse, he will find out about us eventually, it's just a matter of ensuring he can't do anythin' about it.

"Correct."

In the meantime though, I'm gonna have fun messin' around wit' this vole.

"Really?"

Silas chuckled. Hey, why not have fun?' 'Sides, I already got a good profile on him. The squirrel lightly kissed Mack on the head. The vole's eyes widened as he laughed stiffly, wrapping an arm around Silas.

"This is nice," Mack mumbled. "Unfortunately, we're almost there."

"Huh?" Silas raised a brow. They haven't even been travelling for that long!

"Yeeeeah. Takes less than a day from where we uh, from where we started to get to Redwall on foot, and we're got the- we have boats."

"Oh." That makes the problem of Birchtail getting to Redwall Abbey easier. Eh, I don't care if we're landin' soon. I'm takin' a nap. Silas hugged Mack as tightly as he could and lied down. Mack's eyes practically bulged out of his head as he stroked the arms clutching his chest.

"Please don't leave," Mack whispered, his voice a desperate whine.

"I won't." I'll just wait 'till he goes to sleep. At least that way, I don't have to deal wit' the breakup. Damn, that was the fastest relationship I've ever been through. Oh well. At least he's cute.

Despite Marley and Winslow's mission lasting from midnight to a little before morning, Winslow didn't seem bothered getting up at his usual time to do his assigned chores. Marley, on the other paw, struggled to get out of their cot. Not that it mattered as of late, since the other residents preferred if Marley stayed as far away from their work as possible.

Marley's eyes shot open as they heard creaking nearby. They rolled on their side to see Winslow getting up from his infirmary cot and stretching his arms above his head. The otter turned his head as he realised Marley was watching him. "Sorry mate," Winslow grunted and rolled his shoulders. "Did I wake ye up?"

"Yeah, but it's alright." Marley sat up, brushing their fur with a paw. "Where are you going?"

"Breakfast. After that, the abbot assigned me to help move some stuff in the storage. Marley, can ye pass me my belt?"

"Alright." Marley tossed Winslow his sash. Watching the otter catch it out of the air reminded them of the talk they and Martin had last night. If Winslow did have contact with a spirit, now would be a good time to ask about it. No one else was in the infirmary, after all. "Hey, Winslow, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Have you had any weird dreams lately?"

Winslow froze and turned with a thin smirk. "Be more specific."

"Sure. Did you meet some weird beast who told you that you needed help, or something like that?"

"Hm. Maybe" Winslow approached Marley's cot and sat next to the mouse. "I assume ye also had a dream like that, since yer askin' me?"

Marley tilted their head. "How'd you guess?"

"Really, Marley? Nevermind that, but wow! I thought I was goin' crazy, but 'tis nice to know I ain't the only one. What did ye see in yer dream?"

Marley didn't expect Winslow to ask them that, and thinking about the day they first met Martin made their head fuzzy. "Um… it's been a while, so I don't remember."

"A while?" Winslow drew back. "What? How long am I gonna have this guy in my head?"

Marley scratched the back of their ear. "Well, mine started while I was banished, so at least a moon."

Winslow sighed and rested his arms behind his head. "That's kinda annoyin'. Cool, but annoyin'. I first saw this otter-thing durin' our fight last night, and I saw him again when I went to sleep. The bugger asked how much I knew about fightin' and offered to train me. I appreciate the offer, but I don't need his help. 'Tis not really what I'm after, anyway."

"Huh. That makes sense." As neat as it was having both them and Winslow gaining contact with a spirit, it did raise the question why Winslow got one in the first place. Martin was all about protecting Redwall Abbey, but what did Winslow's spirit want? "Do you know who was speaking to you?"

Winslow shrugged. "Some otter named Shogg, I don't know. I've never heard that name before. What about ye? Who are ye stuck wit'?"

"Oh." Marley looked at the ground as they decided whether to tell the truth. If the spirit talking to them was anyone else, they would've told Winslow easily, but Martin? Even someone like Winslow would have a lot of expectations, especially now that he knew this spirit stuff was real. "Can you promise not to say anything?"

"Of course," Winslow snorted. "I wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway, not even Trey or Finn. I don't think either o' those two would be happy if they knew."

Marley nodded. "Alright. It's, uh…" The mouse trailed off, shuffling their footpaws on the floor. "Martin."

"Really?" Winslow exclaimed. "So he is real. Aw, that's awesome!"

"No, it isn't. Stop." Winslow's smile vanished. Marley dug a finger into their jerkin and stared at the otter. "Do you realise this means the abbey is in danger and that I'm the one that has to do something about it? Not to mention, everyone worships Martin, and I don't want to deal with that. You're the only one I'm telling about this."

"Is that what that means? I didn't pay much attention to history. Y'know, now that you mention it, it would be strange if beasts heard about it. I mean, Levi's right there, and Martin didn't go fer him… Oh. is that why ye decided to search fer this weasel? Did Martin ask ye to?"

Marley flashed a thumbs up. "Yeah." Technically, I'm not lying.

Winslow whistled and wrapped an arm around Marley's shoulder. "Dang, now we really have to find that weasel now. The gods are callin' upon us to do so!"

"First off, they're spirits, not gods. Second, I didn't think you'd care about Martin's opinion that much."

"I don't, but 'tis fun to pretend. We're searchin' tonight, then?" Marley opened their mouth to answer before noticing something outside. They got out of bed and approached the window. Despite the fact it was still dark outside, they could see the clouds rolling in like smoke during a forest fire. Winslow padded up, stood next to Marley and gazed at the sky. "We might have to wait if the weather gets worse," Winslow grumbled. "'Sides, I doubt that weasel's goin' anywhere if it rains hard enough."

Marley tilted their head, recalling what they knew about him. "Probably not."

The pair stood by the window, watching the early risers enter the lawns. A couple of them headed back inside presumably to dress warmer for the day. Winslow muttered something about a jacket before turning to Marley. "So, if Martin really does want ye to do this stuff, I'll help ye, aye?"

"Do you have to?"

"Aye, mate. I'm not lettin' ye do this alone."

Marley eyed Winslow silently for a moment. "But I'll be fine. I don't want you to get involved with this past helping me find that weasel, and even then, I didn't want you to go in the first place."

Winslow grinned and tousled the mouse's headfur. "Well, too bad, 'cause I ain't lettin' anythin' happen to ye. I'm helpin' ye, and that's final. 'Sides, what are ye gonna do 'bout it, hm? What, yer gonna try and stop me?"

Marley groaned. "I don't know."

"Darn right," Winslow chuckled before clearing his throat. "But seriously, I don't want ye goin' off on yer own. I wouldn't put all my trust into these spirits, and I think I'd die if somethin' happened to ye again. Is that all ye wanted to talk about, mate? 'Cause otherwise I really gotta leave."

"No, you can go. See you later, Winslow."

Winslow saluted and slipped out of the room. After the otter left, Marley dropped back into their cot to get some shuteye. They expected Winslow to want to help them, but that didn't stop them from thinking about the possibilities. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. No, wait, I definitely should've lied. Crap… I'll think about this later. I'm too tired. I should start going to bed earlier. Luckily, Martin decided not to bother them, so they got to catch up on their missed sleep. The question of "what would happen to Winslow?" and "What does Martin want us to do?" were momentarily forgotten as they drifted off to sleep.