"I'll bet a barrel of shrewbeer he beats Tubgutt!"

"I'll take that bet. Tubgutt's eaten nine, he's only on his sixth."

"I'll bet my sword the mountain hare wins. He's a good un!"

The banter went back and forth as the two contestants battled on. Tubgutt undid his belt and leaned back. A look of disgust crossed his face as he picked up his eleventh pudding and dug a spoon halfheartedly into it. Pikkle now had eight empty bowls to his credit and was halfway through his ninth. The incorrigible hare drank another beaker of shrewbeer, 160.

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wiped his lips delicately on a napkin and winked at his opponent.

"Good stuff this. I say, Tubbyguts, don't take that one-it looks bigger than the rest. Leave it for me. Try that little one-it only looks half full, wot!"

On his thirteenth pudding Tubgutt stopped. He was breathing heavily and his mouth hung slackly open. The two little thin shrews fanned him with napkins and gave him a beaker of shrewbeer, but he pushed it away with a flabby paw.

Mara nudged Nordo. "Now watch Pikkle really take off!"

The young hare now had eleven empty bowls to his credit. He licked his spoon shiny clean and selected a twelfth.

"Tubbyguts old pal, you've gone green. I must say, you looked much better your other color. Pa.s.s another pudden, will you?"

With the spoon halfway to his lips, Tubgutt's stomach heaved and his paw went limp. The spoon clattered back into the bowl.

A hushed silence fell over the onlookers.

Completely ignoring his fellow contestant, Pikkle polished off the twelfth pudding and chose another as he licked his spoon.

Bowley the cook watched Tubgutt carefully. "Can you raise spoon or paw, shrew?"

Tubgutt collapsed, his head squelching into the pudding in front of him. Pikkle blinked and tut-tutted at his table manners. "Is he finished already? Ah well, never mind, Tubby-gutts. It's not the victory but playin' the jolly old game that counts. Anybeast want to take his place?"

A wild cheer went up from the shrews. Log-a-log laughed heartily. "Well done, Pikkle! I liked that little joke about anyone else taking Tubgutt's place. Good, eh, Mara?"

Mara gave Log-a-log a blank look. "That was no joke. Pikkle meant it. Look, he's on his sixteenth!"

The Guosssom shrews were laughing, patting Pikkle's back and cheering him to the echo. Bowley the cook held Pikkle's paw aloft.

' 'The winner by a clear four bowls of pudding, Pikkle the hare from Salamandastron is the champion!"

Amid the cheering and applause Pikkle smiled modestly, trying to pull his spooning paw from Bowley's grasp. "Steady on, chaps. Leggo me paw will you, Bowley old lad. It's bad form to stop a fellow in midscoff!"

Covered by a blanket, Pikkle lay on a ledge, snoring loudly. Mara sat with Log-a-log and his son Nordo. The other shrews had retired for the night.

Though Mara had been glad to escape Salamandastron she could not reconcile herself to the idea of Urthstripe being besieged along with the hares inside the mountain. A sudden yearning to be back there, giving what aid she could, caused the young badger maid to turn to the shrew leader.

"Log-a-log, I want to thank you and your tribe for rescuing . us and showing us the hospitality of your home, but I am anxious to go back to Salamandastron. I have told you about * what will be happening there, so why can I not go?'' (' "AH in good time, Mara. AH in good time." Log-a-log v patted her paw. "When you do go, the Guosssom warriors , and I will be with you. I have crossed swords with this Klitch you speak of-aye, and his father Ferahgo. The blue-eyed f ones are our enemies; we would wear out logboats traveling ,} to fight against them." / Mara nodded. "Then why do we not go now?"

Log-a-log took a sip of shrewbeer from his tankard. "Be- *, cause I need you to do something for me. Listen and I will . tell you. I am leader of the Guosssom because I am the strong- :; est; that is the only thing that keeps our tribe together without *the Blackstone. The Guosssom will follow the shrew who holds the Blackstone-it is sacred to us shrews. I held the :; Blackstone from the time it was pa.s.sed to me by my father, who got it from his father before him. It makes the holder *"., undisputed leader of all shrews. Well, one day when my son * Nordo was little he took it from around my neck as I slept. I ; ,did not worry too much because Nordo was a baby who liked 4 to play with the Blackstone. I let him, thinking that one day *.;>; it would be his by right. However, Nordo lost the stone. I 162.

took the blame on myself, not wanting him to be shunned by the Guosssom, and since then I have been leader only by my authority and fighting skills."

"Where did Nordo lose the Blackstone?" Mara could not help interrupting. "And how does it concern me?"

Nordo took up the story from his father. "You must understand our ways, Mara. The importance of the Blackstone is great in our tribe. Without it my father leads only by his strength; if he possesses the stone then he is leader not only by his toughness, but by Guosssom law.... But let me tell you my story. One of the tributaries of the Great South Stream leads out on to a large lake, so big it is like an inland sea. I drifted out there in a little logboat that my father made for me-actually I fell asleep and the logboat took its own course. The oars were lost overboard as I slept. I drifted around on the big lake for more than two days, then I sighted an island near its center. Paddling with my paws, I made it to the island. There I searched the woods, looking for suitable wood to make oars so that I could row back home. Having no knife or sword, I could not cut wood. I searched all day without success. When night fell I went to sleep in the woods. It was like a dream. I was suddenly wakened by a dreadful roar. A huge white creature stood over me. It was terrifying, more ghost than fur or blood. It had hold of the Blackstone. I screamed and ran off, leaving the Blackstone and the broken thong that it had hung from. The ghost had it. I made it back to my little logboat and drifted round until the evening of the next day, when I was found by my father and a search party who were scouring the lake with the big logboat fleet. Since then no shrew has been near the big lake or the island where the ghost lives. But with you along I might be able to get the Blackstone."

"I don't understand. Why must you have me along?" Mara scratched her head in puzzlement.

Log-a-log spoke then, keeping his voice low. "Because you are a badger, and the ghost that haunts the island of the big lake is a badger also, a huge white one without stripes!"

Samkim and Arula sat in the late afternoon sun peeling the mud from themselves. Spriggat had proved correct: the stings came out with the mud. The young squirrel picked the last of it from his tail bush.

"That mud is marvelous stuff, Arula. Look, there's not a sting on me and scarcely a lump. I feel great."

"Ho urr, an' oi loikwoise. 'Tis champeen mud, as 'ee say. Oi wunner whurr Maister Spriggat be agone to?"

They had been so preoccupied with bankmud and stings that neither of them had noticed the curious hedgehog's disappearance.

Samkim rubbed his back energetically against the rough bark of a hornbeam tree. "Ooh, that feels good. I expect old Spriggat's about somewhere. No need to worry over him- he can take care of himself all right."

"Hohohoh! That I can, young feller m'lad. Here's yer tucker bags." Spriggat materialized out of the woods and tossed the two haversacks upon the bank. He was picking wasp wings from his teeth again. "I been back yonder 'mid the lupins and found these. Mmmtk! Found that broken wasp-nest too. I'm full as a stuffed duck. There's nothin' in all the woodlands like a good feed o'buzzers, no sir."

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Samkim and Arula checked their supplies. Most of the food was intact. They thanked him and sat down to share a small flask of October ale with their new-found friend.

Spriggat swigged at the flask, a slow smile spreading across his snout. "Hoho, this be prime stuff. Tober ale, ye call it. An 'og could get use to a drink like this, I tell ye! Oh, by the by, young uns, I picked up the tracks of that stoat with your sword-not too far from 'ere, travelin* south an' west. If you feels up to it we can start trackin' right away."

No further encouragement was needed. The two friends shouldered their haversacks and weapons. Spriggat was not a fast traveler; he was slow but exceedingly thorough.

"Not too long till dusk now. See 'ere? Swordpoint's been stuck in the ground-usin' it as a walkin' stick, the rascal is. Look, this is a smear of blood from a wound on the bole of this elm."

Samkim watched the hedgehog carefully. He was a master of trail and woodcraft, and without him it would have been nigh on impossible to follow Dingeye's track. His wisdom and experience were proving invaluable in their search.

Spriggat noticed their wonderment and laughed good-naturedly. "Hohohoh. Never fret, I'll learn ye, young uns. 'Tis no disgrace to be shown a trick or two. I had t' learn the 'ard way...." He paused to pluck a dragonfly from mid-flight and gobble it up. "Hmm, that'n were a longways from his stream. Tasty though. Now what were I sayin'? Oh aye, yew tew watch an' take notice, an' soon you'll 'ave young 'eads on old shoulders."

"Doant'ee mean owd 'eads on young shoulders, zurr?" Arula corrected him.

"Hohohoh, so I do. You're a bright un, Arula. A quick learner, eh!"

In the depths of the woodlands, dusk overtook the trackers swiftly, the sunset in the west casting darkness between the haphazard columns of trees.

Spriggat held up a cautionary paw. "Camp yonder beneath that three-lopped oak. Mind now, no fire tonight-we be dan- Salamandastran 165.

gerous close to your enemy. I can smell somethin' I don't likes on th' breeze. Yew tew bide by the oak and get: nper ready. I won't be gone long."

Before they could reply he had melted into the undergrowth ahead of them. Samkim and Arula squatted beneath the sheltering boughs of the oak and set out a simple supper of oat cake and apple, uncorking a small flask of elderberry wine for their absent friend.

They had long eaten supper and were dozing on the soft moss at the base of the oak when a snap of wood caused them to come alert. Spriggat stood beside them with both halves of the dead twig in his paws.

' 'Hohohoh, a lesson learned is a lesson remembered, I 'opes. Never both go asleep together, always 'ave one on guard an' t'other sleepin'-that way yew tew will never be sneaked up on, like I just did. What's this? Mmm, tastes good!"

Samkim refused the proffered flask, letting the hedgehog drink as much as he liked. "It's elderberry wine, Mr. Spriggat, made at Redwall Abbey. Keep the flask and drink it all. What did you find out there?"

Spriggat caught a droning gnat neatly with a flick of his head. He chewed it reflectively. "Gnats ain't nearly good as wasps 'n' bees-too acid-tastin'. Now, where were I ? Oh aye, what did I find? Well, I' II tell yew tew, that were a strange scent I caught on the breeze a while back. 'Twas death! Aye, death an' other things ... the whiff of rats-can't mistake that stench-fox, too, though I can't be certain o' that..."

Arula rocked back and forth impatiently. "Burrhoo, Mais-ter Spriggat, wot did 'ee find out'n thurr?"

"No sight fer yew tew t'be lookin' upon, young uns." Spriggat took a sip of wine and smacked his lips appreciatively. "It were the stoat, but his 'ead was chopped clear off! Most likely done wi' that sword you're a-seekin'."

Samkim was shocked that the sword of Martin the Warrior should have been put to such base use as murder. ' 'n.o.beast could use Martin's blade so foully. It's dreadful! The sword of our Abbey Warrior was only ever lifted to defend the right 166.

and good in fair combat. How could anybeast treat it in such a wicked way?"

The old hedgehog shook his head at the young squirrel's innocence. "Ye've a lot to learn, laddie. There's no magic in any weapon. That sword may be used for good or evil; it all depends on the creature who wields it. Cmon now, sleep. We've got a full day ahead tomorrow. Rats 'n' foxes ain't as careless about their tracks as that pore silly stoat were."

That night Samkim's head was full of dreams. Martin the Warrior appeared, and there was the rolling hiss of great waters. Shadowy figures fought battles across the paths of his mind, great lumbering mist-shrouded creatures ... badgers! The voice of the Warrior echoed all around: "Courage, Samkim, courage. Follow and find my sword, for destiny lies heavy upon you. Trust Spriggat, and take care of Arula. I am wim you, no matter how far you may roam. Do not lose heart. Remember the words of Spriggat: the sword may be used for good or evil by the creature who wields it..."

The dawn was shrouded in a curtain of drizzle, though the thick woodlands offered fair protection. After a hasty breakfast the three searchers set off, Spriggat leading them on a course that skirted the headless carca.s.s of Dingeye. Still following a southwest trail, they pushed on until midmorning, when they halted in an open sward. The rain had ceased though the sky overhead was gray with rolling clouds.

Spriggat cast about. "Hohohoh, whoever is carryin' yon blade couldn't resist a chop at this wild mint-I smelled it soon as we got 'ere. Look, see the cut stems? That sword is leavin' its own trail. It's as if it knows yew tew is follerin' it."

"Yurr et be a very swingable sword," Arula agreed. "Sharp, too, hurr."

Two rabbits popped up from the ferns at the edge of the sward and began chattering simultaneously.

"Stupid sword, stupid fox, stupid rats!"

So/amaruiastron 167.

"Weren't chopping mint, y'know. Oh no, oh no!"

"Trying to chop us. By the burrow, they were!"

"Hope you haven't got any silly ideas about chopping rabbits?"

Their heads bobbed up and down as they spoke. They ran two paces back, turned and ran two paces forward all the time they were talking, alternately showing their white bobtails and scared faces.

Samkim shouldered his bow to show they meant no harm. He spread his paws wide and smiled openly. "Don't fear, friends. We're not the kind of creatures who go about chopping up rabbits. I'm Samkim of Redwall, this is Arula and he is Spriggat the wasp-eater. We won't harm you."

The two rabbits stopped hopping about and bared their teeth in what they hoped was a fearsome grimace.

"Harm us, hah! Don't you know I'm Fangslayer?"

"No you're not. I'm Fangslayer. You were Fangslayer yesterday. You can be Deatheye today."

"AH right. Listen here, you're talking to Deatheye now, so watch yourself, you scruffy squirrel, moldy mole and hairless hog!"

The moldy mole picked up a hazel twig and took an angry pace forward. "Naow lookit yurr, bunnies, you'm moind yurr manners or oi'H tan *ee fur wi' this stick, hurr urr, so oi will!"

The two rabbits hugged each other and yelled aloud in panic. "Mummy, Mummy, the mole's going to beat us with a stick!"

A large fat female rabbit waddled out of the undergrowth some distance away and began berating the two rabbits. "Clarence, Clarissa, what have I told you about speaking to strange creatures? Get back to the burrow immediately!"

The rabbits stamped their paws petulantly. ' 'Oh, Mummy, we're Fangslayer and Deatheye, not Clarence and Clarissa."

She bustled over and seized them by their ears. "I'll give you Fangslayer and Deatheye, you naughty bunnies. Didn't I tell you to stop inside the burrow after being chased by that horrid fox and those smelly rats?" She tweaked their ears until they yelped. "Well, didn't I?"

168.

Spriggat made a courtly old-fashioned bow to her. "You'll excuse me, marm, but we won't harm your young uns. Did you say that a fox and six rats came by this way today?"

She turned on the hedgehog with a mixture of temper and impatience. "That's right, an evil-looking fox and six filthy rats. The fox had a sword too. Would you credit it, he tried to chop up my little Clarence and Clarissa, the ruffian! What are the woods coming to? As for you three, be off with you. Beating little bunnies with sticks! Have you nothing better to do with yourselves? Now clear off, go on! The other lot went that way, southwest. You tell that fox if you see him that I'll give him a piece of my mind when he pa.s.ses this way again, verminous villain!"

She receded into the woodland, shaking the two rabbits by their ears and carrying on at them in a motherly way. "Straight to bed. That'll teach you two. And no lunch for either of you until you learn to behave properly. Fangeye and Deathslayer indeed. Behaving like two little savages!"

"Waaah, leggo my ears, Mummy!"

"Wahahaaah! Don't want to go to rotten ol' bed, Mummy!"

When they had stopped laughing, Spriggat ate a pa.s.sing b.u.t.terfly. "Huh, all wings an' no taste, those things. Well, yew tew, I 'opes all the enemies you meet be as 'armless as those, though if you stood lissenin' t' that mummy rabbit for long she'd wear you to bits wi1 'er tongue. Right, young uns. Let's press on."

As soon as darkness had fallen on the previous night, Ferahgo put his plan into operation. The horde went charging towards Salamandastron, chanting as they brandished their weapons. "Fer-ah-go! Kill! Kill! Kill! Ferahgoooooo!"

In the dining hall, Urthstripe sat with Sapwood and Oxeye taking supper. The sounds of the war chant reached their ears. Oxeye sighed wearily as he put down his beaker.

"Night attack, sah. Shall we just block all openin's an' sit doggo in here? They can't harm us, and all that's required is 169.

a score of defenders round the crater rim. We can relieve them through the night, wot?"

But Urthstripe was loath to sit still while there was the faintest chance of battle. He pushed aside his chair. "What? Sit in here while those sc.u.m crawl ail over my mountain? Never! This is the ideal time to set up a few surprises for Ferahgo. Follow me. We'll need long poles, archers, and oil too. Have that big barrel from my forge brought up to the crater top."

Ferahgo, perched upon a low rock with Klitch and Crabeyes, watched the ma.s.ses climbing the outer rocks of the mountainous front face of Salamandastron. Doghead the stoat captain ignited a torch, and others began lighting their torches from it. Soon the mountain was ablaze with twinkling lights as the attackers sought to find openings in the rocks that would lead them into the mountain. Dewnose had led three ferrets ahead of the rest. They were almost halfway up when one of them yelled, "Over 'ere! There's an openin', a sorta window cut into the rocks!"

They scrambled to get in, Dewnose leading the way.

"Evening, chaps. Nice night to learn flyin', wot?"

Bart Thistledown and Pennybright thrust forward with their long poles. Dewnose saw what was happening too late. The poles. .h.i.t him square in the chest and he shot outward with a scream.

"No, don't.. .. Yeeeaaaggghhh!"

Together with one of the ferrets who had squeezed in the window aperture with him, he went sailing into outer s.p.a.ce. All over the mountain similar flying lessons were taking place.

Down below, Klitch roared up at the crowds of soldiers who were trying to scramble back down, "Up! Keep going. Get to the top, you worthless cowards!" He ran forward, climbing upward and belaboring all about him with his spear-b.u.t.t. "Come on, follow me, I'm not scared!"

Ferahgo urged the attackers up, keeping the a.s.sault centered on the seaward side of the mountain. This way he hoped that Farran would have a clear path on the landward side.