Mallen inspected the chipped cutla.s.s blade. "One of you said your ship was the Muddy Duck, but the other said it was the Dirty Swan. Now which is it?"

Both searats started contradicting each other. "The 22O.

Muddy Swan, er, the Dirty Duck, er, the Mucky Dud, er, er, the Swanny Duck, the Dirty Mud..."

"You mean you can't remember the name of your own ship?" Sage interrupted sharply.

Slipp collapsed to the ground, covering both eyes with his claws as he made weeping noises. "It's the shock an' 'unger! O it was awful. Awful!"

Blaggut produced a grubby kerchief and began comforting Slipp. "Don't go gittin' upsetted now, Cap'n. 'Ere, blow yer snout an* you'll feel better."

Blaggut performed a silent dance of agony as Slipp bit savagely on his paw. Tarquin separated them. "Steady on there, chaps, that's enough of that. Well, we've got our young uns back no worse for wear, an* I s'pose it's you two we've got to thank. S'pose you'd better come back to the Abbey with us. Tom, Treerose, will you follow up the rear in case anybeast gets lost again? Tom, Treerose?" But the two reclusive squirrels had vanished into the vast-nesses of Mossflower.

Supper that evening was served in Cavern Hole, a smaller, less-decorated venue than the Great Hall. Blind Simeon sat next to Mother Mellus. "So, Mellus, your two Dib-buns are back safe and sound,'' he said.

The badger nodded as she helped herself to blueberry tart and meadowcream. ' 'Aye, a bowl of soup apiece, a sound scrubbing in the bath and sent off to bed straightaway, as an example to the others."

Simeon smiled as he poured her a beaker of maple cordial. "Little rascals. Dibbuns seem to live in a world of their own. I don't suppose they meant any real harm."

Saxtus peered over his spectacles across a summer 221.

salad. "I agree with Mellus: they must learn their lesson. It's lucky the two rats found them. What d'you make of those two?"

Mellus stared hard at the pair who were bolting down everything in sight ravenously. "I don't like them or trust them. Cook and a carpenter indeed-got searat stamped all over their scurvy hides!"

"Again I agree with you, my friend," said Saxtus as he broke a fresh oat farl to have with his salad, "but without them the little ones might have come to harm. They haven't showed bad will to anybeast so far, and with that in mind we cannot refuse them the hospitality of Red-wall. They must be treated as harmless lost travelers."

Simeon smiled broadly at Mellus's answer. "Harmless lost travelers, my left footpaw!"

Blaggut dug his spoon into a bowl of mixed fruits with honey. "This is the life, eh, Cap'n?" he said as he shoveled it down with gusto. "These is the fanciest vittles I ever et in me life. Pa.s.s me that fizzy strawb'rry stuff."

Slipp was forging hastily through a wedge of yellow cheese studded with beechnuts, but he could not resist a sarcastic dig at the former boatswain of the Pearl Queen. "Fanciest vittles you ever et, eh? Didn't they 'ave stuff like this at Blaggut Mansions?"

Blaggut grabbed two hot blackberry scones from a pa.s.sing tray. "Blaggut Mansions, where's that? Pity they ain't got no seaweed grog. Yowch!" He jumped sharply as Slipp's claws nipped his stomach.

The searat Captain saw Mellus watching them, so he pasted a smile on his face as he muttered threateningly, "Lissen, onionbonce, one more mention of seaweed grog an' I'll rip yer nose off, see? If'n they 'ears you blatherin'

222 .

on about seaweed grog, they'll know fer sure we're sea-rats!"

But Blaggut was enjoying himself. He bit deep into a plumcake, spraying crumbs across the table as he addressed Mellus, "Ahoy there, stripedog, where's me two liddle mateys? You shoulda invited them to the party!"

The old badger glared dangerously at him. "They're fast asleep in bed. And my name is not stripedog; it's Mellus. Is that clear?"

Blissfully unaware of the wrath he had nearly brought down on his own head, the searat answered, "Clear as a fat merchantship. Pleased t'meet yer, Mellers. My name's Blaggut, but the Cap'n 'ere calls me fat'ead an' lazypaws an' baggyb.u.m an' suchlike names. Hoho, 'e's a one fer the names is the Cap'n!" He was jolted by repeated kicks from Slipp beneath the table.

"Will you stow all that 'Cap'n, Cap'n'! Yer an addle-nosed, bottlebrained, b.u.t.terbellied barnacle!"

Blaggut winced until the kicking stopped. "Aye aye, Cap'n! Ooh look, they got trifle, Cap'n!"

The bad manners of the two searats were tolerated with great patience by most of the Redwallers, though Mellus and Sister Sage were forced to stifle stern comments when Abbot Saxtus looked reprovingly over his spectacle tops at them. Slipp and Blaggut continued grabbing and gorging, with scant regard to the other diners. After the meal most of the Abbey creatures took themselves off to the dormitories with sighs of relief. Brother Mallen was heard to murmur as he and Mellus helped to clear tables, "Huh, I suppose we'll have the pleasure of those two at breakfast tomorrow morning. If I had my way, I'd sit them both outside the gate to share a trough!"

223.

The old badger nodded in agreement as she folded a cloth. "There's no excuse for bad manners. I wish that I'd had charge of those two rats when they were Dibbuns; I'd have made them sit up straight and behave, indeed I would!"

Moonlight beamed through the guest-room window, bathing the walls in a soft radiance. Warm summer night cast its drowsy spell over the Abbey, not a breeze stirred the leaves of the orchard, and peace lay over all. Slipp lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence and formulating plans in his mind. He was still fully dressed and in possession of a carving knife he had stolen from the table. In the next bed, Blaggut snuffled noisily, then turning onto his back he began to snore uproariously. Slipp flung a pillow which caught Blaggut in the face, enveloping his head. The former boatswain of Pearl Queen came awake, thrashing about as he was tangled by bedlinen.

"Whuhhh mainsail's fallen, up the riggin', mates!"

Rising hastily, Slipp tweaked his companion's ear. "Stow that noise, y'great oaf, you'll wake everybeast!"

Blaggut sat up scratching his head. "Wot's up, Cap'n? You woke me out o' the middle of a good oP sleep there."

Slipp looked contemptuously at his boatswain's comical figure. "Get yerself out o' that daft nightgown. Y'look like a jollyboat with a floppy sail. Do it quietly an' keep yer voice down. Now listen t'me, I've got plans."

For the short time he had been acquainted with it, Blaggut liked his little truckle bed very much. As he dressed he sat on the edge of it, bouncing happily. Slipp, fast running out of patience, aimed a kick at Blaggut, hissing, 224.

"Will you keep still, bucketbelly. I'm talkin' t'you!"

Blaggut pulled a face and continued bouncing. "I kin 'ear you, Cap'n. Hoho, this is the life; better'n some ole 'ammock or deckplank this bed is. I never 'ad me own liddle bed. If we're goin' to steal things, I'm gonna pinch this an' take it wid me when we go ..." His voice trailed off as Slipp drew the carving knife menacingly.

"Let's git somethin' straight: I didn't pick you t'come with me, but yore 'ere whether I like it or not. I'm still Cap'n, though, an' if yore not still an' quiet rightaway I'll see to it that yore silenced fer good!"

Miserably Blaggut stopped bouncing and listened to his Captain's scheme.

"All this fancy vittles, nice rooms, an' whatnot, stands to reason a place o' this size must 'ave a great store of treasure 'idden away somewheres. Right?"

Blaggut nodded dumbly as Slipp continued. "So we looks fer it by night an' keeps our noses clean durin' the day. Come on, foller me."

"Where are we goin', Cap'n?"

"Where d'you think, cloth'ead, pickin' daisies? We're start!n' our treasure search. Now come on, an' stop callin' me Cap'n!"

"Righto, Cap'n, but what'll I call yer?"

"Call me Slipp, that's me name."

"Righto, Cap-er, Slipp. Sounds funny, me callin' you Slipp. Nice name, though, Slipp. I likes it. Righto, let's go, Slippy!"

The carving knife p.r.i.c.ked Blaggut* s nose as the irate Captain snarled at him, "I'll Slippy yer-I'll slip this blade between yer ribs if yer calls me that once more, understand?'*

The 225.

The searats found a candle and lit it from a walltorch in Great Hall. They crept about searching the alcoves and crannies. "What're we searchin' for, Cap'n?" Blaggut whispered as Slipp lifted the edge of the great tapestry.

The Captain rapped lightly on the wall. "Some 'idden door or secret panel. That's where I'd stow me loot if'n I owned a place like this."

Blaggut held the candle up to the tapestry, illuminating the figure of Martin the Warrior. "Lookit this feller, Cap'n. I wouldn't like to cross swords with that mouse, looks a right tough un!"

"It's only a picture, stupid. 'Old that light down 'ere."

They continued searching Great Hall without success. From there the two searats progressed to Cavern Hole and, again, they found nothing. Blaggut smelled food.

"No treasure 'ere, Cap'n. Let's try that place where the nice smells are comin' from."

"What, you mean the kitchens? Who 'ides treasure in kitchens?"

Blaggut shrugged. * 'I dunno, who does?''

Slipp stared strangely at him in the candlelight. "May *ap you got somethin' there. A good place to 'ide loot would be a place n.o.beast'd think of looking fer it. Come on!"

The kitchens were in darkness save for a dim, red glow from the ovens, and the candle cast a dancing light laced with flickering shadows. Nervously Blaggut grabbed a warm loaf from a baking tray and began munching on it.

"Blisterin' barnacles!" Slipp cursed softly as he scorched his paw on an oven door. He plunged the limb into what he imagined was a jar of water, only to find it was warm honey. As was customary with the searat Cap- 226.

tain, he began blaming his boatswain. "Now see wot you've made me do. Gimme that candle!" s.n.a.t.c.hing at the candle he knocked it from Blaggut's paw, and the light went out. Slipp was searching the floor with sticky paws when his companion began hugging him tightly.

"We're bein' watched, Cap'n. Look!"

In the red ovens' glow a black-caped figure swept silently by them. Both rats gave a gasp of horror. The mysterious shape paused a moment in the doorway; it appeared to be looking in their direction. Slipp and Blag-gut crouched paralyzed by nameless terror, then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the black-caped form was gone!

Blaggut leaped up with a strangled yelp, knocking the honey jar from its perch-it smashed on the floorstones. Slipp was already up and pushing the boatswain to one side. He dashed off, tripped, and crashed into a rack of pots and pans which clattered noisily to the floor. Both rats fled the kitchens, hearts pounding madly as they tore through Cavern Hole, across Great Hall, and up the stairs. They reached the guest bedroom not a second too soon. Sounds of Redwallers coming out of the dormitories to investigate the noises echoed along the corridors. Slipp closed the door as quietly as his shaking limbs would allow him to.

"Quick, get inter yer bed an' snore!" he croaked.

Blaggut needed no second bidding. He hurled himself into bed, swept the sheets over his head, and began snoring. Slipp followed suit. A moment later he heard the door open carefully and the voice of Abbot Saxtus.

"Well, whatever it was, it wasn't these two; they're snoring like a pair of stuffed hogs."

His voice was followed by that of Brother Fingle.

227.

"Aye, Father Abbot, hogs at the table and hogs in bed. We'd best go and check on the Dibbuns."

The door closed, and their pawsteps receded down the pa.s.sage, Slipp sat up in bed, about to make some indignant comment on being called a hog when he remembered something odd. "Blaggut," he said, "when you jumped in bed just then, was yore bedlinen all upset, the way you left it?"

"Upset? No, Cap'n, it was all tidy an' shipshape." Slipp ran a trembling paw across the neat counterpane. While he and Blaggut had been downstairs, somebeast, or something, had visited their room and remade the beds!

22.

Glokkpod took off from the valley floor again, flapping wearily upward into the rain-dashed night. Iris watched him go, shaking her head doubtfully.

"That's the fourth try now. The rope is heavy, maybe too heavy. Each time the Butcher Bird gets more tired.1'

Troutlad peered into the mist, watching for any sign of hordebeasts. "The bird's their only hope up there; if he can't get the rope to 'em, they're deadbeasts."

Mariel leaned out over the ruined attic beams. She watched the shrike's painful efforts, thumping her paws on the beams. "Come on! Oh, come on, Glokkpod, you can do it!"

The Butcher Bird was almost halfway up to the tower top when he seemed to run short of energy. The wings flapped awkwardly, he hovered and dropped slightly, hampered by three ropes knotted into one coiled about his neck. Struggling gallantly the shrike sought to pick up his wing action.

Dandin bit his Up anxiously. "The ropes are too heavy, 229.

230.

they're pulling him down!" he said.

Gael Squirrelking had given up hope. "He's never going to do it. It's too high."

Heaving his ponderous stomach across a roofbeam, Me I drum the Magnificent watched Glokkpod. "I've just had an idea, super wheeze really. You chaps keep silent now, no matter what I say."

Raising his voice, the old hare began insulting the shrike. "Call y'self a bird? You're a disgrace t'the species, sah! I've seen worms do better at fly in' than you! Hah! Butcher Bird, I'll bet y'father was a dead duck an' your mother was a half-shot cuckoo! Go on, give it up, you'll never make it, you useless lump of pillow stuffin', you great blatherin', bobblewinged, bandy-beaked blow-bag!"

"Rakachakk! I kill yirr, Mildrin!"

Pure murder shone from the eyes of the red-backed shrike as he began powering his wings upward. Meldrum twitched his rain-soaked mustachio cheekily and carried on. "Kill me? You must be jestin', featherface. You couldn't damage cream on top of a hot scone, let alone kill me. If I had wings I'd fly circles round you, you eggwalloper!"

"Kiiinrr! I do mirdir on yirr, you fat hirr!" Regardless of rain, tired wings, and the weight of the rope, the Butcher Bird punished its body into mad upward flight, screaming challenges all the way.

"Mildrin, yirr a dead hirr! Kiiiirrrakachak!"

In a wet flurry of wings Glokkpod landed among them.

Mariel, Dandin, and Gael had to throw themselves between Glokkpod and Meldrum-the Butcher Bird was in-

231.

tent on killing the hare. Meldrum kept his distance, trying to pacify the shrike.

"Calm down, old lad. I was only chivvyin' you on a bit so you'd get the rope up here. Didn't really mean it, wot?"

But Glokkpod would not be satisfied. He strained toward Meldrum, stabbing with his fearsome beak. "Yirr deadnow, Mildrin longirzz, I killyirr!"

Mariel did the only thing she could do under the circ.u.mstances. Pulling the rope from the shrike's neck, she shoved hard, overbalancing Glokkpod so that he fell from the tower. The Butcher Bird spread his wings and, soaring in an upward arc, he circled the towertop, screeching, "Yirr cowwid, longirzz, cowwid! Nofight, yirr all mouth!"