High Rhulain

Speeding into a run, she bounded over the lawns, with the others pursuing her. Tribsy, who was slowest, was shouting, “You’m wait furr oi, gurt ruddery creetur!”

Breakfast was about finished when they arrived at the kitchens, but the kindly Friar could not bear the thought of a hungry creature. “Indeed to goodness, ’tis lucky you are that I have some hot farls and honeymaple preserve put by. Oh, and there’s an apple dumplin’ for you, Tiria, ’cos I recall these three rascals havin’ breakfast earlier, with your da and Brink.”

They sat in the almost empty dining room, dipping farls in honeymaple preserve and sipping pear cordial. Girry eyed the ottermaid as she tucked into her dumpling. “Well, have you had any thoughts about your dream riddle yet?”

Tiria poured herself more cordial. “Don’t rush me, I’m thinking about it.”

Tribsy appeared quite amused by her comment. “Hurrhurrhurr, you’m thinken abowt thinken abowt ee riggle. Hurrhurr, that bee’s a gurt deal o’ thinken, miz!”

They were joined at table by another latecomer, little Sister Snowdrop, Old Quelt’s Assistant Librarian-cum-Recorder. Snowdrop had a pure white patch of fur on her head, hence her name. She was a dry-humoured old mouse, though nowhere near as ancient as Quelt.

Tiria made room for her. “Sister, you’re usually one of the first here every morning. What kept you late today?”

Snowdrop dipped her farl in hot mint tea and sucked at it. “I am rather late, Miss Wildlough, so would you do me a favour? Please don’t bring any more large birds to this Abbey at mealtimes. Yesterday it was an osprey, just before supper. Today it was a barnacle goose at breakfast time. Quelt had me dashing around the library, pulling out reference books on geese and their seasonal flying times. It doesn’t do a creature’s eating habits any good, you know!”

Tiria licked sauce from her paw. “Sorry about that, Sister. So, Quelt has met Brantalis, has he?”

Snowdrop nodded. “He has indeed. It is his opinion that geese are more sociable and forthcoming than ospreys. He likes the Skyfurrows especially, having treated several of their gaggle in bygone seasons.”

The ottermaid agreed. “I like Brantalis, too. Did he say how he came by his wound?”

The little Sister poured herself more tea. “Brother Perant said the wound could have been a lot worse. He was cleaning and dressing it as I left the Infirmary. Your friend Brantalis told Quelt that he had been shot by a cat’s arrow.”

Brinty interrupted. “A cat’s arrow? But there aren’t any cats in Mossflower Country anymore. I wonder where he was when he received the wound?”

Using her habit sleeve, Snowdrop wiped steam from the tea from her tiny square glasses. “Over the great seas, in someplace called Green Isle, that’s what I heard him say.”

Girry thumped the table, sending plates clattering. “Green Isle! That’s the place you said the otter lady mentioned in your dream, Tiria!”

The ottermaid promptly repeated the line. “Seek the Green Isle through her knowledge.”

The Sister looked up from her breakfast. “Through whose knowledge? What are you young ’uns rattling on about?”

Tiria had already left the table and was heading for the stairs. “I’ll tell you later, Sister. Right now I’ve got to go and speak with that goose!”

She hastened up to the Infirmary, followed by her three friends and a curious Sister Snowdrop.

Brother Perant showed them into his sickbay, bowing ironically. “Ah, welcome to the Abbey nesting place. Any more big birds today, Tiria? A swan, or an eagle perhaps, or is it too early for them to come calling?”

Brantalis came waddling behind the Brother. He seemed spry enough and was proudly sporting a clean white-linen dressing around his neck. The barnacle goose pointed his beak at the Infirmary Keeper. “Right you were, Tiria. A great healer this mouse is, I am thinking. See, Brantalis is lively as an eggchick!”

The ottermaid nodded approvingly, then came straight to the point. “What do you know about a place called Green Isle?”

The osprey, perched up on the windowsill picking at the remains of his fish, spoke for the first time. “Kyeeh! Pandion Piketalon knows more of Green Isle than a Skyfurrow. It is my home. His kind only stop to feed there before flying on. Piketalons have always lived on Green Isle!”

Brantalis spread his powerful wings and flapped them. “Anywhere would I sooner dwell than the place of cats. A bad and wicked isle it is.”

Tiria stepped between both birds, who were now eyeing each other truculently. “Please, let’s not start arguing. Pandion Piketalon, do you know where the Green Isle is?”

The osprey looked slightly crestfallen. “Keeharr! I was hurt, and driven high over the great waters in a mighty storm. I could not tell you how I came to Red Walls. Kraaawk, I am far from home and lost!”

Brantalis puffed out his chest. “I am of the Skyfurrows. I am knowing the way, but I am thinking, no earth crawler could follow where I fly!”

Tribsy wrinkled his snout sagely. “Burr, you’m surrpintly currect thurr, zurr!”