High Rhulain

The Abbess sounded bemused. “Are you sure, Sister? ‘I say regiments’? I can’t recall hearing of any regiments in the attics of our Abbey!”

Snowdrop replied, almost apologetically, “Well, that’s what it says, Mother Abbess. ‘I say regiments.’ ”

Girry narrowed his eyes as he scanned the words. “Put the lantern down, Abbess. Over there, where the dust is still undisturbed, please.”

Unquestioningly, Lycian placed the lantern on the floor. Using a pawnail, Girry traced the words “I say regiments” into the dust in a circle, like the figures on a clockface. After studying the ring of letters for a moment, he nodded to Sister Snowdrop.

“Well, do you see it, marm?”

She stared a while and nodded knowingly. “Yes, indeed. I see it now.”

Lycian looked from one to the other. “See what? Will you please tell me?”

Girry swept his paw around the dusty circle. “It’s another anagram. I’m getting pretty good at them. This is the place we’re looking for, Mother Abbess. Huh, ‘I say regiments’! It’s only a mixed-up name, and guess whose name it is?”

Lycian recognised it suddenly. “Sister Geminya!”

Girry dusted off his paws. “Correct. So let’s get that door open, shall we?”

In the big chamber on the lower floor, Quelt shuffled to the foot of the stairs. He peered up into the darkness, twitching his grey whiskers impatiently. “What in the name of confounded seasons are they doing up there all this time, eh?”

Grudd Foremole replied, with typical mole logic, “Oi aspeck they’ll tell ee, arter they’m cooms down, zurr.”

Sister Doral, who was trying to stop otterbabe Smudger from climbing out of the window, confided to Burbee, “They have been up there for rather a while now. I’m beginning to feel concern for them.”

The molemum dusted little Smudger off absentmindedly. “Hurr, an’ so’m oi, marm. But no matter ’ow us’ns bee’s a-feelin’, t’won’t affeck they’m beasts up ee stairs.”

A loud bang suddenly came from the room above. This was followed rapidly by the most unearthly shriek and clattering noises. The Redwallers rushed to the door at the foot of the stairs, with Skipper in the lead, roaring, “Stand by, mates. I’m comin’ up!”

He bounded onto the stairs, which shattered in a rending crash of ancient timbering. There was another earsplitting screech. Then thick clouds of dust billowed out into the chamber, enveloping everybeast.

22

Under cover of darkness, the Purloined Petunia sailed in toward the mystic mountain fortress of Salamandastron. Somewhat puzzled but obedient to her captain’s orders, Tiria manoeuvred the tiller, steering the vessel into the broad, curving bay. Twin beacons on the shoreline burned holes into the night, guiding her in. The ottermaid could make out figures running to and fro onshore. She surmised that these must be the legendary fighting hares of the Long Patrol, the Badger Lord’s perilous warriors. Cuthbert had gone forward, concealing himself in the tiny lean-to between galley and prow. Tiria guessed he had his own purpose in doing this; she had long given up questioning her odd companion. Vast and primitive, the mighty mountain loomed above her as she hove in, blocking out the eastern sky.

A hare waded into the sea. Standing waist deep, he waved a torch as he hailed the Petunia. “Ahoy the ship, identify yourself!”

Cupping paws to her mouth, Tiria shouted the answer, as Cuthbert had instructed her to. “The Purloined Petunia, bound for the destruction of all vermin and the protection of goodbeasts!”

She heard the hare chuckle as he replied, “Heave us a jolly old headrope, an’ we’ll bring you in.”

A line was already fixed to the bowsprit. Tiria ran forward. Separating the coils, she slung it in the hare’s direction. He was joined by a score or so of his comrades, who set their weight on the rope and pulled the ship to shore. More hares came to assist, throwing down logrollers and hauling the vessel over the tideline until it was fully beached, high and dry. Looking over the side, the ottermaid saw that she was surrounded by Long Patrol hares, all uniformed and fully armed. They parted, leaving an aisle through which came striding the biggest badger Tiria had ever imagined. Torchlight shimmered off his armoured breastplate as his dark eyes gazed up at her.

The huge beast’s voice was a thunderous rumble. “Permission to come aboard?”

Tiria was in a quandary. Her captain had not warned her of this. She was taken aback as a clipped military voice rapped out a reply to the badger.

“Permission granted, by all means, sah, but one’d much rather toodle ashore to bandy words with you, wot wot!”