"Yarr, that's got rid o' the pests fer the night. Now then, Tagg me ole sunshine, tell us all about yoreself. We got all night an' us voles do like a good yarn!"
The otter took a draft of bankbrew to moisten his throat. "Let me see, now. How did it all start. . . ?"
Dawn broke clear and quiet. Gruven was still slumbering deep when his mother's footpaw stirred him awake. "Gruven Zann, up now. There's big things for you to do!"
The stoat sat up, picking at the corners of his eyes. "It's not properly daylight yet. I'm tired!"
He rolled aside as Antigra slammed the swordpoint into the ground beside him. Bringing her face close, she hissed, "I didn't wait all these seasons for you to be tired. You are a clan Chieftain now. Get up!"
He rose hastily and donned the cloak he had been given the previous evening. It was a dark red dyed barkcloth, a touch short for Gruven, but it added slightly to his bearing as a new Chieftain. Recalling the events of the last few days, he tugged the sword free, allowing anger and hatred to build inside him. Antigra straightened the cloak about her son. She stared into his vengeful eyes, murmuring in a low voice, so that those waiting outside could not hear, "That's more like it. Remember this: as long as the otter lives you cannot really call yourself leader of the Juskazann. Keep that in mind, and hunt as you have never hunted before. When you do catch up with him, slay him by any means, fair or foul. Only then can you return here to claim your full title. Go now!"
Grissoul awaited Gruven outside the tent. The Seer had eight vermin with her, fully armed. She waited until Antigra came out to join her before speaking.
"Gruven Zann Juskazann! I have chosen eight of our best to go with thee. Eefera, Dagrab, Ribrow, Grobait, Milkeye, Rabbad, Rawback and Vallug Bowbeast. Command them well and bring back the head of the traitor Taggerung. Thy mother and I will go with thee as far as the spot where Sawney Rath lies slain. You will pick up the trail from there. You warriors, guard your chief with your lives. If you return here without him you will all die."
From their open tents and around cooking fires, the clan watched as Antigra and Gruven led the hunting party out of the clearing. Through the summer-dappled trees of Mossflower they trotted, heading north for the oak tree where the murders occurred. Grissoul traveled at the rear, with one of Sawney's most trusted lieutenants, the weasel Eefera. He was a big taciturn beast, well versed in the art of death. Grissoul had instructed him precisely. He knew what to do should Gruven shrink from his mission or show fear. Accidents could always happen out among the woodlands.
Chapter 11
Brother Hoben woke late next morning in Cregga's room. The Badgermum's empty chair was evidence that she was already up and about. The Recorder muttered to himself as he sluiced down his face in the bowl of water on a cornerstand. "Huh! Might have given me a shake. Leaving me to lie abed half the morning. Not like Cregga at all."
He hurried downstairs, only to find the dining tables deserted. There seemed to be nobeast about; the place was silent. Hoben stood gnawing his whisker ends, completely perplexed. Then he heard a sound. The squeak of trolley wheels sent him scurrying to the kitchens from whence it issued.
Young Broggle was loading the trolley with jugs of cold mint tea and blackberry pies, which he was pulling from the ovens with a long paddle.
"What's going on around here?" Hoben demanded indignantly. "Where's everybeast gone?"
Broggle elbowed him gently to one side as he loaded his cart. "Going on, Brother? I'll tell you what's going on. Mhera and Cregga's search has turned into a full-scale picnic. Since we solved that riddle poem last night there's not a creature in the Abbey who doesn't want to be involved with it. At the moment they're all down at the south wall having breakfast in the open. I just came up here for more supplies. Fresh air makes them ravenous, apparently. Did you oversleep, Brother?"
Hoben began lending a paw to finish loading the trolley. "Aye, I slept like a log, it was so quiet and peaceful in Cregga's room. Her bed is absolutely massive. She never uses it, sleeps in her armchair all the time. Quiet and peaceful that room, no Dibbuns playing 'round the door an hour before sunrise. Come on, Broggle, I'll push and you pull. Easy now, watch those jugs."
Around the south wall was a scene of merry chaos. Boorab came to meet them, a beaker of pennywort cordial in one paw and a half-eaten oatmeal scone, dripping honey, in the other. He appeared to be in fine fettle. "What ho, here's two gallant chaps bearing munchable reinforcements to the front, wot. Well done, chums. You can leave that trolley to me now. I'll see to it, wot wot!"
"Get your plundering paws away from that trolley this instant, you flop-eared reprobate!"
The hare evaded Friar Bobb's ladle with a sideskip. "Only tryin' to help, old scout. Offerin' one's services, y'know!"
Filorn caught up with Boorab and took his paw. "Come and help me to get the Dibbuns down from the walltops, sir. I'll shoo them off and you can stand sentry on the wallsteps to make sure they don't get back up again."
Boorab strolled off gallantly, holding the ottermum's paw on his in courtly fashion. "Never refuse a pretty gel, wot. Duty is me second name, marm. I'll guard those wallsteps against the little blighters with my very life. Hi there, you midget savages, down off the bally battlements. Down I say, sir. Yowch!"
A well-aimed apple core bounced off the hare's scut tail. Filorn struggled to keep her face straight as Boorab closed one eye and glared fiercely up at a molebabe. "Assassin! You leave me no alternative but to declare war on you and all your fiendish crew, sah!"
Hoben found Mhera and Gundil with Cregga, breakfasting sitting on an old rug spread close to the wall. He sat down with them, helping himself to barley toast, quince jam and a beaker of cold mint tea. Cregga waved away an inquisitive wasp.
"A beautiful morning, Brother. Before you start telling me off, I left you asleep on the bed because it seemed a shame to waken you. Your breathing sounded so peaceful I hadn't the heart to disturb you. I hope you'll forgive me."
The Recorder felt abashed that he had misjudged his friend. "What's to forgive, marm? I had the best night's sleep I've known in many a season. Well now, how far have we got with our latest riddle? What was it? Ah, I remember. All the clues ran south, until those last two lines.
" 'Twixt water and stone I stand alone,
Sounding burnt but alive I survive!"
Gundil picked daintily at a candied plum. "You'm gotten ee gurt membery, zurr. Oi surpose et's 'cos ee be's an Accorder. We'm bain't gotten no furtherer with ee riggle."
Mhera poured more mint tea for the Badgermum. "But 'tis not for want of trying, Brother. We've sat here racking our brains since dawn, without a result."
Cregga shook her head sorrowfully. "Look around if you want to see the reason why. We've had a hare filching our food, Dibbuns racing around us like wild things, Sister Alkanet complaining about this, that and the other, and young Broggle fracturing our ears with his ceaseless chatter. Hardly a good place to sit and solve problems, is it?"
Brother Hoben pointed upward. "Then let's adjourn to the walltop. Mhera's mama has cleared it of Dibbuns and Boorab's guarding the steps. It should be quiet enough for us to do some thinking up there."
Boorab's spear was a window pole. He stood on the second step, barring their way. "Who goes there? State y'business, wot?"
Brother Hoben tapped an impatient paw on the bottom step. "Come out of the way, please. We're going to the walltop."
The hare twitched his whiskers officiously. "No Dibbuns allowed up here. You're not Dibbuns, are you?"
Cregga took hold of the window pole he was clasping and lifted both Boorab and the pole, with one paw, down onto the grass. "Do we look like Dibbuns? Don't try my patience, sah!"