Friar Butty joined them, carrying a big ancient volume. “Dearie me, Song, I wish you’d have a word with that grandma of yours. She’s turned my gatehouse into a dormitory, and she and Nutwing have taken to coming there for their afternoon nap. Between them they’ve driven me out with their snoring and snuffling!”

Song poured the old squirrel a beaker of cordial. “Never mind, fresh air’s better for you than a dusty old gatehouse, Friar. What’s that book you’ve brought up here?”

The Redwall Recorder opened the volume at a place he had marked. “This is a chronicle from the time of Abbess Vale. I couldn’t even begin to guess how many long seasons ago it was written, but it seems that two Redwallers, a squirrel named Samkim and a mole called Arula, actually found the great inland lake and knew of the lost island.”

Dann cut himself a slice of pasty. “Is there anything in the book about Marlfoxes?”

Friar Butty flicked a few pages, indicating the state of them. “I wouldn’t know, Dann. Somebeast left this volume outdoors and open in the rain during bygone seasons. The chapters that are of interest to us have been ruined by water. Parchment’s flaked and the ink has run—’tis a real mess.”

Dippler pawed through the spoiled pages. “Bit of a shame, Friar mate. So you didn’t find out anythin’?”

Butty stared pensively at the book. “Maybe not about the foxes, but I think there’s directions to the lake. Bit of a puzzle, though.”

Song was intrigued. She loved nothing better than solving mysteries. “Here, let’s all take a close look at it. We’ve eight sharp eyes and four good brains between us. Friar Butty, get ready with your pen an’ parchment to record whatever we find!”

*

In Cavern Hole a desperate plan, calling for deception and daring, was being outlined by Janglur Swifteye. The squirrel warrior drew a square on the tabletop with charcoal. “This is the outer walls, this mark here’s the main gate. Tonight we meet the foxes and water rats outside at the southwest corner by the path. Make no mistake, mates, they’ll come in force—well armed, too. Show ’em one sign o’ weakness an’ we’ll all be slain!”

Cregga’s blind eyes seemed to stare straight at him. “You’re right, of course, Janglur. Treachery is the pawmark of foxes and vermin. So what do you propose we do?”