John shrugged modestly. “Not exactly, Father Abbot. I did invent a little fish glue to reinforce the twine that I tied them with, though I actually did manage to get the feather ends into the cavities of the old ones. They should take and be as good as new by the end of season. What about you, Rufus? How did it go with the break?”

Brother Rufus munched wild-cherry flan. “Mmmff, ’scuse me. We used fishbone and feather quill to repair it. Everything was a bit messy, but quite straightforward when you have our Abbot to help you.”

Sister May dried her paws. “I’ve used every kind of ointment and healing nostrum I know to help the operation along. Now we must wait.”

“Wanna fly. Stryk Redkite flyover mountain like sky-clouds,” the big bird wailed.

John folded his spectacles away. “Huh, now we must wait? Try telling her that.”

The great red bird made as if to move. Sister May picked up a wooden ladle.

“Just you dare, m’lady. I’ll tan your feathery hide!”

Stryk perched sullenly, her wing still supported by the wine firkin and the books.

“Warra warrior, Sissimay shoulda be Redkite.”

“The very idea of it, you feathery baggage!”

*   *   *

Cornflower had great difficulty keeping baby Rollo away from the wine cellar. He was anxious to see the big bird. At the moment she and Mrs. Churchmouse had the infant occupied by the barricade in Cavern Hole, where he and some of his little friends were busy at their self-appointed task of watching for rooks. Rollo crouched down, peering round the edge of the table that lay on its side. After a while he turned to the mouse wives, who were busy shelling peas.

“No cooks.”

“He’s trying to tell us there’s no rooks,” Cornflower explained to Mrs. Churchmouse.

“Oh, I thought he was referring to Mr. Spike when he said ‘no cooks.’ He’s no cook at all.”

“Indeed he isn’t. Hotroot pepper in the scones! I could have drunk the Abbey pond dry that night. Though our Rollo might have a point. I haven’t noticed any birds out there, yesterday or today. They may be up to something. Do you think it’s worth telling the Abbot or Constance?”

Mrs. Churchmouse rolled a small garden pea over for Rollo to play with. “No, I shouldn’t worry. Ironbeak knows he can’t get us out of Cavern Hole. It would make him look bad in front of his birds if he failed in another attempt. I think they’re doing the same as us, waiting it out. This weather’s too hot to do anything. They’re probably idling about in the dormitory, eating and sleeping.”

*   *   *

Ironbeak was not sleeping, nor was Mangiz, or any of the rooks.