There was silence, then the Abbot said, “We will have to wait until John Churchmouse is recovered sufficiently to talk. The only other two witnesses to what went on are no longer with us.”

There was a stunned silence as the enormity of events sat like a heavy stone upon the little group.

Jess Squirrel stood up slowly. “I’ll go to the infirmary and see how Mr. Churchmouse is faring.”

Basil livened up. “That’s the ticket, Jess. Action, that’s what we need. Now, where do we start?”

The Abbot folded his paws into his wide sleeves. “At the beginning, Basil. I think we all know who did this shocking thing.”

“Harr, boi ’okey we do, zurr,” Foremole growled. “’Twas they rascally durtbags, foxes an’ the loik, they’m magicked us t’ sleepen.”

“Magicked my auntie’s tail,” Winifred the Otter snorted. “That was a powerful sleeping draught. We should’ve known not to trust a fox, should never have let ’em in.”

Matthias banged the tabletop hard. “Enough! No accusations or blame-laying, please. Now, you say that we were drugged by a sleeping draught, well, that makes sense. I remember the fox asking us to drink a toast. He could have slipped herbs or powders into the drinks any time at all while we were watching the entertainment.”

Ambrose Spike had walked in. His stickles rose stiffly. “Aye, that’s what he did, the scummy toad. Then he started twirlin’ that cloak thing of his round and round. I couldn’t keep me old eyes open.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

“Me too, it’s the last thing I remember.”

“Aye, we were mesmerized, I tell you.”

“Lunar Stellaris my back paw, colossal cheek more like it, wot?”

Foremole’s ground logic took over. “Hurr, but wot worr ee arfter?”

“That’s the question.” Matthias sighed heavily. “We don’t keep treasure or precious things that could be looted. There’s only the sword and our great tapestry. I have the sword and I know our tapestry still hangs in Great Hall, I’ve seen it with my own eyes this very morning. So what was he after?”

Warbeak the Sparra Queen shook a wing. “They um worms, must come from the northlands. All bad in north. They go back that way, open little wormgate in north wall.”

Basil seconded Warbeak. “D’ y’ know, I believe you’re right, old thing. When the bally rain stops chuckin’ down I’ll try and track ’em. Huh, ’fraid there won’t be much to track after this downpour, though.”