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Chapters (64)
  1. CAPTURED!
  2. Other Books
  3. Title Page
  4. Map
  5. Introduction
  6. BOOK ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. BOOK TWO
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. BOOK THREE
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Yurr, missis, oil just see’d li’l Rollyo agoin’ off down’t cellars, hurr hurr. Ambrose’ll be a-nappen. Due for a rude awaken, oi shouldn’t wunner.”

The meal was simple: fresh summer salad, cold cider, and gooseberry crumble with nutmeg cream. Foremole munched thoughtfully, wrinkling his snout and blinking his eyes a lot.

“Hurr, gotten uz proper flummoxed, ’as yon puzzle. Nor a one yet a cummen up wi’ no clues.”

Cornflower passed him the cider. “It’s difficult, I agree, but we must find the solution soon if we are to help Matthias. It’s hard to know where to begin. ‘Seek the Founder in the stones where the little folk go.’ Do we begin by seeking out the stones, the Founder, the little folk, or all three?”

Baby Rollo came running towards them with a small canteen of strawberry cordial tied about his fat waist. Winifred laughed. “Look out, here’s the terror back again. I’ll bet Mr. Spike gave him what he wanted just to be rid of him while he takes his nap.”

They carried on eating and discussing the riddle. Baby Rollo sat between Cornflower and Foremole, continually butting in and trying to show them something he had in his paws. Winifred patted the baby vole’s head.

“Yes, yes, very nice, Rollo. But please don’t interrupt. Can’t you see we’re talking?”

Rollo would not be put off. He cut a comical figure, muttering away as he wriggled his paws this way and that as if trying to hold on to something.

“Cornflow’, lookit see, lookit,” he persisted.

Cornflower fed him on a piece of gooseberry crumble and wiped his face on the corner of her apron. “Drink up your cordial like a good little vole now, Rollo. Please don’t speak with your mouth full. Remember your manners. Oh dear, what is he so excited about?”

Rollo opened his paws wide, gurgling at the insect that ran backwards and forwards across them. “Lookit, li’l folkses!”

All three stared in amazement. The infant was showing them something they had not thought of so far.

“It’s an ant!”

“Of course, the little folk. That’s what Methuselah and old Abbot Mortimer always called ants: the little folk.”

“Yurr, clever li’l Rollyo, guddbeast, young zurr!”

“Tell us where you found him.”

Rollo pointed a paw with the ant still roaming across it. “Mista Spike’s cellar.”

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