Tsarmina’s eyes slitted dangerously. “If I take that sword, I’ll take your head with it, fox.”

Bane sheathed the sword and spat. “If you ever try to take my sword, it’ll be your head that comes off, cat.”

“We shall see.”

“Aye, we shall see.”

Chibb saw, too. He heard all as well.

A swift flutter of his wings took him out across Mossflower, back to Brockhall.

* * *

Foremole was pacing around in deep leaf mold with Old Dinny. They were trying to remember the exact location of a disused tunnel.

“Thurr it may be. Moind, oi only sez maybe.”

“No, tis yurr. Oi’d swurr on moi tunnel it’s yurr.”

“Nay, may’ap it’s midway ’twixt they two.”

“Wo urrhoops, urthenquaker. Look out!”

The ground beneath them trembled and heaved. Both moles were tipped flat on their bottoms in the loam.

Soilflyer’s head popped out of the ground. He blew dead leaves from his snout, grinning broadly.

“Hurr, good morrow to ’ee, zurrs,” he called cheerfully. “Us’ns found that crossways tunnel as used to be yurr.”

Foremole tried hard to preserve his dignity. “Thurr ’ee be, Owd Din. Oi did tell ’ee it wurr thurr.”

“Oo, fer a ’spectable Foremole, ’ee be a gurt fib bag!”

Soilflyer pulled himself free of the loam, followed by Urthclaw and Billum. They tugged their snouts in mock respect to their elders, Billum stifling a bass giggle.

“’Ow summ of these owd lads do enjoy loif, a-setten about playen in ’ee leaves loik liddle ’ogs, it do surproise oi.”

Foremole shook a stern claw at Billum. “Lessen thoi cheek. Get ’ee over to Brocken’all an git ’ee vittles.”

* * *

Over at Brockhall, things were running smoothly. The little ones played games with Columbine and Goody, while the Abbess helped Ben Stickle and her mice to fletch arrows, which they tied into bundles. As deputy in Bella’s absence, Abbess Germaine was not too pleased that Skipper and Amber had disobeyed a Corim decision, but she made allowances for the fact that they had lost friends in the ambush at the diggings. Nevertheless, she felt it was her duty to upbraid them.

“You had no right to go off like that after electing to stay here. Both of you might have been killed.”

Skipper was fishing pieces of hazelnut and leek out of a pan of stew that had gone cold beside the hearth. Germaine rapped the table sharply with an arrow.

“Skipper of otters, are you listening to me?”

“Oh aye, marm, I’m all ears,” he said abstractedly. “Are these last season’s nuts or the one before? Right nice sweet taste they’ve got.”

The Abbess snorted in exasperation. “Now, I want you, both of you, to promise me that you’ll never do anything so foolish again. I’m surprised at you, Lady Amber—you a squirrel Queen, too. That’s not setting a very good example to others, is it?”

Amber cocked her severed and bandaged ear stump toward Germaine.

“Eh, what’s that you say?”