Nasturtium blinked and shuddered. “That makes two of us, Dumble. I don’t know what made me say those lines, I’ve never heard them before. It was . . . it was as if someone else were speaking and not me!”

Brother Hal, who was sitting nearby, stood up quickly. “Can you remember the poem again, Sister? Wait there, I’ll go and get quill and parchment. It is my duty as Recorder to write it all down.”

Nasturtium shook her head. “Strange, I can’t remember a single word. I’m afraid the whole thing has gone clear out of my head. How odd! It’s as if some other creature was in charge of my tongue, and my mind too!”

Friar Bellows came panting up. He was waving a ladle. “Come on, you lot. Nameday tomorrow. The food isn’t going to prepare itself, y’know. Up on your paws and look busy now!”

There were a few groans, but most of the helpers went willingly. Dingeye and Thura were among the back stragglers.

“Huh, I wish we c’d train those pots ’n’ pans to scrub ’emselves. Hup there, cauldron, jump in the sink and give yerself a good scourin’ now!”

“Or maybe we could get that Martin spirit to wash a few. Owch!”

Dingeye had not realized Thrugg was still within hearing range.

6

Earlier that morning a somber pall hung over the fortress of Salamandastron. Mara lay abed for as long as she could before rising to make her way down to the dining hall. Urthstripe sat in his large chair with Sergeant Sapwood and Big Oxeye on either side of him. Mara sidled in and took a seat at the far end of the big table next to Pikkle; Klitch and Goffa sat on her other side. Usually there would be lots of good-natured joking and chatter over the plain fare, but today breakfast was a dismal affair; silence hung broodingly over the assembly.

Pikkle passed Mara a bowl of wild oatmeal porridge and a beaker of sage tea, keeping his voice to a whisper as he said, “Jolly lot, aren’t they, wot? I say, old gel, did you get an awful tickin’ off from Lord Urthstripe last night?”

Mara’s appetite had deserted her. She dabbed at the porridge with a crust of ryebread. “Oh, it was much the same as usual. One word led to another and I ran off to bed in the end because I couldn’t stick it.”

Klitch leaned over, the sly blue eyes he had inherited from his father Ferahgo now radiating candor and sympathy. “You didn’t get into trouble because of Goffa and me, did you?”

The young badger maid shrugged. “It was nothing to do with you, Klitch. I just get tired of being pushed and bossed like a silly infant around here.”

“Did you father shout at you?” Goffa refilled his bowl from a nearby serving dish.