Mara lowered her voice as she munched an apple. “You’re right, Pikkle. D’you know, I don’t feel as much of a young one as I used to be. Perhaps it’s because Klitch treats us as equals and not underlings. Some of the things he said have made me think. All that secrecy about not allowing other creatures inside the mountain—maybe Urthstripe does have something to hide. I’ll bet he does have a hidden treasure. Not that I’m bothered about it; he can keep his moldy old treasure for all I care.”

They missed the knowing wink that passed from Klitch to Goffa.

The weasel tossed the haversack across to Mara. “Here, have some cheese. Help yourself, friend!”

7

The muted boom of the great Joseph Bell signaled the twilight hour over Redwall Abbey. Blackbirds, song thrushes and the last larks descending warbled their final melodies to the closing day. Abbess Vale was about to knock on the gatehouse door when Faith Spinney swung it silently open.

The hedgehog lady placed a paw to her mouth. “Hush, little Dumble is sleeping here tonight. I’ve just put him down in the spare bed. Let’s take a stroll round the orchard. We can talk in peace there.”

Latching the door carefully, Faith sighed in relief. “My spikes! I don’t know which is the worser, grown hedgehogs or baby dormice. My old Tudd an’ Dumble been a-playin’ together—you should’ve seen ’em both larkin’ an’ sportin’ about. They’re a right couple o’ pawfuls an’ no mistake! Played themselves to a stan’still they did. My Tudd fell fast asleep in the rockin’ chair an’ Dumble curled up on the floor. They’s both sleepin’ now, bless ’em!”

The grass beneath them was still warm from the summer sun as they strolled paw in paw toward the pond. The Abbess sniffed the air, peering at the sky.

“The weather should be fine tomorrow for our Nameday, Faith. How are the preparations going?”

“Everythin’ is done to a turn, Vale. Don’t you fret yourself. My Tudd’s been helpin’ Burrley mole bring up the finest of drinks from the cellars—strawberry cordial, new cider, dandelion an’ burdock, damson wine an’ the finest barrel of October ale tasted in ten seasons. Tudd ’n’ Burrley should know, they been a-tastin’ it enough today. Now I don’t mind sayin’, young Samkim an’ Arula have been a regular pair o’ goodbeasts, helpin’ Friar Bellows out wi’ the bakin’ an’ cookin’ like they were born in a kitchen.”

The Abbess raised her eyebrows. “It’s nice to hear a creature with a good word to say for those two. I take it you’ve forgiven them for the bow and arrow incident?”

“Bless their ’earts, yes.” Faith chuckled. “Young uns are only young once, more’s the pity. They’re both nice liddle wags, so they are. They don’t mean a body any real harm.”