“This is the way ter do it mucker,” Dingeye breathed excitedly. “Now lerrit go straight. It should go right across this ’all, over the passage an’ right up the stairs. Ready . . . fire!”

*   *   *

Brother Hal came racing down the stairs, waving the parchment as he muttered to himself triumphantly, “Ha, solved. I’ll show old Bremmun that swords don’t fall out of the sky with the rain. There’s an explanation for everything, the records prove that. Hoho, just wait until young Samki—”

The ill-timed shaft came zipping out of the darkness and buried itself in Brother Hal’s throat. He gave a small gurgling cry and fell to the floor in a limp heap.

The bow dropped from Dingeye’s trembling paws. “Gwaw! Look what you’ve done, you thick idjit!”

Thura let go of the string, and the bow clattered to the floor. “I never done nothin’, smartstoat. It was you!”

“Oh, stow the gab. It was both of us then. There! Does that make yer feel any better?”

“No. Do yer think ’e’s dead?”

“Well, ’e don’t look very lively lyin’ there with an arrer through his gizzard, does ’e? I ’spect that’n’s deader’n last autumn’s leaves.”

Thura found the remnant of a scone and began munching it anxiously as he watched the still form of Brother Hal. “Oooooh! What’re we goin’ t’ do, mucker?”

Dingeye picked up the bow and tried to snap it angrily. The strong wood withstood his puny efforts, so he flung the bow away. It landed close to Brother Hal.

“Stupid fool, couldn’t ’e see we was only ’avin’ a bit o’ sport? Why did ’e come downstairs like that? I tell yer, mucker, the best thing we can do is get well clear of this Redhall place. It’s bad luck, anyway. No one’s about yet, so we c’n be gone afore they’re up an’ about. Grab what yer can an’ foller me.”

Thura was casting about. He found more scones, a pot of honey and a dish of nuts. Dingeye’s urgent hiss made him look up.

“By the claw of ’ellfire an’ darknight, lookit this!”

Thura’s eyes went wide as he saw his companion hold up the sword. “Wow! Wotta sword! Even Ferahgo ain’t got one like that!”

Dingeye was too elated to chide him for using the Assassin’s name. He waved the great sword aloft. “This is treasure—riches, I tell yer. There ain’t another weapon like this in . . . in . . . nowhere!”

In a very short time dawnlight was beginning to streak the eastern sky. The two stoats sneaked from the Abbey and let themselves out by a small wicker gate set in the south wall, then they dashed across the open sward and vanished into the fastnesses of Mossflower Woods.

*   *   *