While the ceremony took place at the west lawn, a rope snaked downward from a first-floor window at the east side of the Abbey building. Samkim and Arula were down on the ground in a twinkling and running for the east wallgate. Beside a haversack of provisions apiece, Samkim carried a quiver of arrows and the bow that had fired the shaft which struck Brother Hal down. Arula had a big pruning knife and a sling with a pouch of pebbles. They opened the small wallgate quickly and let themselves out into the leafy depths of Mossflower Woods.

*   *   *

After the ceremony, Brother Hollyberry and the Abbess made their way up to the Infirmary. The Abbess dried her eyes on a spotted kerchief.

“Oh, Brother, I can understand how poor Samkim was too upset to attend Brother Hal’s last resting. Well, maybe it will be some consolation to him that we’ve recommended his name to Thrugg as a member of the search party for those two stoats.”

The Infirmary door was wide open. Hollyberry entered, looked around the empty room and picked up a pillowcase with a badly scrawled charcoal message written on it:

“The stoats are the ones what did it. We will fetch them back and the sword too. Tell Friar Bellows it was not me. Do not worry, me and Arula will be all right. Samkim.”

The Abbess produced a kerchief and wiped her eyes. “Hollyberry, they may be in danger, we cannot let them go alone.”

The old Infirmary keeper took the kerchief and dried Vale’s eyes. “We have to. I feel that the sword of Martin did not fall from the roof to land at Samkim’s side for nothing. He is marked by destiny and the sign from our Abbey spirit. Call off the search party, Vale. Let us put our trust in two young friends and Martin the Warrior.”

*   *   *

The sun started its inexorable descent into the horizon far out to sea. At the close of a long hot day the sky remained cloudless. Salamandastron’s monolithic rock took on a somber purple aspect against the dusty fawn of the darkening shoreline.

Hares of the Long Patrol watched from the top of the crater. Armed and alert, each one silently surveyed the torchlit horde advancing steadily through the dunes. Myriad pinpricks of light, like a river of stars fallen to earth, were separating in the distance like the horns of some great animal, closing in to surround the mountain.

Ferahgo the Assassin was coming to Salamandastron!

A young female hare named Pennybright swallowed nervously as she fidgeted with the string of her bow. Big Oxeye patted her gently as he passed. “Steady in the ranks there, Penny.”

He moved on to another youngster, Shorebuck, who was sorting out his best slingstones. Oxeye nodded approvingly. “That’s the ticket, young feller. First battle, is it?”