Free Duncton Tales by William Horwood

did not know quite what it was that I must do..
    Then she was in tears at the memory of a sense of Silence few moles ever experience. Stour reached forward a thin paw and touched her gently.
    “Continue, mole. I know that you have not spoken of this for a long time. The memory must be … difficult.”
    “I have spoken of it only once before, Master, and that was to Cobbett. He said …” Again there was that strange look on Stour’s face, a wistful, loving look.
    “… He said that he had long thought that my destiny lay in the direction of Duncton Wood, and that it might be there that I would find a task worthy of the Stone. He said that perhaps it had to do with tales, for that was an interest he had in which I had helped him.”
    “Did he say more? Did he speak my name?”
    “No, Master,” said Privet.
    “Did you know he was of Duncton born?”
    “I did not, Master,” she said in surprise and wonder. “He never spoke of that at all.”
    Stour looked deep into her.
    “How was he, mole, when you saw him last?”
    “Master, I was coming to that …” she said diffidently, as if she sensed that Stour had once known Cobbett and might take hard the news she now had to tell him. “I said he had suggested I go to Duncton Wood, but I asked that I might stay with him for a time, to learn more of tales, and to help him as I could. Which I duly did until … until Cobbett ailed and I found that the only help I could give, for he would accept it from no other, was to look after him and ease his passage towards the Silence of the Stone. At the end he told me that when he was gone I must travel to Duncton Wood, taking with me the text of tales he had himself been working on, and to which I had contributed. This I have done, though since Deputy Master Snyde appeared uninterested in it I have kept it in my own tunnels …”
    “You watched over him until the end?”
    “Yes, Master. He died peacefully, grateful that at last he was coming near to Silence, which was, he said, the greatest mystery and perhaps the greatest tale in all moledom …”
    “I am glad it was you who were with Cobbett,” said Stour quietly. “As for the text you have brought with you, one day I would like to see it but for now, keep it safe in your own tunnels. There is a mole in Duncton who would be interested in it, and his name is not Snyde! The time for that will come, and must come, for tales have been much neglected in favour of other work and scholarship. My failing I fear — I never appreciated them enough — though Cobbett always said … no matter. I am glad it was you he was with, mole.”
    Privet was about to ask him what Cobbett was to him, for it seemed Stour knew him of old, but there came again the sound of approaching mole. The Master went to the archway and looked down into the Main Library, Privet at his flank. Full morning light had come, and the librarians were coming in to work. The sound of them seemed so near below that they could hear moles laughing, and then the sharp nasal voice of one of them — Snyde. A look of dislike and urgency came over the Master’s face.
    “Mole, I know not yet to trust you,” he said. “But I shall watch, and I shall listen, and when I have decided I shall act. A mole like you shall have a task, and we must trust the Stone to direct us towards it. You however must trust me, you have no other choice. Meanwhile, there is a task concerning Tales … a task that may prove more important than any we do here. But … before that, mole, the Stone will guide me to test you. Work hard at whatever you do, and do whatever I may ask you to do.
    “And mole, be of cheer. Nomole can flee for ever. This day with me, here, you have turned back to face your past. That must be your struggle, not mine. But the Stone finds ways and means of revealing the truth to guide moles forward. Know this, Privet of Bleaklow Moor, we live in dangerous times. Be warned, be ready, and be watchful. As for what