Free Doomwyte by Brian Jacques

tell Foremole Gullub about it.”
    The young squirrel explained, “Well, we worked out that pincer meant Prince, from then on it was easy. A Prince of Thieves hid them well!”
    “Hurr, that wurr sloightly easy….” Gullub wrinkled his velvety brow, casting a wry glance at his cellarmate. Corksnout returned the mole’s look indignantly.
    “I never breathed a single clue to ’elp those young uns, may my spikes fall out if’n I did!”
    Bisky threw a paw to his mouth in comic alarm. “What’s that rattlin’ noise?”
    The Cellarhog quickly inspected the floor behind him. “Where, what rattlin’ noise?”
    Dwink, Umfry and Bisky stifled their giggles.
    Foremole Gullub poured Corksnout a tankard of October Ale. “Thurr ee go, matey, Oi knows you’m did et with ee best of attentions, hurr so ee did!” The mole turned his attention to the young ones. “Naow, you’m lissen to Oi. Et may be summat an’ et may be nought, but Oi’ve found sumthen that you uns moight be interested in.”
    Bisky sat up alertly. “Golly, sir, is it another riddle?”
    Bosie peered over the rim of the soup bowl he was licking. “A riddle, is it, Ah’m pretty guid at riddles, ye ken. What goes underwater an’ never gets wet?”
    Even Umfry knew that old puzzle. “A h’egg in a duck’s tummy, sir.”
    The mountain hare sniffed. “Och, ye’re far tae clever for yore own guid, laddie!” He rose, wiping his whiskers fussily on his scented silk kerchief. “Ah’ve a mind tae acquaint mahself with this braw place. Mebbe ah’ll start wi’ a tour o’ the kitchens.”
    Abbot Glisam was at his side with alarming haste. “Kitchens? My dear Laird, there’s a whole Abbey to view before we get to the kitchens. Allow me to be your escort, you’ll find Redwall a fascinating place, I’m sure.”
    Corksnout caught the Abbot’s urgent nod. Rising swiftly, he joined Glisam, so that they had Bosie hemmed in on both sides. The big Cellarhog steered the hare toward the stairs. “Er, may’aps ye’d like t’see the dormitories?”
    Gripping Bosie’s paw, and treating him to a beaming smile, the Abbot interrupted, “What a splendid idea, you’ll need a place to sleep of course. Now tell me, d’you mind sharing a room, or do you prefer to be alone?”
    Bosie tried hanging back, but Corksnout took a firm grip on his other paw, propelling him stairward. The Laird Bosie McScutta of Bowlaynee found himself outmanoeuvred, but he continued to plead his case. “Och, Ah’m nae bothered where Ah lay mah heid, any auld bunk’ll do for me. But Ah’d be well pleased tae view those kitchens, aye, an’ the larder, too, Father. There’s nought like a well-stocked larder, ye ken!”
    However, the Abbot was determined not to let the gluttonous mountain hare loose upon either kitchen or larder. He and Corksnout practically frog-marched their guest up the stairs.
    Bisky, Dwink and Umfry grinned as they watched the unwilling Bosie being taken to inspect the sleeping accommodations.
    Samolus seated himself next to them, observing glumly, “Huh, that lollop-eared rascal didn’t leave much afternoon tea. Mark my words, he’ll eat us out of house’n’home afore yore much older.”
    Bisky nodded. “No doubt he will, but y’can’t help likin’ Bosie, he’s good fun. You stay here, Grandunk, I’ll go and get you some vittles from the kitchen.”
    The old mouse toyed with some crumbs on the tabletop. “I’ll get some later, thankee.” He beckoned them close, dropping his tone. “I’ve found another clue, would ye like t’see it?” Three heads nodded eagerly. Samolus tapped a paw to the side of his nose. “Foller me, young mateys.”
     
    Samolus rapped on the Infirmary door. Behind him the three young friends stood looking nonplussed. Dwink had a horror of infirmaries and sick bays; he twiddled his paws nervously. “What’re we doin’ here, there’s nothin’ wrong with me. I don’t like this place!”
    Samolus was about to reply when