Even though the night was warm and a full moon hung in the sky like a new gold coin, Vallug felt sulky. He had always lit a campfire at night. Eefera crouched in the shelter of a broad beech tree, trying to ignore the ferret. Vallug looked at the small heap of twigs he had gathered.

“Nighttime’s miserable when y’don’t ’ave a fire!”

Eefera was enjoying the Bowbeast’s discomfort. “Well, go on then, you light a fire. But don’t expect me t’sit by it. I told yer, those beasts in there ain’t stupid. If they’ve got any good slayers or seasoned warriors, they’ll be out searchin’ for us right now. It makes sense, don’t it? We prob’ly killed two of theirs an’ wounded the big rabbit. If they’re supposed t’be the fighters Sawney Rath reckoned ’em t’be, they ain’t goin’ to let that go without strikin’ back. You don’t need no fire, not on a summer night like this. Yore gettin’ soft in yer old age.”

Vallug stood slowly. Stiff-necked, he clenched his paws. “Lissen, weasel, d’you want ter try me, see ’ow soft I am, eh?”

“Sssshh, stow it!” Eefera cocked an ear, listening carefully to the sounds of the nighttime woodlands. “See, I told yer,” he whispered. “I can ’ear ’em. Lissen!”

Vallug tuned in his senses to the sounds amid the trees. “Aye, yore right. What’ll we do?” He watched a slow, wicked smile spread across the weasel’s face.

“Sounds as if there’s no more’n three of ’em. Let’s light the fire an’ ’ide nearby. We’ll kill one an’ take the other two alive!”

*  *  *

Dagrab sniffed the warm dry air suspiciously. “I kin smell fire. Pine an’ dead beech twigs, over yonder.”

Gruven drew his sword, signaling the other two to arm themselves. They crept forward, Gruven whispering urgently, “Take no prisoners. Kill anybeast who’s by that fire!” Then he dropped back slightly, allowing Dagrab and Rawback to go unwittingly ahead of him.

Stalking carefully between the trees, the two vermin reached the fire and waited until Gruven caught up. Dagrab turned as he appeared between them. “Chief, there’s nobeast there.”

Gruven crouched down. “Take a look around.”

Rawback blinked as he scanned the area beyond the flames. “Dagrab’s right, Chief, there ain’t nobeast about.”

Gruven laid his sword upon the grass. Placing a paw on each of their backs, he shoved them stumbling into the firelight. “Well, if there’s nobeast there wot’re ye scared of?”

Both vermin gave a panicked squeak, and turned to jump back out of the firelight. Eefera leaped from the shadows and whacked them flat with a long chunk of dead oak branch. Gruven reached for his sword, but it was not there. Vallug’s bow dropped over his head from behind and was pulled backward, choking Gruven as the swordpoint prodded at his spine. Vallug marched him into the firelight.

“Well, if it ain’t the Gruven Zann Juskazann called to visit ’is ole mates. Isn’t that nice? ’E brought Dagrab an’ Rawback along too. We’re all one big ’appy family agin, eh?”

Any ideas Gruven had harbored of killing Vallug and Eefera by ambush collapsed. Pangs of fright caused him to flop down on the ground. His cowardly nature took over, and he emitted a choking sob.

“Th-there’s f-food in the sacks.”

Eefera grabbed the supply sacks from the stunned vermin. He shook their contents out in front of the fire. It was the remains of the provisions they had plundered from the southern Forthrights.

“Hoho! Flatcakes an’ nuts; fruit, too. Wot’s in the flasks? Cordial? Looks good, eh? Aha, a fruitcake, a nice big ’un! Bet you was keepin’ this fer yerself, Gruven, bein’ Chief an’ all that.”

Vallug dug the swordpoint into Gruven’s back a little. “Oh, this ’un’s a real Juskazann all right. Did ye ’ear ’im back there? Take no prisoners, kill anybeast who’s by the fire? Then ’e ’angs back an’ lets those two dead’eads go forward!”

Still keeping the sword at Gruven’s back and the bow around his neck, Vallug leaned forward until he was breathing down his prisoner’s ear. His voice dripped contempt. “Yore a gutless worm, Gruven. Go on, tell us wot you are. Say it!”

Gruven’s nose was dribbling. He made no attempt to hide his tears, and his voice sobbed brokenly as the bowstring pulled tighter. “A gutless worm. Please don’t kill me!”

Munching cheerfully on a flatcake and drinking cordial, Eefera sat next to Gruven and winked at him.

“ ’S all right, mate, we ain’t goin’ t’kill ye. Yore goin’ to be useful to me’n Vallug. Wipe y’nose an’ stop blubbin’ now.”

Vallug had every intention of killing Gruven there and then. But he wanted Eefera to think he was clever also. He loosed the bowstring and withdrew the sword, kicking Gruven flat. “Aye, stop slobberin’. You’ll fit in nicely with our plans!”

Eefera made the three sit together by the fire, with Gruven in the middle. He bound Gruven’s paws, one to Dagrab, the other to Rawback. Taking the free paws of Dagrab and Rawback, he bound one to the other behind them.

“There now, all nice’n’comfy. Ye can’t run anywhere among trees tied like that. Y’see, we killed a few creatures from that Abbey over yonder. They might ’ave warriors out lookin’ to kill us, an’ that’s enough t’stop anybeast gettin’ a good night’s rest, ain’t it? So ’ere’s the plan, mates. You sit by the fire, an’ I’ll pile a bit more wood on so it won’t go out. Now, if’n there ain’t warriors out lookin’ fer tattoo-faced Juskas, you’ll be safe enough. But if’n there is, well, luck o’ the game, ain’t it? Either way, me’n’Vallug can sleep easy ’til dawn. Good, eh?”

Vallug was impressed by Eefera’s plan, although he never said so. But just to emphasize that he too was smart, he checked the captives’ bonds for tightness, warning them, “Don’t try to escape. We’ll be somewheres close by all night, an’ you won’t know if’n one of us is awake, watchin’ yer!” Then the pair retired into the shadows, leaving their three decoys bound together in full view of the fire.

“Vallug was right, Gruven,” Dagrab muttered savagely. “You are a gutless worm!”

Though still frightened, Gruven had recovered some of his bad temper. “Shut yer snivelin’ face,” he snarled. “I’m tryin’ to think!”

Rawback laughed ironically. “Huh, snivelin’ face, you should’ve saw yerself a moment ago. I’m a gutless worm, please don’t kill me. Think about that! We musta been mad t’follow you, Gruven. Y’never change, do yer? Once a coward always a coward, that’s you!”

Gruven’s eyes blazed hatred as he glared at Rawback. “You’ll die fer that, I promise!”

Rawback bared his teeth at Gruven. “We might all be dead by mornin’, bigmouth!”

*

Torches and lanterns burned late in Cavern Hole. All who were able attended the meeting. Cregga addressed the anxious-faced assembly.

“First things first. Does any Redwaller know what the word Taggerung means? Apparently those vermin will leave us in peace if we send them out a Taggerung.”

Mhera gazed around at the silent puzzled faces. “I never heard the word until today. It’s probably a vermin term for something. Could it mean loot, or booty, do you think?”

Tentative suggestions started to come.

“Aye, they might think we keep treasure here?”

“Mayhap it means somebeast in authority, an Abbot or Abbess?”

“But we don’t have an Abbot or Abbess, and even if we did, the last thing we’d do is turn them over to a mob of vermin!”

“Hurr, who’m said they’m wurr ee mob? Miz Furl said she h’only see’d two of ee vermints.”

“How is Fwirl? Have you seen her yet, Broggle?”

Sister Alkanet fixed the speaker with a stern eye. “No he has not. I’ll say when that squirrelmaid is fit to receive visitors. Old Hoarg is well now, he’ll be up and about by tomorrow morning, but I wish to complain about that hare—”

Boorab, who had a bandage under his chin reaching up to a bow tied off between his ears, rapped the table and interrupted. “You’re gettin’ away from the point, marm, though if you’d nipped out an’ physicked those two vermin bounders, they’d be well on their way, wot! A Taggerung, eh? Well, with our knowledge of vermin type slang, they may’s well have asked for a bucketbung or a jolly old bellwotrang, eh, eh?”

Cregga’s booming voice silenced the hare. “This is no time for joking. Kindly keep any silly remarks to yourself, sah. If we don’t know what a Taggerung is, then we cannot deliver it to the vermin. But they are murderous beasts; it was only by pure luck that Hoarg and Fwirl weren’t slain. Have you any thoughts on the matter, Mhera?”

The ottermaid had, and she made them known. “I think we’d be best concentrating our attention on the vermin. Fwirl said there were only two, with heavily tattooed faces. However, although that may have been all she saw, who knows how many of them are out there? I don’t wish to scare anybeast, but we could be in real trouble if vermin have come in numbers. We don’t have any real warriors at the Abbey now that Skipper and his crew are away. So, can I suggest three things. One, we must all stay indoors, except the wallguards, and they must not show themselves above the parapet. Two, we must send a good runner, somebeast who is fleet of paw, to find Skipper and bring him back here with his crew. Finally, three. If we cannot fight the vermin, then we have to get them to parley, so that we can understand what it is they want from us.”

Sister Alkanet had immediate objections to Mhera’s last point. “Give vermin what they want? Why not just fling our gates open wide and let them march into the Abbey? I’ve never heard anything like it. Parley with vermin? Never. I’d fight them to my last breath!”

Drogg Cellarhog grabbed the Sister’s paw and sat her down. “An’ wot good would that do, marm? Mhera never said anythin’ about lettin’ vermin march in here. Why don’t you listen? She’s tryin’ to do the best for all of us, tryin’ to buy us time until help arrives. Hopin’ to find out the full strength of the foebeast.”

There were cries of “Well said, Drogg!” and Cregga had to pound the table to restore order.

“When I had eyes I slew more vermin than you’ve ever seen. Make no mistake, vermin are cruel, heartless murderers. Mhera is right in what she says: we must do what is best for all. Tomorrow we’ll try to ascertain just how many vermin are at our gates, then we can decide calmly what must be done. Meanwhile, everybeast will stay inside and the guard patrol will continue, but they must not expose themselves to danger. Now go to your beds, please, and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll need clear heads to see this crisis through. Friar Bobb, Filorn, Broggle, will you see that the guards have sufficient food and drink for the night? Boorab, do you still feel fit enough to command the sentries?”

The hare threw an extremely smart salute and winced slightly. “Fit as a physicked frog, marm, as long as they sling portions of this an’ that to keep the old energy up through the darkened hours. Chap can get hungry in the dreary night watches, wot! Can’t have us guardian coves perishin’ at our posts, y’know.”

Filorn reassured the gluttonous hare. “I’ll see you’re well supplied, Mr. Boorab. Sister, is there anything special our Guard Commander must eat for his injury?”

Alkanet cast a frozen glare at the hare. “Just food!”

Boorab bowed and smiled broadly at her. “Just food, eh? Wonderful thought, marm, wot!”

That night Mhera had the strangest dreams she had ever experienced. In the meandering pathways of sleep she saw a beloved face from the past: Rillflag, her father. The ottermaid ran toward him through a misty early morning field. He smiled, holding his paws wide to embrace her, and she called out, “Papa, Papa!”

She recalled his face so well, yet it was not exactly as she remembered it. There was something different. He looked younger. He vanished bit by bit as Mhera tried to run faster, calling his name. Down, down he sank into the swirling, milky-hued vapor. She ran to the spot and knelt down. It was the bank of a river. Sunlight dispersed the foggy tendrils, and the ottermaid stared into the cool dark waters. But it was not her own reflection gazing back at her, it was Martin the Warrior. He held up one paw pad foremost, pointed at the front of it with the other, and spoke just one word. “Taggerung!”

Then she was sitting on her mother’s lap, on the old wheelbarrow in the orchard. Deyna, the little brother she had lost many long seasons ago, was beside her. Filorn looked radiant, young and beautiful, happy as any ottermum with her young ones. Mhera stopped tossing and turning in her sleep. She lay still and contented, listening to her mama sing.