Zwilt guided them to a side room. The Ravager standing guard stepped aside as Zwilt swept in with the shrews.
They blinked in the torch and lantern light as Zwilt flicked off their blindfolds with his swordtip. Both took a pace back at the scene which confronted them. Raised on two steps was a broad stone seat covered with soft mosses, dried grass and rugs made from the fur of beasts. Lounging gracefully upon it was a creature of barbaric beauty. Her fur was shining black and thick, with undertones of rich, dark brown. She was slender of limb, but lithe and strong. Her nosetip and ears were a dainty pink; her eyes, with a slight almond curve, glittered like two dark jewels. Beneath a fine silken cloak of regal purple, a necklace of snake fangs adorned her elegant neck.
The young shrews forgot their plight momentarily. They stared at her in awe. Crouched on the bottom step of the stone seat, an ancient rat clad in tattered raiment gave them a toothless smile.
“Is she not wonderful to look upon, my little dears? Bow your heads to Vilaya the Sable Quean!”
Her words seemed to break the spell. The younger of the shrews broke out sobbing. “Waaahaaah, I wanna go ’ome to Mammy!”
Vilaya bared a set of perfect sharp white teeth at him. “Be silent or I will eat you!”
The venom with which she spat out the words frightened the shrew into silence. She gestured to a guard. “Put them with the others!”
They were hustled swiftly off. From a distance, the sobs of the little shrew could be heard afresh.
Zwilt leaned on his sword hilt as he addressed Vilaya. “There are more where they came from. Shrews always have big broods. I told Grakk to go back and look for others. Though I think you already have enough.”
Vilaya replied scathingly, “I will tell you when I have enough. Your job is to obey my commands, not to stand here giving opinions and bandying words with your Quean.”
Zwilt knew how dangerous the Sable Quean could be. Avoiding further argument, he shrugged. “What would you have me do, then, Majesty?”
Vilaya let Dirva, the old rat, speak for her.
“There’s been reports of river rats down on the South-stream—Grullba’s crew, they say. Quean Vilaya thinks they would be a valuable addition to our Ravagers. She needs somebeast to challenge Grullba and defeat him. The river rats would follow one who could do it.”
It was a rare thing for anybeast to see Zwilt the Shade smile, but smile he did. Drawing his broadsword, he cleaved the air in a deft pattern, making the wide blade thrum.
“Grullba Deathwind, eh? I’ve heard of his skill with the battleaxe. When I’ve slain him, I’ll take off his head with his own weapon and bring them both here for you to see, Majesty.”
Vilaya shook her head at the grisly prospect. “Forget the head of some oafish River Rat Chieftain. All I wish to hear is that you’ve added his crew to my army of Ravagers. Only that will please me.”
Zwilt extended his sword at eye level, speaking as he peered down the length of its blade. “Then we will be strong enough in numbers to conquer Redwall Abbey. It will fall before us like an old dead tree!”
Vilaya stared at him for a moment, then turned away. As if ignoring Zwilt, she remarked to the old rat Dirva, “Does this fool never listen to the wisdom of his Quean?”
Stung by the slight, Zwilt looked up from his sword. “Victory and conquest are the only things that are wise!”
The Sable Quean closed her eyes and waved a languid paw at her ancient confidante. “This beast is beginning to tire me. Dirva, explain our plan to him again.”
Chuckling at Zwilt’s humiliation, Dirva outlined the plan briefly. “There is no need for warfare. Battles are a gamble in which one side must be defeated. Redwall Abbey has never suffered defeat. The conquering tyrants and vermin hordes who have been vanquished from that Abbey’s walls are lost to memory. Their bones have long turned to dust. So, how do we achieve a
They blinked in the torch and lantern light as Zwilt flicked off their blindfolds with his swordtip. Both took a pace back at the scene which confronted them. Raised on two steps was a broad stone seat covered with soft mosses, dried grass and rugs made from the fur of beasts. Lounging gracefully upon it was a creature of barbaric beauty. Her fur was shining black and thick, with undertones of rich, dark brown. She was slender of limb, but lithe and strong. Her nosetip and ears were a dainty pink; her eyes, with a slight almond curve, glittered like two dark jewels. Beneath a fine silken cloak of regal purple, a necklace of snake fangs adorned her elegant neck.
The young shrews forgot their plight momentarily. They stared at her in awe. Crouched on the bottom step of the stone seat, an ancient rat clad in tattered raiment gave them a toothless smile.
“Is she not wonderful to look upon, my little dears? Bow your heads to Vilaya the Sable Quean!”
Her words seemed to break the spell. The younger of the shrews broke out sobbing. “Waaahaaah, I wanna go ’ome to Mammy!”
Vilaya bared a set of perfect sharp white teeth at him. “Be silent or I will eat you!”
The venom with which she spat out the words frightened the shrew into silence. She gestured to a guard. “Put them with the others!”
They were hustled swiftly off. From a distance, the sobs of the little shrew could be heard afresh.
Zwilt leaned on his sword hilt as he addressed Vilaya. “There are more where they came from. Shrews always have big broods. I told Grakk to go back and look for others. Though I think you already have enough.”
Vilaya replied scathingly, “I will tell you when I have enough. Your job is to obey my commands, not to stand here giving opinions and bandying words with your Quean.”
Zwilt knew how dangerous the Sable Quean could be. Avoiding further argument, he shrugged. “What would you have me do, then, Majesty?”
Vilaya let Dirva, the old rat, speak for her.
“There’s been reports of river rats down on the South-stream—Grullba’s crew, they say. Quean Vilaya thinks they would be a valuable addition to our Ravagers. She needs somebeast to challenge Grullba and defeat him. The river rats would follow one who could do it.”
It was a rare thing for anybeast to see Zwilt the Shade smile, but smile he did. Drawing his broadsword, he cleaved the air in a deft pattern, making the wide blade thrum.
“Grullba Deathwind, eh? I’ve heard of his skill with the battleaxe. When I’ve slain him, I’ll take off his head with his own weapon and bring them both here for you to see, Majesty.”
Vilaya shook her head at the grisly prospect. “Forget the head of some oafish River Rat Chieftain. All I wish to hear is that you’ve added his crew to my army of Ravagers. Only that will please me.”
Zwilt extended his sword at eye level, speaking as he peered down the length of its blade. “Then we will be strong enough in numbers to conquer Redwall Abbey. It will fall before us like an old dead tree!”
Vilaya stared at him for a moment, then turned away. As if ignoring Zwilt, she remarked to the old rat Dirva, “Does this fool never listen to the wisdom of his Quean?”
Stung by the slight, Zwilt looked up from his sword. “Victory and conquest are the only things that are wise!”
The Sable Quean closed her eyes and waved a languid paw at her ancient confidante. “This beast is beginning to tire me. Dirva, explain our plan to him again.”
Chuckling at Zwilt’s humiliation, Dirva outlined the plan briefly. “There is no need for warfare. Battles are a gamble in which one side must be defeated. Redwall Abbey has never suffered defeat. The conquering tyrants and vermin hordes who have been vanquished from that Abbey’s walls are lost to memory. Their bones have long turned to dust. So, how do we achieve a
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