Naagat-Yara: Chapter 19

         Only once everybeast had eaten their fill of luncheon, tea, and afters did Skipper of Otters stand up with Ricky Nevarr to tell their full story about the search for Foremole Brull. Most of the abbeybeasts took the news of Deyna’s quest with a hint of sadness, but also with cheerful hope that he would return swift and victorious. Skipper sent Swash and Brother Hoarg out to arrange for a round-the-clock watch on the wall-tops for their warrior’s homecoming. Only one creature besides Filorn and Mhera still looked downcast once the story of the Kobarra had been told in full. Off to one side, Ricky spotted the bright orange harvest mouse Nimbalo, whom Deyna had mentioned several times to him the previous night. He knew the feisty little beast would be more than a little put off at not being included in the great quest for the Naagat-Yara, and sure enough the mouse’s ears were flattened and his gaze burned with anger. Tears of sadness were glistening in his eyes, though, too. “Great coward, runnin’ off without so much as a goodbye,” Nimbalo growled. “And ‘e knew full well I’d want to go with yeh! Leavin’ me with the mams and babes, eh? Fah! Good riddance to ‘im, I say!”
          “Ah you kiddin’?” Ricky laughed with a wink. “Oy had to near give me left paw to convince Deyna not to take you south!”
          Nimbalo looked up, and his whiskers quivered in utter indignation. “So it was your doing, was it?” he snapped.
          “Aye, though it hurt ‘im an awful lot to leave you behind, mite, it did,” Ricky confided gravely. “He said you two was the best o’mites, and that if ‘e was goin’ on a quest, you’d be right aftah him. But the way he carried on about all the snakes you’ve slain, Oy figgered you’d be our best hope for Redwall — even bettah than me!” He offered a weak smile, drooped his ears piteously, and as a final measure he even pulled his wide-brimmed sharkskin hat and set it firmly upon the mouse’s head for good. “Say you’ll help, mite. Oy can’t protect this place alone.”
          Nimbalo sniffed and brushed a paw quickly against his nose and eyes to hide the tears that had been threatening to wet his cheeks. “Well, the great lolloper got that right, at least.” He puffed his chest out and placed his fists on his hips. “We’ve fought more of those slitherin’ swine than ’tis fair for a beast to meet in a lifetime — and I’d already killed ‘undreds before that scrawny riverdog ever found me!”
          “Oh, ‘e said you were a fierce one,” Ricky murmured sagely, not contesting the harvest mouse’s fib. “But have you evvah fought a Kobarra?”
          “Kobarra? Ha! I’ve slain Kobarras thick as tree trunks!” Nimbalo snatched the otter’s sharkskin cap, jammed it down onto his hears, then leapt upon the nearest bench and waved an imaginary sword within his paw. “I’ve munched on scores of snakes for me afternoon tea! You ever had a snakeyfish pie, me ol’ Ricky-dog? I’ve ‘ad scores of ‘em! Deyna, too, though he couldn’t eat half as many as me.”
          “Izzat so?”
          “You just wait, mate,” Nimbalo growled with a gleam in his eye. “If that Kobarra dares to show its face here, I’ll skin ‘is hide an’ use it as curtains for me bedroom window! I’ll give ‘im such a thrashin’ that they’ll give me my very own verse in that song of the Nevarrs!”
          Ricky barely had time to laugh at the idea when Broggle suddenly stepped forward and interlaced his claws together, belting out in a steady baritone.

          “Oh fear Nimbalo, harvest mouse
          Who strikes Kobarras dead;
          For should a snake find him awake
          He’ll chop right off its head, oh!
          He’ll chop right off its head!”

          All of the dibbuns burst into giggles, and within moments they had scattered about the Great Hall, chasing and pretending to behead one another.
          “Ha! Got’cha, y’evil snakey! You’rra deadbeast now!”
          “Hurr, oi’m not ee surpent! Oi’m ee gurt slayerbeast, burr aye!”
          “Swish! I choppa off all yer heads!”
          “You dibbuns stop that frightful behavior this instant,” Sister Alkanet snapped as she tried to gather up her wayward little flock with very little success. “You two,” she added with a ferocious glare at Broggle and Nimbalo. “You should know better than to introduce such an inappropriate subject around little ones!”
          “Er, allow me to aid you in this most worthy task, marm.” Boorab sidled up to the sister with a bashful salute. “I’ll have the little rotters rounded up in no time, eh, wot!”
          “Oh, no you don’t,” the stern little infirmary mouse rebuked him, shaking a warning claw in his face. “I know what you’re up to, and you won’t be getting a crust of bread out of me!”
          “What? Scoff? Fiddle-faddle and rubbish to all that, marm — I merely wish to help you out of the goodness of my generous and gentle heart! Nothing but cabbage for Boorab the Fool — no, no, marm, I only wish to assist a dear physickin’ friend of mine and catch all the little bounders! The nerve of the tykes, pretending to behead one another, eh! What ho, you young rogue, come back here this instant!”
          The little dormouse in question had charged out of the door and onto the grounds, waving a paw in the air as if slashing imaginary foes. “I cutta da snakes heads off! Wheeee!”
          Several of his friends trundled after him, but most were pudgier and slow enough for Boorab to skid in front of them and point sternly in the direction they had come. “Back inside this instant, you little rotters! Bad form disobeying the orders of a superior h’officer, wot wot! Quick’s the pace and sharp’s the action!”
          The herd of babes slumped in disappointment as Sister Alkanet reached the hare’s side, and they were ushered down the hall once more. However, Churrkin the molemaid remained to grab a corner of Boorab’s harlequin tunic and tugged it urgently. “Hurr, ee likkle mouse be climbin’ ee gurt steep wall-steps, zurr!” The hare whirled about and spotted his quarry ambling up the stairs to the abbey ramparts. Fortunately, the otter Swash was standing watch over the gate, and was conversing with Brother Hoarg just a few meters from where the dormouse would arrive at the top. Boorab charged across the lawn and pumped his arms up and down furiously. “I say, marm! Do stop that little blighter before he falls and breaks his neck there!”
          The dibbun hopped the last step and darted over to the edge of the ramparts. Swash snatched him up just as he peered over the edge, and he let out a terrified squeal with one paw pointing out to the southeast. “EEEEEK! Two ugly vermin-rabbits a’comin’! EEEEEK!”
          Boorab arrived at the base of the stairs and stamped his footpaw indignantly, with Churrkin by his side as Swash carried the babe down. “What utter poppycock, sah! Vermin-rabbits indeed. Do stop squirming, you’ve been caught red-handed in the act of desertion!”
          The dormouse was kicking wildly when the otter maid handed him over to Boorab, and he refused to halt when Swash and Hoarg crossed the lawn to open the abbey gate. Churrkin was also shaking her little digging claw at her peer’s dramatic antics. “Burr aye, an’ et bees gurtly rude callin’ anybeast h’ugly, mizterr Luggin!”
          “Quite so, m’dear! Couldn’t have said it better meself! Right, you’re going to apologize to our visitors before your court-martial, young cad! Quick march now!” However, Luggin refused to march anywhere except in retreat from the opening entryway, and so Boorab was forced to carry him there under one arm. They reached the gates just as the doors cracked open and revealed the two travelers upon the road. Churrkin took one look at the scarred faces of Picquancy and Mondy, with their respective nose ring and eyepatch, then she let out a horrified squeal and collapsed into a dead faint by Brother Hoarg’s feet.
          Mondy was the first to act. Snatching up his canteen from where it hung on a strap over his shoulder, he wetted his paws with a trickle of cool water and then knelt to pat the abbeybabe’s cheeks gently. Churrkin’s eyes fluttered open and she stared up at the rugged hare kneeling over her, still half-dazed. “Hurr, are you bees goin’ to eat me, zurr?”
          “Pish tosh, Missy, what sort of a question is that!” the old traveler exclaimed as he gently helped her to sit up. “Eat you? Humph! Why, my friend and I don’t go about munching on other creatures any more than you do! Besides, you’re far too pretty to scoff up.” Churrkin shamelessly let her eyes rove over the ancient hare’s mottled visage and wiped her digging claws across her brow. “Hurt, then oy bees sore relieved. Oy’m deeply a’feared o’bein’ etted, so oy am, burr aye.”
          Finally recovering from the shocking appearance of his two kin beasts, Boorab straightened up considerably and held the cringing Luggin out to face the visitors. “See there, you bounder: these creatures are nothin’ to be afraid of, nor to go yelling great whopping insults about, wot wot! Apologize this instant, sah!”
          The dormouse squirmed in the bard’s powerful grasp and wrinkled his nose at the hares when he beheld them up close. “Nyaa, sorry I said you was uglybeasts! Pu’mee down!”
          Picquancy crossed her arms at the obstinate dibbun and tapped the bronze hoop hanging from her nostrils.. “Can hardly blame you, laddie buck. Why, if you tried sporting one of these great clanking things, I wouldn’t hesitate to call you right ugly meself!”
          This announcement confused the abbeybeasts into utter silence for a moment. Luggin stared with a mixture of anger and awe at the scruffy haremaid. He had never met an adult creature willing to trade insults before. “Yew would not,” he gasped.
          “Would too, fuzzyface — so there!” she snapped back, paws akimbo, and she stuck out her tongue for good measure. Mondy slapped her forearm reprovingly. “Watch your manners, Picquancy! You’ll behave yourself at once, and that’s an order!”
          But Churrkin, having lost all her fear at the moment that she learned the guests were not flesh-eaters, trundled curiously over to the she-hare and pulled gently on the brown cord hanging from her sandy robes. “Hurr, marm, iffen’ee don’t liker ring inn’ee nose, why does’ee wurr’et?”
          The mottled haremaid crouched down until she was face-to-face with Churrkin, made her long ears droop tragically, and adopted a flawless imitation of the kindly dibbun’s form of speech. “Hurr, et weren’t moy fault, mizz. A gurt mean stoat punched moy nose so’ard, hizz bronze ring stuck in’et ferr good, burr aye!” The molemaid stared in wonder and reached out to touch the infamous metal hoop, waggling it carefully to see if the story was true.
          “Oy, Churrkin, don’t be tuggin’ on that,” Swash cut in quickly. But Picquancy waved the otter off with a paw and swept the babe up into her arms. “Fah! I’ve had much larger beasts than this little tyke hanging off me hooter, wot!” She tapped the mole dibbun’s pudgy stomach and narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “Looks to me as if you’re in charge around here, Miss Churrkin! I don’t suppose you’ve kitchens in this great pink castle — I’m flippin’ well famished, wot wot! Lead me to the blinkin’ grub!”
          And with that, she marched off pointedly and left the other creatures in the dust, staring after her in total bemusement. Even Mondeferd was shaking and scratching his head. “I say. Never seen anything like that in all me born days,” he mumbled in a puzzled voice. Boorab had also nearly forgotten the little dormouse wriggling out from under his arm; he was trying to shake off the memory of the she-hare’s sharp gaze and easy, loping gait. Beside them, Brother Hoarg chuckled and ushered Mondy into the abbey grounds before closing the massive gate. “What? A maid and a babe, my friend? T’is the oldest sight in the world.”