This crafty statement did the trick. After a few whispered words between the two rats, Redtooth turned to Sela. "Listen, fox, you can go out into the churchyard and tell your assistant to run this errand, but Fangburn here will be right beside you with a cutlass in your ribs. One false move out of you, and you'll be a dead healer. Is that clear?"In addition, different
seed funding schemes have been established to support our students and graduates to kick start their businesses under the programmes.
Sela smiled ingratiatingly. "By all means. Let your friend come along. 1 have nothing to hide."
Out in the churchyard Chickenhound, who was the son of Sela, sat sunning himself upon a tombstone.
Constance stood on the ramparts. She leaned over the parapet, watching as a young fox approached along the dusty road, bearing a stick with a white rag of truce tied to it.
The big badger was uneasy. She knew this one, a fox from Old Sela's brood. You needed eyes in the back of your head to watch that lot!
"Stop right there and state your business, fox," Constance called gruffly.
Chickenhound sniggered, but seeing the badger's stern expression, he quickly took control of himself.
"I want to see your Abbot," he called.
The reply was abrupt. "Well, you can't!"
The fox waved his flag, squinting up at Constance. "But I must see the Abbot! I come in peace. I have important information for sale
the pavilia bay."
The badger was unmoved. "I don't care if you've got the rumbling foxtrot, you aren't getting inside this Abbey. If you want to speak to anyone, then speak to me."
"Beg pardon, young mouse, old chap, but if you can't finish that blackberry muffin or that red-currant tart ..."
Matthias absently pushed his plate across to the hare. Basil needed no second bidding.
Abbot Mortimer entered. Seeing the look on Matthias's face, he leaned across and murmured in his ear, "All work and no play makes Matthias a dull mouse. Cheer up, my son."
"What! I mean, sorry, Father Abbot, 1 didn't mean to be rude. I was trying to solve a problem, you see."
He flicked swiftly through the dusty pages of the aged volume. "Let's see: 'Gardens,' 'Cloisters,' 'Belltowers' . . . ah, here it is, 'The Great Wall and its Gates'."
As the mice conversed, the moles hurled the last of the rubble from the ramparts, then set about brushing the stones clean .
Foremole tugged his nose in salute. "Harr, we'm dum now, zurrs, oi'll bid ye g'day."
Ten seconds later they were all gone.
"Moles aren't too fond of heights," observed Methuselah. "Right, let's see what they've uncovered."
It was a circle cut into the stone.
From beneath its slitted lid he watched Sela the vixen.
The sly old devil was definitely up to something, he was certain of it.
Cluny had secretly questioned Fangbum about the conversation that had gone on between Sela and her son. There was no doubt about it, the foxes were trying to dupe the Warlord.
Cluny had cursed Fangburn for twenty different kinds of an idiot. Fancy not being able to read, and allowing ! Imagine letting Chickenhound go free without first getting the scroll read.
If he had been a little fitter, he would have personally slain his oafish captain. But as it was, Cluny kept silent about it all. Even if Sela was playing a double game, he needed the fox's healing powers to regain his health and strength.
Meanwhile, Cluny the Scourge made his own counterespionage moves. He allowed Sela to minister to his wounds, but he secretly stopped taking the herbs and potions to help him sleep.
"Wait. Look at the Abbey roof," Constance murmured. "The beam cuts right across the top gable. I can see the weather vane as clearly as if it were day."
"Good heavens," Matthias squeaked. "You're right! The Abbey weather vane, it's the one thing that's caught in the path of the light."
"The North! The North!" Methuselah shouted. "It's the weather vane arm that points north! That's where the sword must be!"
the arrow in her teeth and yanked it clear from the bird's leg. The badger then upended the basket, imprisoning the maddened sparrow beneath it.
Shouts of joy mingled with relief greeted Jess Squirrel as she dropped wearily to the grass.
