diff --git "a/data_all_eng_slimpj/shuffled/split2/finalzzqxcc" "b/data_all_eng_slimpj/shuffled/split2/finalzzqxcc"
new file mode 100644--- /dev/null
+++ "b/data_all_eng_slimpj/shuffled/split2/finalzzqxcc"
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+{"text":"\n\nDedication\n\nTo my precious daughter, Zayla. To our precious daughters.\nEpigraph\n\nSeawater begs the pearl\n\nTo break its shell\n\n\u2014FROM THE ECSTATIC POEM\n\n\"SOME KISS WE WANT,\"\n\nBY JALAL AD-DIN MOHAMMAD RUMI,\n\nTHIRTEENTH-CENTURY PERSIAN POET\nContents\n\nDedication\n\nEpigraph\n\nChapter 1\n\nChapter 2\n\nChapter 3\n\nChapter 4\n\nChapter 5\n\nChapter 6\n\nChapter 7\n\nChapter 8\n\nChapter 9\n\nChapter 10\n\nChapter 11\n\nChapter 12\n\nChapter 13\n\nChapter 14\n\nChapter 15\n\nChapter 16\n\nChapter 17\n\nChapter 18\n\nChapter 19\n\nChapter 20\n\nChapter 21\n\nChapter 22\n\nChapter 23\n\nChapter 24\n\nChapter 25\n\nChapter 26\n\nChapter 27\n\nChapter 28\n\nChapter 29\n\nChapter 30\n\nChapter 31\n\nChapter 32\n\nChapter 33\n\nChapter 34\n\nChapter 35\n\nChapter 36\n\nChapter 37\n\nChapter 38\n\nChapter 39\n\nChapter 40\n\nChapter 41\n\nChapter 42\n\nChapter 43\n\nChapter 44\n\nChapter 45\n\nChapter 46\n\nChapter 47\n\nChapter 48\n\nChapter 49\n\nChapter 50\n\nChapter 51\n\nChapter 52\n\nChapter 53\n\nChapter 54\n\nChapter 55\n\nChapter 56\n\nChapter 57\n\nChapter 58\n\nChapter 59\n\nChapter 60\n\nChapter 61\n\nChapter 62\n\nChapter 63\n\nChapter 64\n\nChapter 65\n\nChapter 66\n\nChapter 67\n\nChapter 68\n\nChapter 69\n\nAcknowledgments\n\nAbout the Author\n\nCredits\n\nCopyright\n\nAbout the Publisher\nCHAPTER 1\n\nShahla stood by our front door, the bright green metal rusting on the edges. She craned her neck. Parwin and I rounded the corner and saw the relief in her eyes. We couldn't be late again.\n\nParwin shot me a look and we picked up our hurried pace. We did the best we could without running. Rubber soles slapped against the road and raised puffs of dusty smoke. The hems of our skirts flapped against our ankles. My head scarf clung to beads of sweat on my forehead. I guessed Parwin's was doing the same, since it hadn't yet blown away.\n\nDamn them. It was their fault! Those boys with their shameless grins and tattered pants! This wasn't the first time they'd made us late.\n\nWe ran past the doors, blue, purple, burgundy. Spots of color on a clay canvas.\n\nShahla waved us toward her.\n\n\"Hurry!\" she hissed frantically.\n\nPanting, we followed her through the front door. Metal clanged against the door frame.\n\n\"Parwin! What did you do that for?\"\n\n\"Sorry, sorry! I didn't think it would be that loud.\"\n\nShahla rolled her eyes, as did I. Parwin always let the door slam.\n\n\"What took you so long? Didn't you take the street behind the bakery?\"\n\n\"We couldn't, Shahla! That's where he was standing!\"\n\nWe had gone the long way around the marketplace, avoiding the bakery where the boys loitered, their shoulders hunched and their eyes scouting the khaki jungle that was our village.\n\nBesides pickup games of street soccer, this was the main sport for school-age boys\u2014watching girls. They hung around waiting for us to come out of our classrooms. Once off school grounds, a boy might dart between cars and pedestrians to tail the girl who'd caught his eye. Following her helped him stake his claim. This is my girl, it told the others, and there's only room for one shadow here. Today, my twelve-year-old sister, Shahla, was the magnet for unwanted attention.\n\nThe boys meant it to be flattering. But it frightened the girl since people would have loved to assume that she'd sought out the attention. There just weren't many ways for the boys to entertain themselves.\n\n\"Shahla, where is Rohila?\" I whispered. My heart was pounding as we tiptoed around to the back of the house.\n\n\"She's taken some food to the neighbor's house. Madar-jan cooked some eggplant for them. I think someone died.\"\n\nDied? My stomach tightened and I turned my attention back to following Shahla's footsteps.\n\n\"Where's Madar-jan?\" Parwin said, her voice a nervous hush.\n\n\"She's putting the baby to sleep,\" Shahla said, turning toward us. \"So you better not make too much noise or she'll know you're just coming home now.\"\n\nParwin and I froze. Shahla's face fell as she looked at our widened eyes. She whipped around to see Madar-jan standing behind her. She had come out of the back door and was standing in the small paved courtyard behind the house.\n\n\"Your mother is very much aware of exactly when you girls have gotten home and she is also very much aware of what kind of example your older sister is setting for you.\" Her arms were folded tightly across her chest.\n\nShahla's head hung in shame. Parwin and I tried to avoid Madar-jan's glare.\n\n\"Where have you been?\"\n\nHow badly I wanted to tell her the truth!\n\nA boy, lucky enough to have a bicycle, had followed Shahla, riding past us and then circling back and forth. Shahla paid no attention to him. When I whispered that he was looking at her, she hushed me, as if speaking it would make it true. On his third pass, he got too close.\n\nHe looped ahead of us and came back in our direction. He raced down the dirt street, slowing down as he neared us. Shahla kept her eyes averted and tried to look angry.\n\n\"Parwin, watch out!\"\n\nBefore I could push her out of the way, the cycling stalker's front wheel rolled over a metal can in the street; he veered left and right, then swerved to avoid a stray dog. The bicycle came straight at us. The boy's eyebrows were raised, his mouth open as he struggled to regain balance. He swiped Parwin before toppling over on the front steps of a dried-goods shop.\n\n\"Oh my God,\" Parwin exclaimed, her voice loud and giddy. \"Look at him! Knocked off his feet!\"\n\n\"Do you think he's hurt?\" Shahla said. She had her hand over her mouth, as if she had never seen a sight so tragic.\n\n\"Parwin, your skirt!\" My eyes had moved from Shahla's concerned face to the torn hem of Parwin's skirt. The jagged wires holding the spokes of the bicycle together had snagged Parwin's dress.\n\nIt was her new school uniform and instantly Parwin began to weep. We knew if Madar-jan told our father, he would keep us home instead of sending us to school. It had happened before.\n\n\"Why are you all silent only when I ask you something? Do you have nothing to say for yourselves? You come home late and look like you were chasing dogs in the street!\"\n\nShahla had spoken on our behalf plenty of times and looked exasperated. Parwin was a basket of nerves, always, and could do nothing but fidget. I heard my voice before I knew what I was saying.\n\n\"Madar-jan, it wasn't our fault! There was this boy on a bicycle and we ignored him but he kept coming back and I even yelled at him. I told him he was an idiot if he didn't know his way home.\"\n\nParwin let out an inadvertent giggle. Madar-jan shot her a look.\n\n\"Did he come near you?\" she asked, turning to Shahla.\n\n\"No, Madar-jan. I mean, he was a few meters behind us. He didn't say anything.\"\n\nMadar-jan sighed and brought her hands to her temples.\n\n\"Fine. Get inside and start your homework assignments. Let's see what your father says about this.\"\n\n\"You're going to tell him?\" I cried out.\n\n\"Of course I am going to tell him,\" she answered, and spanked my backside as I walked past her into the house. \"We are not in the habit of keeping things from your father!\"\n\nWe whispered about what Padar-jan would say when he came home while we dug our pencils into our notebooks. Parwin had some ideas.\n\n\"I think we should tell Padar that our teachers know about those boys and that they have already gotten in trouble so they won't be bothering us anymore,\" Parwin suggested eagerly.\n\n\"Parwin, that's not going to work. What are you going to say when Madar asks Khanum Behduri about it?\" Shahla, the voice of reason.\n\n\"Well, then we could tell him that the boy said he was sorry and promised not to bother us again. Or that we are going to find another way to get to school.\"\n\n\"Fine, Parwin. You tell him. I'm tired of talking for all of you anyway.\"\n\n\"Parwin's not going to say anything. She only talks when no one's listening,\" I said.\n\n\"Very funny, Rahima. You're so brave, aren't you? Let's see how brave you are when Padar-jan comes home,\" Parwin said, pouting.\n\nGranted, I wasn't a very brave nine-year-old when it came time to face Padar-jan. I kept my thoughts bottled behind my pursed lips. In the end, Padar-jan decided to pull us out of school again.\n\nWe begged and pleaded with Padar-jan to let us return to school. One of Parwin's teachers, a childhood friend of Madar-jan, even showed up at the house and tried to reason with our parents. Padar-jan had relented in the past but this time was different. He wanted us to go to school but struggled with how to make that happen safely. How would it look for his daughters to be chased by local boys for all to see? Awful.\n\n\"If I had a son this would not be happening! Goddamn it! Why do we have a house full of girls! Not one, not two\u2014but five of them!\" he would yell. Madar-jan would busy herself with housework, feeling the weight of disappointment on her shoulders.\n\nHis temper was worse these days. Madar-jan would tell us to hush and be respectful. She told us too many bad things had happened to Padar-jan and it had made him an angry man. She said if we all behaved then he would go back to being his normal self soon. But it was getting harder and harder to remember a time when Padar-jan wasn't angry and loud.\n\nNow that we were home, I was given the extra chore of bringing the groceries from the store. My older sisters were quarantined since they were older and noticeable. I was, thus far, invisible to boys and not a risk.\n\nEvery two days I stuffed a few bills from Madar-jan in the pouch that she had sewn into my dress pocket so I would have no excuse for losing them. I would wind my way through the narrow streets and walk thirty minutes to reach the market I loved. The stores were bustling with activity. Women looked different now than they had a few years ago. Some wore long blue burqas and others wore long skirts and modest head scarves. The men all dressed like my father, long tunics with billowing pantaloons\u2014colors as drab as our landscape. Little boys wore ornate caps with small round mirrors and gold scrolling. By the time I got there, my shoes were again dusty and I would resort to using my head scarf as a filter for the clouds of dirt the hundreds of cars left in their wake. It was as if the khaki-colored landscape were dissolving into the air of our village.\n\nTwo weeks into our expulsion from school, the shop owners had gotten to know me. There were not many nine-year-old girls who would walk determinedly from shop to shop. And having watched my parents haggle prices down, I thought I could do the same. I would argue with the baker who tried to charge me double what I had seen him charge my mother. I bickered with the grocer trying to tell me that the flour I wanted was imported and, thus, subject to a surcharge. I pointed out that I could just as easily buy the same fancy flour from Agha Mirwais down the block and scoffed at the price he quoted. He gritted his teeth and put the flour in the bag along with the other groceries, muttering words under his breath that no child should hear.\n\nMadar-jan was pleased to have my help with the market. She was busy enough with Sitara, who was just taking her first steps. Madar-jan had Parwin look after Sitara while she and Shahla took care of the household chores of dusting, sweeping and preparing the night's meal. In the afternoons, Madar-jan made us all sit down with our books and notebooks and complete the homework she assigned us.\n\nFor Shahla, the days were isolating and difficult. She longed to see her friends and talk with her teachers. Shahla's strengths were her intuition and her intelligence. She wasn't at the very top of her class, but she usually charmed her teachers just enough to push her onto the short list of star pupils. She was average looking but put extra care into her appearance. She would spend at least five minutes brushing her hair every night, since someone told her it would make her locks grow longer. Shahla's face was what people would call pleasant, not beautiful or memorable. But her personality made her glow. People looked at her and couldn't help but smile. Polite and proper, she was a favorite in school. She had a way of looking at you and making you feel important. In front of family and friends, Shahla made Madar-jan proud as she would speak maturely and inquire after each member of the family.\n\n\"How is Farzana-jan doing? It's been so long since I've seen her! Please do tell her that I was asking about her,\" she would say. Grandmothers would nod in approval, praising Madar-jan for raising such a respectable girl.\n\nParwin was another story. She was striking. Her eyes were not the mud-brown color the rest of us had. Instead, hers were a hazel-gray blend that made you forget what it was that you were going to say. Her hair hung around her face in wavy locks with a natural luster. She was undeniably the best-looking girl in our whole extended family.\n\nBut she was completely lacking in social skills. If Madar-jan's friends stopped by, Parwin would shrink into a corner, busying herself with folding and refolding a tablecloth. If she could manage to escape before company made it into the room, even better. Nothing was more of a relief to her than avoiding the traditional three-kiss greeting. She kept her answers brief and all the while kept her eyes on the nearest escape route.\n\n\"Parwin, please! Khala Lailoma is asking you a question. Can you please turn around? Those plants do not need to be watered at this very moment!\"\n\nWhat Parwin lacked in social skill, she more than made up for in artistic ability. She was masterful with pencil and paper. Graphite turned into visual energy in her hands. Wrinkled faces, an injured dog, a house too damaged to repair. She had a gift, an ability to show you what you did not see, even though your eyes graced the same sights as hers. She could sketch a masterpiece in minutes but washing the dishes could take hours.\n\n\"Parwin is from another world,\" Madar-jan would say. \"She is a different kind of girl.\"\n\n\"What good is that going to do her? She's going to have to survive and make her way through this world,\" Padar-jan would retort, but he loved her drawings and kept a pile of them at his bedside to flip through from time to time.\n\nThe other problem with Parwin was that she'd been born with a bad hip. Someone had told Madar-jan she must have been lying on her side too much when she was pregnant. From the time Parwin started to crawl, it was obvious something was off. It took her much longer to learn to walk and to this day she hasn't lost her limp. Padar-jan had taken her to a doctor when she was five or six but they said it was too late.\n\nThen there was me. I didn't mind the expulsion as much as my sisters. I suppose this was because it gave me opportunity to venture out on my own, without two older sisters to chastise me or insist I hold their hands as we crossed the street. Finally, I had freedom\u2014even more than my sisters!\n\nMadar-jan needed help with the errands and lately it was impossible to depend on Padar-jan for anything. She would ask him to pick up some things from the market on his way home and inevitably he would forget, then curse her for having an empty pantry. But if she went to the bazaar by herself, he went into an even worse rage. From time to time, Madar-jan asked the neighbors to pick up an item or two for her but she tried not to do that too often, knowing they already whispered about the peculiar way Padar-jan had of walking up and down our small street, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained something to the birds. My sisters and I wondered about his behavior too, but Madar-jan told us our father needed to take a special medicine and that was why he sometimes acted strangely.\n\nAt home, I could not help but talk about my adventures in the outside world. It bothered Shahla more than Parwin, who was content with her pencils and paper.\n\n\"I think tomorrow I'll pick up some roasted chickpeas from the market. I have a few coins. If you like, I could bring you some, Shahla.\"\n\nShahla sighed and shifted Sitara from one hip to another. She looked like a young exasperated mother.\n\n\"Forget it. I don't want any. Just go and finish the chores, Rahima. I'm sure you're just dawdling out there. In no rush to come home, I bet.\"\n\n\"I'm not dawdling. I go and do the errands that Madar-jan tells me to do. But never mind. I'll see you later.\"\n\nIt wasn't so much that I wanted my sisters to be envious. It was more that I wanted to celebrate my new privileges to come and go, to wander through the shops without my sister's supervision. If I had a little more tact, I would have found another way to express myself. But my loud mouth caught Khala Shaima's attention. Maybe there was a higher purpose to my insensitivity.\n\nKhala Shaima was my mother's sister\u2014her older sister. Madar-jan was closer to her than anyone else in her family and we saw her often. Had we not grown up around her, we probably would have been frightened by her appearance. Khala Shaima was born with a crooked spine that wiggled through her back like a snake. Although our grandparents had hoped to find a suitor before her shape became too obvious, she was passed over time and again. Families would come to ask about my mother or Khala Zeba, the youngest of the sisters, but no one wanted Khala Shaima with her hunched back and one raised shoulder.\n\nShe understood early in life that she would not catch anyone's eye and decided not to bother fussing with appearances at all. She let her eyebrows grow in, left those few stray chin hairs and dressed in the same drab clothing day in and day out.\n\nInstead, she focused her energies on her nieces and nephews and taking care of my grandparents as they aged. Khala Shaima supervised everything\u2014making sure we were doing satisfactorily in school, that we had proper clothing for the winter and that lice hadn't nested in our hair. She was a safety net for anything our parents might not have been able to do for us and she was one of the few people who could stand being around Padar-jan.\n\nBut you had to know Khala Shaima to get her. I mean to really get her. If you didn't know that she had the best intentions at heart, you could be put off by the lack of pleasantries in her conversation, by her sharp criticisms or by the doubtful squint in her eyes while she listened to you talk. But if you knew how she'd been spoken to her whole life, by strangers and family, you wouldn't be surprised.\n\nShe was good to us girls and always came with candy-laden pockets. Padar-jan would comment snidely that her pockets were the only sweet thing about Khala Shaima. My sisters and I would feign patience while we waited for the rustle of chocolate wrappers. When she arrived, I had just returned from the market, and in plenty of time to get my share of the sweets.\n\n\"Shaima, honest to God, you're spoiling these girls! Where are you getting chocolates like these from these days! They can't be cheap!\"\n\n\"Don't stop a donkey that's not yours,\" she fired back. That was another thing about Khala Shaima. Everyone used those old Afghan proverbs, but Khala Shaima could hardly speak without them. It made conversations with her as circuitous as her spine. \"Stay out of it and let's let the girls get back to their homework.\"\n\n\"We're done with our homework, Khala Shaima-jan,\" Shahla said. \"We've been working on it all morning.\"\n\n\"All morning? Didn't you go to school today?\" Shaima's eyebrows furrowed.\n\n\"No, Khala Shaima. We don't go to school anymore,\" Shahla said, averting her eyes since she knew she was throwing Madar-jan into the fire.\n\n\"What does that mean? Raisa! Why aren't the girls in school?\"\n\nMadar-jan lifted her head from the teapot reluctantly.\n\n\"We had to take them out again.\"\n\n\"In God's name, what ridiculous excuse did you come up with this time to keep them from their studies? Did a dog bark at them in the street?\"\n\n\"No, Shaima. Don't you think I would much rather have them going to school? It's just that they're running into foolishness in the streets. You know how boys can be. And, well, their father is just not happy to send them out so they can be toyed with by the neighborhood boys. I don't blame him, really. You know, it's only been a year that the girls are even able to walk in the street. Maybe it's just too soon.\"\n\n\"Too soon? How about too late! They should have been going to school all this time but they haven't. Imagine how far behind they are and now that they can catch up, you're going to keep them at home to scrub the floors? There will always be idiots in the street saying all kinds of things and giving all kinds of looks. You can believe that. If you hold these girls back for that, you're no better than the Taliban who closed their schools.\"\n\nShahla and Parwin shot each other looks.\n\n\"Then what am I supposed to do? Arif's cousin Haseeb told him that\u2014\"\n\n\"Haseeb? That moron who's dumber than a Russian tank? You're making decisions for your children based on something Haseeb said? Sister, I thought more of you.\"\n\nMadar-jan huffed in frustration and rubbed her temples. \"Then you stay here till Arif gets home and you tell him yourself what you think we should do!\"\n\n\"Did I say I was leaving?\" Khala Shaima said coolly. She propped a pillow behind her uneven back and leaned against the wall. We braced ourselves. Padar-jan hated dealing with Khala Shaima's intrusions and he was just as blunt as she was about it.\n\n\"You're a fool to think these girls are better off rotting in this home instead of learning something in school.\"\n\n\"You never went to school and see how well you turned out,\" Padar-jan said facetiously.\n\n\"I've got a lot more sense than you, engineer-sahib.\" A low blow. Padar-jan had wanted to major in engineering when he finished high school but his marks didn't make the cut. Instead, he took some general classes for one semester and then dropped out to start working. He had a shop now where he fixed old electronics, and though he was pretty good at what he did, he was still bitter about not making it as an engineer, a highly regarded title for Afghans.\n\n\"Damn you, Shaima! Get out of my house! They're my daughters and I don't need to listen to a cripple tell me what I should do with them!\"\n\n\"Well, this cripple has an idea that may solve your problem\u2014let you keep your precious pride while the girls can get back into school.\"\n\n\"Forget it. Just get out so I don't have to look at your face anymore. Raisa! Where the hell is my food?\"\n\n\"What is your idea, Shaima?\" Madar-jan jumped in, eager to hear what she had to say. She did respect her sister, ultimately. More often than not, Shaima was right. She hurriedly fixed a plate of food and brought it over to Padar-jan, who was now staring out the window blankly.\n\n\"Raisa, don't you remember the story our grandmother told to us? Remember Bibi Shekiba?\"\n\n\"Oh, her! Yes, but how does that help the girls?\"\n\n\"She became what her family needed. She became what the king needed.\"\n\n\"The king.\" Padar-jan scoffed. \"Your stories get crazier every time you open your ugly mouth.\"\n\nKhala Shaima ignored his comment. She had heard much worse.\n\n\"Do you really think that would work for us too?\"\n\n\"The girls need a brother.\"\n\nMadar-jan looked away and sighed with disappointment. Her failure to bear a son had been a sore spot since Shahla's birth. She had not anticipated that it would be brought to everyone's attention again tonight. She avoided Padar-jan's eyes.\n\n\"That's what you've come here to tell me! That we need a son? Don't you think I know that? If your sister were a better wife, then maybe I would have one!\"\n\n\"Quit jabbering and let me finish.\"\n\nBut she didn't finish. She only started. That night Khala Shaima started a story of my great-great-grandmother Shekiba, a story that my sisters and I had never before heard. A story that transformed me.\nCHAPTER 2\n\nShekiba.\n\nYour name means \"gift,\" my daughter. You are a gift from Allah.\n\nWho could have known that Shekiba would become the name she was given, a gift passed from one hand to another? Shekiba was born at the turn of the twentieth century, in an Afghanistan eyed lasciviously by Russia and Britain. Each would take turns promising to protect the borders they had just invaded, like a pedophile who professes to love his victim.\n\nThe borders between Afghanistan and India were drawn and redrawn from time to time, as if only penciled in. People belonged to one country and then the other, nationalities changing as often as the direction of the wind. For Great Britain and the Soviet Union, Afghanistan was the playing field for their \"Great Game,\" the power struggle to control Central Asia. But the game was slowly coming to an end, the Afghan people ferociously resisting outside control. Chests expanded with pride when Afghans talked about their resilience.\n\nBut parts of Afghanistan were taken\u2014little by little until its borders shrank in like a wool sweater left in the rain. Areas to the north like Samarkand and Bukhara had been lost to the Russian Empire. Chunks of the south were chipped away and the western front was pushed in over the years.\n\nIn that way, Shekiba was Afghanistan. Beginning in her childhood, tragedy and malice chipped away at her until she was just a fragment of the person she should have been. If only Shekiba had been prettier, something at least pleasing for the eye to gaze upon. Maybe then, her father could have hoped to arrange a proper marriage for her when her time came. Maybe people would have looked at her with an ounce of kindness.\n\nBut Shekiba's village was unforgiving. To get to Kabul, one had to ride one week, crossing a river and three mountains. Most people spent their entire lives in the village, in the green fields surrounded by mountains, walking the dirt roads that connected one compound to another. Their village was in a valley, dark soil nurtured by the nearby river and tall peaks giving a sense of enclosure, privacy. There were a few dozen clans, extended families who had known each other over generations. Most people were related to each other, somehow, and gossip was one way to keep busy.\n\nShekiba's parents were second cousins, their marriage arranged by Shekiba's paternal grandmother. Their family, like many others, lived off the land. Each generation splintered the family's land so that people would have a place to build a home, if they decided to leave the clan's main house. Shekiba's father, Ismail Bardari, was the youngest in his home. His older brothers had married before him and filled the compound with their wives and children.\n\nSeeing there was no room for him and his new bride, Shafiqa, Ismail picked up his chisel and set to work. He was lucky though, in that his father bequeathed him a lot with such fertile soil that his share of crops would be guaranteed. He was the hardest working of his brothers and his father wanted to ensure that the land's potential would be realized. There were many hungry mouths to feed and a good yield could bring in extra income from the village. His brothers lacked Ismail's instincts. He had a gift. He knew just the right temperature at which to plant, how often to till the soil and the perfect amount of water to make crops grow. Ismail's brothers resented him for being their father's favorite. They pretended to prefer living in the main home. In the end, he surrounded the house with a wall of mud and stones to give it privacy, as a proper Afghan home needed.\n\nIsmail brought his nervous bride to their new home, surrounded by a small plot of land that bordered his brother's. Standing outside, she could see her in-laws coming and going from the house, their burqas blue spots on a khaki landscape. When the women headed in her direction she would hurry inside and cover herself, embarrassed that her belly was swollen with child. But Shafiqa's in-laws found her dull and timid, and over time they took less interest in her and her children. The women sighed heavily when they spoke with her and whispered to her husband when she wasn't near. Had Shekiba's father been like most other men, he might have heeded those whispers and taken a second wife. But Ismail Bardari was unlike some other men and stayed with the one wife he had, however his mother and sisters felt about her.\n\nShekiba's brothers, Tariq and Munis, were the only real link to the clan. Shafiqa watched over Shekiba and her little sister Aqela, nicknamed \"Bulbul\" because her light, melodic voice reminded Ismail of the local songbird. Tariq and Munis would come and go between their father's and their grandfather's homes, acting as couriers of clothing, vegetables and news. The boys were well liked by their grandparents and valued as male heirs. Ismail's mother, Bobo Shahgul, often said the two boys were the only good thing to come from Shafiqa. The boys overheard many hateful comments but they knew better than to share everything they heard. Shekiba and Aqela didn't realize how little their father's family cared about them since they spent their days close at their mother's side. Sometimes, too close.\n\nA clumsy two-year-old Shekiba changed her life in the blink of an eye. She woke from a midmorning nap and set off to find her mother. Shekiba heard the familiar sounds of peeling in the kitchen and stumbled into the cooking niche. Her small foot caught on the hem of her dress and her arm flailed into the air, knocking a pot of hot oil from a burner top before her mother could reach her. The oil flew out and melted the left half of Shekiba's cherub face into blistered and ragged flesh.\n\nShafiqa screamed and doused her daughter's face with cool water but it was too late. It took months to heal, as Shafiqa diligently kept Shekiba's face clean, using a compound the local alchemist had mixed for them. The pain got worse as her skin fought to recover. The itching drove Shekiba mad and her mother was forced to wrap her hands in cloth, especially while she picked away at the dead, blackened skin. Fevers came, so high they made the toddler's body tremble and writhe, and Shafiqa had nothing to offer, nothing she could do but pray at her daughter's side, her body rocking back and forth, and beseech Allah for mercy.\n\nBobo Shahgul came to see Shekiba when she heard about the incident. Shafiqa anxiously waited to hear any helpful advice her mother-in-law might offer but Bobo Shahgul had none. Before she left, she suggested Shafiqa pay closer attention to her children and muttered thanks that it hadn't been one of the boys.\n\nShekiba's survival was nothing short of a miracle, another gift from Allah. Though her face healed, she was not the same. From then on, Shekiba was halved. When she laughed, only half her face laughed. When she cried, only half her face cried. But the worst part was the change in people's expressions. People who saw her profile from the right would begin to smile, but as their view turned the corner, beyond her nose, their own faces would change. Every reaction reminded Shekiba that she was ugly, a horror. Some people would step back and cover a gaping mouth with a hand. Others would dare to lean in, eyes squinted, to get a better look. From across the road, people would stop in their tracks and point.\n\nThere. Did you see her? There goes the girl with half a face. Didn't I tell you she was horrid looking? God only knows what they did to deserve that.\n\nEven her aunts and uncles would shake their heads and cluck their tongues every time they saw her, as if every time they were freshly disappointed and shocked to see what she looked like. Her cousins came up with twisted names for her. \"Shola face,\" as her skin resembled the lumpy soft rice. \"Babaloo,\" or monster. That one she hated more than the others, since she too was afraid of the babaloo, the creature that frightened every Afghan child in the night.\n\nShafiqa tried to keep her sheltered from the comments, the jeers, the stares, but it was too late to save Shekiba's self-esteem, a commodity people didn't value much anyway. She covered Shekiba with a burqa when she saw people approaching their home or on the rare occasion when the family ventured into the village.\n\nRemember, \"Shekiba\" means \"a gift.\" You are our gift, my daughter. No need to let others gawk at you.\n\nShekiba knew she was horribly disfigured and that she was lucky to even be accepted by her immediate family. In the summers, the burqa was hot and stifling but she felt safer within it, protected. She was not exactly happy but was satisfied to stay in the house and out of sight. Her days passed with fewer insults that way. Her parents withdrew even more from the clan, and the resentment toward Shafiqa's aloofness grew.\n\nTariq and Munis were both energetic, and being just a year apart in age, they could pass for twins. When they were eight and nine, they were helping their father with the fieldwork and running errands in the village. They usually ignored the comments they heard about their \"cursed sister\" but Tariq had been known to throw back insults from time to time. On one occasion, Munis came home with scattered bruises and a foul temper. He'd had more than he could take of the local boys pestering him about his half-faced sister. Padar-jan had gone to the boy's home to make amends with his parents but he never reprimanded Tariq or Munis for defending their Shekiba.\n\nAqela, always smiling, would sing nursery rhymes in her sweet bulbul voice and kept her mother and Shekiba's spirits lifted as they did the chores. They were happy keeping to themselves. They didn't have much, but they had everything they needed and never felt lonely.\n\nIn 1903, a wave of cholera decimated Afghanistan. Children shriveled up within hours and succumbed in their mothers' weak arms. Shekiba's family had no choice but to use the poisoned water that coursed through their village. First Munis, then the others. The illness came quickly and it came strong. The smell was unbearable. Shekiba was stunned. She saw her siblings' faces grow pale and thin in days. Aqela was quiet, her songs reduced to a soft moan. Shafiqa was frantic; Ismail quietly shook his head. Word came from the compound that two children had died, one from each of Shekiba's uncles.\n\nShekiba and her parents waited for their own bellies to begin cramping. They nervously cared for the others, watching each other and waiting to see who else would become ill. Shekiba saw her father put his arms around his wife's shoulders as she rocked and prayed. Aqela's skin was graying, Tariq's eyes were sunken. Munis was quiet and still.\n\nShe was thirteen when she helped her parents wash and wrap Tariq, Munis and Aqela, the songbird, in white cloth, the traditional garb for the deceased. Shekiba sniffled quietly, knowing she would be haunted by the memory of helping her moaning father to dig the graves for her teenage brothers and delicate Aqela, who had just turned ten. Shekiba and her parents were among the survivors.\n\nIt was the first time in years that the clan made an appearance. Shekiba watched her uncles and their wives come in and out of the house, paying their obligatory respects before moving on to the next home grieving their dead. It went without saying that they pitied Shekiba's parents, not so much for the loss of their three children, but for the disappointment that Allah could not have spared one of the sons instead of the defective girl. Luckily, Shekiba was numb by then.\n\nThousands died that year. Her family's losses were notches on the epidemic's belt.\n\nOne week after her three children were buried, Shafiqa began to whisper to herself when no one was looking. She asked Tariq to help her with the water pails. She warned Munis to eat all his food so that he would grow up to be as tall as his brother. Her fingers moved through the yarn of the blanket as if she were braiding Aqela's hair.\n\nThen Shafiqa started sitting idly, plucking individual hairs from her head, one by one, until her scalp was bare; then her eyebrows and lashes disappeared. With nothing left to pluck, she resorted to picking at the skin of her arms and legs. She ate her food but gagged on pieces that she had forgotten to chew. Her whispers became louder and Shekiba and her father pretended not to notice. Sometimes she would listen and then giggle with a lightheartedness alien to their household. Shekiba slowly became her mother's mother, making sure she bathed and reminding her to go to sleep at night.\n\nA year later, in the same dismal month of Qows, Shekiba's languishing mother decided not to wake up from sleep. It came as no surprise.\n\nIsmail held his wife's hands and thought how tired they must be from all the wringing they had endured. Shekiba brought her cheek to her mother's and saw that her eyes had lost their desperate glassiness. Madar-jan must have died looking at the face of God, Shekiba thought. Nothing else could have brought the look of peace so quickly.\n\nThe house sighed in relief. Shekiba bathed her mother one last time, taking care to wash her bald head and realizing that her mother had even plucked the hairs from her womanly parts. The weight of sadness lifted. Her corpse was shockingly light.\n\nBy the following day, Shekiba and her father were back in the field to open the earth once more. They did not bother to tell the rest of the family. Her father read a prayer over the mound of dirt and they looked at each other, quietly wondering which of them would join the others first.\n\nShekiba was left with her father. A cousin stopped by to tell them of an upcoming wedding and took back news of the new widower to the rest of the clan. The hawks descended on the house within days, extending their condolences, but only after they advised Shekiba's father that he now had the opportunity to begin again with a new wife. They named a few families with eligible daughters in the village, most of them only a few years older than Shekiba, but her father was so heartbroken and fatigued that his family could not manage to arrange a new wife for him.\n\nShekiba came of age with only her father to turn to, his sparse words, his lonely eyes. She worked beside him day and night. The more she did, the easier it was for him to forget that she was a girl. He began to think of her as a son, sometimes even slipping and calling her by her brothers' names. The village chattered about them. How could a father and daughter live alone? Sympathy gave way to criticism and Ismail and Shekiba grew even more distant from the outside world. The clan did not want to be associated with them and the village had no interest in a scarred old man and his even more scarred daughter-son.\n\nOver the years, Ismail lulled himself into believing that he had always lived without a wife and that he had always had only one child. He managed by ignoring everything. He was the only person who did not see Shekiba's marred face and did not notice that, as a young woman, she might need some direction from a female. When she bled every month, he pretended not to smell the soiled rags that she would keep soaking and hidden behind a stack of logs in their two-room home. And when he heard her shed tears, he shrugged her sniffles off as a touch of flu.\n\nShekiba's father took his daughter-son to the fields to help him manage their small plot of land. She hoed, she slaughtered and she chopped as any strong-backed son would do for his father. She made it possible for Ismail to go on believing that life had always been father and son. Shekiba proved to be able-bodied, affirming her father's confidence in her ability to manage the farm. Her arms and shoulders knotted with muscle.\n\nYears passed. Shekiba's features grew coarser; her palms and soles were thick and callused. Every day, Ismail's back hunched more, his eyes saw less and his needs grew. There were days Shekiba was left to run the entire farm and house on her own.\n\nHad Shekiba been any other girl, she probably would have felt lonesome in this solitary life, but her circumstances were different. The children nearby would always point and tease, as would their parents. Her appearance was shocking everywhere, except at home.\n\nPeople who are beset by tragedy once and twice are sure to grieve again. Fate finds it easier to retrace its treads. Shekiba's father became weaker, his voice raspier, his breaths shallower. One day, as Shekiba watched from the wall of stone and mud, he grabbed his chest, took two steps and crumpled to the ground with a sickle in his grip.\n\nShekiba was eighteen years old but she knew what to do. She dragged her father's body back to the house on a large cloth, stopping every few steps to adjust her grasp and to wipe away the tears that trickled down the right side of her face. The left side of her face remained stoic.\n\nShe laid his body in the living room and sat at his side, repeating the four or five Qur'anic verses that her parents had taught her until the sun came up. In the morning, she began the ceremony she had performed too often in her short life. She undressed her father, careful to keep his private areas hidden beneath a rag. The ritual washing should have been done by a man but Shekiba had no one to call on. She would rather have invited Allah's wrath into her home than turn to those vile people.\n\nShe bathed him, turning away as she poured water onto his man parts and blindly wrapping his stiff body in a cloth, as she and her mother had done with her sister. She dragged him back outside and opened the earth one final time to complete her family's interment. Shekiba chewed her lip and debated digging one more spot for herself, thinking there would be no one left to do so when her turn came. Too tired to do anything more, Shekiba said a few prayers and watched her father disappear under clods of earth\u2014disappear like her sister, her brothers and her mother.\n\nShe walked back to the hollow house and sat silently\u2014afraid, angry and calm.\n\nShekiba was alone.\nCHAPTER 3\n\n\"We wouldn't be the first. It's been done before.\"\n\n\"You're listening to that lunatic Shaima and that story about your precious grandmother.\"\n\n\"It wasn't my grandmother. It was\u2014\"\n\n\"I don't care. All I know is that woman makes my head ache.\"\n\n\"Arif-jan, I think it would be wise for us to consider this. For everyone's sake.\"\n\n\"And what good will come of it? You see everyone else who has done it? They all have to change back in a few years. It doesn't help anything.\"\n\n\"But, Arif-jan, she could do things. She could go to the store. She could walk her sisters to school.\"\n\n\"Do what you want. I'm going out.\"\n\nI listened carefully from the hallway, just a few feet from the bedroom we all shared. Our kitchen was behind the sitting room, a few pots and a gas burner. Our home was spacious, built in a time when my grandfather's family had more. Now these walls were bare and cracking and looked more like those of our neighbors.\n\nWhen I heard Padar-jan strain to get up, I quickly tiptoed off, my bare toes silent on the carpet. When I was sure he was gone, I came back to the living room to find my mother lost in thought.\n\n\"Madar-jan?\"\n\n\"Eh? Oh. Yes, bachem. What is it?\"\n\n\"What were you and Padar-jan talking about?\"\n\nShe looked at me and bit her lip.\n\n\"Sit down,\" she said. I sat cross-legged in front of her, careful that the hem of my skirt reached over my knees and covered my calves. \"You remember the story your khala Shaima told the other night?\"\n\n\"The one about our great-great-great-great . . .\"\n\n\"You're worse than your father, sometimes. Yes, that one. I think it is time we change something for you. I think it would be best if we let you be a son to your father.\"\n\n\"A son?\"\n\n\"It's simple and it's done all the time, Rahima-jan. Just think how happy that would make him! And you could do so many things that your sisters wouldn't be able to do.\"\n\nShe knew how to pique my interest. I cocked my head to the side and waited for her to go on.\n\n\"We could change your clothes and we'll give you a new name. You'll be able to run to the store any time we need anything. You could go to school without worrying about the boys bothering you. You could play games. How does that sound?\"\n\nIt sounded like a dream to me! I thought of the neighbors' sons. Jameel. Faheem. Bashir. My eyes widened at the thought of being able to kick a ball around in the street as they did.\n\nMadar-jan wasn't thinking of the boys in the street. She was thinking of our empty cupboard. She was thinking of Padar-jan and how much he had changed. We were lucky when he brought home some money from an odd job here or there. Every once in a while, his mind focused enough that he was able to tinker with an old engine and breathe life back into it. His small earnings were spent, unevenly, on his medicine and keeping us clothed and fed. The more Madar-jan thought about it, the more she realized how desperate our situation was becoming.\n\n\"Come with me. There's no reason to delay anything. Your father is taking more and more . . . medicine these days. Your khala Shaima is right. We need to do something or we're going to be in real trouble.\"\n\nWe girls were nervous about getting sick. We worried that if we did, we would have to take the same medicine that Padar-jan took. It made him do funny things, behave in funny ways. Mostly he just wanted to lie about the house and sleep. Sometimes he said things that didn't make sense. And he never remembered anything we said. It was worse when he didn't take his medicine.\n\nHe had broken nearly everything in the house that could be broken. The dishes and glasses survived only because he lacked the energy to pull them from the cabinet. Anything within reach had already been thrown against a wall and smashed to pieces. A ceramic urn. A glass plate that Madar-jan had received as a gift. They were casualties of the war inside Padar-jan's head.\n\nPadar-jan had fought with the mujahideen for years, shooting at the Russian troops that bombarded our town with rockets. When the Soviets finally slinked back to their collapsing country, Padar-jan came home and prayed that life would return to normal, though few people could recall such a time. That was 1989.\n\nIn that year, he returned home to his parents, who barely recognized him as the seventeen-year-old boy who had left home with a gun slung over his shoulder in the name of God and his country. His mother and father hurriedly arranged a marriage for him. At twenty-four years old, he was long overdue and they thought a wife and children would bring him back to normal, but Padar-jan, just like the rest of the country, had forgotten what normal was.\n\nMadar-jan was barely eighteen when they were wed. I imagine she must have been as terrified on her wedding night as I was on mine. Sometimes I wonder why she did not warn me, but I suppose those are not things women should speak of.\n\nAs the country planned for new beginnings, so did my parents. My sister Shahla came first, followed by Parwin and me. Then came Rohila and Sitara. We were all a year apart and close enough in age that only our mother could tell us apart once we were walking. But with one daughter after another, Madar-jan did not become the wife that Padar-jan expected. Even more sorely disappointed was my grandmother, who had respectably borne five sons and only one daughter.\n\nThings fell apart at home, just as they did across the country when Russia left. While the Afghan warriors turned their guns and rockets on each other, Padar-jan tried to settle into life at home. He tried to work alongside his father as a carpenter but a man who had been taught only to destroy found it hard to create. Loud sounds jarred him. He grew frustrated and drifted back to the warlord, Abdul Khaliq, he had fought under.\n\nWarlords were Afghanistan's new aristocracy. Allegiance to a man with local clout meant a better life. It meant an income when there otherwise would be none. It wasn't long before Padar-jan had oiled his machine gun, slung it over his shoulder and gone off to fight again, this time in Abdul Khaliq's name. He returned home every so often. When he returned the first time and found that Madar-jan had given birth to yet another girl, me, he walked out again and returned to the killing fields with fresh anger.\n\nMadar-jan was left behind with a houseful of girls and only her bitter in-laws to turn to. We lived in a small two-room house, part of the family's compound. War pushed families together. Two of my uncles were killed in the fighting. My uncle's wife died giving birth to her sixth child. Until he could remarry two months later, his children were cared for by my mother and my other aunts. We should have felt like one big family. We should have been kind to each other. But there was resentment. There was anger. There was jealousy. There was, as there would be in the rest of the country, civil war.\n\nMadar-jan's family lived a few kilometers away, but they might as well have been on the other side of the Hindu Kush mountains. They had given their daughter to Padar-jan and did not want to interfere in her relationship with her new family. Madar jan's deformed sister, Shaima, was the exception.\n\nDeformities were not easily forgiven, so Khala Shaima steeled herself to resist the name-calling, the ridiculing, the gawking. Older than Madar-jan by nearly ten years, our aunt would tell us things that no one else would say. She would tell us about the war, how the warlords controlled everything and conquered without mercy, even attacking women in the most shameful way of all. Usually Madar-jan hushed her older sister with a pleading look. We were young, after all, and it wasn't Khala Shaima who would have to quiet our night terrors. Sometimes Khala Shaima forgot we were children and told us so much that we sat wide-eyed, frightened of our own father.\n\nWhen Padar-jan came home, we cowered. His moods ranged from jubilant to foul but there was no predicting where on the spectrum he would be or when he would make an appearance. Madar-jan was lonely and welcomed her sister's visits, even if her mother-in-law griped about them. My grandmother made sure to report to her son just how many times Khala Shaima had come to visit while he was away, clucking her tongue in disapproval and inciting his wrath. It was her way of showing Madar-jan that she was in control of our home, even if it sat fifty feet away from the main house.\n\nEveryone wanted control but it was hard to get. The only one who seemed to have any was Abdul Khaliq Khan, the warlord. He and his militia were able to gain control of our town and the neighboring towns, having pushed back their rivals. We were north of Kabul and hadn't seen any fighting in about four years but from what we heard, Kabul was besieged. People in our town shook their heads in dismay at the news but our homes were already pockmarked and turned to rubble. It was time for the privileged in Kabul to taste what we had survived.\n\nThose were ugly times. I can only imagine what my father must have seen from the time he was just a teenage boy. Like so many others, he numbed himself to the ugliness with the \"medicine\" that Madar-jan referred to. He clouded his mind with the opium that Abdul Khaliq kept around, as crucial to his men's ability to wage war as the ammunition strapped to their backs.\n\nMadar-jan grew weary of our father but all she could do was look after us girls. Khala Shaima brought her some concoction that she took so she wouldn't have any more children after me. I don't know what the medicine was, but it worked for six years. When Madar-jan felt her belly stretch again, she prayed and prayed and did all the things that Khala Shaima told her to do. Nothing worked. Disappointed and fearful, she named our youngest sister Sitara and dreaded the day that Padar-jan would come home to find out she had brought yet another daughter into his home.\n\nThen came the Taliban. They were just another faction in the civil war but they gained in strength and their regime crept across the country. It didn't affect us much until we were pulled out of school, windows were blackened and music was banned. Madar-jan sighed but carried on, her daily routine largely unaffected by the new codes.\n\nWhen word got out that our town had fallen to the Taliban, Abdul Khaliq brought his men home to fight back\u2014and to defend his honor as a warlord. There were weeks of explosions, crying, burying, and then the men came home, victorious. Our town was again our own.\n\nPadar-jan stayed home for a few months. He spent time with his brothers, tried to help his father recover some business and even helped some of the neighbors to rebuild their homes. Things were going well until the day that a young boy came knocking on our door with a message for Padar-jan. The next morning, Padar-jan oiled his machine gun, donned his pakol hat and headed back out to rejoin the war.\n\nHe came back here and there but his mood swings were worse with each visit. We saw him only two or three days at a time and we were children, too young to understand the rage he brought home. He was not the same person at all. Even Bibi-jan, my grandmother, would cry after his visits, saying she had lost another son to the war.\n\nIt was my cousin Siddiq who told us about the news. He had heard from our grandfather.\n\n\"Amrika. That's who. They came and they're bombing the Taliban. They have the biggest guns, the biggest rockets! And their soldiers are so strong!\"\n\n\"Why didn't Amrika come before?\" Shahla had asked. She was nearly twelve years old then. Wise enough to come up with questions that made us look at her with admiration.\n\nSiddiq was ten but had the confidence of a boy twice his age. His father had been killed years ago and he grew up under our grandfather's wing. He was the man of his house.\n\n\"Because the Taliban bombed Amrika. Now they're angry and they're bombing them back.\"\n\nOur grandfather entered the courtyard and overheard our conversation.\n\n\"Siddiq-jan, what are you telling your cousins?\"\n\n\"I was just telling them about Amrika, Boba-jan. That they're firing rockets at the Taliban!\"\n\n\"Padar-jan,\" Shahla asked timidly, \"did the Taliban destroy many homes in Amrika?\"\n\n\"No, bachem. Someone attacked a building in Amrika. Now they are angry and they've come after him and his people.\"\n\n\"Just one building?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nWe were silent. It sounded like good news. A big, powerful country had come to our rescue! Our people had an ally in the war against the Taliban!\n\nBut Boba-jan could see in Shahla's eyes that there was something that puzzled her and he knew just what it was. Why would Amrika be so upset after just one building was attacked? Half our country had crumbled under the Taliban. We were all thinking the same thing.\n\nIf only Amrika would have been upset about that too.\nCHAPTER 4\n\nShekiba continued to toil in the fields as if her father were at her side. She fed the chicken and the donkey and fixed the plow when the axle snapped on a stone in the field. The house was quiet, somber. Sometimes the silence grated on her nerves and she would try to break it with the sounds of chores, or by talking to the birds perched on the wall. Some days she felt content, almost happy, to be self-sufficient. She hoped her mother liked the small flowers she had planted while she listened to the bulbul sing over Aqela's grave.\n\nSome things were difficult. Without her father around, Shekiba had no connection with the village or its resources. She used the cooking oil sparingly and was careful with how much she harvested from their field so that she would not go hungry. She dug a small trench between the house and the wall and buried some potatoes so that she would have a stock for the coming winter months. She picked the beans and ate a few, leaving the rest to dry for later.\n\nHer father's death seemed to usher winter in sooner than usual, by Shekiba's warped sense of time. Shekiba had little reason to care about the month or year. The sun would rise and fall and she continued to do her chores, occasionally bothering to wonder what would come of her. How long would this existence last? More than once she thought of ending her life. Once, she'd pinched her nose and shut her mouth. She felt her chest tighten and tighten until she finally took a breath and continued to live, cursing her weakness.\n\nShe again contemplated digging her own plot, beside her father, and lying down in it. Maybe the dark angel Gabriel would see her and reunite her with her family. Shekiba wondered if she would see her mother again. If she did, she prayed it would be the mother who sang while she cooked their meals, not the bald, glassy-eyed woman Shekiba had buried.\n\nWinter came and Shekiba floundered along, subsisting on what she had managed to keep through the fall. Each time she bothered to undress and bathe, she noticed her ribs protruding more. She used her siblings' clothing to cushion her hip bones from the hard floor. She grew weak, her hair brittle and frayed. Her gums bled when she chewed but she barely noticed the taste of blood in her mouth.\n\nSpring came and Shekiba looked forward to the warmth of the sun and the tasks that came with it. But along with spring came a visitor, and the first hint that Shekiba would not be allowed to live like this for long.\n\nShe was feeding the chicken when she saw a young boy in the distance, coming toward her home from her grandfather's house. She could not tell who it was but went inside and donned her burqa. She paced back and forth, peeking through the door from time to time to confirm that the boy was still coming toward her. Indeed he was, and as he neared, Shekiba could see that he was no more than seven or eight years old. She marveled at how healthy he looked and wondered what her cousins were eating at the main house. Once more, Shekiba was thankful for the ability to hide behind the blue cloak.\n\n\"Salaaaaaam!\" he called out when he was near enough. \"I am Hameed! Dear uncle, I want to speak to you!\"\n\nHameed? Who was Hameed? It did not surprise Shekiba that she didn't recognize him. Likely many cousins had been born since she lost contact with the clan. Shekiba wondered how to reply. Should she answer or should she keep quiet? What would invite less inquiry?\n\n\"Salaaaaaaam! I am Hameed! Dear\u2014\"\n\nShekiba cut him off.\n\n\"Your uncle is not home. He cannot speak to you now.\"\n\nThere was no answer for a time. She wondered if Hameed had been warned about her. She could imagine the conversation.\n\nBut be careful. Your uncle has a daughter, a monster, really. She is terrible to look at, so don't be too frightened. She's insane and may say crazy things.\n\nShekiba put her ear to the wall, trying to hear if Hameed was still there or if he was walking away.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nShekiba did not know how to answer.\n\n\"I said who are you?\"\n\n\"I am . . . I am . . .\"\n\n\"Are you my uncle's daughter? Are you Shekiba?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Where is my uncle? I was told to bring him a message.\"\n\n\"He is not here.\"\n\n\"Where is he then?\"\n\nAt the edge of the field. Did you see the tree? The one that should be growing apples but grows nothing at all? That's where he is. You walked right past him, along with my mother, my sister and my two brothers. If you have anything to tell him, you can tell him as you make your way back to the house with all the food.\n\nBut Shekiba did not say what she was thinking. She had that much sense left in her.\n\n\"I said, where is he?\"\n\n\"He has gone out.\"\n\n\"When will he be back?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"Well, tell him that Bobo Shahgul wants to see him. She wants him to come to the house.\"\n\nBobo Shahgul was Shekiba's paternal grandmother. Shekiba hadn't seen her since before the cholera took her family. Bobo Shahgul had come over to tell her son about a girl in the village, the daughter of a friend. She had wanted her son to take her on as a second wife, maybe even to have him move back into the family compound with the second wife and keep the first wife at this house. Shekiba remembered watching her mother listen to the conversation with her head bowed, saying nothing.\n\n\"Tell Bobo Shahgul that . . . that he is not here now.\"\n\nShe was skirting the truth.\n\n\"You will tell my uncle what I have said?\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nShe could hear his footsteps grow distant but waited a full hour before emerging from the wall, just in case. She wasn't the brightest girl, but even Shekiba knew it was just a matter of time before her grandmother sent another message.\n\nThree months passed.\n\nShekiba was attaching the harness to the donkey to begin tilling the soil when she saw two men walking toward the house. She darted inside and grabbed her burqa in a panic. Her heart fluttered as she waited for them to near. She kept her ear against the inner wall, listening for footsteps.\n\n\"Ismail! Come out and speak to us! Your brothers are here!\"\n\nHer father's brothers? Bobo Shahgul meant business. Shekiba frantically tried to think of something reasonable to say.\n\n\"My father is not at home!\"\n\n\"Enough with the nonsense, Ismail! We know you're here! You're too much of a coward to leave your home! Come on out or we'll barge in there and shake some sense into you!\"\n\n\"Please, my father is not home!\" She could hear her voice cracking. Would they force their way in? It wouldn't take much effort. The door would fold in at their slightest touch.\n\n\"Goddamn you, Ismail! What are you doing hiding behind your daughter! Move aside, girl, we are coming in!\"\nCHAPTER 5\n\nMadar-jan took me behind the house with Padar-jan's scissors and razor. I sat nervously while my sisters watched. She pulled my long hair into a ponytail behind my head, whispered a prayer and slowly began to shear away. Shahla looked astonished. Rohila looked entertained and Parwin watched only for a moment before running back into the house for her pencils and paper. She sketched furiously with her back turned to me.\n\nMadar-jan cut and trimmed, bending my ear forward to trim around it. She cut my bangs short and straight across my forehead. I looked at the ground around me and saw hair everywhere. She brushed the loose strands from my shoulders, blew at my neck and dusted off my back. My neck felt bare, exposed. I giggled with nervous excitement. Only Shahla noticed the single tear that trickled down Madar-jan's cheek.\n\nThe next step was my clothing. Madar-jan asked my uncle's wife for a shirt and pair of pants. My cousin had outgrown them, as had his older brother and my other cousin before him. She sent me inside to get dressed while she and my sisters swept my girl hair from the courtyard.\n\nI slipped one leg in and then the other. They were slimmer and heavier than the usual balloon pants I wore under my dresses. I cinched the strings at the waist and made a knot. I pulled the tunic over my head and realized there was no ponytail to pull through after it. I let my hand run against the back of my head, feeling the short ends.\n\nI looked down and saw my knobby knees through the pantaloons. I folded my arms across my chest and cocked my head, as I'd seen my cousin Siddiq do so many times. I kicked my foot, pretending there was a ball in front of me. Was that it? Was I a boy already?\n\nI thought of Khala Shaima. I wondered what she would say if she were to see me like this. Would she smile? Had she really meant it when she suggested I should be turned into a boy? She told us our great-great-grandmother had worked on the farm like a boy, that she'd been a son to her father. I had waited for her to go on, to get to the part where our great-great-grandmother turned into a boy. Khala Shaima said she would come back and tell us more of the story another day. I hated having to wait.\n\nI smoothed my shirt down and went back out to see what my mother thought.\n\n\"Well! Aren't you a handsome young boy!\" Madar-jan said. Even I could detect the hint of nervous uncertainty in her voice.\n\n\"Are you sure, Madar-jan? Don't I look odd?\"\n\nShahla covered her mouth with her hand at the sight of me.\n\n\"Oh my goodness! You look just like a boy! Madar-jan, you can hardly tell it's her!\"\n\nMadar-jan nodded.\n\n\"You won't have to get your knots taken out anymore,\" Rohila said enviously. Getting the knots brushed out of our hair was a painful morning routine. Her hair coiled into a mess of tiny birds' nests that Madar-jan struggled to brush out while Rohila winced and squirmed.\n\n\"Bachem, from now on we're going to call you Rahim instead of Rahima,\" Madar-jan said tenderly. Her eyes looked heavier than they should have at the age of thirty.\n\n\"Rahim! We have to call her Rahim?\"\n\n\"Yes, she is now your brother, Rahim. You will forget about your sister Rahima and welcome your brother. Can you do that, girls? It's very important that you speak only of your brother, Rahim, and never mention that you have another sister.\"\n\n\"Just in case we forget what she looked like, Parwin drew this picture of Rahima.\" Rohila handed Madar-jan the sketch Parwin had done while she was cutting my hair. It was an incredible likeness of me, the old me with long hair and na\u00efve eyes. Madar-jan looked at the drawing and whispered something we didn't understand. She folded the paper and placed it on the tabletop.\n\n\"Is that it? Just like that? She's a boy?\" Shahla looked skeptical.\n\n\"Just like that,\" Madar-jan said quietly. \"This is how things are done. People will understand. You'll see.\" She knew my sisters would be the hardest to convince. Everyone else\u2014teachers, aunts, uncles, neighbors\u2014they would accept my mother's new son without reservation. I wasn't the first bacha posh. This was a common tradition for families in want of a son. What Madar-jan was already dreading was the day they would have to change me back. But that would only be when I began to change into a young woman. That was still a few years away.\n\n\"Oh, wow.\" Parwin had returned to the courtyard to see what happened.\n\n\"So just like that. She's a boy.\"\n\n\"Nope, not yet,\" Parwin said calmly. \"She's not a boy yet.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Rohila asked.\n\n\"She's got to walk under a rainbow.\"\n\n\"A rainbow?\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"My God, Parwin,\" Madar-jan said, smiling faintly. \"I don't remember telling you about that poem. How do you even know about it?\"\n\nParwin shrugged her shoulders. We weren't surprised. Parwin couldn't tell you if she had eaten breakfast but she often knew things that no one expected her to know.\n\n\"What is she talking about, Madar-jan?\" I asked, curious to find out if Parwin was right or if her imagination had gotten the best of her today.\n\n\"She's talking about an old poem. I don't know if I can even remember how the story goes but it's about what happens if you pass under a rainbow.\"\n\n\"What happens if you pass under a rainbow?\" Rohila asked.\n\n\"There's a legend that walking under a rainbow changes girls into boys and boys into girls.\"\n\n\"What? Is that true? Could that really happen?\"\n\nThis perplexed me. I hadn't walked under a rainbow. I'd never even seen one, for that matter. How was this change supposed to work?\n\n\"Tell us the poem, Madar-jan. I know you remember it. We drank in spirits . . .\" Parwin started her off.\n\nMadar-jan sighed and went into the living room. We followed. She sat with her back against the wall and looked to the ceiling, trying to recall the details. Her chador fell across her shoulders. We sat around her and waited expectantly.\n\n\"Afsaanah, see-saanah . . . ,\" she began. One story, thirty stories. And then she sang the poem.\n\nWe drank in spirits and played in fields\n\nEnamored of\n\nIndigos, saffrons and teals\n\nThere was fog in the space\n\nBetween them and I\n\nColors reach to touch God in the sky\n\nI envy the arc, stretched strong and wide\n\nAs one brilliance blends into another\n\nColors bow deeply to welcome a brother\n\nWe humble servants, meekly pass under\n\nRostam's bow changes girl to boy, makes one the other\n\nUntil the air grows dry and tires of the game\n\nAnd the mist opens its arms, colors reclaimed\nCHAPTER 6\n\nShekiba sat with her back against the cool wall. It was night and the house was quiet. Snoring came from every direction, some louder than others. By the soft glow of the moon, she could see the kettles and pots she had washed and stacked in the corner to make room for her blanket. Like most nights, her eyes were wide open while everyone else's were closed. This was the hour of night when she would wonder what she could have done differently.\n\nHer uncles had barged into the home that day, refusing to be turned away. Now that she had been reunited with her grandmother, she could hardly blame them for their persistence. No one wanted to disappoint Bobo Shahgul. She was horrid enough when she was satisfied.\n\nIt hadn't taken long for Shekiba's uncles to realize that something had happened to her father. The house smelled of rot and loneliness. Shekiba had stopped sweeping the floor and had let the potato peels collect in a corner, too disinterested to take them outside. After a time, she didn't notice the smell. But it wasn't just the house. Shekiba had become apathetic. She hadn't bothered to wash her dress, and for most of the winter, she had curled up in a ball under a blanket, letting her own stench fester. Daylight and warmth had inspired her to wash herself but it would take more than a few baths to undo what had become of her. Her hair was a tangled nest of lice and unbrushable for months.\n\nShekiba was pale and gaunt. For a moment, her uncles believed they may have been looking at a djinn, a spirit. How could living flesh look like that?\n\nThey asked for her father, their eyes scouting the room and realizing instantly that he was not there. Shekiba trembled and turned to the side, wanting to hide from them but making sure they were not approaching her. They couldn't see her, but they could smell fear, sweat and blood. They asked again, louder, angrier.\n\nThat was when Shekiba left. She heard a scream and a blue ghost ran into the wall that had sheltered her from the view of others\u2014the wall her father had built to guard his family. Another scream, and as she fell to the earth, hands grabbed the ghost, shocked at how easily their fingers circled bones. The ghost wanted to fight back, to run away and escape, but the men had meat on their bones. They gripped her and she let go, allowing them to roll her onto her blanket and carry her back to the family compound in much the same way that she had carried her father to his grave.\n\nAs she passed by the tree where her family lay buried, Shekiba moaned and called out to them. She tried to lift her head to see the rounded mounds of earth.\n\nMadar. Padar. Tariq. Munis. Bulbul.\n\nShe did not see her uncles look at each other, sharing a realization that the entire family was dead, even their brother Ismail. Shekiba didn't see them bite their tongues, hold back their tears and mutter that they should have been there to wash their brother's body and throw dirt on his grave. Shekiba was the last survivor\u2014the one who should not have survived. They wondered how long this girl had been living alone and shook their heads with the shame of the situation. A girl, by herself! What dishonor this could bring to their family if anyone in the village were to find out!\n\nThey laid her in the courtyard of the home while they went to notify Bobo Shahgul. Within minutes, the spry old lady stood over Shekiba, peering down through her cataract-clouded eyes to get a better look at the grandchild she could do without.\n\n\"Tell your wives to get her washed up. Warn them that her face will turn their stomachs. And tell them to feed her. We must deal with this creature now if we are to save our good name within the village. May God punish her for keeping her father from us, my son! Not even telling us when he left this world! She will pay for this.\"\n\nBobo Shahgul proved to be a woman of her word. Since her husband had died two years ago, she had happily taken on the role of the family matriarch. She presided over her sons' brides with her walking stick, though there was nothing at all wrong with her legs. She had earned the right to walk with her head high since she had given her husband six sons and two daughters. Now it was her turn to oversee the roost with the same iron fist she had survived.\n\nShekiba let herself be undressed and bathed. She found it much easier than resisting. The youngest wives were assigned the formidable task of deconstructing the beast Shekiba had become. Pails of water were brought in. Her hair was sheared, too far gone to salvage. They cursed her for the rank smells of every body recess, their nostrils seared. They put food in her mouth; someone moved her jaw, reminding her to chew.\n\nIn a few days, Shekiba's mind returned to her body. She began to hear what people were saying; she began to notice that her belly did not ache with hunger. Her fingers reached up and felt a head scarf covering the ragged edges of her chopped hair.\n\nI must look like one of my cousins, she thought.\n\nHer skin was raw and reddened from the brutal baths she had been given. Her aunts had scrubbed a layer of filth from her with a washcloth too rough for her frail skin. She had some scabs, while other areas stayed red and chafed, her body too malnourished to repair minor damage. At night, she slept on a blanket in the narrow kitchen, her feet often knocking against a pot and waking her up. In the morning, she was moved into one of many rooms where she would be out of the way while the wives prepared breakfast.\n\nI'm tired of lifting her. Get Farrah to help you. My back is aching.\n\nYou say the same thing every day! Your back, your back. Surely, it's not from doing anything around here. What has your husband been doing to you! Tell him to go easy.\n\nGiggling.\n\nShut your mouth and pick up her arms. Ugh. I am queasy enough today. I can't stand to look at her face.\n\nFine, but we'll put her in your room. My room still has her smell from yesterday and I cannot stand it.\n\nShekiba let herself be moved around and insulted. At least she was not being asked to participate in this existence. But that would not last. Bobo Shahgul had other plans for her.\n\nThe family home had a small kitchen where the wives all helped cook. There was one main family room where everyone sat around during the day, the children played and meals were shared. Surrounding those two main rooms were four or five other rooms, each assigned to one of Bobo Shahgul's sons. Families slept together in one room. Only Bobo Shahgul had a room of her own.\n\nShekiba was on her side in her uncle's room when she vaguely felt Bobo Shahgul's walking stick jab into her thigh.\n\n\"Get up, you insolent girl! Enough of your nonsense. You have been asleep for over a week. You're not going to get away with this kind of behavior in this house. God only knows what craziness your mother allowed.\"\n\nShekiba winced. A downside to her recovery was that her body now had the energy to sense pain. Again, the stick poked into her leg. Shekiba rolled onto her side and tried to push herself back, away from her grandmother. Her head was heavy with too much sleep.\n\n\"Insolent and lazy! Just like your mother!\"\n\nThere was no escape from this woman. Shekiba eased herself to a sitting position and managed to focus her eyes on her grandmother.\n\n\"Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself? Disrespectful and ungrateful. We have bathed and fed you and you can do nothing more than sit there and stare like an idiot?\"\n\n\"Salaam . . . ,\" Shekiba said meekly.\n\n\"Sit up straight and watch your legs. Although you may not know it, you are a girl and you should sit like one.\" Bobo Shahgul snapped her stick against her granddaughter's arm. Shekiba flinched and straightened her back as best she could. Bobo Shahgul leaned in close. Shekiba could see her deep-set wrinkles, the yellow of her eyes.\n\n\"I want you to tell me what happened to my son.\" Each syllable was punctuated by a fine spray of saliva.\n\nYour son? Your son? Shekiba thought, her mind suddenly clear and focused. Your son was my father. When was the last time you saw him? When was the last time you bothered to send him any food, any oil? You could see him in the field. You could see the pain in his movements. Did you bother to send him anything then? All you cared about was giving him another wife, saving the family name.\n\n\"He was my father.\" Shekiba left the rest unsaid.\n\n\"Your father? And a lot of good that did him! He could have had a decent life. He could have had a wife to look after him, to bear him sons who would grow our clan and work on our land. But you did your very best to keep him secluded, trapped with such a wild creature as yourself that no one would want to come near you or him! First your mother, then you! You killed my son!\"\n\nHer stick jabbed Shekiba's breastbone.\n\n\"Where is he? What did you do with him?\"\n\n\"He is with my mother. He is with my brothers and my sister. They are all there together, waiting for me.\"\n\nBobo Shahgul fumed at Shekiba's detachment. As she suspected, her son had been buried without her knowledge. Her eyes swelled with rage.\n\n\"Waiting for you, eh? Maybe God will see fit that your time come soon,\" she hissed.\n\nIf only, Shekiba thought.\n\n\"Zarmina! Come and get this girl! She is to help you with the chores around the house. It is time for her to start earning her stay here. She has caused this family enough grief and she needs to start making up for it.\"\n\nZarmina was married to Shekiba's oldest uncle. She had the strength of a mule and the face of one too. Shekiba guessed she was the one who had scrubbed her skin raw. Zarmina walked into the room, wiping her hands on a rag.\n\n\"Ahhh, so finally we can stop waiting on this girl hand and foot! About time. God has no use for the lazy. Get up and get into the kitchen. You can start peeling the potatoes. There is much to be done.\"\n\nThis was the beginning of a new phase in Shekiba's life. She was no stranger to hard work, to lifting and peeling, to scrubbing and hauling. She was assigned the least desirable chores in the house and accepted them without argument. Bobo Shahgul wanted her to pay for her father's death. She made this clear every day, sometimes calling out his name and clucking her tongue.\n\nShe would even wail and lament the tragedy of his death.\n\n\"He was taken too young. How could he have left his mother to grieve him? How could such a thing happen to our family? Have we not prayed enough? Have we not followed God's word? Oh, my dear son! How could this have happened to you?\"\n\nHer daughters-in-law would sit at her side, plead with her to be strong and tell her that Allah would care for him since his own family had not. They would fan her and warn her that she would make herself ill with all this grief. But Bobo Shahgul's sobbing came without tears and turned off just as easily as it turned on. Shekiba continued with the task of brushing the rug. She did not bother to look up.\n\nWhat happened to you? We heard that they call you shola-face. Did you put shola on your face?\n\nHer cousins asked the same question over and over again. Shekiba ignored them for the most part. Sometimes people answered for her.\n\nShe did not listen to her mother and that's what happened to her. Did you understand what I said? So you had better pay attention to what I say or your face will turn just as hideous as hers!\n\nShekiba became a very useful instrument for discipline in the house.\n\nLook at what you've done! Clean this up or you will be sleeping with Shekiba tonight!\n\nThere was no end.\n\nGod has punished Shekiba. That is why she has no mother or father. Now go wash for prayers or else God will do the same to you.\nCHAPTER 7\n\nMadar-jan kept me at home for a couple of weeks, wanting me to get used to the idea of being a boy before she let me test the waters outside of our home. She corrected my sisters when they called me Rahima and did the same with my younger cousins who had never before seen a bacha posh. They ran into their houses to report the news to their mothers, who smirked. Each had given her husband at least two sons to carry on the family name. They didn't need to make any of their daughters a bacha posh.\n\nBut Madar-jan ignored their looks and went about her chores. Bibi-jan hated that anyone in her family was forced to resort to the bacha posh tradition.\n\n\"We needed a son in the house, Khala-jan.\"\n\n\"Hmmph. Would be better if you could just have one as the others did.\"\n\nMadar-jan bit her tongue for the thousandth time.\n\nPadar-jan barely seemed to notice the change. He had been gone for a couple of days and came home exhausted. He sat in the living room and opened an envelope of small pellets. He squeezed them between his fingers and sprinkled the mix into a cigarette casing. He lit one end and sucked on it deeply. Thick, sweet smoke twisted around his face and wrapped around his head. My sisters and I came in from outside to find him sitting there. We stopped short and said hello, our heads bowed.\n\nHe looked at us and inhaled deeply. He squinted through the smoke as he noticed that something was different about his three daughters.\n\n\"So she's done it then.\" And that was all he said about the matter.\n\nKhala Shaima was the reassuring voice that Madar-jan needed to hear.\n\n\"Raisa, what else were you going to do? Your husband is delirious half the time and of no use to you. You can't send the girls to school or even to the market because you're afraid of what will happen. Your in-laws are all too busy talking about each other to help you out. This is your only option. Besides, it'll be better for her, you'll see. What can a girl do in this world, anyway? Rahim will appreciate what you've done for him.\"\n\n\"But my in-laws, I\u2014\"\n\n\"Forget them! The person who doesn't appreciate the apple doesn't appreciate the orchard. You'll never please them. The sooner you figure that out the better off you'll be.\"\n\nMy first errand as a boy was an exciting one. I was to go to the market for oil and flour. Madar-jan nervously handed me a few bills and watched me walk down the street. My sisters poked their faces around either side of her skirt trying to get a look as well. I kept glancing over my shoulder and waved at Madar-jan cheerfully, trying to inspire a little confidence in both of us that I could pull this off.\n\nThe streets were lined with shops. Copper pots. Baby clothes. Sacks of rice and dried beans. Colorful flags hung from front doors. The shops were two levels, with balconies on the second floor where men sat back and watched the comings and goings of their neighbors. None of the men walked with any urgency. The women, on the other hand, moved purposefully and carefully.\n\nI stepped into the first shop I recognized, a large sign overhead announcing the arrival of a new cooking oil.\n\n\"Agha-sahib, how much for a kilo of flour?\" I asked, remembering to keep my shoulders straight. I couldn't quite bring myself to look the man in the eye so I kept shifting my gaze to the tin cans he had stocked on the shelf behind him.\n\n\"Fifteen thousand afghanis,\" he said, barely looking up. Not too long ago, a kilo of flour had cost forty afghanis. But money was worthless now that everyone had bags of it.\n\nI bit my lip. This was double what I had seen him charge my mother, which she complained was already too much. I wasn't surprised. I had come to this same man twice before when my mother had reluctantly sent me out to the market and I had been able to bargain him down to half of what he originally demanded.\n\n\"That's too much, agha-sahib. Not even a king could pay that much. How about six thousand afghanis?\"\n\n\"You take me for a fool, little boy?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\" My chest puffed to hear him call me a boy. \"But I know that Agha Kareem has flour for sale too and he charges much less. I didn't want to walk all the way down to his shop, but . . .\"\n\n\"Ten thousand afghanis. That's it.\"\n\n\"Agha-sahib, it's only one kilo I'm asking for. Eight thousand afghanis is all I'll pay.\"\n\n\"Boy! You're wasting my time,\" he barked, but I knew he had nothing else to do. He'd been picking dirt from under his fingernails when I entered his shop.\n\n\"Then I'll pay you twelve thousand afghanis but I'll need a kilo of flour and a kilo of oil to go with it.\"\n\n\"And a kilo of oil? Have you\u2014\"\n\n\"I'm no fool, agha-sahib,\" I said, and forced myself to look him in the eye, as a boy should. He stopped short and his mouth tightened. His eyes narrowed as he took a good look at me. I felt myself shrink under his stare. Maybe I'd gone too far.\n\nSuddenly he let out a guffaw.\n\n\"You're a little smart-ass, aren't you?\" he said with a smirk. \"Whose son are you anyway?\"\n\nMy shoulders relaxed. He saw the bacha posh but it was just as Madar-jan had promised\u2014people understood.\n\n\"I'm Arif's son. From the other side of the field, past the stream.\"\n\n\"Well done, my boy. Here, take your oil and flour and run off before I come to my senses.\"\n\nI quickly counted out the bills, took my spoils and hurried back home to show Madar-jan. My walk turned to a jog as I realized I didn't have to be demure and proper. I tested an old man walking by. I looked directly at him, meeting his squinted eyes and seeing that he didn't react to my forwardness. Thrilled, I started to run faster. No one gave me a second glance. My legs felt liberated as I ran through the streets without my knees slapping against my skirt and without worrying about chastising eyes. I was a young man and it was in my nature to run through the streets.\n\nMadar-jan smiled to see me panting and grinning. I laid the goods before her and proudly showed her how much money I'd returned home with.\n\n\"Well, well. Looks like my son bargains better than his mother!\" she said.\n\nI started to understand why Madar-jan needed a son in the home. Certain chores she had left for my father had not been done in months. Now she could ask me.\n\nWhen my sister's shoes came undone, the rubber sole flopping like an open mouth, I took them to the old man down the street. With only three fingers on his right hand, he could fix any shoe in any condition. I brought bread from the baker and chased the stray dog down the street. My father would come home, his eyes red and small, and laugh when he saw me.\n\n\"Bachem, ask your sister to bring me a cup of tea. And tell her to fix me something to eat too,\" he said, ruffling my hair as he walked lazily to the corner of the living room and stretched out on the floor, his head thumping against the pillow cushion.\n\nI was confused for a moment. Why hadn't he asked me to bring the tea and food? But realization swept over me as I walked into the kitchen. I saw Rohila first.\n\n\"Hey, Rohila. Padar-jan wants some tea and something to eat. He's in the living room.\"\n\n\"So? Why didn't you put a plate together? You know there's some korma-katchaloo in the pot.\"\n\n\"He didn't ask me. He said for me to tell my sister. That's you. Anyway, I'm going out. Don't take all day. He looks like he's hungry,\" I said cheerfully. Rohila's hazel eyes gave me a look even as she turned to heat up a bowl of potato stew for our father. She was angry and part of me knew I was being a brat, but everything I was experiencing was new and I wanted to enjoy it. I ignored the shadow of guilt and headed out to see if the stray dog had returned for another game of chase.\n\nA month later, school was back in session and my nerves were again rattled. Madar-jan trimmed my hair and spoke to me cautiously.\n\n\"You'll be in the boys' classroom this year. Pay attention to your teacher and mind your studies,\" she warned me, trying to make this little talk sound routine. \"Remember that your cousin Muneer will be in your class as well. No one, the teacher, the students, no one will ask you about . . . about anything. Just remember that your father has decided to send you to school this year. You are one of the boys and . . . and . . . mind what the teacher tells you.\"\n\nIt would be different, I understood. Khala Shaima's plan had worked well within the confines of our family compound and even in my trips to the bazaar. School would put this charade to the test though, and I could sense my mother's trepidation. My sisters were furious. Padar-jan had decided they were to stay home even though I could have accompanied them to school.\n\nMuneer and I walked to school together. He wasn't the brightest of my cousins and I rarely saw him since his mother kept her children away from the rest of us. That probably worked in my favor. He needed to be told only once that I was his cousin Rahim and always had been, and in his mind there never had been a Rahima. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to worry about his giving me away.\n\n\"Salaam, Moallim-sahib,\" I said when we arrived.\n\nThe teacher grunted a reply in return, nodding as each student walked in. I wiped my moist palms on my pants.\n\nI felt the teacher's curious eyes follow the back of my head but it could have been my imagination. I scanned the room and stayed close behind Muneer, noting that none of the boys seemed fazed by me. I kept my head bowed and we made our way to the back of the classroom, where Muneer and I shared a long bench with three other boys. One boy was especially eager to show how much he knew about the teacher.\n\n\"Moallim-sahib is very strict. Last year he gave four boys bad marks because their fingernails weren't clean.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" his friend whispered. \"Then you better keep your finger out of your nose!\"\n\n\"Boys! Sit up straight and pay attention,\" the teacher said. He was a rotund man, his shiny bald head rimmed with salt-and-pepper hair. His neatly groomed mustache matched his sparse hairs. \"You'll begin by writing your names. Then we'll see what, if anything, you learned in your last class.\"\n\nI quickly realized the male teachers were just as strict as the women. Class wasn't much different except that there was more whispering and shooting each other looks than I'd ever seen in a girls' classroom. I wrote my name carefully and watched Muneer struggle from the corner of my eye. His letters were awkwardly connected and an extra dot had changed \"Muneer\" to \"Muteer.\" I debated correcting him but the teacher looked in my direction before I could even begin to whisper. He walked around the room and looked at everyone's names, shaking his head at some and grunting at others. Very few seemed to meet his standards.\n\nHe looked over my shoulder and I could hear the air whistle through his nostrils, his belly casting a shadow over my paper. My name got no reaction, which I could take only to mean it had not severely disappointed him. Muneer's notebook, however, made him groan.\n\n\"What is your name?\" he demanded.\n\n\"M-M-Muneer.\" He stole a glance upward at the teacher but quickly looked down again.\n\n\"Muneer,\" he said dramatically. \"If you come back to this class tomorrow and make a single mistake in your name, I'll send you back to repeat last year's work. Understood?\"\n\n\"Yes, Moallim-sahib,\" Muneer whispered. I could feel the heat from his face.\n\nSo the boys weren't learning much more than the girls, I realized.\n\nAfter class, the boys were more interested in racing outside and kicking a ball around than questioning who I was or where I'd come from. Muneer and I walked home with two boys named Ashraf and Abdullah. They were neighbors who lived a half kilometer from our family's house. This was the first time I'd met them, though they knew Muneer and my other boy cousins.\n\n\"What's your name again?\" Ashraf asked. He was the shorter of the two and had light brown hair and round eyes. He was pretty enough to make me wonder if he was like me, a girl underneath those pants.\n\n\"My name is Rahim.\"\n\n\"Yeah, his name is Rahim. He's my cousin,\" Muneer added. The teacher's warnings had shaken him up but now that we were outside, he was breathing easier.\n\n\"Abdullah, have you ever seen Rahim before?\"\n\nAbdullah shook his head. He was dark haired, slim and calmer than his neighbor.\n\n\"No. Are you any good at soccer, Rahim?\"\n\nI stole a sidelong glance and shrugged my shoulders.\n\n\"Oh, he's really good at soccer,\" Muneer said emphatically. His reply caught me off guard. \"I bet he could beat you.\"\n\nI looked at Muneer, wondering if he was trying to set me up.\n\n\"Oh, yeah?\" Abdullah grinned. \"Well, he doesn't have to beat me but it would help if he could beat Said Jawad and his friends. They're probably over in the street playing if you want to join them.\"\n\n\"Yeah, let's do it!\" Muneer picked up his pace and headed down the side street that led to the makeshift field and away from our house. The field was actually an unused side street, too narrow for a car. The boys were accustomed to meeting there for pickup games.\n\n\"Muneer, don't you think we should\u2014\"\n\n\"C'mon, Rahim. Just for a little while! It'll be fun,\" Abdullah said, giving my shoulder a light shove.\n\nI suppose I could have been worse. The only thing I knew how to do was to run. Luckily, I did that well enough that the boys didn't notice that my foot never made contact with the ball or that I never shouted for the ball to be passed to me. I ran up and down the street, my shoulders scraping the clay wall of the alley. I kept expecting my mother or father to appear and drag me back home angrily.\n\nI liked feeling the breeze on my face. I liked feeling my legs stretch, trying to catch the others, trying to race ahead of them. My arms swung by my sides, free.\n\n\"Over here! Pass it over here!\"\n\n\"Don't let him get by! Catch him!\"\n\nI neared the ball. There were six feet kicking at it, trying to knock it back in their direction. I stuck my foot into the melee. I felt the leather against my sole. I kicked at it, sending it flying in Abdullah's direction. He stopped the ball with his heel and nudged it toward the opposite goal. He was running.\n\nI felt a thrill as I chased after him. I liked being part of the team. I liked the dust kicking up under my feet.\n\nI liked being a boy.\nCHAPTER 8\n\nQuickly, most of the household work was turned over to Shekiba. Her uncles' wives found that, once she'd recovered, she was quite capable and could manage even the chores that required the combined strength of two women. She could balance three pails of water, instead of just two. She could lift the wood into the stove. They whispered happily to each other when Bobo Shahgul was not listening, not wanting to appear lazy to the matriarch.\n\nShe has the strength of a man, but she does the chores of a woman. Could there be any better help for the house? Now we know what it must feel like to live like Bobo Shahgul!\n\nShekiba heard their comments but it was in her nature to work. She found that sunset came faster if she busied herself, no matter how laborious the task. Her back ached at the end of the day, but she did not let her face show it. She did not want to give them the satisfaction of exhausting her. Nor did she want to risk a beating for not being able to keep up with her work. In this home, there were many ready sticks to teach her that indolence would not be tolerated.\n\nKhala Zarmina, Kaka Freidun's wife, was the worst. Her thick hands came down with a surprising strength even though she claimed to be too old and tired to do any of the more cumbersome tasks in the house. Her temper was short and she seemed to be poised to take Bobo Shahgul's place when Allah finally decided to reclaim the bitter old woman. Bobo Shahgul realized as much and could see through her false flattery but she tolerated it, keeping Zarmina in line with an occasional berating in front of the others.\n\nKhala Samina was by far the mildest. She was wife to Bobo Shahgul's youngest living son, Kaka Zelmai. It took about a week for Shekiba to realize that Samina scolded or hit her only in the presence of the other daughters-in-law. When she raised her hand, Shekiba braced herself. Unnecessarily, she realized. Samina put no more weight into her blows than she would to swat a fly.\n\nShe doesn't want to look weak, Shekiba thought. But now I know she is.\n\nShekiba kept to herself, did the work assigned to her and tried to avoid eye contact. She did nothing to invite conversation, although she did provide a good topic for discussions in the house. Summer was a few weeks away when Bobo Shahgul interrupted her scrubbing the floor. Kaka Freidun stood beside her, arms crossed.\n\nShekiba instinctively pulled her head scarf across her face and turned her shoulders to face the wall.\n\n\"Shekiba, when you have finished with cleaning this floor, you are to go into the field and help your uncles with the harvest. I'm sure you will appreciate a chance to get fresh air outside and it seems you are experienced with this kind of work.\"\n\n\"But I still have to prepare the\u2014\"\n\n\"Then prepare it quickly and get outside. It is about time you helped to grow the food that has fattened your face.\"\n\nKaka Freidun smirked in agreement. This was all his idea. He had watched Ismail's land reap a harvest that most others would have thought impossible given last season's pitiful rainfall. It occurred to him that his brother's daughter-son may have inherited his instincts with the earth. Why not make use of her? After all, there were plenty of women to do the housework. Bobo Shahgul had agreed readily. The clan was in need of a good harvest. There were many mouths to feed and for the first time in years, their debts were growing.\n\nShekiba nodded, knowing that the new assignment would not mean a relief from her current ones. Her days would be longer. Khala Zarmina was especially angry about the new arrangement but she dared not contest Bobo Shahgul.\n\n\"There is more to be done here in the house! Bobo Shahgul has forgotten what it means to take care of the cooking and cleaning. I've left a pile of clothes in need of hemming and darning for Shekiba-e-shola but I suppose that will all have to wait if she is going to be out in the field during the day. She had better wake up earlier if she's going to get lunch ready too.\"\n\nThe family had quickly embraced her nickname. In Afghanistan, disabilities defined people. There were many others in the village who had such names. Mariam-e-lang, who had walked with a limp since childhood. Saboor-e-yek dista was born with one hand. And if you don't listen to your father, your hand will fall off just like his, mothers used to warn their sons. Jowshan-e-siyaa, or the black, for his dark complexion. Bashir-e-koor, the blind, had lost most of his sight in his thirties and despised the children who laughed at his stumbling gait. He knew, too, that their parents joined in the snickers.\n\nShekiba dried the floor hastily and tightened her head scarf under her chin. She went outside and saw that her uncles were taking a break, leaning against the outside wall and drinking tea that her cousin Hameed had brought out to them. Shekiba turned to assess the progress they had made.\n\nFrom this side of the house she could see her home. It looked small in comparison to the clan's house.\n\nThis is how it felt to watch us.\n\nShe noticed that there were new pieces of equipment in their field and that her father's tools had been carted over to this side of the land. The house had been emptied. A pile of their belongings lay outside the wall her father had built.\n\nThey're taking my home. They wanted our land.\n\nSuddenly, Shekiba realized why it was that Bobo Shahgul had summoned her youngest son after so much time. Her father was tilling the most fertile land the family had and they wanted it. They wanted more than the share of crops he sent over from time to time. They wanted it all. Now there was no one in their way. They were taking her home.\n\nShekiba thought she would feel nothing but inside, she seethed. No one had thought of her when the house's contents were thrown outside for trash. The few remaining items that had belonged to her mother, her father, her siblings all tossed aside to make way for something new. Was someone going to move into her home? Shekiba realized part of her was still hoping to return to that home, to live there independently as she had before. But, of course, that would never happen.\n\nShekiba found a container and walked into the field. There was much to be harvested. The onion plants had long yellow leaves and had probably dried up about three weeks ago, given their appearance.\n\nWhy haven't they pulled these onions out? Shekiba thought, and leaned over to get a closer look.\n\n\"Hey, Freidun! Look what she's doing! Tell her not to touch the onions! They aren't ready yet! This imbecile is going to ruin our lot!\" It was Kaka Sheeragha, the skinniest and laziest of the group.\n\nThe leaves were brittle in her fingertips. She reached at the base and began to pull the bulbs from the earth.\n\nAlmost too late. They're about to rot. No wonder our food tastes the way it does. God knows what they're doing with the rest of the crops.\n\nKaka Freidun walked over and looked at the three onions she had already unearthed. Shekiba did not turn to look at him. He grunted something and then walked away.\n\n\"You didn't say anything to her?\" Sheeragha yelled out.\n\n\"Enough,\" Freidun answered. \"They're ready.\"\n\nSheeragha looked at his elder brother and bit his tongue. The men returned to the fields and grunted instructions at each other. They kept a distance from Shekiba but watched her from the corners of their eyes. She moved nimbly through the rows, her callused fingers weaving between the stems and yanking with just the amount of force needed to bring the bulb to the surface. She stopped only to readjust her head scarf.\n\nBut when she had finished one square area, the sun was beginning to set and it was time to prepare dinner. Shekiba resumed her post in the kitchen and was dismayed, but not surprised, to see that nothing had been done for the evening dinner. She quickly started a flame and set some water to boil. Khala Zarmina walked past her and peered into the dim room.\n\n\"Oh, there you are! I was just about to boil some rice for dinner but I see that you're here now. I'll leave it up to you, then. I just hope you'll clean your hands well\u2014they're filthy.\"\n\nShekiba waited till Zarmina had walked away to let out a heavy sigh. How she wished she would have died on the cold floor of her own home, before her uncles had found her.\n\nJumaa prayers had just ended. Her uncles were returning home from the small masjid in town.\n\n\"Children, outside. We are speaking with your grandmother,\" Kaka Freidun snapped. Shekiba watched her cousins scamper out of the main living room. Kaka Sheeragha looked at her and seemed to be considering something. He followed his brothers into the living room.\n\nShekiba pretended to walk back into the kitchen with the clothes she had gathered from the clothesline. Before she reached the kitchen, she stopped and sat on the floor to fold the clothes. From there, she could hear some of what her uncles were saying.\n\n\"We need to settle this debt. Azizullah is losing patience with us. He says he's waited long enough.\"\n\n\"Hmm. What exactly were his demands?\"\n\n\"I spoke with him in the village two weeks ago and he told me that he is in need of a wife for his son. He wants one of the girls from this family.\"\n\n\"Is that what he said?\"\n\n\"Well, he said that there is a debt to settle. And that he was thinking of it more these days because he wants to secure a wife for his son.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Bobo Shahgul's voice was sharp, matter-of-fact. \"How old is his son?\"\n\n\"His son is ten.\"\n\n\"He still has time.\"\n\n\"Yes, but he wants to arrange the matter now.\"\n\nI could hear Bobo Shahgul tapping her walking stick on the floor in thought.\n\n\"Then we need to arrange a deal with him.\"\n\n\"Zalmai, your girls are the right age. Maybe one of them. The older one. She's eight, isn't she?\" Kaka Freidun's voice was unmistakable.\n\n\"Sheeragha's daughter is the same age. And your daughter is the same age as Azizullah's son. She would be a good match as well and would settle our debts sufficiently.\"\n\n\"Freidun's got more girls than anyone. It makes sense to give one of\u2014\"\n\n\"I don't think it is necessary to send one of the girls.\"\n\nThere was a pause as Bobo Shahgul's sons waited for her to explain.\n\n\"We will offer Shekiba.\"\n\nI am not one of the girls.\n\n\"Shekiba-e-shola? Are you joking? He'll take one look at her and come after us demanding twice what we owe! To offer Shekiba will offend him, for sure!\"\n\nShekiba closed her eyes and pressed the back of her head against the wall.\n\nYour name means \"gift,\" my daughter. You are a gift from Allah.\n\n\"Zalmai, I want you to speak to Azizullah and tell him that his son is still young. God willing, he and his father have long lives ahead of them with plenty of time to arrange for a suitable marriage. Tell him it would be more useful for them to have someone who can help them at home now. Tell him a happy wife bears more sons. Then you can offer Shekiba.\"\n\n\"But what if he says no?\"\n\n\"He won't. Just be sure to tell him that she is very capable. That she has the back of a young man and can manage a household. She is a reasonable cook and she keeps quiet, now that she's been tamed. Tell him that it is an honorable thing to take in an orphan and that Allah will reward him for bringing her into his home. She will be like a second wife without the price.\"\n\n\"And what about the work she's doing here? Who will do that?\"\n\n\"The same lazy women who were doing it before Shekiba came here!\" Bobo Shahgul snapped. \"Your wives have been spoiled. They have taken to lying about, drinking tea and making my ears ache with their chatter. It will be good for them to get back on their feet. This is a home, not the royal palace.\"\n\nThe brothers grunted. Would Azizullah really take the offer? they wondered. Better to try than to argue on whose daughter would be given as a bride otherwise.\n\n\"Say nothing to your wives now. No need to go stirring the henhouse yet. First let us discuss matters with Azizullah.\"\n\nShekiba picked herself up from the floor and hurried into the kitchen before her uncles emerged. She couldn't help but be thankful her parents were not alive to hear this conversation. She felt a tear well in her right eye.\n\nThat is the problem with gifts, Madar-jan. They are always given away.\nCHAPTER 9\n\nAzizullah took the deal.\n\nShekiba-e-shola packed her two dresses.\n\n\"Do not do anything that will bring shame to this family.\" Her grandmother's farewell to her was unceremonious.\n\nShekiba did something she never thought she would do. She lifted her burqa from her face and spat at her grandmother's wrinkled feet. A wad of saliva landed on her walking stick.\n\n\"My father was right to run from you.\"\n\nBobo Shahgul's mouth gaped as Shekiba turned and began walking toward her uncle, who was to escort her to Azizullah's home.\n\nShe knew it was coming but she did not care.\n\nShe also knew Khala Zarmina was watching. And smiling.\n\nThe walking stick came down on her shoulders twice before her Kaka Zalmai raised a hand to block his mother's revenge.\n\n\"Enough, Madar-jan, I cannot take the beast to Azizullah crippled. Her face is bad enough. If he sees her hobbling surely he will turn us down. Let Allah punish her for her insolence.\"\n\nShekiba kept her shoulders up and did not falter. She did not know what lay ahead for her but she knew she could not return to this home. She had closed this door for sure.\n\n\"You wretched creature! Allah in all His wisdom has marked your face as a warning to all! There is a monster within! Ungrateful, just like your despicable mother! Do you ever wonder why your entire family is gone, buried under the ground? It is you! You are cursed!\"\n\nShekiba felt something rise within her. She turned slowly and lifted her burqa again.\n\n\"Yes, I am!\" Shekiba smirked and pointed a finger at her grandmother. \"And with Allah as my witness, I curse you, Grandmother! May demons haunt your dreams, may your bones shatter as you walk and may your last breaths be painful and bloody!\"\n\nBobo Shahgul gasped. Shekiba could see the fear in her eyes. She stared at her granddaughter's portentous face and took a nervous step back.\n\nKaka Zalmai slapped her face with a mighty backhand. Even the deadened nerves on the left side of her face stung with his blow.\n\nClever, she thought as she tried to catch her balance. Won't leave a mark there.\n\nHe tightened his fingers around her arm and dragged her away from the house.\n\n\"We are leaving. Madar-jan, I'll be back when I have gotten rid of this monster. Samina, help my mother back into the house!\"\n\nShekiba had no trouble keeping up with her uncle's pace. She kept two steps behind and played the scene over and over again in her mind. Had she really done that? Had she really said those things?\n\nHer burqa hid a lopsided smile.\n\nThey walked the four kilometers to Azizullah's home in silence. Kaka Zalmai occasionally looked back and muttered something that Shekiba could not make out. They passed through the village Shekiba had not seen since early childhood. The shops looked more or less the same and there were a handful of people walking about, blue burqas following men dressed in loose flowing pants and long shirts.\n\nAs they moved further from her family's land, Shekiba wondered if she had done the right thing. What if she found herself alone again? What would she do? But she knew. She would do what she had intended to do months ago.\n\nI will find a way back to our land and bury myself with my family, Shekiba resolved.\n\nAzizullah's home was large in comparison to Bobo Shahgul's. And when she discovered that only Azizullah, his wife and four children lived in it, she was astonished. Azizullah had been given the home by his father, who had been a relatively wealthy man by village standards. Today, Azizullah made his living as a man of commerce. He bought and sold anything that was of any value to anyone. He made trades and loaned money as needed. He knew everyone in the village, but more important, everyone knew him. His family was well connected, with two brothers in the military service.\n\nIt was Azizullah himself who answered the outer gate.\n\nThe men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Shekiba stood just behind her uncle, feeling invisible.\n\nAzizullah was a burly man who looked to be in his thirties. He wore a brown lambskin hat of rippled fur that sat snugly on his head. His eyes were dark and he had a thick but neatly trimmed beard. His clothes and hands looked clean.\n\nHe does not look like a working man, thought Shekiba.\n\n\"Please come in, Zalmai-jan. Join me for a cup of tea.\"\n\nKaka Zalmai accepted the invitation and followed Azizullah into his courtyard. Shekiba stood behind, not sure what she should do, until she saw her uncle shoot her a look. She took a step into her new home. The men went into the living room but Shekiba thought it best if she remained outside. She stood with her back to the wall, her shoulders now starting to ache where Bobo Shahgul's walking stick had come down on her earlier. Again, a smile beneath her burqa. Nearly twenty minutes passed before she was summoned into the living room by her uncle.\n\n\"This is Shekiba, Azizullah-jan. You will see that, as we told you, she is a very hard worker and is sure to prove useful in your home. I trust your wife will be pleased with her.\"\n\n\"Zalmai-jan, we have lived in this village for many years and Shekiba-e-shola is no secret. I had heard of her scars before your brother spoke of it. Now I want to see exactly what it is that I am bringing into my home. Have your niece show her face.\"\n\nKaka Zalmai looked in Shekiba's direction and gave her a nod. His eyes warned her against disobeying. Shekiba took a deep breath, lifted her burqa and braced herself.\n\nHis reaction came slowly. At first, he saw only the right side of her face. Her high cheekbone. Skin with the delicacy and color of an eggshell. Her dark iris and naturally arched brow caught Azizullah by surprise. The infamous monster was half-beautiful.\n\nBut as Shekiba turned her face, her left side came into view. She moved slowly, deliberately\u2014anticipating a response. It suddenly occurred to her that Azizullah could be so repulsed as to send her back to her grandmother's house. She held her breath, unsure what to wish for.\n\nAzizullah's brows wove together.\n\n\"Impressive. Well, no matter. For our purposes, her face is insignificant.\"\n\nInsignificant?\n\n\"She has no other illnesses? Does she speak?\"\n\n\"No, Azizullah-jan. Aside from her face, she is healthy. She speaks but not enough to pester you. She should be an unobtrusive addition to your household.\"\n\nAzizullah stroked his beard. He took a moment to contemplate and then made his final decision.\n\n\"She will do.\"\n\n\"I am so happy that you see things this way, Azizullah-jan. You truly are a very open-minded person, may God grant you a long life.\"\n\n\"And you, my friend.\"\n\n\"I should be on my way then. I trust this will satisfy my family's debt to you. And please know that my mother sends her warmest regards to your wife as well.\"\n\nKaka Zalmai spoke so graciously, Shekiba could hardly recognize him as a member of her family.\n\n\"Our debts are settled, as long as this girl works as you've said she will.\"\n\nAnd she did. Mostly out of fear that she would be sent back to Bobo Shahgul's house. Soon Shekiba realized that she was much better off here in Azizullah's home anyway. Azizullah called his wife, Marjan, into the living room after Zalmai took his leave.\n\n\"This is Shekiba. You should acquaint her with the chores of the house so that she can get to work. Her family speaks highly of her abilities to keep a clean house and manage even heavy tasks. Let us see how she proves herself.\"\n\nMarjan eyed her carefully, wincing as her eyes fell upon Shekiba's face. She was a good-hearted woman and immediately took pity on Shekiba.\n\n\"Allah, dear girl! How terrible!\" she exclaimed, wiping her powdery hands on her skirt. She recovered quickly, though. \"Well, let me show you around. I was just kneading the dough but it's all done now. Follow me.\"\n\nMarjan was probably in her late twenties. Shekiba calculated that she must have had her first child at Shekiba's age.\n\n\"This is our bedroom. And this is the kitchen area,\" she said, pointing to a doorway on the left. Shekiba stepped in and looked around. \"Oh, for God's sake, look at your hips! How will you squeeze a baby through them?\"\n\nMarjan's girth was generous, probably having increased by inches with each new addition to their family.\n\nBut Marjan's statement surprised Shekiba. No one had ever mentioned the possibility of her bearing children\u2014not even in jest. She felt a heat rise into the right side of her face and lowered her head.\n\n\"Oh, you're embarrassed! That's sweet! Well, let's move on. There are many things to be done while we stand here chatting.\"\n\nMarjan listed the chores to be done around the house, but she spoke without the bitter condescension of Shekiba's own family. Despite the fact that she'd been brought here as a servant, Shekiba realized Azizullah's home would be a reprieve for her. She caught herself before she broke out into a full smile.\n\nAzizullah and Marjan had four children. Shekiba met the youngest first\u2014Maneeja, a two-year-old girl with soft dark curls that framed her rosy cheeks. Her eyes were thickly lined with kohl, which made the whites glow. Maneeja clung to her mother, her tiny fingers hanging on to her mother's skirt as she eyed the new face warily. Shekiba saw herself and Aqela doing the same with Madar-jan. Marjan and Shekiba sat down to finish rolling the dough into thin, long ovals. They would be taken to the baker later to be made into fresh-baked bread.\n\nThe eldest child, Fareed, was ten years old. He darted into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of bread before Marjan could chastise him. And before he could take stock of Shekiba's face. Shekiba tried to imagine which of her female cousins would possibly have been arranged as his future bride had her services not been offered instead. It was hard to guess.\n\nNext came eight-year-old Haris and seven-year-old Jawad. They were in a hurry to keep up with their older brother and barely noticed that there was a new person toiling away with their mother in the kitchen. They were energetic boys who froze in their father's presence. But when Azizullah was not around, they quibbled and tackled each other, teaming up against their stronger older brother.\n\nThe children seemed to have inherited their parents' attitude toward disfigurement. After their initial surprise and a few bold questions, they no longer seemed to notice.\n\nWithin two weeks, Shekiba felt quite at home with Azizullah's family. The boys reminded her of her own brothers, Tariq and Munis. Maneeja had Aqela's dark curly hair. But the resemblance brought Shekiba more pleasure than pain. It was almost as if she was living with her reincarnated siblings.\n\nYou did me a favor, Grandmother. The only decent thing you've ever done for me.\n\nJust as she had at Bobo Shahgul's house, Shekiba soon came to manage most of the household on her own. She busied herself with washing the clothes, scrubbing the floors, bringing the water from the well, cooking the meals\u2014just as she had done in the past. Things were considerably easier here, though, since there were only six people to look after. She could tell that Marjan was more pleased with her work than she wanted to show. Azizullah paid her no attention, as long as his wife had no complaints with their new servant.\n\nBut when the family took to their beds and the house settled into its night rhythm, Shekiba lay awake as the outsider she would always be. Shekiba had experienced upheaval and change before and each time, she adjusted. She was by now used to the idea that she was not truly part of any home, not truly part of any family. She would be sheltered by these walls only as long as she scrubbed them until her hands bled.\n\nBecause she was Shekiba, the gift that could be given away as easily as it had been accepted.\nCHAPTER 10\n\nKhala Shaima told us how Bibi Shekiba adjusted to the changes in her life. Now I had to adjust to the changes in mine. I had to learn how to interact with boys. It was one thing to play soccer with them, running alongside them and bumping elbows or shoulders. It was a whole other to be talking with them as we walked home from school. Abdullah and Ashraf would pat me on the back, sometimes even sling an arm around my neck as a friendly gesture. I would smile meekly and try not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. My instincts were to jerk back, to run away and never look them in the eye again.\n\nMy mother would raise an eyebrow if I came home before Muneer.\n\n\"Why are you home so early?\" she would say, wiping her wet hands on a rag.\n\n\"Because,\" I said vaguely, and tore off a piece of bread.\n\n\"Rahim!\"\n\n\"Sorry, I'm hungry!\"\n\nMadar-jan bit her tongue and resumed slicing potatoes into round chips with a hint of a smile on her face.\n\n\"Listen, Rahim-jan. You should be out with the boys, playing. That's what boys do\u2014do you understand what I'm saying?\"\n\nMadar-jan still spoke in circles when it came to talking about my shift from girl to boy. I think she was afraid she would stop believing the charade herself if she spoke of it too directly.\n\n\"Yes, Madar-jan, but sometimes I just don't want to. They . . . they push each other a lot.\"\n\n\"Then push back.\"\n\nI was surprised by her advice but the look on her face told me she was serious. Here sat my mother telling me the exact opposite of what she'd always said. I would have to toughen up.\n\nPadar-jan had been home for three days and everyone was on edge. Every sound, every smell jarred him, inciting a string of profanities and a few slaps when he mustered the effort. For most of the day, he sat in the living room and smoked his cigarettes. Our heads grew dizzy from the smell and Madar-jan had us spend more time in the courtyard. She swaddled Sitara in a blanket and turned her over to Shahla while she did the cooking on her own. Sometimes my uncles would sit with him, smoking and talking about the war, about the neighbors and the Taliban, but none of them smoked as much as Padar-jan.\n\n\"What do you think it would be like if Kaka Jamaal was our father?\" Rohila asked one day. She and Shahla were collecting the laundry from the clothesline. Shahla stopped in her tracks.\n\n\"Rohila!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"How could you say such a thing?\"\n\nI listened but kept my attention on the marbles in front of me. I flicked my finger and watched one send another off too far to the left. I let out a frustrated huff. Ashraf's aim was much better than mine.\n\nJust pay attention to where you want it to go, Abdullah had said. You're only looking at the marble in front you. You have to look at the target.\n\nI froze when he took my hand and showed me how to position my fingers, tucking my pinky under so it wouldn't get in the way. I still wondered what my mother would say if she were to see us. Was this okay too?\n\nAbdullah was right. Once I started looking in the direction I wanted the marble to roll, my shots were better. Marbles tapped against each other and rolled out of the circle. I would have won against Abdullah today. Well, maybe not Abdullah but definitely against Ashraf. My aim was improving.\n\n\"It's just a question, Shahla. You don't have to get so upset about it!\"\n\nShahla shot Rohila a chastising look.\n\n\"It's not just a question. If it were just a question, I'd like to see you go and ask it in front of Padar-jan. Anyway, Kaka Jamaal always looks like he's mad. Even when he's laughing. Have you noticed the way his eyebrows move?\" She cocked her head to the side and turned both her eyebrows inward, leaning toward Rohila, who burst into laughter.\n\n\"You can't ask for another father,\" Parwin interjected. Rohila's chuckles quieted as she turned to hear what Parwin was thinking. \"It would throw everything off.\"\n\nI sat up. My left side had gotten stiff from leaning in one position.\n\n\"What are you talking about, Parwin?\" I asked.\n\n\"You can't just have Kaka Jamaal as your father without making a lot of other changes. That means Khala Rohgul would be your mother and then Saboor and Muneer would be your brothers.\"\n\nParwin was Padar-jan's favorite\u2014if he had to pick one, that is. Maybe he'd already suffered enough disappointment by the time she was born that her being a girl hadn't stung him as the other two's had. But more than that, there was something about her temperament and drawings that calmed him. Maybe that's why she was more forgiving of him. Or it could have been the other way around.\n\n\"Anyway, you'd better stop before someone hears you,\" Shahla warned Rohila. Sitara had started to whine and wriggle in her blanket. Shahla bounced her over her shoulder expertly. She was about to enter adolescence, her body no longer an androgynous shape. Rohila, strangely enough, seemed to be two steps ahead of her. Madar-jan had started her wearing a bra a year and a half ago when her breasts began to poke through her dresses impertinently.\n\nI had tried her bra on once. Just out of curiosity. Rohila had left it behind in the washroom by accident again. Madar-jan had slapped her once for being so indecent. Still, she had forgotten. I laid it out in front of me and tried to make sense of the straps. I stuck my arms through the loops and tried to fasten it in the back, my arms reaching awkwardly, blindly for the clasp. After a few minutes I gave up and looked down at the lumps of cloth hanging loosely over my square chest.\n\nI stuck my chest out, trying to see if I could fill the miniature cups and realizing I didn't want to. Instead, I sat on the ground, cross-legged and comfortable, while my sisters became women.\n\nLater that night, I answered a knock at the door. Padar-jan lay in the living room, his loud snores rumbling through his chest. Sometimes he snorted so loudly that Rohila giggled and Shahla's hand instinctively clamped over her sister's mouth to stifle the sound. Parwin would shake her head, disappointed in her sister's behavior. Madar-jan shot both girls a warning look; Shahla's eyes widened in a declaration of innocence.\n\nThere was a man at the front gate. I recognized him as one of my father's friends. He was gruff and had skin the texture of our plaster walls.\n\n\"Salaam, Kaka-jan.\"\n\n\"Go and call your father,\" he said simply.\n\nI nodded and ran back into the house, taking a deep breath before I nudged Padar-jan's shoulder. I called out to him, louder and louder, before his snoring rhythm broke and he fumbled to rub his bloodshot eyes.\n\n\"What the hell is wrong with you?\"\n\n\"Excuse me, Padar-jan. Kaka-jan is at the gate.\"\n\nHis eyes began to focus. He sat up and scratched his nose.\n\n\"Fine, bachem. Go and bring me my sandals.\" I was his son and allowed to wake him up for important matters. I saw Shahla's eyebrows draw upward. She noted the difference too.\n\nI went to the courtyard to listen in on their conversation. I sat away from the gate where they were talking, out of the man's view.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq has summoned everyone. We'll meet in the morning and then head out. They're bombarding an area north of here and it looks like they'll gain some ground if we don't fend them off. There's a lot of talk about that area. Seems the Americans are going to be sending us some weapons or something.\"\n\n\"The Americans? How do you know that?\" Padar-jan asked, his back against the gate. His guest had declined his invitation to come in.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq met with one of their men last week. They want those people out of there. They're still looking for that Arab. Whatever the reason, at least they'll be helping out.\"\n\n\"When are we leaving?\"\n\n\"Sunrise. By the boulder on the road going east.\"\n\nPadar-jan was gone for two months that time but it felt different to me. I felt proud to know my father was fighting alongside a giant like America. My grandfather wasn't so sure it was a good idea. He seemed more suspicious of these Americans but I didn't see why.\n\nKhala Shaima was sitting in our living room when I came home that afternoon. Since my transformation, I had only seen her once, and that was before school had started.\n\n\"There you are! I've been aging waiting for you, Rahim-jan,\" she said, emphasizing the new twist on my name.\n\n\"Salaam, Khala Shaima!\" I was happy to see her but nervous to hear what she would say about my progress.\n\n\"Come sit next to me and tell me exactly what you've been doing. Your mother has obviously failed in getting your sisters to school, despite the fact that we came up with a plan to make everyone, even your intoxicated father, satisfied.\" She shot Madar-jan a look from the corner of her eye. Madar-jan sighed and moved Sitara to her left breast to nurse. She looked as if she'd already tired of this conversation.\n\n\"I've been going to class and Moallim-sahib is giving me good marks, right, Madar-jan?\" I wanted Khala Shaima to approve, especially since it had been her who had won me these new freedoms.\n\n\"Yes, he's been doing well.\" A small smile. Shahla and Parwin were sitting in the living room, their fingers nimbly sifting through lentils and removing stones. Shahla had done twice as much as Parwin, who had arranged her lentils into piles of different shapes. Rohila had come down with a cold and was sleeping in the next room.\n\n\"Well, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner to check up on you all. My health hasn't been very good. I hate that it keeps me from doing what I want.\"\n\n\"Are you feeling better now, Khala-jan?\" Shahla asked politely.\n\n\"Yes, bachem, but for how long? My bones are tired and achy and the dust was so bad last month that each breath threw me into a hacking fit. Sometimes I coughed so hard I thought my intestines would fall right out of my body!\"\n\nThat was Khala Shaima's way of explaining things.\n\n\"But anyway, enough talk about old people. You know your sisters aren't as lucky as you, Rahim.\"\n\n\"Shaima! I told you, once things have settled down, I'll be able to send the girls back to school.\"\n\n\"Settled down? Settled down where? In this house or do you mean the whole country? And when do you think that will be, because as far as I can remember these children have been living under rocket fire for their entire lives! For God's sake, I can't even remember a day when this country wasn't at war.\"\n\n\"I know that, Shaima-jan, but I don't think you understand my situation. If their father forbids them from\u2014\"\n\n\"Their father can eat shit.\"\n\n\"Shaima!\"\n\nShahla and Parwin both froze. That was more than we would have expected, even from Khala Shaima.\n\n\"You're so defensive about him! Open your eyes, Raisa! Can't you see what he is?\"\n\n\"What he is, is my husband!\" Madar-jan yelled, louder than we'd ever heard her before. \"And you have to understand that! Please! Don't you think I know better than anyone what he is or isn't? What can I do?\"\n\n\"Your husband is an idiot. That's why I worry about these girls being around him. Sit with us and you'll be one of us. Sit with a pot and you'll be black.\"\n\n\"Shaima, please!\"\n\nKhala Shaima sighed and relented. \"Fine. All right then, Raisa. But that's why I keep coming here and harping after these girls. Somebody needs to oppose him.\"\n\n\"And who better than . . .\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Khala Shaima said with satisfaction. She turned her attention back to me. Shahla and Parwin resumed their work but at a slower pace, unnerved by Madar-jan's yelling. \"So, tell me then. Have you been adjusting well? No troubles with the boys?\"\n\n\"No, no trouble, Khala-jan. I've been playing soccer and I'm better than my cousin Muneer, I think.\"\n\n\"And no one's said anything to you?\"\n\n\"No, Khala-jan.\"\n\n\"Good. And what kinds of things are you doing to help your mother?\"\n\n\"Rahim's been going to the market for me. The store owners give him better prices than they do me.\"\n\n\"Don't forget, Madar-jan. I've been working with Agha Barakzai and he's been giving me a little money!\"\n\n\"I was getting to that, Rahim. You know Agha Barakzai has that little shop in the village. Well, he's been in need of help with errands and I asked Rahim to stop by there and see if he could pick up a bit of work. Agha Barakzai can hardly see anymore with his terrible eyes.\"\n\n\"You're a working boy! Now, that's news!\" Khala Shaima clapped her hands together.\n\n\"Yup, I go all around town and no one bothers me. I can do anything! I even saw Padar's friend Abdul Khaliq yesterday.\"\n\nMadar-jan stiffened and looked at me.\n\n\"Who did you see?\"\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq,\" I repeated, quieter this time. Khala Shaima looked as displeased as my mother. I wondered if I'd done something wrong.\n\n\"Did he say something to you?\"\n\n\"Not much. He bought me a snack and told me I was coming along nicely.\"\n\nMadar-jan shot another look at Khala Shaima, who shook her head.\n\n\"Raisa, that is not a man to have your children tagging along after. Not even Rahim!\"\n\n\"You'll stay away from that man, Rahim,\" Madar-jan said, warning me, her eyes wide and serious. \"Do you understand me?\"\n\nI nodded. My sisters fidgeted in the silence that followed.\n\n\"Khala Shaima, could you tell us more about Bibi Shekiba?\" Parwin asked.\n\n\"Bibi Shekiba? Ah, you want to know more? Well, let me see if I can remember where I left off . . .\"\n\nJust as Khala Shaima leaned back and closed her eyes to tell us more of the story, we heard the door open. My grandmother rarely came to visit us but Padar-jan had been gone two months and she felt compelled to check up on things, especially when she saw Khala Shaima hobble through the front gate. Khala Shaima treated my grandmother with respect, but it was measured and anything but warm. My grandmother, on the other hand, felt no obligation to put on airs with my aunt.\n\n\"Salaam,\" she called as she entered. My mother jumped to her feet, startling Sitara, who had nearly fallen asleep. She adjusted the top of her dress and walked to the door to greet her mother-in-law.\n\nKhala Shaima took her time but pushed herself up to greet her sister's mother-in-law.\n\n\"Salaam, Khala-jan. How is your health? Well, I hope.\" She almost sounded sincere. My sisters and I kissed her hands. She sat down across from my mother and Shahla brought a cup of tea from the kitchen.\n\n\"Oh, you're here, Shaima-jan! How nice of you to drop by again so soon.\"\n\nI could hear it in my grandmother's voice: You come too often. Khala Shaima said nothing.\n\n\"You've heard nothing from Arif-jan? Any word on when they'll return?\"\n\nMadar-jan shook her head. \"No, Khala-jan. Nothing at all. I pray they will return soon.\"\n\n\"In the meantime, I've spoken with Mursal-jan and her family has agreed to give their daughter's hand in marriage for Obaid.\" Obaid was my father's brother. This was surprising news.\n\n\"Obaid-jan? Oh, I didn't realize . . .\"\n\n\"Yes. So we'll be preparing for her arrival. We will have their nikkah in two months' time, inshallah. This will be a blessing for our family. A second wife will bring him more children and grow our family.\"\n\n\"They have five children, nam-e-khoda,\" Madar-jan said softly.\n\n\"Yes, but only two boys. Boys are blessings and Obaid wants more sons. Better to have more children than to try to change the ones you have. Anyway, I've made you aware. Fatima may call on you for help preparing a place for his new wife. This is happy news and we'll all take part in it.\"\n\n\"Of course, Khala-jan. It's wonderful news.\" Madar-jan's voice was soft. Khala Shaima watched the interaction with narrowed eyes.\n\n\"Hopefully, there will be more of it in the future,\" she said, nodding her head.\n\nMy grandmother got back up and walked to the door.\n\n\"Anyway, that's all for now. Shaima-jan, send my regards to the family, will you please? I guess you'll be leaving soon, as it is getting late.\"\n\n\"You're too kind, Khala-jan. You make me feel so welcomed here, it's difficult to leave.\"\n\nI saw my grandmother's shoulders stiffen before she left and the way Madar-jan and Khala Shaima looked at each other. Khala Shaima shook her head. This meant bad news for our household.\n\n\"Come, girls, let me tell you more about Bibi Shekiba. I'll tell you how easily women pass from one place to another, from one home to another. What happens once, happens twice and then a third time . . .\"\nCHAPTER 11\n\nAzizullah sat in the living room with his brother, Hafizullah. There were two other men with them as well but Shekiba did not know their names and had never seen them before. They had white turbans on their heads and pale blue tunics and pantaloons. Hafizullah wore a brown vest over his tunic, his prayer beads hanging from the pocket.\n\n\"Shekiba, Padar-jan wants the food to be ready in twenty minutes,\" announced Haris. \"He says they're going to leave soon so it better not take too long.\"\n\nShekiba nodded nervously, knowing the rice would have to be a touch undercooked. She added more oil to the pot, hoping that the extra grease would soften the grains.\n\nHaris leaned over her shoulder and tried to snatch a piece of meat from the bowl next to Shekiba. Her right arm went up instinctively and snagged him by the wrist.\n\n\"You know better, Haris. Not until after they've eaten.\" Her tone was gentle but firm. Haris was by far her favorite of the children. He would sometimes sit with her when he had tired of his siblings. She didn't mind his company. On the contrary, she enjoyed his chatter and the stories he would tell about his teacher.\n\n\"Just one piece!\" he pleaded.\n\n\"If you have a piece, then your brothers will want some too when they see you licking the sauce off your fingers.\"\n\n\"No, I promise! I won't tell them I had some! I'll lick my fingers clean here before I go back out!\" Haris was already an expert negotiator.\n\n\"Fine then. But just one\u2014\"\n\nHe had snatched the largest chunk before Shekiba could finish her sentence.\n\n\"Haris!\"\n\nHe grinned, his cheeks lumpy with lamb. How lucky she was to live in a house that could afford to eat lamb! Shekiba sighed and pretended to be annoyed.\n\n\"What are they talking about in there, anyway?\" she asked.\n\n\"Don't you know? The king is coming!\"\n\n\"The king?\" Shekiba asked. \"Which king?\"\n\n\"Which king? King Habibullah, of course!\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Shekiba had no idea who King Habibullah was. It had been years since her father had shown an interest in anything beyond their walls. \"Is he coming here?\"\n\n\"Here? Are you crazy, Shekiba? He is going to Kaka Hafizullah's house.\"\n\nAzizullah's brother had managed to secure himself a position as a friend of the monarchy. He served as a regional overseer and reported to the authorities in Kabul, the capital. For years, he had served as a loyal delegate and traveled frequently to the palace to meet with the king's advisers. He was vying for royal attention in the hopes of becoming hakim to their province. With such a title came an attractive amount of power, and so Hafizullah often shared hearty meals and lavished compliments on anyone with any influence.\n\nAzizullah had no patience for such highbrow relations but he did enjoy the secondary benefits that came with having a strategically placed brother. People in the village showed Azizullah deference, hoping they could curry favor with Hafizullah. This was how influence trickled down from the monarchy into the most insignificant of homes in the countryside.\n\nAnd while Shekiba had no knowledge of such diplomatic matters, she too became enchanted by the prospect of the king paying a local visit. She imagined horses and regal clothing, guards at his side.\n\nShe adjusted her head scarf and poured fresh cups of tea, hoping to distract their appetites for a few more minutes. She carried a tray into the living room and kept her head bowed, wanting to be as discreet as possible.\n\n\"It is a huge honor. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for. Thanks be to Allah, I have called in many favors and secured the makings of a fine feast for the night. We will make qurbani; a goat will be slaughtered in the king's good name. I am sparing no expense.\"\n\n\"How are you to pay for this? How many people will be with him? Surely, there will be at least a dozen pretentious mouths to feed!\"\n\n\"There is a price to pay for everything but it is a chance I could not let escape. Sharifullah has been hakim of this province for long enough. It is pure good fortune that he has traveled across the country now to attend the funeral of his cousin.\"\n\n\"Good fortune for you!\" Azizullah laughed. \"But not for his cousin!\"\n\n\"Forget about his cousin, dear brother. The point is that this is a chance for our family to reach the next level. That is what our father would have wanted to see, may Allah forgive him and keep him in peace. If I am made hakim, we will control the entire province! Imagine the life we would have.\"\n\n\"You would be an excellent hakim, certainly. And from what I have heard, many of the villages are displeased with Sharifullah's rulings.\"\n\n\"The man is spineless. The kingdom would all but forget our province were it not for the crops our land produces every season. Sharifullah has done nothing for us! When Agha Sobrani and Agha Hamidi disputed that land by the river, it was his idiotic idea that they should each take half.\"\n\nShekiba listened as she gathered the empty teacups and brought the dish of nuts closer to the men.\n\n\"Now, neither Sobrani nor Hamidi has any respect for him. They are equally dissatisfied with him. He should have given the land to Hamidi. His claim was reasonable and his family carries more clout than Sobrani's. Better to have Hamidi's full support and anger only Sobrani!\"\n\nIrrefutable logic. Shekiba quietly crept out of the room. She had grown accustomed to Hafizullah's animated speeches and found him entertaining in some way. At the same time, she was thankful that Allah hadn't placed her in his custody, as she was certain he was a brute in his home.\n\nAs soon as she left the room, she heard Hafizullah's tone change. She stopped and tilted her ear toward the living room.\n\n\"And how are things going with your new help? Shekiba-e-shola is fulfilling her duties around the house?\"\n\n\"Well enough,\" Azizullah answered. \"Marjan has not had many grievances about her.\"\n\n\"Hmmph. That family must be so relieved to have unloaded her. From what I have heard, Bobo Shahgul was heartbroken at her son's passing. Could not bear to have his child in her home because she was a constant reminder of her dead son.\"\n\n\"You would have heard more than me. The girl does not speak of her family. Actually, she hardly speaks at all. She has that much sense.\"\n\n\"At least your wife doesn't have to worry about your taking her as a second wife!\" Hafizullah joked, slapping his hand on his thigh loudly.\n\n\"No, she is not for marriage. She is able-bodied and does the work of a man. Sometimes it escapes us that she is, in fact, a girl. Her strength makes me marvel. I saw her just a few days ago carrying three pails of water and walking straight, as if it were no effort whatsoever. Her uncles told me she had been keeping up her father's farm along with him.\"\n\n\"More useful than a mule. Good,\" Hafizullah said. \"Whatever happened to her father? I remember running into him just after his children were taken in the cholera wave. He looked terrible. Too sensitive, that man was.\"\n\n\"His brother told me that he had not been feeling well in the last few months. Agha Freidun told me they had a conversation and he knew his time was coming. He made arrangements for his daughter to live with Bobo Shahgul and distributed his land, his tools and his animals among his brothers.\"\n\nShekiba's eyes widened.\n\nA lie! My father had no such conversation!\n\nHe had not seen his brothers after her mother died. She wondered if this story was Kaka Freidun's idea or Bobo Shahgul's. Her family was swooping in to pick up any scraps her father had left behind.\n\nThat land should be mine. My grandfather gave it to my father. My father wanted nothing to do with his family. I should be the owner of that land.\n\nShekiba wondered where the deed was. The deed was a simple document signed by her grandfather, her father, a few distant relatives and a village elder to confirm the transaction. Surely her uncles must have been looking for it when they dumped the contents of the house outside.\n\n\"Shekiba? What are you doing here?\"\n\nTeacups rattled in Shekiba's startled hands. Marjan had come up behind a very distracted Shekiba. She looked puzzled to see her frozen a few feet away from the living room.\n\n\"I just . . . chai . . . ,\" she mumbled, and headed directly for the kitchen, her head bowed to conceal her hurt eyes.\n\nThe scent of cumin and garlic filled the room. Azizullah and his brother shared their meal, tearing off chunks of flatbread and picking up morsels of rice and meat. Shekiba wondered if any would be left for the rest of the family. Meat was hard to come by, even in this household, and it seemed that the men were going to finish the week's stock in one sitting.\n\nHer mind began to wander as she dried the pots. What would happen if she were to try to claim that land? The thought almost made her laugh. Imagine that. A young woman trying to claim her father's land, snatching it from her uncles' greedy claws. She tried to imagine taking the deed to the local judge. What would he say? Most likely he would kick her out. Call her insane. Maybe even send her back to her family.\n\nBut what if he didn't? What if he listened to her? Agreed with her? Maybe he would think it was her right to have her father's land.\n\nMarjan was in the kitchen with her. She was sifting through the rice for any small stones.\n\n\"Khanum Marjan?\" Shekiba said meekly.\n\n\"Yes?\" Marjan paused and looked up. Shekiba spoke so rarely, one had to take notice.\n\n\"What happens to a daughter when her father . . . if her father has some land . . . if he is not . . .\"\n\nMarjan pursed her lips and cocked her head. She could sense the question buried in Shekiba's ramblings.\n\n\"Shekiba-jan, you are asking a ridiculous question. Your father's land will go to his family, since your brothers are dead, may Allah grant them peace.\" Marjan's response was blunt but it was reality\u2014regardless of what the laws might say. Her candor gave Shekiba confidence to speak openly.\n\n\"But what about me? Am I not rightfully an heir to the land? I am his child too!\"\n\n\"You are his daughter. You are not his son. Yes, the law says that daughters may inherit a portion of what the son would inherit but the truth is that women do not claim land. Your uncles, your father's brothers, have no doubt taken the property.\"\n\nShekiba let out a frustrated sigh.\n\n\"My dear girl, you are being quite ridiculous. What do you think you would do with a piece of land? First of all, you are living here now. This is your place. Secondly, you are unmarried and no woman could possibly live on a piece of land alone! That is simply absurd.\"\n\nI lived alone on that land for months. It didn't feel absurd. It felt like home.\n\nBut Marjan could not know about her time alone. Shekiba did not dare share the details, knowing it was unspeakable for her to have done so. No reason to give the village more fodder for gossip.\n\n\"But if I were a son?\" she asked, unwilling to let the matter go completely.\n\n\"If you were a son, you would inherit the land. But you are not a son and you cannot be a son and your life is now here as part of this home. You are asking questions that will invite nothing but anger. Enough!\" Marjan needed to put a stop to the discussion. If her husband heard them, he would surely be displeased. If these were the kinds of thoughts that ran through her head, Marjan was thankful Shekiba did not speak more often.\n\nBut I have always been my father's daughter-son. My father hardly knew I was a girl. I have always done the work a son would do. I am not to be considered for a wife, so what is the difference? What of me is a girl?\n\nShekiba gritted her teeth.\n\nI have lived alone. I have no need for anyone.\n\nAzizullah's family had been relatively kind to her but Shekiba was restless. She felt freshly resentful of her family.\n\nI cannot go on like this forever. I must find a way to make a life for myself.\nCHAPTER 12\n\nToo often, I missed the opportunity to learn from Bibi Shekiba's story. She was determined to make a life for herself and I seemed determined to unravel the one I had.\n\nI wonder how long I would have gone on as a boy had Madar-jan not seen us on that day. Most children who were made bacha posh were changed back into girls when their monthly bleeding started but Madar-jan had let me go on, bleeding but looking like a boy. My grandmother warned her it was wrong. Next month, my mother would promise. But I was too useful to her, to my sisters, to the whole family. She couldn't bear to give up having someone who could do for her what my father wouldn't. And I was happy to continue playing soccer and practicing tae kwon do with Abdullah and the boys.\n\nWe didn't have any hot pepper at home and Padar-jan liked his food spicy. Those peppers changed everything for me.\n\nAbdullah, Ashraf, Muneer and I were coming down our small street. The boys walked with us and then continued on to go to their own homes, smaller than ours but in as poor condition. People in our neighborhood weren't starving but we all thought twice before throwing a scrap to a stray dog. This was how it had been for years. Some days we walked lazily. Other days we were boisterous and raced each other to the tin can, to the old lady, to the house with the blue door.\n\nAbdullah and I stayed close together. In our circle of friends, we had something different. Something a little more. His arm across my shoulder, he would lean past me and tease Ashraf. I was a bacha posh but it had gone on too long, like a guest who had grown too comfortable to leave.\n\nIt was Ashraf who had started it. He had kicked his leg up into the air, though not as high as he thought it went. We tried to tell him he could barely reach our waists but he was certain he saw his foot swoop past our faces. Muneer shook his head. He was tired of Ashraf practicing on him.\n\nWe were fans of martial arts. We'd seen some magazines with fighters in different poses, their feet higher than their heads, their arms fired forward. We wanted to be like them and flipped through the pages copying their stances.\n\nWe had fought this way before. All of us. Playfully and without giving it much thought. I had started wrapping a tight cloth around my breast buds. I didn't want the boys to notice them or comment on them. It was awkward enough that my voice had not begun to change as theirs had. Sometimes I came away with bruises. Once, my ankle twisted in under me as I ducked a kick from Ashraf. For one week, I limped from home to school and back. I told Madar-jan I'd tripped on a rock, knowing I couldn't tell her how it had really happened.\n\nBut it was worth it. Worth it for that moment when, inevitably, Abdullah would have me cornered, or would twist my arm behind me and I could feel his breath on my neck. Somewhere inside I tingled to be that close to him. I didn't want him to let go, even if I could feel my arm pulling from its socket. I reached out and grabbed at his other arm, feeling his adolescent muscles flex under my fingers. When I was close enough to smell him, to smell the sweat on his neck, I felt dangerous and alive. That's why it was often me who started the sparring. I loved where it put me.\n\nThat was what we were doing when Madar-jan came out of the neighbor's house, a fistful of red peppers in her right hand and the corner of her chador in her left hand. It couldn't have been worse. She spotted us just as he'd tripped my foot. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. I looked up and saw Abdullah's handsome grin as he, victorious yet again, straddled me and laughed.\n\n\"Rahim!\"\n\nI heard my mother's voice, sharp and horrified. I saw her faded burgundy dress out of the corner of my eye. I felt my stomach drop.\n\nAbdullah must have seen the look on my face. He jumped to his feet and looked over at my mother. Her face confirmed that something had gone wrong. He reached his hand out to me so I could get up.\n\n\"That's all right,\" I mumbled, and got to my feet, dusting off my pants and trying to avoid my mother's accusing eyes.\n\n\"Salaam, Khala-jan,\" Abdullah called out. Ashraf and Muneer were reminded of their manners and echoed the same. She turned abruptly and went through our front gate.\n\n\"What happened? Your mother seems upset.\"\n\n\"Ah, it's nothing. She's always telling me that I come home with my clothes filthy. More to wash, you know.\"\n\nAbdullah looked skeptical. He knew a mother's angry face and could tell there was something more behind this.\n\nI didn't want to go home. I knew Madar-jan was upset but if I delayed facing her, things would be worse.\n\nI couldn't look at Abdullah, already feeling my face flush. My mother had seen something different than everyone else. She had seen her daughter pinned under a boy in the middle of the street. Few sights could have been more shameful.\n\nI felt a crunch and saw red peppers, crushed by my sandal, at our front gate. Where Madar-jan had dropped them. I collected what I could from the ground and went inside.\n\n\"Madar-jan, I'm going to wash up for dinner,\" I called out. I could see her in the kitchen and wanted to test the waters, without actually meeting her eyes.\n\nShe didn't answer me, which I could only take as a bad sign.\n\nI felt my hands start to shake. Sure, I knew better. Even dressed as a boy, I shouldn't have let things go so far. My aunts or uncles could have seen me. And it was possible they had. I would hardly have noticed with Abdullah up against me.\n\nI wondered if she would tell Padar-jan. That would be the end of me. Every possibility sent my brain spinning and drove me into a wild panic. I left the broken peppers on the family room table and went to wash up as I'd said I would. I tried to come up with a plan to talk my way out of this mess. I went to the kitchen, my face still wet.\n\n\"Madar-jan?\"\n\n\"Hmm.\"\n\n\"Madar-jan, what are you doing?\" My voice was meek and unsteady.\n\n\"Dinner. Go and finish your work now that you're done embarrassing yourself in the streets.\"\n\nThere it was. I felt a tiny bit relieved to hear her say it. Now I could start to defend myself.\n\n\"Madar-jan, we were just playing.\"\n\nMadar-jan looked up from the pot she was stirring. Her eyes were narrow and her lips tight.\n\n\"Rahim, you know better. Or at least I thought you did. This has gone on too long.\"\n\n\"Madar-jan, I\u2014\"\n\n\"I don't want to hear another word out of you. I will talk to you later. Right now, I've got to get your father's dinner ready or I'll have a second disaster on my hands.\"\n\nI retreated to the other room and worked on my homework assignments for a while before I decided to see if Agha Barakzai needed any help for the afternoon. I didn't want to be around while Madar-jan's anger festered. He kept me busy until the evening and I came home to find that Madar-jan had not saved me any food.\n\nShe saw me looking into the empty pots.\n\n\"There's a little soup left. You can have it with some bread.\"\n\n\"But, Madar-jan, there's nothing but onions and water in this soup. Wasn't there any meat left?\"\n\n\"We finished it all. Maybe next time there will be some for you.\"\n\nMy stomach growling painfully, I suddenly became very angry.\n\n\"You could have left me something! That's how you treat me? You want me to just go hungry?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure what it is you're hungry for!\" she whispered pointedly.\n\nPadar-jan walked in just then. He rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"What's all the yelling about?\" he asked. \"What's going on, bachem?\"\n\nI shot my mother a look and spoke without thinking.\n\n\"She didn't save me a single piece of meat. She wants me to have onion broth and bread! I was working at Agha Barakzai's shop and there's no dinner for me when I come home!\"\n\nI threw my wages on the table for good measure. The bills fluttered in the air and spread out dramatically.\n\n\"Raisa! Is this true? Is there nothing for my son to eat?\"\n\n\"Your son . . . your son . . .\" Madar-jan fumbled, trying to find a reasonable explanation for why she was punishing me. But Madar-jan wasn't quick enough or sly enough to come up with an alternative story on the spot. And as angry as she was, my mother couldn't bring herself to throw me into the fire.\n\nI saw it coming and instantly wished I could take back what I'd said. I saw his face redden with anger. I saw his head tilt and his shoulders rise. His arms began to wave with anger.\n\n\"My son is hungry! Look at the money he's brought home! And even with this you can't find a morsel of food for him? What kind of mother are you?\"\n\nA clap as the back of his hand swung across her face. She reeled from the blow. My stomach dropped.\n\n\"Padar!\"\n\n\"Find him something to eat or you'll be going hungry for a month!\" he barked. He struck again. A drop of blood trickled from my mother's lip. She covered her face with her hands and turned away from him. I trembled when he looked at me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Shahla and Rohila peeking from across the hall.\n\n\"Go, bachem. Go to your grandmother and ask her to fix you something to eat. Make sure you tell her what your mother has done. Not that she'll be surprised to hear it.\"\n\nI nodded and stole a glance at my mother, thankful she didn't meet my gaze.\n\nThat night I thought of Bibi Shekiba. I liked to compare myself to her, to feel like I was as bold and strong and honorable as her, but in my most honest moments I knew I wasn't.\nCHAPTER 13\n\nThe idea brewed for some time before Shekiba considered actually going ahead with it. The conversation with Marjan should have discouraged her but it hadn't. All she had gleaned from it was that, officially, she had a right to claim at least a portion of her father's land.\n\nShe lay awake every night thinking of the deed. A mere piece of paper with a handful of signatures, and yet it carried so much weight. Where would her father have kept it? Shekiba closed her eyes and imagined herself at home. She heard the clapping of the gate against the latch, the metal rusted over. She pictured her father's corner, his blankets laid out and ready for those chilly nights. She saw her mother's kitchen stool and her brother's sweaters, folded and stacked on a shelf.\n\nIt must be in his books, Shekiba thought. Since she'd been the only one to tend to it, she knew every inch of the house. She thought of the shelf and how she'd given up on dusting it after her mother died. Padar had collected three or four books over the years and that was where he kept them.\n\nWhen Shekiba made the realization, she nearly hit herself for how obvious it was.\n\nBut how do we know, Padar-jan?\n\nAll the answers are in the Qur'an, bachem.\n\nHer father taught them all to read, first with the Qur'an and next with the books he kept. She would follow along as his callused finger traced the words. Her brothers occasionally brought home a newspaper from their adventures into the village and the children would take turns poring over the pages and practicing making sense of the words and phrases. It was difficult but Padar-jan patiently let them make mistakes, peering over their shoulders when they faltered and filling in the pieces.\n\nIt's in the Qur'an, she realized. What were the chances her uncles had not yet found it? Unlikely\u2014but maybe there was a possibility those bullheaded men had not bothered looking for it. Surely they had no inkling that Shekiba would even think to assert any claim over the land.\n\nWhich meant Shekiba was thinking of returning to her home\u2014not a small undertaking.\n\nAnd if she were to find the deed, what would she do with it? She couldn't expect to show it to her uncles and have a rational discussion with them. No, she needed to bring the deed to an official, the local judge, so that she could argue her case.\n\nIt was just like Azizullah and his brother had discussed. A disagreement like this needed to be settled by an official, which meant Shekiba's plan became even more complex. How would she find this person?\n\nAnd how would she get to all these places? She needed to be out of the house for a day. Shekiba wondered if Marjan would let her venture out on her own. After their conversation, it was hard to imagine Marjan would be supportive of her idea. Shekiba would have to come up with something.\n\nTwo days later, Shekiba approached Marjan as she was knitting a sweater for Haris. She rehearsed her question in her mind before clearing her throat.\n\n\"Salaam, Khanum Marjan,\" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.\n\n\"Salaam, Shekiba,\" Marjan said, barely lifting her eyes from the needles as they crossed, uncrossed and crossed again in her hands.\n\n\"Khanum Marjan, I wanted to ask you something.\"\n\n\"What is it, Shekiba?\"\n\n\"I was wondering if I could take a day to visit my family. I have not seen my family in several months and I was hoping to visit them. Next week is Eid and I know it will be a busy time here, so perhaps this week?\" She folded her hands behind her to stop from wringing them.\n\nMarjan stopped her knitting and set the needles on her lap. She looked puzzled.\n\n\"Your family? Dear girl, since coming here you have never once mentioned your family. I was beginning to think you were so cold as to not have any affection for them! How is it that you now want to pay them a visit?\"\n\n\"Oh, I've missed them dearly,\" she said, trying her best to make her voice sound genuine. \"But in my first days here, I did not think it was proper to make such a request.\"\n\n\"And now?\"\n\n\"Well, now I have been here for some months and with the holiday coming . . . I wanted to pay a visit to my grandmother, out of respect.\" Shekiba wondered if she was giving omniscient Allah a good laugh or if she'd be damned for her lies.\n\n\"Your grandmother.\" Marjan sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to her temples.\n\nShekiba braced herself.\n\n\"We have much to do to prepare for the holiday. We need to bake some cookies, there will be many meals to prepare, the house needs to be spotless . . . ,\" she said, listing the tasks ahead. \"But I suppose it is only proper that you should pay a visit to Bobo Shahgul. She is your grandmother, after all. I will speak to Azizullah and present your request.\"\n\nShekiba tried not to smile. She bowed her head in gratitude.\n\n\"Thank you, Khanum Marjan,\" she said. \"I would really appreciate that.\"\n\nEvery once in a while, Shekiba became aware of how painfully na\u00efve she was. The following day was one such occasion.\n\nMarjan walked into the kitchen area as Shekiba sat on the floor, with a heap of potatoes before her. She stopped peeling when she heard her name being called.\n\n\"Shekiba, Azizullah agrees . . . hey, girl! What is wrong with you?\" Marjan took one look at Shekiba and froze. Her hands flew to her hips and her eyes narrowed.\n\n\"Huh? What is it, Khanum Marjan?\" Shekiba looked down at the pile before her, wondering what had offended the mistress of the house so.\n\n\"Is that how a girl sits?\" she said, waving an arm at Shekiba's sprawled legs.\n\nShekiba turned to look at herself. She was leaning against the wall and had her knees bent, the pile of potatoes in the valley her skirt formed between her legs.\n\n\"In the name of God, have some decency! Fix yourself before the children see you! Were you never taught how to sit?\"\n\nShekiba got up and fixed her skirt, tucking her legs under her, and looked up at Khanum Marjan for approval.\n\n\"That's better. I heard you had become your father's son but I did not think it had gone this far.\"\n\n\"Yes, Khanum Marjan.\" Shekiba felt half her face flush.\n\n\"Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Azizullah agrees that you should be allowed to pay respects to your grandmother for the holidays. You are to accompany him this Friday when he goes into the village for Jumaa prayers.\"\n\nAzizullah would take her there?\n\n\"Khanum Marjan, a world of thanks, but I do not wish to trouble your husband. I can find my own way and I will not bring him out of his way.\"\n\nMarjan looked at her incredulously. Shekiba never ceased to amaze her. The girl was quite handy and efficient in the house but when it came to common sense, she was seriously lacking.\n\n\"You expect to go wandering around the village by yourself? Have you lost your mind?\"\n\nShekiba remained silent. Her mind raced.\n\n\"He will take you, as you requested, and join you to pay a visit to your family, although your uncles usually come by on the holidays. Azizullah will accompany you back home. You cannot expect to be wandering around the village like a street dog!\"\n\nShekiba had done too much on her own while she lived with her father and before her uncles had claimed her. It had not occurred to her that she would have to be accompanied by someone. Her chest tightened with panic. She had not anticipated this stipulation.\n\n\"I . . . I had not meant to trouble . . .\"\n\n\"Well, if you do not want to trouble him then you should not have raised the question.\" Marjan walked out in exasperation. Shekiba's bizarre questions were getting on her nerves.\n\nShekiba was left to wonder. She could tell Marjan she no longer wanted to go. It would seem strange but it could work. Or maybe once she was there she could ask permission to collect some belongings from her father's home. But what about taking the deed to a hakim, the local official?\n\nMaybe on another day. But even if she were granted another day, she would still need to be accompanied. And she had no idea where to find the hakim.\n\nShekiba would have to ponder that one. One bridge at a time, she thought.\n\nJumaa came and Shekiba steeled herself. It would take all her resolve to face her family again, especially her grandmother. But this was her only hope at getting her hands on the deed.\n\nMarjan had instructed her to be ready in the morning, as Azizullah would not wait on her. He nodded in acknowledgment when he saw her waiting by the outside door, her burqa donned and her head bowed.\n\n\"Salaam,\" she said quietly.\n\n\"Let's go,\" he said, then opened the door and led the way.\n\nThey did not speak on the way to the masjid. Shekiba walked a few steps behind but paid close attention to the road. She tried to memorize everything on the way there. The road was wide and dusty but lined with tall trees. There were a handful of homes scattered on either side, about two acres apart. The homes were uniformly surrounded by six-foot-high clay privacy walls. Shekiba could see rows of plantings in their yards and could spot the potatoes, carrots and onion plants even from this distance. The weather was dry and crops were suffering, which meant the families were probably suffering too.\n\nA masjid, three shops and a bread baker constituted the village center. The storefronts were modest, with dull glass windows and handwritten signs. The bread baker didn't really have a store. He sat against a wall of another shop and pulled hot, golden round breads from his tandoor, buried in the ground. The smell of fresh bread coming from the open circle in the ground made Shekiba's mouth water. Two women stood waiting for their naan to bake. Shekiba recalled walking through the area when her uncle had taken her to Azizullah's as a means of repaying his debt.\n\nShekiba, the gift, she thought miserably.\n\nAzizullah took her past the masjid to a small home about a quarter of a kilometer away. He knocked at the front door.\n\n\"Salaam, Faizullah-jan,\" he said with his hand on his chest.\n\n\"Agha Azizullah, how nice to see you! Are you on your way to Jumaa prayers?\"\n\n\"Most certainly. But I had a favor to ask of you. This is my servant. I am taking her to visit her family after prayers have finished but I hoped I could trouble your wife to watch over her until then. I cannot leave her out in the street.\"\n\n\"Oh, of course! I heard you had taken in Bobo Shahgul's grandchild, the one with the half face. Have her stay in the courtyard. Not a good idea to leave an idle girl in the marketplace.\"\n\nShekiba was directed to a stool with a view of the outhouse. She rested her head against the wall. The smell from the outhouse was overwhelming but she dared not move her seat, afraid to anger her unseen hostess.\n\nShe never met the man's wife or children but she could hear them inside. Crying. Laughing. Running.\n\nThe sounds of a family.\n\nI could leave now, Shekiba thought. What if I just opened the door and left? I can find my home from here. I could look for the deed and maybe even make it back for the end of prayers.\n\nBut Azizullah would probably come back and find her gone. Or the lady of the house would notice that the burqa had disappeared from the courtyard and tell him. And then what? Shekiba feared angering Azizullah mostly because she feared being sent back to Bobo Shahgul's house. Nothing would be worse. At least, nothing she could think of.\n\nAzizullah returned and thanked his friend for allowing Shekiba to stay. He gave her a nod and again they were on the dirt road, this time headed toward Bobo Shahgul's house. When they arrived, Hameed answered the gate.\n\n\"Salaam!\" Hameed called out.\n\n\"Salaam, bachem. Where is your father? Your uncles? I did not see them at Jumaa prayers. Did they not go?\"\n\n\"No, sahib. No, and if you only knew what Bobo-jan told them for being so lazy.\" Hameed never could keep anything to himself.\n\nAzizullah chuckled. \"Well, may God forgive their sins even if your bobo-jan will not. Tell them your kaka Azizullah and your cousin are paying a visit.\"\n\nHameed led them into the courtyard and ran inside announcing their arrival at a volume that rivaled the mullah's azaan, call to prayer.\n\n\"Bobo-jaaaaaaaan! Bobaaaaaaaaaa! Kaka Azizullah brought Shekiba baaaack!\"\n\nShekiba panicked even more and turned to look at Azizullah's face. Had he really brought her for a visit or was he returning her to this house? Maybe Marjan had complained about her? About the way she sat? About her odd questions? Her palms grew sweaty. The burqa was suffocating.\n\nAzizullah's attention had turned to a flowering bush. He was examining the petals and did not seem to notice Hameed's announcement.\n\nKaka Freidun appeared in the doorway. He looked unsettled.\n\n\"Agha Azizullah! Welcome! How wonderful to see you.\" Kaka Freidun extended his arms in greeting. The men hugged and exchanged customary pecks on the cheek. \"How are you? How is your family?\"\n\n\"Everyone is well, thank you. And you? Bobo Shahgul is in good health, I pray?\"\n\n\"Ah, the usual aches and pains of age and unruly children,\" he joked, shooting me a glaring look. He thinks I have done something wrong. Already, he would love to punish me.\n\n\"Your family is blessed to have her at this age. I still grieve my mother, God rest her soul, and it has already been two years since she passed.\"\n\n\"May Allah forgive her and may heaven be her place of rest,\" Freidun said. \"Please come in. Join us for a cup of tea.\"\n\nThey walked toward the house and Shekiba stood a few meters back. She felt out of place and shifted on her feet. She was within her family's courtyard but she kept her burqa on. She preferred its cover for the time being.\n\n\"Azizullah-jan, we have not seen each other in some time. I hope that things are well at home.\" Freidun's statement was more of a question. He was trying to gauge the reason behind the visit.\n\n\"Yes, yes, things are well. And you? How is the family doing? How is the farm? Are your crops doing well this year?\"\n\n\"As well as can be expected, with the lack of rain. The dry skies do not help but we are hoping to make at least enough to get by.\"\n\n\"I have heard similar complaints from others around town. And where is Bobo Shahgul? Is she resting?\"\n\n\"She went to lie down after she finished her prayers,\" Freidun said. \"Did you want to speak to her?\" Again, he looked anxious.\n\nKaka Zalmai and Kaka Sheeragha entered the courtyard, their expressions mirroring their brother's. Azizullah stood and the men hugged and exchanged brief pleasantries.\n\nHer uncles pretended not to notice her in the background. Shekiba knew she should go through the back door and find the women but she had little interest in doing so.\n\n\"Shekiba wanted to pay a visit to the family, since Eid is coming next week. She missed everyone a great deal and wanted to say hello, especially to Bobo Shahgul.\"\n\nHer uncles could not conceal their surprise. After a moment, Kaka Freidun nodded smugly.\n\n\"Ah, I see. I am not surprised. Bobo Shahgul is much loved by all her grandchildren.\"\n\nHe thinks I regret how I left. He's even dumber than his wife.\n\n\"Her grandmother is probably about to wake up from her rest and will surely be surprised to see her,\" Freidun said.\n\nShekiba's lips tightened with frustration.\n\n\"Well, you have come all this way. Let us go inside and share a cup of tea with you, dear friend. Surely Bobo Shahgul will be happy for the time with her dear granddaughter!\" Freidun said glibly.\n\nZalmai and Sheeragha shared a smirk.\n\nShekiba felt like a puppet; her arms and legs were being directed by her uncle. What else could she do? Her every move was propelled by her desire to stay out of this house. If Azizullah saw her as an insolent girl, she risked being returned to her family.\n\nHer legs obeyed and she walked slowly through the back door of the house. She passed by Khala Samina's son, Ashraf, who was carrying a tray of steaming teacups and bowls of raisins and nuts. The cups rattled with his unbalanced nerves.\n\nShekiba walked into the hallway and paused. Should she really go to her grandmother? Would they check on her? She lifted her burqa and let it drape from her head.\n\nKhala Samina appeared in the hallway. She was thin framed, more petite than her sisters-in-law.\n\n\"Salaam, Shekiba,\" she said quietly. \"She knows you're here. She's waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Salaam,\" Shekiba answered.\n\n\"Shekiba . . .\"\n\nShe turned around to look at her aunt, who was scratching her forehead. She took a few steps toward Shekiba and lowered her voice.\n\n\"She is an ornery old lady. Don't give her any reasons. She knows no other means of entertaining herself.\"\n\nShekiba nodded, suddenly feeling her throat tighten. Samina's voice was gentle, a tone rarely used toward Shekiba. She suddenly felt a gaping hole where her mother should have been.\n\n\"Thank you, Khala Samina.\"\n\nSamina closed her eyes briefly and nodded her head in acknowledgment before she resumed her work in the kitchen.\n\nShekiba walked a few more meters to Bobo Shahgul's room. She could see through the gauzy curtain that her grandmother sat in a chair with her walking stick in her hand. Her bony fingers were wrapped tightly around the stick.\n\nShe knows I am here. I have no choice now.\n\nShekiba pulled the curtain aside and met her grandmother's icy stare.\n\n\"Well, well. Look who has decided to disrupt our peace yet again.\"\n\n\"Salaam.\" Shekiba decided she would take Samina's advice and try not to antagonize the old woman.\n\n\"Salaaaaam,\" Bobo Shahgul said mockingly. \"You stupid girl. How dare you come here? How dare you step foot in this house?\"\n\nShekiba steeled herself. She had taken worse. All she had to do was resist the temptation to fire back.\n\nYou need to get to your house and get the deed. Do not forget why you came here. Do not let the old lady distract you.\n\n\"Eid mubarak, Bobo-jan.\"\n\n\"As if I needed to see that face,\" she replied, turning away in repulsion. \"There is no Eid for a disrespectful creature like you\u2014you dare to disrespect the grandmother who took you in even after you robbed her of her son.\" She rose on her hobbled feet, fueled by rage.\n\n\"My father was a wise man who decided for himself.\"\n\nShekiba saw it coming but hardly flinched.\n\nBobo Shahgul's walking stick came crashing down on her shoulder.\n\nShe is weaker than a few months ago, Shekiba realized.\n\n\"Bobo-jan, how is your health? You're looking a bit frail, God forbid.\"\n\nA second blow. She was trying harder.\n\n\"You beast! Get out of my house!\"\n\n\"As you please,\" Shekiba said, turned and walked out with her chin held high. She had said nothing. And nothing could have made Bobo Shahgul more irate.\n\nShekiba stopped by the kitchen. She wondered if Khala Samina had heard the conversation.\n\n\"Dear girl, there is something about you that makes that old lady crazy.\"\n\nShe had heard.\n\n\"Khala Samina, I want to get a few things from my father's house. I will not take long.\" Shekiba looked in the direction of the living room. She could hear the men laughing.\n\nSamina shook her head. \"Do as you must\u2014you are not a child. But understand that there are many people willing to make your life more difficult. It is up to you to find a way to make things easier for yourself.\"\n\nShekiba nodded, wondering which one of them was more na\u00efve.\n\n\"I won't be long,\" she said, lowered her burqa and headed out the back door.\n\nShe crossed the fields quickly, peering over her shoulder every thirty seconds or so to see if anyone was coming after her. After about twenty meters, she broke into a jog, hoping she didn't attract attention. Her father's home looked smaller than she remembered it. She felt her heart quicken as she neared the rusted gate.\n\nFor a second, she saw her father standing outside, his face to the sky as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. She heard her mother call out her brothers' names. She saw Aqela's songbird face in the front window, watching their father toil in the fields.\n\nThere should have been a word for what she felt, the way her stomach jumped with anticipation to be somewhere she missed so much, to be around people who missed her as much as she missed them. It was a feeling that started sweet and finished bitter, when she realized that she stood in the ashes of those perfect times, as short as they'd been.\n\nNo one had claimed the home yet but it looked as if someone were trying to fix it up. Cracks in the walls had been filled with clay. The splintered table outside had a new plank nailed to it. Inside, the two solid chairs were gone, as were the few blankets she'd left strewn about to make believe her parents and siblings still slept in the house with her.\n\nShekiba wondered which vulture had his eyes on the house but pushed the thought aside for now.\n\nShe needed to find the Qur'an. Her father's books had not been touched. They still sat on the crooked shelf above where Padar-jan once slept. She looked out the window, half expecting to hear her uncles' angry voices.\n\nShe blinked back tears and used a step stool to reach the top shelf. Her fingers reached over the ledge and sought blindly.\n\nThat's it.\n\nShe pulled at a corner of fabric and the book slid toward her. She grabbed it with both hands and came down from the stool. The Qur'an was wrapped in a thin, emerald-green cloth embroidered with silver thread. This had been her mother's dismol, or wedding cloth. Shekiba brushed the dust away and kissed the holy book, then touched it to her left and right eyes as her parents had taught her.\n\nWhy do we keep the Qur'an all the way up there, Madar-jan? It is so hard to reach it there!\n\nBecause nothing is above the Qur'an. This is how we show our respect for the word of Allah.\n\nShekiba unfolded the cloth and opened the first page.\n\nTariq. Munis. Shekiba. Aqela.\n\nBeside each name, Padar-jan had penciled in the month and year of their birth.\n\nShekiba flipped through the pages, the corners frayed. The book opened to the second sura. She recognized the line that her father often quoted. She traced the calligraphy with her finger and heard his voice.\n\nIt means that we treasure many things in this world, but there is even more awaiting us in paradise.\n\nThe paper fell into her hands. Yellowed parchment with two columns of ornate signatures. She recognized her grandfather's name. This was the deed!\n\nShekiba's senses heightened now that she had what she'd come looking for. She took a quick look around and tucked the deed back into the pages of the Qur'an. It was time to get back to the house before her escapade incited too much anger. She covered the Qur'an again with her mother's dismol and tucked it irreverently under her shirt.\n\nGod, forgive me, she thought.\n\nAs she exited her rusted front door, she could see Kaka Sheeragha across the field.\n\nLazy, she thought, looking at her uncle. The others would have come after me.\n\nSheeragha met her at the door.\n\n\"What were you doing in that house?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Praying.\" Shekiba slipped past him and returned to the living room, hoping Azizullah was ready to leave.\n\n\"Where have you been? Bobo Shahgul said she had a pleasant but short visit with you.\" Azizullah took one last sip from his teacup. \"We should be going. We have taken up enough of your time.\"\n\n\"Time with you is time well spent,\" Zalmai said graciously while he eyed Shekiba with suspicion. Sheeragha nodded in tacit agreement. He was not blessed with the social graces of his brothers.\n\n\"You are very kind. Please pass my regards along to the rest of the family. I am sure I will see you in the masjid for Eid prayers next week.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course you will.\"\n\n\"Absolutely.\"\n\nShekiba followed Azizullah through the courtyard and into the street. Her uncles watched them leave, mumbling to each other.\n\nThey put on a good show, she thought, knowing they were wondering what spurred her return to the family home.\nCHAPTER 14\n\n\"Of course he hit her again! Why did you have to say something like that to him? You know how he is!\" Shahla was folding the laundry in the courtyard, her eyes moving back and forth between the clothes and Sitara, who was drawing circles in the dirt with a rock.\n\n\"I didn't mean for that to happen. I was just . . . I only meant to . . .\"\n\n\"Well, you should think before you say something. She couldn't even lift her arm this morning. God knows what he did to her.\"\n\nI bit my lip. I had gone to my grandmother's as my father instructed. I was hoping he would have left Madar-jan alone, but he hadn't. His toxic anger never went away, not without his medicine. I wanted Shahla to stop telling me how awful he had been to our mother. But I needed to hear. I needed to know what had happened.\n\n\"You've ruined everything for all of us. You don't think. You're so busy being a boy that you've forgotten what can happen to a girl. Now we all have to pay for your selfish mistakes.\"\n\n\"It has nothing to do with you. He was angry at Madar-jan so stop worrying about yourself.\"\n\nShahla was fighting back tears. \"You think it was all about Madar-jan? You think everything stops there? Well, it doesn't. What you do affects all of us.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"You know what we all are? We're all dokhtar-ha-jawan. We're all young women. Me, Parwin. Even you, Rahim. Even you.\"\n\nShe was angry. I'd never seen Shahla so upset. Sitara looked up, sensing the tension.\n\n\"He hit her again. Parwin and I, we were scared to look but we could hear it. He went on yelling and screaming about how it wasn't bad enough that she had failed him as a wife. Now she was failing as a mother.\"\n\nI remembered how she'd looked, cowering under him. His face had been red with anger, his eyes bulging.\n\n\"She must have fallen to the floor. Her shoulder's hurt badly. I don't know. She tried to get him to calm down but he was . . . well, you know how he can get. And then she said something to him that made him stop.\"\n\n\"What did she say?\" I asked quietly.\n\n\"She said she was taking care of all of us. She said it was a house full of dokhtar-ha-jawan and it wasn't easy. All of a sudden, he got quiet. Then he started pacing the floor, saying his house was full of young women and that it wasn't right.\"\n\n\"What's not right?\"\n\n\"Don't you know what people say? They say it's not right to keep a dokhtar-e-jawan in your home.\"\n\n\"What are you supposed to do with them?\" I sensed the ugly turn this was taking.\n\n\"What do you think you're supposed to do? You're supposed to marry them off. That's what's in his head now. And it's all because you don't know what to do with yourself. You think just because you're wearing pants and you strap your breasts down every morning that no one will care what you do. But you're not a kid anymore. People won't pretend anymore. You're no different than me and Parwin.\"\n\n\"You think he wants us to get married?\"\n\n\"I don't know what he's thinking. He left the house after that and he hasn't come home yet. God knows where he is.\"\n\nParwin came out of the house with the second load and started hanging sheets on the clothesline. She reached the twine with difficulty. Most of the sheets she tossed over and then pulled the corners from below. Shahla looked as if she were about to help her, then paused, deciding against it. When Parwin finished, she looked up at the sky, blocking the sun with her hand, and mumbled something under her breath.\n\nI thought of a conversation I'd once overheard. Khala Shaima and my mother thought no one was awake but I was having a hard time sleeping.\n\n\"That's why it's important for these girls to go to school, Raisa. They'll have nothing otherwise. Be wise about it. Look at me and think of what might happen to Parwin.\"\n\n\"I know, I know. I worry about her more than the others.\"\n\n\"As you should. I was passed over despite everything Madar-jan did. All the friends she talked to, all the special prayers. And look at me, wrinkled and alone. No children of my own. Sometimes I think it's worked out best for me that your husband is away so much, that ass. At least it gives me more chances to come and spend time with your daughters.\"\n\n\"They love having you around, Shaima. They hunger for your stories. You're the best family they have.\"\n\n\"They're good girls. But be realistic. Before you know it, you'll have to seriously consider the suitors. Except for Parwin. You'll be lucky if anyone comes for her.\"\n\n\"She's a beautiful girl.\"\n\n\"Bah. The porcupine feels velvet when she rubs her baby's back. You're her mother. Parwin-e-lang. That's what she is. Allah as my witness, I love her as much as you do, but that's what people call her and you have to be honest with yourself and realize it. Just like I'm Shaima-e-koop. I've always been Shaima the hunchback. As long as she goes to school, that at least gives her something. At least she'll be able to pick up a book and read it. At least she'll have a chance to know something other than these four walls and the smell of her father's opium.\"\n\n\"She would make a good wife. And mother. She's a special girl. The way she draws, it's as if God guides her hands. Sometimes I think she still talks to angels, the way she used to when she was a baby.\"\n\n\"Men have little need for special girls. You should know that.\"\n\nI couldn't imagine Parwin married any more than I could imagine the rest of us married. I drifted off to sleep after that. I dreamed of girls in green veils, hundreds of them, climbing up the mountain to the north of our town. A stream of emerald on the trail to the summit, where, one by one, they fell off the other side, their arms outstretched like wings that should have known how to fly.\n\nIn a three-room house, I couldn't expect to avoid my mother for long. I saw her puffy lip, her long face, and hoped she saw the remorse in mine.\n\n\"Madar-jan . . . I . . . I'm sorry, Madar-jan.\"\n\n\"It's all right, bachem. It's as much my fault as it is yours. Look at what I've done to you. I should have put a stop to this long ago.\"\n\n\"But I don't want you to\u2014\"\n\n\"Things will be changing soon, I'm sure. I'm afraid everything is out of my hands now. We will see what naseeb, what destiny, God has in store for us. Your father acts rashly and it doesn't help to have your grandmother whispering things into his ear.\"\n\n\"What do you think he'll do?\" I asked nervously. I was relieved my mother wasn't angry with me. She lay on her side, my baby sister next to her. I resisted the urge to curl up with them.\n\n\"Men are unpredictable creatures,\" she said, her voice tired and defeated. \"God knows what he'll do.\"\nCHAPTER 15\n\nShekiba faced a new dilemma. She wanted to take the deed to the local hakim but she didn't know if Azizullah would allow such an act. Maybe he would. Men were, after all, unpredictable creatures.\n\nShe decided against asking Azizullah for permission but that meant she needed to get herself to the town's hakim. She had overheard his name in conversations between Azizullah and his brother, Hafizullah, but she had no inkling where she would find this man. Then there was the issue of getting to him. What possible excuse could she make this time?\n\n\"How was your visit with your family?\" Marjan asked.\n\n\"It was pleasant,\" Shekiba answered. She was elbow-deep in hot, sudsy water, washing the children's clothes.\n\n\"And how was Bobo Shahgul? Is she in good health?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Shekiba. Unfortunately, she thought.\n\n\"And the rest of the family? Did you see everyone? All your uncles?\"\n\n\"I saw Kaka Zalmai, Sheeragha and Freidun. My other two uncles are still away in the army.\"\n\nMarjan stood over her, a finger on her lip as she pondered something. Shekiba purposely avoided her gaze.\n\n\"You know, I ran into Zarmina-jan, your uncle's wife, at the hammam last week. She told me that she was surprised that you wanted to visit your family for Eid.\"\n\nShekiba's neck muscles tightened.\n\n\"She said that you did not adjust well to Bobo Shahgul's house after your father's death.\"\n\nKhala Zarmina. What are you up to?\n\n\"Were you angry to be sent here?\"\n\nShekiba shook her head.\n\n\"Well, I hope not. This was an arrangement that everybody agreed to so I hope that you are not intending to carry out the same kind of behaviors here in this home.\"\n\nShekiba felt a fire burn in her belly. \"This is a different place,\" she said in a bitter voice.\n\n\"Good. Just be warned that we do not tolerate disrespectful behavior. I will not have my children learning . . . such things!\"\n\nShekiba nodded.\n\nBut Marjan was uncomfortable with her. Maybe Khala Zarmina had said something more.\n\nShe prepared the family's dinner and ate quietly in the kitchen. She liked to listen to the children bickering with each other. Amid the din, she heard Marjan tell Azizullah that she had something she needed to discuss with him later.\n\nShekiba knew it would be about her.\n\nIn the night she heard Marjan's soft yelps and knew that Azizullah was taking his wife. This was something Shekiba had learned in her grandmother's house. From where she slept in the kitchen, she could hear the same grunts and pants through the wall and would see Kaka Zalmai emerge from their room refreshed while Samina avoided Shekiba's gaze and busied herself with her children. The women often joked about it when the children were out of earshot but they did not mind Shekiba hearing them.\n\n\"You've been working on that sweater for over a week, Zarmina! When are you going to finish?\"\n\n\"Sounds like what I hear you saying to your husband in the middle of the night, Nargis!\"\n\nLaughter and a hand clapped against someone's back. Shekiba listened closely, intrigued by the rare moments of camaraderie amongst the women.\n\nNargis giggled and shot back without hesitation.\n\n\"Mahtub-gul can hardly see beyond her huge breasts to know what is happening below.\"\n\nLaughter again. Samina looked in Shekiba's direction and seemed uncomfortable to have her in the room. Zarmina noticed and raised her teacup.\n\n\"I wouldn't worry about her, Samina dear. Remember, she was her father's son so it's in her best interests to learn the way things are from women. Imagine if you had no idea what your wedding night had in store for you! Let her be aware.\"\n\nSamina clucked her tongue. \"Knowing would only make it worse.\"\n\nShekiba had thought of her statement often. What was worse about it? Whatever it was, her aunts made it sound awful but tolerable. They were laughing about it, after all.\n\nHearing Marjan's soft sighs and gasps came as no surprise. It was the thing that transpired between a husband and wife and it was how women became heavy with child. This much Shekiba had pieced together.\n\nAfter a few moments, the grunts ceased and Shekiba could hear the sounds of a conversation. She pressed her ear to the wall.\n\n\"And Zarmina told you she did that?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's what she said. And now I know why Bobo Shahgul was so eager to make this arrangement. She didn't want to have this girl in her house.\"\n\n\"I've never trusted those boys. Especially Freidun. They think the world of themselves but not one of those sons is a quarter of the man their father was. Their mother is right to keep a close eye on them.\"\n\n\"But what are we to do with Shekiba-e-shola? True, she does her work around the house well enough but I am afraid that she will turn on us as she did with her own grandmother. What if she threatens to put a curse on our family as well?\"\n\nPut a curse on the family?\n\n\"Hmm. Interesting.\"\n\n\"And Zarmina said that even though she had been doing the chores as a son, that the girl has the spirit of a wild woman. The last thing this home needs to invite is scandal and rumor.\"\n\n\"And what is it that you think we should do?\"\n\n\"I think you should send her back.\"\n\n\"Send her back?\"\n\n\"Yes! For the sake of everyone in this house. Take her back and tell her uncles that they will have to settle their debt in another way. We cannot have her.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Marjan was wise to bring up the matter now, with Azizullah feeling spent and relaxed.\n\n\"But we mustn't tell them why we want to send her back. Zarmina specifically asked me to keep all this to myself.\"\n\n\"I bet she did.\"\n\nThere was silence. Shekiba felt betrayed and then wondered why she was surprised by her aunt's accusations.\n\nWhat does she want? Does Zarmina want me back in the house? Why?\n\n\"It's going to be a shame to lose her help but I have a bad feeling about this girl. I cannot shake Zarmina's words from my mind.\" Shekiba thought of Marjan's nervous behavior the last couple days and almost laughed.\n\nFor a while, she relished the idea that she could be so formidable a threat.\n\n\"If I take her back, it will create a rift between our families and that is not in our best interests. By the looks of their land, I anticipate that the family will be again knocking on our door to borrow money. Not a single one of them knows how to grow a crop. But I have another idea,\" Azizullah said.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"You worry about the children and look after the house. Did I not say I would take care of it?\" Marjan's window of opportunity was quickly closing. Azizullah's impatience was returning. \"Let me talk to Hafizullah about it but there may be a way to get rid of this girl if she is so bothersome to you. And at the same time, we may be able to secure our position in this community. There are changes coming and Hafizullah has high aspirations.\"\n\nShekiba kept her eyes and ears open in the next few days, looking for any sign of what Azizullah's plan might be. He was out of the house most of the time, undoubtedly meeting with Hafizullah about his mystery plan. Shekiba grew more and more frightened.\n\nWomen who brought scandal or trouble to a home were not tolerated. Even a na\u00efve girl like Shekiba knew as much. Shekiba began to fear for her life.\n\nShe tried to gauge her situation through Marjan.\n\n\"Khanum Marjan,\" Shekiba said quietly. Marjan was darning socks. She jumped at Shekiba's voice.\n\n\"I . . . excuse me! I did not mean to startle you! I was going to prepare dinner.\"\n\n\"Oh, Shekiba!\" Her hand covered her chest. Marjan shook her head. \"Why do you sneak around like that? Go ahead and begin dinner. Azizullah will be hungry when he returns from outside.\"\n\nShekiba fidgeted for a moment before daring to ask.\n\n\"Khanum Marjan? May I ask a question?\"\n\nMarjan looked up expectantly.\n\n\"When you . . . when you spoke to Khala Zarmina . . . what did she tell you? I mean, about me.\"\n\nMarjan turned back to her socks and looked up at Shekiba from the corner of her eye.\n\n\"What does it matter?\"\n\n\"I would like to know.\"\n\n\"She said that you argue.\"\n\n\"Argue? With who?\"\n\n\"You don't know?\"\n\n\"I did not argue with anyone there. I did everything they asked of me.\"\n\n\"Well, seems like you're arguing right now, aren't you?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied adamantly. She was desperate to defend herself. \"I am not arguing! But whatever she said about me is not true!\"\n\n\"Shekiba! Lower your voice! Forget what they said. Just busy yourself with the chores.\"\n\nShekiba felt helpless. She retreated into the kitchen to begin dinner, angry and frustrated and forced to hide it.\n\nTwo days later Azizullah came home with his brother. They sat in the living room and shared a lunch of rice and eggplant. Shekiba frantically searched for excuses to loiter around the living room door, eager to hear their conversation.\n\n\"They will be traveling with around thirty people. I have asked that the house be readied. We are sparing no expense.\"\n\n\"Your home will suit them fine, my brother. Better than our simple home would. Have you enough food for the night?\"\n\n\"Yes, I've called in all my favors in town and we're going to have a meal that even the king himself will talk about! It is costing me more than I had anticipated but I think this will be a great opportunity. For the both of us, do not forget.\" Hafizullah was slick with confidence.\n\n\"I will be there for sure and if there's anything we can do, we will do it,\" Azizullah said. \"But there is something I would like to offer to the king.\"\n\n\"Oh? And what is that?\" Hafizullah said, a half-chewed morsel still in his mouth.\n\n\"I would like to offer King Habibullah a gift of a servant.\"\n\nShekiba's heart began to pound.\n\n\"A servant? Which servant?\"\n\n\"I do not have that many from which to choose,\" Azizullah said, chuckling.\n\n\"You mean Shekiba-e-shola?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's the one.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know about this. Brother, do you really think it is wise to make such a halfhearted offering to the king? You may anger him, you know.\"\n\n\"She is a good worker and will serve the palace well. Is there not a way to make an honorable gesture of her?\"\n\nShekiba, the gesture. Shekiba, the gift.\n\nShe felt insignificant and disposable to hear herself described that way. Again.\n\n\"Well, let me think on it. It is possible, I suppose. I mean, it's not as if he needs to see her face . . . but you know there may be a good use for this girl in the palace after all. Now that I think of it\u2014I just had a conversation with a general. You know General Homayoon, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, that no-good money-hungry fool. What were you doing with him?\"\n\n\"He is a money-hungry fool but he's likely going to be promoted, so watch what you say about him. Better to have this fool as your friend than your enemy. He told me that he has been placed in charge of recruiting soldiers to help guard King Habibullah's harem. The king doesn't trust men to watch over his women and he has collected a group of women who are kept as men. This way he need not worry that his guards will take advantage of his ladies.\"\n\n\"Ah, what a brilliant solution! I am telling you, my brother, this girl is well suited for such a role. She walks and breathes like a man, my wife tells me.\"\n\n\"Then we will arrange it,\" Hafizullah declared. \"I will speak to the general so that we can make the entourage aware of the gift before you present her to King Habibullah. This is a historic visit to our town and you will be making a mark. You can expect this to bring you many returns, I believe.\"\n\nShekiba had heard enough. She walked back to the kitchen, her legs wobbly beneath her. Her head was spinning.\n\nThe king? The palace?\n\nWords that were foreign to her.\n\nShekiba, the half face. The girl-boy who walks like a man.\n\nShekiba was not a whole anything, she realized.\nCHAPTER 16\n\nKhala Shaima liked to keep us hanging. I wondered what would happen to Bibi Shekiba almost as much as I wondered what would happen to us. It seemed that we were both about to leave our homes.\n\nPadar-jan spent more time away from home in the following weeks. When he did return, he scowled and barked orders more. Even Parwin's soft singing, which he usually secretly enjoyed, provoked him. Madar-jan tried to keep him placated with ready meals and a quiet home but he inevitably found another reason to explode.\n\nI spent more time at Agha Barakzai's shop. It was my way of avoiding the guys without explaining what was happening. I worried that my mother was going to change me back into a girl and I wondered how Abdullah and Ashraf would react. I hated to be away from them, mostly Abdullah, but I was scared to be with them, too.\n\nI lay awake at night, thinking about Abdullah and remembering the day Madar-jan had caught us play-fighting. Until the moment she called my name, it had been thrilling. I tingled to think of Abdullah's face over mine, his long legs trapping my hips under him, his hands pinning my wrists. And his grin. I blushed in the dark.\n\nI tried to make up to Madar-jan for what I had done. I tried to keep Padar-jan distracted from her, even if it meant him yelling at me. Even though I'd been relieved of housework when I became a bacha posh, I tried to help when I saw her washing clothes or beating the dust from the carpets.\n\nShahla didn't say more than a few words to me every day. She was still upset and could sense from Madar-jan's mood that trouble was brewing. She was quiet around Padar-jan, bringing him tea or food and leaving the room before he could realize she was one of those young women he had kept home for too long.\n\nMy grandmother stopped by more often. She was intrigued by the new wave of unrest in our home and wanted to see it for herself. Madar-jan tried to be as polite as she could.\n\n\"Tell my son that I want to talk to him. When he gets home, make sure he comes to see me.\"\n\n\"Of course. What is it that you want to talk to him about?\"\n\n\"Is it any business of yours? Just tell him what I've asked.\"\n\nMadar-jan knew what the topic was. Maybe this time her husband would be more interested in bringing another wife home.\n\nI listened in when Padar-jan went to see his mother. I pretended to be playing with a ball in the courtyard and slowly kicked it further and further until I was right outside my grandmother's living room. I heard her shrill voice loud and clear. My father, mumbling at times, was more difficult to make out.\n\n\"Bachem, it's high time. You've given her plenty of opportunity to give you a son and she's failed. Now, let's bring a second wife for you so that you can finally expand this family.\"\n\n\"And where am I going to put her? We have one room for all the girls as it is. There's no money to build another space behind our home or to buy something else in town. I can always find a new wife. It's the space and money that are harder to come by.\"\n\n\"What about Abdul Khaliq? Hasn't he promised to help you when you need?\"\n\nPadar-jan shook his head.\n\n\"The men are short on weapons, on supplies. There isn't money to spare.\"\n\n\"Psht. The hell there isn't money. I've heard what he does. I've heard from the people in town about his horses, his wives, all his children. He's got plenty!\"\n\n\"Madar! Be careful what you say! He's a powerful man and don't be part of any loose talk about him. Do you understand me?\"\n\n\"I'm not the one starting this talk. There are lots of tongues flapping about him. That's all I'm trying to tell you,\" she said, annoyed to be silenced by her son.\n\n\"Anyway, I'll be making some changes at home soon and things will be easier on my pockets. It's time I relieved myself of some of these girls.\"\n\n\"And how do you expect to do that?\"\n\n\"Just watch what Raisa does while I'm gone and I'll find a way to take care of the rest.\"\n\nShahla and Madar-jan were right. Padar-jan was about to shake up our home.\n\nEleven days later, Abdul Khaliq showed up at our home with seven other men. They pulled up in two black SUVs, their tires leaving clouds of dust in the street. Abdullah saw the car and knew immediately who they belonged to. Most people in our town traveled on foot.\n\nIt was my cousin Muneer who opened the front gate and pointed out our home. Not even my father was expecting him. Muneer watched openmouthed as Abdul Khaliq and his entourage walked by. Two men had black guns slung over their shoulders. Abdul Khaliq was a burly man in his late forties, judging by the lines around his eyes and the gray in his beard. He wore a white turban and a beige tunic over loose pants. An antenna stuck out from the pocket of his gray vest, another sign that this man was something other than common folk. He was the first person in our town to own a mobile phone. Few had access to any phone at all.\n\nWe usually sent one of the men to the front gate to greet a visitor. People didn't just barge in, since the women of the home could be wandering about the courtyard without their head coverings. But it was either Muneer's stupidity or Abdul Khaliq's presence that changed things from the usual routine. He and his men were in our courtyard, their eyes assessing the situation. I caught sight of them and recognized Abdul Khaliq from the bazaar. I darted inside to warn my mother and send my father out to meet his friend.\n\n\"Padar-jan, Abdul Khaliq is here\u2014with a lot of people.\"\n\nMy father sat up straight and pushed his newspaper aside. \"What are you talking about? Where?\"\n\n\"Out there. In the courtyard. He's got seven men with him. And guns.\"\n\nMy father's brow furrowed. He got to his feet faster than usual.\n\n\"Tell your mother to prepare something for our guests,\" he said, and went outside to meet the warlord.\n\nMadar-jan heard us and stood in the kitchen looking disturbed. She shot a look at the doorway to our bedroom, where Shahla and Rohila were putting Sitara to sleep. Parwin was peeling onions at Madar-jan's feet. She was the only one whose eyes didn't sting and tear when the layers came off.\n\n\"He's going to want more than tea,\" Parwin predicted without looking up.\n\nMadar-jan looked at Parwin almost as if she heard some prophesy in her daughter's words. She bit her lip and took out some cups.\n\n\"Bring these to them, Rahim-jan,\" she said nervously.\n\nI took the tray and willed my hands not to shake. I could feel their eyes boring into me when I entered the room, their conversation suddenly pausing. The men had spread out, Abdul Khaliq sitting on the cushion across from my father, his fingers nimbly working a string of prayer beads as he leaned back. On either side of him sat older men, more gray in their beards than black. The armed men were closest to the door. I didn't look at their faces and tried to keep my gaze off their weapons as well. Kneeling, I put a cup in front of each person and backed out of the room as quickly as I could to listen from the hallway. Madar-jan was doing the same.\n\n\"Arif-jan, I've come here today to discuss an important and honorable matter with you. For that reason, I have brought my elders with me, as well as a few members of my family whom you have met before. I'm sure you recognize my uncle's sons, my father and my uncle. You have fought with me for years and I respect you for that. From one man to another, we both know that there are traditions in our culture.\"\n\n\"You honor me with your visit, sahib, and I have been proud to fight under your leadership. We've done great things for our people thanks to you.\" I'd never heard Padar-jan speak in such a way with anyone. Abdul Khaliq unnerved him. \"And I am honored to have your family in my humble home. Dearest uncles, I appreciate you traveling this far to be our guests.\"\n\nThe men nodded, acknowledging my father's platitudes. Abdul Khaliq's father cleared his throat and began to speak. His voice was raspy and he had a light lisp.\n\n\"My son speaks highly of you, and of course, your family is well respected in this town. I've known your father for many years, Arif-jan. He is a good man. That is why I'm sure we will see eye to eye on this matter as well. As you know, my son is a man who takes pride in meeting his duties as a Muslim. And one of the duties that Allah has outlined for us is to build families and to provide for women and children.\"\n\nI could feel my heart pounding. Madar-jan stood behind me, one hand on my shoulder and the other covering her mouth, as if she thought she might let out a scream otherwise.\n\n\"Of course, dear uncle . . .\" Padar's voice trailed off; he was unsure what to say. Abdul Khaliq began to speak.\n\n\"And you came to me recently talking of your concerns. That you have young women at home and not enough money with which to provide for them. I have been thinking about your situation and am here to offer a solution.\"\n\nAbdul Khaliq's father gave him a look. Let me do the talking, his eyes said.\n\n\"We must often think of what is in everyone's best interests. In this case, you have a young woman whom my son would like to honor as his wife. Our family is large and well respected, as you know. Your daughter would do well to join our family and a union between us would be cause for celebration. Of course, as a result, you would be better able to provide for your family as well.\"\n\n\"My daughter?\"\n\n\"Yes. If you give it some thought, I'm sure you'll see it's the wisest choice.\"\n\n\"But my eldest is\u2014\"\n\n\"We are not here for your eldest daughter, Arif-jan. I'm speaking of your middle daughter. The bacha posh. My son has expressed an interest in her.\"\n\n\"The bacha posh . . .\"\n\n\"Yes. And do not be surprised. You have kept her as bacha posh beyond what anyone should accept. You are breaking tradition.\"\n\nI turned around and looked at my mother, my face drained of color. Padar was silent. I knew he was wondering how Abdul Khaliq knew about me but word had way of traveling. I remembered the day in the bazaar, the way Abdul Khaliq had looked at me and the way he had smirked and nodded when the man next to him leaned in and whispered something in his ear.\n\nMy mother's fingers tightened as she wrapped her arms around me. She was shaking her head, willing her husband to refuse this man and praying he could do so in a way that wouldn't offend him or his guns.\n\n\"With all due respect, sir . . . it's just that . . . well, she is a bacha posh . . . but I have two other daughters older than her. And as you said, we are people of tradition and usually the younger daughters are not given until the eldest . . . I just don't think . . .\"\n\nThere was a long pause before Abdul Khaliq's father began to speak again, slowly and deliberately.\n\n\"You are right. It would be improper to give your middle daughter's hand without the other two being wed as well.\"\n\nFor a second I could breathe. But it was only a second.\n\n\"But this can be easily arranged. My cousins are here, Abdul Sharif and his brother Abdul Haidar. They are looking for wives as well. We can arrange for each of them to take one of your daughters. They are strong men, able-bodied, and will provide well for your girls, who are now young women and should not be kept idle at home. Let these men bring honor to your home and ease your troubles.\"\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq, dear uncles, you know I hold you in the highest regard, but . . . but this is a matter . . . well, tradition dictates that I should consult my family, as you have done. I cannot make such decisions without the presence of my father and our gray-haired family members.\"\n\nAbdul Khaliq's father nodded in understanding.\n\n\"Reasonable. This is not a problem. We shall return in one week's time. Kindly arrange to have your father and your elders here so that we may meet with them.\"\n\nIt may have sounded like a request but Padar-jan knew it was more of a command. They would not take no for an answer.\n\nAs soon as the last man was out the door, Madar-jan ran up to my father.\n\n\"Arif, what are you going to do? The girls are so young!\"\n\n\"It's none of your business what I'm going to do! They're my daughters and I'll do what's right for them. It's not as if you're capable of doing anything.\"\n\n\"Arif, please, Rahim's only thirteen!\"\n\n\"And he's right! She shouldn't be a bacha posh any longer! She's a young woman and it's shameful to have her out on the streets and working with Agha Barakzai at this age. You've given no thought to her decency, have you? Do you know how this looks for my family's name?\"\n\nMadar-jan bit her tongue. If only my father knew . . .\n\n\"You think you can come up with a better plan for this family? There is no money, Raisa! You're thinking of nothing but yourself. And you've seen what happens to girls who stay in their fathers' homes for too long. There is talk about them. There is scandal. Or worse! What will you do if some bandits come and take your daughters by force? This man, this family, they can provide for your daughters! They can give your daughters a respectable life!\"\n\nMadar-jan searched for a way to argue back. But a lot of what her husband said was true. She was barely able to feed us with what he provided. Padar-jan's brothers were in no better a situation, not to mention the two widows and their children.\n\n\"Maybe I can ask my sister, Shaima, to be here when they return. She could reason with them.\"\n\n\"Khanum, if your insolent sister dares step foot in this house on that day, I swear to you I'll cut her tongue out and send her hunched back rolling down the street!\"\n\nMadar-jan shuddered to hear him talk about Khala Shaima in that way.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq is a powerful man and he's in a position to improve our family's lot. This is a matter I'll discuss with my father. You should concern yourself only with fixing what you've done. It's time to undo Rahim.\"\n\nThere was nothing more my mother could say to him. He'd been intimidated by Abdul Khaliq, and from what we'd overheard, it sounded like my father had planted the idea in Abdul Khaliq's mind. I thought back to what Shahla had told me about their fight.\n\nHe wants this, I realized. My father wants to marry us off.\n\nThe thought sent a chill down my spine. I realized what my mother knew as well. Men could do what they wanted with women. There would be no stopping what Padar had set in motion.\nCHAPTER 17\n\nKing Habibullah had taken the throne in 1901, just as Shekiba turned eleven years old. This was two years before the cholera epidemic that claimed her family and half her village. That was all she knew about the man. She was a girl from a small village and knew nothing of the palace or life in the capital of Kabul.\n\nHaving overheard Hafizullah's brilliant plan for her, Shekiba became terrified. She had no reason to believe that life in the palace would be any better for her. The more powerful people were, the more harm they could do her. Shekiba sat in the night and chewed her lip, her fingers confirming the presence of the deed under her blanket.\n\nI have to get to the hakim. That's my only chance.\n\nShekiba did not know when the king would visit, but it would be soon. She had nothing to lose. She had a plan.\n\nShekiba tucked the deed into her dress and crept out of her room at first light. The azaan sounded, calling the town to prayer. She remembered the way from Azizullah's house to the village center. There were a few shops there and surely someone would be able to direct her to the house of the hakim.\n\nShe heard Azizullah's snores and crept past his and Marjan's room. Fortunately, he rarely woke for morning prayers, claiming he would make them up later in the afternoon. The children were still asleep.\n\nShe slipped her burqa over her head and slowly pushed open the heavy gate. She was outside the courtyard. She paused for a moment, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps behind her. When she heard nothing, she took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and headed down the small dirt road. Shekiba walked quickly, trying not to look back at the house since that might draw more suspicion. But no one was out yet and the two donkeys outside didn't even bray at the sight of her.\n\nAgha Sharifullah, the hakim. Shekiba hoped someone in town would be able, and willing, to direct her to him. She rehearsed her appeal in her mind for the thousandth time. She wondered what her mother would have thought of her plan.\n\nThe sky was bright by the time she entered the village center and she passed by a family of five, the mother and children following behind their father, probably on their way to visit relatives. They looked at her oddly from across the road but said nothing. Shekiba exhaled when they were finally out of view.\n\nA few moments later, two men exited a house and began walking ahead of her. They looked back at her and commented to one another. Shekiba bowed her head and slowed her gait, wanting to put more distance between them. The younger man pointed at her and shook his head. The older man nodded and fingered the beads on his tasbeh.\n\n\"Khanum, who are you?\" he called out.\n\nShekiba kept her gaze lowered and slowed her step even more.\n\n\"Khanum, where are you going by yourself? Who are you?\"\n\nShekiba debated asking these men if they knew Hakim-sahib. She stopped, afraid to get any closer to them.\n\n\"Khanum, this is very wrong! Whoever you are, you should not be wandering around alone,\" he scolded. \"What family are you from?\"\n\nShekiba felt her tongue loosen.\n\n\"I am from Agha Azizullah's home,\" she said shakily.\n\n\"Agha Azizullah? But you are not Khanum Marjan. Who are you?\" called out the older man.\n\n\"Khanum Marjan is not well,\" she lied. \"I have been sent to bring her medicine.\"\n\n\"Sent out for medicine? Well, this is just absurd.\" The younger man turned to his counterpart. \"He is a dear friend of mine but I can't imagine what Agha Azizullah was thinking.\"\n\n\"This is truly bizarre,\" he said, shaking his head. And then he made a decision. \"Follow us into town. I'll speak with Azizullah later.\"\n\nShekiba nodded and walked about five meters behind them, now doubly panicked. Surely, by now, Marjan had discovered her absence and she had probably shared the news with Azizullah. Would they come looking for her? Although it seemed this man believed her story, he would surely report back to Azizullah. Although Azizullah already had plans to get rid of her, he could do much worse if he were angered and shamed by Shekiba.\n\nThey led her to the village's dry-goods store owner, who doubled as the local apothecary. She entered behind the older man.\n\n\"Salaam, Faizullah-jan.\"\n\n\"Wa-alaikum as-salaam, Muneer-jan. How are you?\"\n\nSo it is Muneer who will report back to Azizullah.\n\nThey exchanged pleasantries before Azizullah addressed Shekiba's presence.\n\n\"Azizullah has sent this girl to bring medicine for his wife. I found her walking about in the streets alone. Can you imagine? I think the man has lost his mind.\"\n\nFaizullah shook his head.\n\n\"No doubt he is distracted by King Habibullah's visit. It is just two days from now and I'm sure his brother has him running in circles.\"\n\nTwo days from now?\n\n\"What illness does she have?\"\n\nShekiba nodded yes or no arbitrarily as he rattled off a few symptoms. She left with a small bottle of blended herbs and Faizullah made a note of the purchase in his records.\n\nAzizullah is going to kill me, Shekiba suddenly realized. She had gone too far.\n\n\"Excuse me, sahib,\" she said outside. There was no reason to stop now. \"I must take a paper to Hakim-sahib.\"\n\n\"What? What sort of paper?\"\n\n\"I was instructed to discuss this only with Hakim-sahib.\"\n\nThe younger man looked indignant.\n\n\"Padar, this is ridiculous!\" he said.\n\n\"It is indeed!\" said his father. Shekiba waited nervously.\n\nBut they pointed her toward Hakim-sahib's house, which, as Shekiba had prayed, was within the village's central area. They were fed up with her and decided to let her find her own way. Azizullah could clean up his own mess.\n\nA young boy answered the gate and Shekiba asked to speak to Hakim-sahib. The boy gave her a curious look before running back into the courtyard. A moment later, a puzzled man with a grayed beard appeared at the door. He peered out from behind the half-open door.\n\n\"Please, esteemed Hakim-sahib, I have come to you with a most serious request.\"\n\n\"You? Who are you and what are you doing here? Is there no one with you?\"\n\n\"No, sahib. But I have a paper that I need to show you.\"\n\n\"Who are you? Who is your husband?\"\n\n\"I have no husband.\"\n\n\"Who is your father?\" He still had not fully opened the door, uninterested in inviting this strange lone girl into his courtyard.\n\n\"Sahib, this paper is from my father. His name was Ismail Bardari.\"\n\n\"Ismail? Ismail Bardari?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"You are his daughter? You are the one who . . .\"\n\n\"Yes, I am. Please, sahib, I have the deed to my father's land.\"\n\nIt all came in one breath. And then she heard her name.\n\n\"Shekiba!\"\n\nShekiba almost did not recognize Azizullah. She whipped around to see him walking quickly toward Hakim-sahib's house. Hakim-sahib pushed the door wide open. Shekiba turned to him and spoke quickly. Azizullah was a hundred meters away. Her words came fast and furious.\n\n\"Please, sahib, I have the deed to my father's land and I am his only surviving child. I want to claim my inheritance. That land should belong to me and my uncles are taking it without right.\"\n\nHakim's eyes widened. \"You want what? Azizullah-jan, may Allah grant you a long life,\" he called out.\n\nShekiba could not take much hope from his exasperated tone. She pulled the paper from under her burqa.\n\n\"It is my land and it is my right. Please, sahib, just look at the deed and you will see\u2014\"\n\nHakim-sahib took the paper from her hand and glanced at it. His eyes returned to fast-approaching Azizullah.\n\n\"Please, Hakim-sahib, I have nothing else. I have no one else. This land is my only\u2014\"\n\nA blow to the side of her head. Shekiba reeled.\n\n\"Goddamn you, girl!\" A second blow knocked Shekiba off her feet.\n\nShe lay on her side, curled. Her hands instinctively rose to cover her head beneath the burqa. She looked at Hakim-sahib. He was shaking his head.\n\n\"Azizullah-jan, what is going on with this girl?\"\n\n\"Hakim-sahib, those damned Bardari brothers gave this as repayment for their debt and never have I been so swindled in my life!\" he screamed, pointing at Shekiba. \"We have fed her and housed her and look at how she treats us!\" A kick to her flank. Shekiba yelped. \"What are you doing? What kind of girl sneaks out of a house? Have you no shame?\"\n\n\"What is this talk of a deed?\" the hakim said.\n\n\"What deed?\"\n\n\"This girl is here to claim her father's land,\" Hakim explained.\n\n\"To claim what? Is there no end to this girl's stupidity?\" He turned to Shekiba and landed another kick into her side.\n\nThe pain threw her into a rage.\n\n\"I am only here to claim what is rightfully mine! I am my father's daughter and that land should belong to me! My father would never have chosen his brothers over me! He never did!\"\n\n\"A family of fools!\" Azizullah shouted. He threw his arms into the air in exasperation.\n\nThe hakim sighed heavily and clucked his tongue.\n\n\"Girl, you know nothing of tradition,\" he said, and tore the deed into pieces.\nCHAPTER 18\n\nTradition hadn't lost importance between Bibi Shekiba's time and now.\n\nOur home was tense all week. Madar-jan's hands trembled. She dropped forks and food while her mind wandered and worried. I caught her watching me and my sisters. Shahla shook her head and Parwin made comments that made Madar-jan burst into tears.\n\n\"The pigeons look sad today. As if their friends all flew away and now they have no one to talk to.\" Parwin looked up from her paper. She'd sketched five birds, each flying off in a different direction.\n\nMy mother took one look at the drawing, covered her mouth with her hand and went to talk to Padar-jan. We heard yelling and the sound of glass breaking. She returned to us, her lip quivering and a dustpan full of glass shards in her hands.\n\nMy father spoke with our grandfather and summoned my uncles to join us at the house. Kaka Haseeb, Jamaal and Fareed showed up along with Boba-jan. They looked solemn. I wondered what Padar-jan had told them.\n\nAs promised, Abdul Khaliq's family returned in the afternoon. My sisters and I had Sitara look out the window and tell us what she saw.\n\n\"Lots of people,\" she said.\n\nMadar-jan came back into the room with us, leaving the discussion to the patriarchs of our compound. She had tried several times to talk to my father but to no avail. He was not interested in hearing her. She stood in our doorway and craned her neck to hear down the hall. In our small home, we could hear every word of the conversation.\n\n\"Thank you, agha-sahib, for coming today and joining your sons for this important discussion. Our family takes these matters very seriously and we come to you with the best of intentions. This is an issue of honor and family. We have known each other for many years. Our fathers were born and buried in the same soil. We are nearly kin,\" Abdul Khaliq's father said.\n\n\"I have a great deal of respect for your family and always have,\" Boba-jan said simply. It was up to the suitors to do the talking.\n\n\"And it is for this reason that we have come to this home. We believe that your granddaughter would make an excellent match for my son Abdul Khaliq, whom this village has come to respect and appreciate for defending our people and our homes for years.\"\n\n\"Our people owe him a debt of gratitude. He has shown great bravery.\"\n\n\"Then you will agree that he would be an honorable husband for your granddaughter.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Boba-jan said slowly. I could picture my father's eyes on my grandfather, hoping he would stick to what they had rehearsed. \"With the highest respect, Agha Khaliq . . . we have concerns, which I believe my son Arif expressed to you last week. I understand you are speaking of Rahim. We agree that he . . . she has been kept as a bacha posh for too long and should be returned to what Allah created. But, still, there are two sisters before her, and as you know tradition dictates that\u2014\"\n\n\"This is understood and we have already discussed your other two granddaughters. We have here again my nephews Abdul Sharif and Abdul Haidar. Each of them will be honored to take a daughter as a wife. Even better to further strengthen the ties between our families.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" Boba-jan said, considering the proposal. My father cleared his throat.\n\n\"My second daughter\u2014you probably do not know this, but she was born with a lame leg. She limps . . .\"\n\n\"No matter. She will not be a first wife anyway. I've seen lame-legged women bear children. You should be happy then, anyway. Unlikely you would otherwise marry her off.\"\n\n\"Yes, unlikely . . .\"\n\nThree daughters married off at once would be a huge burden lifted from my father's inept shoulders. While his mind toyed with the idea, my uncle Fareed spoke.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq Khan, sahib, you honor us with your proposals but . . . but my family also has traditions. I don't mean to insult you but there is something that has been passed down through generations . . .\"\n\n\"I can respect tradition. What is it?\" I could hear annoyance in his voice. He was losing patience with our family, having had to make a second trip. He'd acquired his last wife with much less fuss.\n\n\"Well, my family traditionally asks for a large bride price for our daughters and I am embarrassed to bring up matters of money with a man such as yourself, but it is something that I cannot brush under the carpet. This goes back generations and to break from what our ancestors . . .\"\n\nMy father must have been nervous. The bride price was the critical part he and his brothers had discussed.\n\nI could tell by my mother's face that my uncle was lying. She was trying to read through the wall if Abdul Khaliq was buying his story.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"How much is the bride price?\"\n\n\"It's\u2014as I've said, I'm embarrassed to be discussing this but it's quite hefty. It's . . . it's one million afghanis,\" he said finally. My mother and I nearly choked at the amount. We'd never heard of such a large figure!\n\n\"One million afghanis? I see,\" he said, and turned to one of the men with a gun slung over his shoulder. \"Bahram,\" he said simply. We heard the door open and close. The room was silent until Bahram returned. Abdul Khaliq was tired of cajoling.\n\nWe heard a soft thump. Abdul Khaliq began speaking again. \"That should cover it,\" he said simply. \"You'll have plenty there to cover the bride price of each of your three daughters. Of course, as family, we will share with you some of the products of the land to the north. Perhaps that would be of interest to you.\" I knew my father's eyes were bulging at the promise of opium. My mother shook her head.\n\n\"Now we need only arrange the nikkah date for these three unions. Wouldn't you agree?\"\n\n\"I . . . I suppose . . . Abdul Khaliq, sahib, what about a wedding? A celebration?\" Usually there was something. Guests, food, music.\n\n\"I don't think that's really necessary. My cousins and I, we've all had weddings. The most important thing is to have the marriage done properly with a mullah. For that, I'll bring my friend Haji-sahib.\" He waved his hand in the direction of the bag. \"Now that this matter has been settled, I'm sure you agree that the nikkah is the most important part.\"\n\nMy father, my grandfather and my uncles were silent. My mother and I felt our stomachs drop, knowing they could not resist what Abdul Khaliq was offering\u2014more money than our family had ever seen and the promise of a steady opium supply. I covered my face with my hands and pressed my head against the wall.\n\nI slipped out of Madar-jan's clutching fingers and left her standing there, stunned. Three daughters. Turning me into a boy hadn't protected me at all. In fact, it had put me right in front of this warlord who now demanded my hand in marriage. Barely a teenager, I was to be wed to this gray-haired fighter with bags of money and armed men to do his bidding.\n\nMy sisters looked at me, already crying. Shahla was trembling.\n\n\"It's terrible, Shahla!\" I sobbed. \"I'm so sorry, I'm so very sorry! It's so awful!\"\n\n\"They're really agreeing to it?\"\n\n\"It's . . . it's just like you said . . . there's too many . . . they're giving Padar so much money . . .\"\n\nI couldn't bring myself to form the words. Shahla understood though. I saw her eyes well up and her lip stiffen before she turned her back to me. She was angry.\n\n\"God help us,\" she said.\n\nI wanted to be outside with Abdullah. I wished I could be chasing stray dogs with him or kicking a ball down the street. I wondered what he would say if he knew I was to be married.\n\nThat night, I dreamed of Abdul Khaliq. He had come for me. He towered over me with a stick in his hand, laughing. He was pulling me by the arm. He was strong and I couldn't get away. The streets were empty but as I walked past the houses, gates opened one by one. My mother. Khala Shaima. Shahla. Bibi Shekiba. Abdullah. Each one stood in a doorway and watched me walk by; they all shook their heads.\n\nI looked at their faces. They were sad.\n\n\"Why aren't you helping me?\" I cried. \"Don't you see what's happening? Please, can't you do something? Madar-jan! Khala Shaima! Bibi-jan! I'm sorry! Shahla, I'm sorry!\"\n\n\"Allah has chosen this as your naseeb,\" they each called out in turn. \"This is your naseeb, Rahima.\"\nCHAPTER 19\n\nAbdul Khaliq Khan was a clever man. A clever man with many guns. He knew all the right buttons to push. My father had never seen so much money and would choose opium over food even if he hadn't eaten for days. What good were his daughters anyway?\n\nWe were young but not that young. Shahla was fifteen years old, Parwin was fourteen and I was thirteen. We were flower buds that had just started to open. It was time for us to be taken to our new homes, just like Bibi Shekiba.\n\nMy father had come into our room and ordered my mother to make a shirnee, something sweet he could put before the guests to show our family agreed to the arrangement. We didn't have much so Madar-jan gave him a small bowl of sugar, wet with tears, which he took and laid before Abdul Khaliq's father. The men embraced each other in congratulations. We girls huddled around my mother, looking to each other for comfort.\n\nThe arrangements moved quickly. Abdul Sharif was a rugged-looking man in his thirties and his brother Abdul Haidar was probably a few years older. Abdul Sharif had one other wife at home but was content to take on a second, especially since the bride price had been covered by his cousin. Abdul Haidar already had two wives at home. Parwin would be his third.\n\nCome back in two weeks for the nikkah, Padar-jan had said, his eyes darting back and forth from the guests to the black bag on the floor.\n\nShahla was so angry that she did not speak to me for four days.\n\nI tried to talk to her but she wouldn't look at me.\n\n\"Why did you have to make Padar so angry? I don't want to go with that man! Parwin doesn't want this either! We were fine! Leave me alone. Go and be with Abdullah now!\"\n\nI was stunned. My sister was right, though. I had pushed the situation without thinking about anyone else. I wanted to be allowed to wrestle with Abdullah, to walk to school with him and feel his arm around my shoulder. This was my doing.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Shahla. I'm really sorry! I didn't mean for any of this to happen! Please believe me!\"\n\nShahla wiped her cheeks and blew her nose.\n\nParwin watched us, her mouth in a tight pout.\n\n\"One by one, the birds flew off . . . ,\" she said quietly. I looked at her, her left leg tucked under her and her right stretched before her. I wondered how her husband would treat a wife with a lame leg. I could see in Shahla's eyes, she was thinking the same thing.\n\nShahla blamed me. If I hadn't pushed Padar-jan that day, then he and Madar-jan would not have had that argument. And we would not have been betrothed to Abdul Khaliq's family.\n\nI wondered if it would have made a difference. I wondered if one small difference in the sequence of events would have altered the paths we ended up on. If I hadn't let Abdullah, sweet, strong Abdullah, pin me down in the street for my mother to see, we wouldn't have argued. I would have eaten dinner with the family. My father would have gone on smoking his own paltry opium supply and he would not have thought to complain to Abdul Khaliq that he needed to marry his daughters off.\n\nMaybe I could have stayed a boy, running alongside Abdullah, making faces behind Moallim-sahib's back and having my father ruffle my hair when I walked by. As if he wanted me around.\n\nBut that wasn't my naseeb.\n\n\"It's all in Allah's hands, my girls. God has a plan for you. Whatever is in your naseeb will happen,\" my mother had sobbed.\n\nI wondered if Allah hadn't meant for us to choose our naseeb.\n\nWith my father standing over her shoulder, my mother reluctantly made three baskets of shirnee. She covered a cone-shaped block of sugar and loose candies from Agha Barakzai's shop with a layer of tulle she'd purchased with some of the bride price. She cut swatches from her nicest dress and edged the sides with some lace she'd been given as a gift. Three large squares, one for each basket. These were our dismols, as important as the sweets. My father nodded in approval. My mother avoided his eyes. I looked at them and wondered if that was how it would be for each of us with our husbands. Or if they would be more like Kaka Jameel, who never seemed to raise his voice and whose wife smiled more than any woman in our family.\n\nI wondered why they were different.\n\nPadar hardly noticed what was happening at home. He didn't even notice that Madar-jan slept in our room with us, instead of at his side. He was busy counting bills and smoking opium at least twice a day. Abdul Khaliq had made good on his promise and my father was enjoying his end of the bargain.\n\n\"I've brought home a chicken, Raisa! Make sure you send some to my mother, and not just the bones, mind you! And if the meat is dry and tough like last time, you'll have no more tomorrows.\"\n\nMy mother hadn't eaten more than a couple of bites since the suitors had left and her eyes looked heavy. She was civil with my father, afraid to rile his anger and risk losing her youngest daughters too.\n\nIn the meantime, Madar-jan had to undo what she had done to me. She gave me one of Parwin's dresses and a chador to hide my boyish hair. She gave my pants and tunics to my uncle's wife for her boys.\n\n\"You are Rahima. You are a girl and you need to remember to carry yourself like one. Watch how you walk and how you sit. Don't look people, men, in the eye and keep your voice low.\" She looked like she wanted to say more but stopped short, her voice breaking.\n\nMy father looked at me as if he saw a new person. No longer his son, I was someone he preferred to ignore. After all, I wouldn't be his for much longer.\n\nI lingered around Shahla, brought her food and helped with her share of the chores. I regretted the way things had happened and wanted her to know how sorry I was that I'd pushed her into Abdul Sharif's home. These things I told her while she stared off. But Shahla was too kind to stay angry long. And we didn't have long.\n\n\"Maybe we'll be able to see each other. I mean, they're all part of the same family. Maybe it will be like here and we can see each other every day\u2014you, me and Parwin.\"\n\n\"I hope so, Shahla.\"\n\nMy sister's round eyes looked pensive. I suddenly realized how much she resembled our mother and felt the urge to sidle up next to her. I felt better with her shoulder touching mine.\n\n\"Shahla?\"\n\n\"Hm?\"\n\n\"Do you think . . . do you think it will be terrible?\" I asked, my voice hushed so Madar-jan and Parwin wouldn't hear.\n\nShahla looked at me, then at the ground. She didn't answer.\n\nKhala Shaima came over. She'd heard rumblings through the town that Abdul Khaliq and his clan had paid our family two visits. She figured my father was up to something. Her knuckles whitened when Madar-jan told her, sobbing, that her three eldest daughters were to be wed next week.\n\n\"He's really done it. The ass made himself quite a deal, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"What was I to do, Shaima, with a room full of gray-haired men? And he is their father. How could I have stopped anything?\"\n\n\"Every man is king of his own beard,\" she said, shaking her head. \"Did you try to talk to him?\"\n\nMadar-jan just looked at her sister. Khala Shaima nodded in understanding.\n\n\"A council of asses. That's what you had gathered here. Just look at these girls!\"\n\n\"Shaima! What am I supposed to do? Clearly, this is what Allah has chosen as their naseeb\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, the hell with naseeb! Naseeb is what people blame for everything they can't fix.\"\n\nI wondered if Khala Shaima was right.\n\n\"Since you know so much, tell me what you would have done!\" Madar-jan cried in exasperation.\n\n\"I would have insisted that I be present. And I would have told Abdul Khaliq's family that the girls were not yet of age for marriage!\"\n\n\"A lot of good that would have done. You know who we're dealing with. It's not some peasant from the streets. It's Abdul Khaliq Khan, the warlord. His bodyguards sat in our living room with machine guns. And Arif agrees with the plan. Do you honestly think they would have listened to anything I had to say?\"\n\n\"You are their mother.\"\n\n\"And that's all I am,\" Madar-jan said sadly. Her voice grew quiet. I'm sure she didn't think any of us could hear them. \"There is only one thing I could think of doing.\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\nMadar-jan looked down, her voice lowered.\n\n\"A death in the family would mean there could be no wedding for at least a year.\"\n\n\"A death? Raisa, what in the hell are you talking about?\"\n\n\"It happens all the time, Shaima. You and I have both heard stories. Remember Manizha from the other side of the village?\"\n\n\"Raisa, you've lost your mind! Just think about what you're saying! You think setting yourself on fire is going to solve any problems? You think orphaned girls are better off than married ones? And what about the little ones? What do you think they'll do without their mother? For God's sake, look at your in-laws! You've got two widows in this compound and your brothers-in-law are eyeing them already.\"\n\nMy heart pounded so loudly I was certain they could hear it.\n\n\"I just don't know what else to do, Shaima!\"\n\n\"You have to find a way to turn them down. To make Arif turn them down.\"\n\n\"Easier said than done, Shaima! Why don't you come for the nikkah? Bring your big mouth and I'll see what you do then.\"\n\n\"I will be here, Raisa. Don't think I won't.\"\n\nMadar-jan looked exhausted. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes; the shadows under them had darkened since yesterday.\n\nWe gathered around Khala Shaima.\n\n\"My girls, let me tell you a little more about Bibi Shekiba. As much as I hate to think it, her story is your story.\" She sighed and shook her head. \"I suppose we all carry the story of our ancestors in us. Where did we leave off?\"\nCHAPTER 20\n\nTwo days passed before Shekiba could stand. Her lip was swollen and scabbed, her legs and back bore multiple bruises and each breath yanked her ribs in different directions.\n\nIt wasn't her naseeb to claim her father's land. Instead, Azizullah had dragged her back to the house and beaten her for an hour. Every time his strikes slowed, he would yell and huff about the humiliation she had caused him. His momentum would pick up again and he'd toss her left and right with each blow.\n\nMarjan had watched from the doorway, shaking her head. She had one hand over her eyes and when she could watch no more turned her back and left. Shekiba did not notice. She had let her mind drift long ago.\n\nMarjan came to her three times a day and brought her tea and bread. She would prop Shekiba up and dribble tea into her mouth with small lumps of wet bread. She rubbed an ointment on Shekiba's back and on her cut lip.\n\n\"Stupid girl. I warned you not to bring up such matters. Now look what you've done to yourself,\" she muttered over and over again.\n\nShekiba wished Azizullah would have killed her. She wondered why he hadn't.\n\nShe did not see him, but she could hear his voice. His mood was sour and the children avoided him. Marjan could not.\n\n\"Make sure she's up and ready today. No excuses.\"\n\n\"She is weak but I will see what she can\u2014\"\n\n\"Weak? If she's so weak, what was she doing walking through town, following Muneer and his son around? Why did I find her at Hakim's front door? She's a liar and the sooner we rid ourselves of her, the better. No excuses. She will be up and ready today!\"\n\nShekiba heard the words and the situation began to register. Today was the day King Habibullah would pay a visit to Hafizullah. Today was the day she would be gifted again.\n\nAzizullah left early in the morning and Marjan huffed for an hour before coming to Shekiba.\n\n\"Come on. Time to get washed up.\" Shekiba was lifted to her feet by a woman half her height but twice her width. Marjan guided her to the washroom and let her slide onto the floor. \"You stupid girl. You've made more work for me! God knows you won't last at the palace if you pull tricks like this.\"\n\n\"I only wanted what should be mine. You would have done the same,\" Shekiba said flatly.\n\n\"No, I would not have! You think you're the only girl who should have inherited land? My brothers divided our land and not one square inch of it was deemed mine. That's how things are! You accept it or you die. It's that simple.\"\n\n\"Then I should die.\"\n\n\"Maybe so, but not today. Now get undressed so you can take a decent bath.\"\n\nAzizullah returned in the evening, his mood much improved.\n\n\"What a day it's been! Hafizullah outdid himself! Never have I seen so much food. I even met with some of the king's advisers. Good people with a great deal of influence. I think this visit will bring good fortune to our family and our town. We have put ourselves under King Habibullah's nose and he will surely remember how hospitably he has been treated here.\"\n\n\"Did you speak to the king too?\"\n\n\"Of course I did! What kind of question is that? He's a wise man\u2014this I could see right away. But they'll be leaving at first light and I think the girl should be presented tonight, over dinner, so that everyone can see what a gift we have made to the king! We will make our mark while Hafizullah makes his. Bring the girl! I do not want to sit here and chatter with you now. I want to get back before dinner.\"\n\n\"The girl is ready,\" Marjan said, and went to bring her. She found Shekiba sitting against the cold wall, her legs tucked under her. \"Get up, Shekiba. It's time.\"\n\nShe looked at Marjan blankly. After a moment, she rose, ignoring the pain shooting through her ribs. Marjan led her by the elbow to the living room. She stopped short in the hallway.\n\n\"Shekiba, listen to me. You are a girl without mother or father, without brothers or uncles to look after you. Obey the word of God and let Him look after you. Bring your head out of the sky and understand your place in this world.\"\n\n\"I have no place in this world, Khanum Marjan.\"\n\nMarjan felt a chill run through her spine. Shekiba's words were cold, resolute. She wondered if this half-crazed girl had finally gone completely mad. Zarmina's warnings echoed in her mind and she decided to keep her mouth shut. If Shekiba was going into a frenzy, she didn't want to invite her wrath.\n\nAzizullah was standing at the door to the courtyard, putting a green and blue vest on over his tunic. His face and voice were stern.\n\n\"If this girl has any sense in her at all, she will give me no trouble tonight. And if she dares to walk with even the slightest limp, I'll take both her legs off.\"\n\nThe warning was issued. Marjan bit her lip and handed Shekiba her burqa. Shekiba slipped it over her head and followed behind her master with a resigned step.\n\nEvery footstep jolted her bruises and welts. Shekiba kept pace, though, too hurt to risk more punishment. Within twenty minutes, they approached a home with horses and armed soldiers outside. The horses were tall and muscular; their tails flicked side to side casually. But what caught Shekiba's eye was what stood behind them. For the first time in her life, Shekiba saw a carriage. Four large wheels, a cushioned seat and handsome carvings on the sides.\n\nThe king, she realized.\n\nThey entered the front gate and walked into a courtyard nearly twice the size of Azizullah's. Shekiba could not help but look around. There were benches and several bushes with striking purple flowers. From the living room came the sound of men laughing loudly.\n\nShe walked around to the back of the house to enter into the kitchen area.\n\n\"Stay outside, in the back. Behave yourself or I'll let the soldiers straighten you out.\"\n\nAzizullah went in through the living room door and rejoined the gathering. Shekiba closed her eyes and tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. The sky grew dim before she heard something that actually pertained to her.\n\n\"We will be leaving in the morning to head back to Kabul. The road ahead of us is long but we hope to reach home by nightfall.\"\n\n\"Amir-sahib, you and your esteemed generals have honored us with your visit to our humble village. We wish for many more visits in the future.\"\n\n\"With the roads project, travel will become easier. We anticipate that your village will be more involved in the agriculture projects that have begun. Amir-sahib has a new team of engineers that are looking at our current situation.\"\n\n\"Anything that we can do here to assist you, we are at your service. I was born and raised in this village, as was my dear brother, Azizullah. Our roots here are respected by the village and we can serve as your delegates for anything you may need.\"\n\n\"You have made that clear, Hafizullah-sahib. Your sentiments are appreciated.\" The voice was gruff and Shekiba detected a slight exasperation in it.\n\n\"I hope so, General-sahib. And I hope that you will accept my brother's gift to the amir-sahib. It is a small token.\"\n\n\"Yes, he mentioned this earlier. The servant will ride with our entourage in the morning to be taken to the palace.\"\n\n\"Wonderful. Please, General-sahib, your journey tomorrow is long and you will need your strength. Have some more sweets . . .\"\n\nHafizullah's wife came to the courtyard and found Shekiba slumped across a bench. She was a petite woman, her face lined with worry and fatigue. By the looks of her, she had done most of the preparation for the king's visit. She clucked her tongue in dismay.\n\n\"Merciful Allah. Follow me, girl. I will show you where you can sleep until you leave in the morning.\"\n\nShekiba slid to the floor in the corner of a dark room. She could see two small figures curled up and breathing softly. These were Hafizullah's daughters, but Shekiba never did meet them. In the early hours of morning, the mistress of the house came to wake her. Shekiba bolted upright when she felt a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Wake up. The men are leaving.\"\n\nShekiba focused. She heard the sounds of horses, men chattering outside the house.\n\nShe rose, made sure her Qur'an was tucked into her dress and walked outside to be taken to her new home.\nCHAPTER 21\n\nThere was barely enough room in our small home for Abdul Khaliq's family. They wanted to hold all three nikkahs at the same time and brought with them Abdul Khaliq's mother, a gray-haired woman with downturned lips and narrowed eyes. She needed a walking stick but refused to use one, preferring to lean on her daughter-in-law's forearm instead. They also brought Haji-sahib, a mullah. Khala Shaima scoffed at the mention of his name.\n\n\"Haji-sahib? If he's Haji, then I'm a pari!\" said Khala Shaima, whom no one would describe as an angel from heaven. The title haji was given to anyone who had made the religious pilgrimage to Mecca, God's house. Haji-sahib, Khala Shaima reported, had dubbed himself with the title after paying a visit to a shrine north of our town. But as a dear friend of Abdul Khaliq, no one contested his credentials. The two men chatted amicably outside.\n\nShahla kept her head down and pleaded with my crying mother not to give her away. Madar-jan's body shook, her voice trapped in her clenched throat. Shahla was more than a daughter to her. She was Madar-jan's best friend. They shared the housework, the child care and their every thought.\n\nParwin was her special girl. Part of Madar-jan had held on to Khala Shaima's prediction that no one would want Parwin as a wife. Sometimes it comforted her that she would have her singing, drawing daughter with her always.\n\nAnd me. I was Madar-jan's helper. Her spunky, troublemaking bacha posh. I know she wondered if she had made the right decision. If I were a little wiser, I would have told her it had been the best thing for me. I would have told her that I wished I could have stayed a bacha posh forever.\n\nThe family was here to claim their three sister brides. We listened to hear what Khala Shaima would say.\n\nHaji-sahib started with a prayer. Even Madar-jan cupped her hands and bowed her head to join in. I was pretty sure everyone was praying for different things. I wondered how Allah would sort it all out.\n\n\"Let us begin with a dua, a prayer. Bismillah al-rahman al-raheem . . .\"\n\nThe room echoed behind him. Haji-sahib, the mullah, went on to recite a sura from the Qur'an.\n\n\"Yaa Musabbibal Asaabi.\"\n\nAfter a moment, we heard Khala Shaima interrupt.\n\n\"Yaa Musabbibal Asbaabi.\"\n\nThere was a pause. The room had gone silent.\n\n\"Khanum, did you have reason to interrupt Haji-sahib?\"\n\n\"Yes, I did. Mullah-sahib is reading the sura incorrectly. Oh causer of the causes, the verse is meant to read. Not causer of the fingers. I'm sure he would want to know he was making such an egregious error, wouldn't you, Haji-sahib?\"\n\nThe mullah cleared his throat and tried to pick up where he had left off. He thought hard but recited the verse the exact same way, error and all.\n\n\"Yaa Musabbibal Asaabi.\"\n\nKhala Shaima corrected him again.\n\n\"Asbaabi, Mullah-sahib.\" Her tone was that of an annoyed schoolteacher. It didn't go unnoticed.\n\nI feared Padar-jan would make good on his threat to cut out Khala Shaima's tongue. I was nervous for her.\n\n\"Shaima-jan, please have a little respect for our esteemed mullah here,\" Boba-jan said.\n\n\"I have the utmost respect for him,\" she said facetiously. \"And I have the utmost respect for our Qur'an, as I'm sure you all do. What a disservice it would be for us to recite the verse incorrectly.\"\n\nOnce more, the mullah sighed and cleared his throat.\n\n\"Yaa Musabbibal Asbaabi Yaa Mufattihal Abwaabi.\"\n\n\"That's better,\" Khala Shaima interrupted loudly. I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.\n\nWe could hear the men beginning the nikkah in the next room. Padar-jan was giving his full name, his father's name and his grandfather's name to be written on the marriage contract.\n\nParwin tried to put on a strong front, seeing Madar-jan's condition. Khala Shaima, our only advocate in the nikkah, had strategically positioned herself between my grandfather and Abdul Khaliq's mother. No one knew what to make of her presence. Padar-jan huffed in frustration but thought it best not to make a scene in front of his guests.\n\nMadar-jan spoke softly. We had formed a tight circle in the next room.\n\n\"My daughters, I prayed this day would not come so soon for you but it is here and I'm afraid there's nothing I or Khala Shaima can do to stop this. I suppose this is God's will for you. Now, I haven't had much time to prepare you, but you are young women,\" she said, hardly believing her own words. \"Your husbands will expect things of you. As a wife, you have an obligation to your husband. It won't be easy at first but . . . but with time you'll learn how to . . . how to tolerate these things that Allah has created for us.\"\n\nWhen Madar-jan began to cry, we cried as well. I didn't want to know what it was Madar-jan was talking about. It sounded like it was something terrible.\n\n\"Please don't cry, my girls. These things are a part of life\u2014girls are married and then become part of another family. This is the way of the world. Just as I came to your father's home.\"\n\n\"Can I come back sometimes, Madar-jan?\" Parwin asked.\n\nMadar-jan exhaled slowly, her throat thick and tight.\n\n\"Your husband will want you at home but I hope that he is a man of heart and will bring you here from time to time to see your mother and your sisters.\"\n\nThis was as much as she could promise. Parwin and I sat on either side of our mother, her hands stroking our hair. I had my hands on her knee. Shahla kneeled in front of us, her head resting on Madar-jan's lap. Rohila and Sitara watched on nervously, Rohila understanding that something was about to happen.\n\n\"Now, my girls, there's one more thing. There will be other wives to deal with. Treat them well and I pray they will show kindness to you. Older women are spiteful toward younger girls, so be careful how much you trust them. Make sure you take care of yourselves. Eat, bathe, say your prayers and cooperate with your husbands. And your mothers-in-law. These are the people whom you will need to keep satisfied.\"\n\nA voice bellowed from the next room.\n\n\"Bring the eldest girl! Her husband, Abdul Sharif, is waiting. May their steps together as husband and wife be blessed. Congratulations to both your families.\"\n\n\"Shahla!\" my father called out unceremoniously.\n\nShahla wiped the tears from her face and bravely pulled her chador over her head. She kissed my mother's face and hands before she turned to us, her sisters. I squeezed my sister and felt her breath in my ear.\n\n\"Shahla . . . ,\" was all I could get out.\n\nIt was Parwin's turn next. They started over again, a new contract. For the sake of tradition, they repeated all the same questions, wrote down all the same names.\n\n\"Agha-sahib,\" Khala Shaima interrupted again. \"Allah has given my niece a lame leg and I can tell you better than anyone else that it is not easy to manage with such a disability. It would be in this girl's best interests for her to have some time to go to school, to learn to manage physically, before she is made into a wife.\"\n\nAbdul Khaliq's father was taken aback by the sudden objection, as were the others in the room.\n\n\"This has been discussed and I think my nephew has been more than generous in agreeing to give this girl a chance to be the wife of a respected man. School will not fix her lame leg, as it has not fixed your hunched back. Let's continue.\"\n\nThe nikkah resumed.\n\n\"Bring the girl! May Allah bless this nikkah and Abdul Khaliq, who has made this possible. May God give you many years, Abdul Haidar, for agreeing to take on a wife in the tradition of our beloved Prophet, peace be upon him. And a disabled wife at that; truly you are a great man, Abdul Haidar. What a relief this must be for your family, Arif-jan.\"\n\nMadar-jan kissed Parwin's forehead and stood up slowly, as if the ground was pulling her back. Parwin stood up and straightened her left leg as best she could. Madar-jan whispered to Parwin things she hated to say.\n\n\"Parwin-jan, my sweet girl, remember to do your chores in your new home. There may not be time for drawing, and sing softly and only to yourself. They'll say things to you, just as the others always have, about your leg, but pay no attention, my daughter.\"\n\n\"Agha-sahib, you are keeping this man waiting. Please bring him his new bride,\" the mullah ordered.\n\n\"Bring her out!\" My father's voice was cold and loud as he tried to assert control. Madar-jan's delaying made him look small in front of the mullah and Abdul Khaliq's family, as if Khala Shaima's behavior hadn't been enough.\n\n\"Please, my sweet daughter. Remember these things that I've told you. May Allah watch over you now,\" she whimpered, brushing away Parwin's tears and then her own. She fixed Parwin's chador and had her hold it close under her chin before she turned her around and led her down the hallway and into the living room, where she became the wife of a man as old as my father.\n\nI sat in the room with Rohila and Sitara. I listened to Parwin try to mask her limp, lifting her left leg so it wouldn't drag along the floor as it usually did. Our cousins always teased her, as did the children in the neighborhood. Even for those few months when she attended school, her classmates had mocked her gait and the teacher had doubted she would learn anything, as if walking and reading were related. They wouldn't treat her well, we knew. Our hearts broke for her.\n\n\"Rahim, where is Parwin going?\" Sitara asked.\n\nI looked at my youngest sister. She still called me by my bacha posh name.\n\n\"It's Rahima,\" Rohila reminded her. Her vacant eyes stayed glued to the door, willing Parwin to come back.\n\n\"Rahima, where did Parwin go?\" Sitara asked again.\n\n\"She's . . . she's gone to live with a new family.\" I couldn't say words like \"marriage\" or \"husband\" in the same sentence with my sister's name. It sounded awkward. Like a little girl wearing her mother's shoes.\n\nI knew my mother was watching Parwin from behind the doorway. Their voices faded as they walked out the door. I went to the window to see my sister one last time. Because of her limp, she was shorter than any other fourteen-year-old girl and looked to be half the size of her new husband. I shuddered to think how she would feel to be alone with him.\n\n\"When will she come back?\"\n\nI looked at my sisters blankly. Madar-jan returned, drained. I was next. Khala Shaima had not succeeded in saving my sisters from Abdul Khaliq's family. I knew I shouldn't hope for any better, but I did.\n\nI wish I could say that I put on as strong a front as Shahla or even Parwin, at least for my mother's sake. I wish I could have done something. After all, I'd been a boy for years. Boys were supposed to defend themselves and their families. I was more than just a girl, I thought. I was a bacha posh! I had been practicing martial arts with my friends in the streets. I didn't have to crumple as my sisters had.\n\nMy father had to drag me from my mother's arms while I cried, the chador falling from my head and revealing my absurdly short hair. Abdul Khaliq's family watched in consternation. This didn't bode well. My father dug his fingers into my arm. I only know because I saw the bruises later.\n\nI tried to pull my arms away, kick my legs, twist my body away. It wasn't the same as play-fighting with the boys. My father was stronger than Abdullah.\n\nAll we managed to do was embarrass my father. My mother sobbed, her hands in powerless fists. Khala Shaima shook her head and shouted that this, all of this, was wrong, a sin. She didn't stop until my father slapped her across the face. She reeled backward. Our guests looked on, feeling it was well deserved. My father had redeemed himself in their eyes.\n\nMy struggle changed nothing. I just made it harder on my mother. And Khala Shaima.\n\nMy father handed me over to my new husband. My mother-in-law stared with a critical eye. She would have a lot of work to do to set me straight.\n\nAnd Abdul Khaliq, my new husband, smirked to see me squirm under my father's grip. As if he liked what he saw.\n\nThat was my wedding.\nCHAPTER 22\n\n\"First things first. You need a proper bath.\"\n\nShekiba stood before a heavyset woman with cropped dark hair. She looked to be in her twenties. She wore ballooned pants and boots with a button-down shirt. If it weren't for her voice, Shekiba would have believed her to be a man. As it was, Shekiba was baffled and had been since Kabul came into view.\n\nNever could she have imagined such a place. All the homes and shops of her village could have fit in Kabul's belly. There were streets lined with stores, striped awnings and men walking through the maze of roads. There were houses with colorful doors at the front gate. People turned and raised their hands, a respectful acknowledgment of the king's entourage passing through. Kabul was a spectacle!\n\nWhen the royal compound came into view, Shekiba's mouth gaped. The gated entrance was flanked by stone pillars, layer after layer before the palace itself came into view. Through the main entrance, a wide path encircled an imposing tower. Shekiba craned her neck to get a good view.\n\nThat tower just about reaches the heavens!\n\nThe palace's fa\u00e7ade was embellished with carvings and arches, polished and bright. Bushes and greenery lined the path, including the portico that cut through the tower. The palace was an impressive structure with more windows than she had ever seen and incomparable in size to any home Shekiba had ever beheld.\n\nSoldiers guarded every corner. It was only when they came to the entrance of the palace that Shekiba actually saw King Habibullah. On the ride to Kabul, he had been at the head of the caravan, riding in the magnificent carriage that had been stationed outside Hafizullah's house. When they disembarked, Shekiba was sent in a different direction but she caught sight of him entering a main door.\n\nThat's the king, Shekiba thought.\n\nHe was a stocky man with a thick beard. He wore a military uniform with a row of medals pinned across his left chest and tassels at his shoulders. A broad yellow sash crossed from his right shoulder to his left hip and covered some of the stars on his jacket. A striped belt and medallion clasp sat snugly across the middle of his belly and a tall hat of sheep's wool added five inches to his stature. The soldiers stood at attention for King Habibullah's return.\n\nShekiba wondered if she would ever cross paths with him in this enormous place.\n\n\"Follow me.\"\n\nA soldier took her around the corner, behind the palace, where the path opened into a verdant and majestic courtyard. Shekiba's eyes widened. The courtyard had small ponds, flowering bushes and fruit trees. They followed a footpath that led to a smaller stone house, still much larger than even Agha Azizullah's home. The soldier knocked on the door and a guard answered.\n\n\"Take her. She is to be a guard with you. Fix her up.\" The guard nodded and waited for the soldier to turn before the door opened wide.\n\n\"Come in.\"\n\nA woman! Shekiba stood motionless.\n\n\"I said come in! What are you doing standing there?\"\n\nShekiba's feet unfroze and she followed the woman-man into the room. There were three women sitting on cushions around the floor, each older than Shekiba but younger than any of her uncle's wives. They had stopped their conversation when she entered. Shekiba noticed four other guards in the room. Were they women too?\n\n\"Well, let's take a look at you.\" She lifted Shekiba's burqa and took a step back. \"Well, well. That's quite a face. I suppose that's why you were sent here. Ladies, this is our newest guard.\"\n\nShekiba's surprise grew when she learned all of the guards in this house were actually women dressed in men's clothing. Ghafoor seemed to be in charge of the five guards. It was evening and she could see the exhaustion in Shekiba's face. Ghafoor had her rest for the night and told her work would begin in the morning. For the first time in a long time, Shekiba slept soundly, surrounded by women pretending to be men.\n\nHer transformation started at daybreak. Ghafoor led Shekiba to the wash area and cut her thick, knotted hair. She was instructed to bathe and given a set of clothing identical to what Ghafoor wore. Shekiba stared in wonder at the pants and could scarcely believe she should walk about in them. She slipped one leg in and then the other, fastening the buttons at the waist. She was given a corseted undergarment that pushed her modest bosom flat against her chest. She slipped her arms into the shirt and buttoned it closed. The boots felt heavy. Shekiba stood and stared down. Then she reached up and ran her fingers through her short hair.\n\nShe took two steps and turned. Her legs felt loose and she blushed when she looked down and saw the crotch of her pants. Her hands ran over her backside and she shuddered to think the shape of her limbs would be so visible in these ballooned pants. She had only ever seen women in skirts, draped enough to disguise the curves and crevices that hid underneath.\n\nAnd yet there was something liberating about her new clothes. She lifted her right leg and then her left. She thought of her brothers and how they would run about the fields in their flowing pants.\n\nGhafoor understood.\n\n\"It is awkward at first, but you'll adjust quickly. The uniform is comfortable enough with time.\"\n\n\"What are we guarding?\"\n\nGhafoor laughed. \"They've told you nothing? We are guards for King Habibullah's women.\"\n\n\"His wives?\"\n\n\"Not exactly. His women. These are women he spends time with, women he takes when he is struck by the mood.\" Shekiba must have looked confused. \"Men can take more than just their wives, dear girl. Sometimes wives are not enough.\"\n\nShekiba was certain she did not understand but kept her mouth shut for the time being.\n\nGhafoor looked at her thoughtfully.\n\n\"What happened to your face?\" she asked.\n\nShekiba looked down instinctively. \"I was burned as a child.\"\n\n\"Hmm. And where is your family?\"\n\n\"My village is one day's travel from here. My mother and father are dead. My brothers and sister are dead.\"\n\nGhafoor's brow furrowed. \"You have no other family?\"\n\n\"They gave me away to repay a debt. And that man gave me away to the king.\"\n\n\"And now you are one of us. Welcome, Shekiba. But here you will be Shekib, understand? Now let me introduce you to the others.\"\n\nFour women-men guarded the king's harem. Shekiba found herself staring at their faces as so many others had stared at hers. But with good reason. Ghafoor was actually Guljaan. She was the leader of the group, not only because she was tallest and loudest but also because she had been in the palace longer than the others. She was the most content with her role and seemed to take pride in doing a good job. Her face was smooth, but a fine, downy rim on her upper lip and untamed brows gave her the appearance of a young man, fresh with enthusiasm for his important post.\n\nGhafoor came from a modest family in a nearby village and had been given to the palace in exchange for a cow. It was midafternoon and her mother had been busy with her younger siblings. Ghafoor's father had interrupted her needlework. We are going to visit your grandmother, he had said. Ghafoor wondered why the others were not coming but shrugged her shoulders and followed her father two kilometers down the road, where she was delivered to a man dressed in a gray tunic and pants. Her father warned her sternly to follow the man's directions and turned to walk the two kilometers back to their family. She cried and screamed when she realized she would not see her mother or siblings again.\n\nGhafoor was brought to the palace and watched as a guard brought out a cow for the man in gray. It was a decent cow, not too sickly looking and plenty to satisfy her family's needs. She realized immediately what her father had done and wondered if her mother had been privy to the plan. She cursed him for his deceit and feared what would become of her, an adolescent girl, in the hands of strangers.\n\nIt did not take long, however, for Ghafoor to appreciate her father's barter. She missed her mother and siblings terribly but life behind the palace walls, even for a servant, was easier than life at home. The beatings were fewer, the food more plentiful, and she had taken on some authority.\n\nThe king needed guards to watch over his harem, but he believed no man to be above temptation. For months he paced and debated, the dilemma as perplexing as the tribal disputes in Kurram Valley. When an adviser came up with a plan to dress women as male guards, the king rewarded him for his stroke of genius and had him fill the positions as quickly as possible.\n\nGhafoor enjoyed the comfort of palace life. All she had to do was give up being a woman, an easy trade. Two other girls were recruited along with her, but they lasted only two or three months. One had argued with a woman of the harem and Benafsha, the other, had been so beautiful that the king took an immediate liking to her and decided she should be guarded as well. She was made to grow her hair long again and reassigned to her new position as a concubine.\n\nThen came two sisters, Karima, who would become Karim, and Khatol, who would be renamed Qasim. This time the king's representatives chose more wisely, recruiting girls who were tall enough to pass for men but homely enough that they would not tantalize the king. Karim and Qasim came from a family of four girls. Their mother cried violently as she told the girls they could not afford to feed all four and that their father had arranged for them to be taken to the king's palace, where they would have a much better life. The obedient girls had tearfully accepted their parents' decision and left home hand in hand.\n\nKarim was two years older and looked after her sister. She quickly overcame her timidity and became second in command, arguing with Ghafoor so that she would not dominate them completely. Qasim was quieter and missed the family. She was taller than her sister by an inch but hunched her shoulders, prompting Ghafoor to poke her repeatedly in the back until she learned to stand as a guard should.\n\nTariq, the newest addition, was different from the others. She carried out her duties well enough but fantasized that she would be noticed by the king and recruited to his court of women. She was the shortest of the group and plumper in the face, with chestnut hair that she had been told no man could resist. She would not say where the compliment had come from but she refused to let the defeminizing uniform spoil her chances. She made sure her hips swayed when she walked and batted her eyes when the king neared. Of all the women in the harem, she guarded Benafsha most, feeling kinship with the former guard who had enticed the king.\n\nGhafoor and Karim rolled their eyes at her often but tolerated her occasional fantasies. Every guard had her own way of coping.\n\nGhafoor introduced Shekiba to a few of the king's concubines, the women who kept the king satisfied. Benafsha was the youngest of the group. She knew why Tariq favored her over the others but refused to indulge any details of the king. Whenever Tariq asked her about the monarch, she would shake her head and adjust her skirt. She was lightest in complexion and her eyes were light brown with speckled irises. Tariq could see why she had attracted the king's attention. She was the most beautiful, now that Halima's face had begun to show her years.\n\nHalima, the eldest of the group, had borne the king two daughters over the years. The girls were two and four years old and bore a striking resemblance to their mother. Halima stroked their hair and sighed wistfully, realizing the king beckoned to her less often and wondering what that would mean for her and her daughters. Halima was kind and motherly and tempered the bickering of the others.\n\nBenazir, the darkest, had ebony eyes that teared easily these days. She was with child and terrified. Her belly had just started to swell but she had been ill for weeks, unable to keep down more than a few mouthfuls of rice at a time. She would stare at the walls and started when Halima put a hand on her shoulder.\n\nSakina and Fatima were feistier girls, but less beautiful than the others. Fatima had borne a son, which gave her an edge over the others. They were friendly enough, but unlike good-natured Halima, they were usually the instigators of any turbulence in the harem. Sakina in particular despised Benafsha, knowing that her ranking in the harem had dropped notches with the temptress's arrival. And Benafsha knew how to throw that fact in Sakina's face when she needed. Shekiba knew to keep her distance from these two, her instincts telling her they would be unforgiving in their comments about her face.\n\nThere were others, she was told. She would see more tomorrow.\n\nHarem life was relatively simple. Shekiba listened in amazement to hear what the women did. And, more important, what they did not do. They did not cook, nor did they carry buckets of water from a well. They did not tend to animals or spend hours peeling vegetables.\n\n\"Who does all the housework then?\" Shekiba asked Ghafoor as they watched Sakina and Benazir rouge their cheeks and stain their lips with crushed cherries.\n\n\"The people for the housework. Everyone has a purpose here in the palace. The guards, the servants, the women, and us. We all do our part in Arg.\" Ghafoor sat with her right ankle crossed over her left knee. She was comfortable as a man.\n\n\"Arg?\"\n\n\"Arg-e-Shahi. You do not know what Arg is?\" Ghafoor laughed with the self-satisfaction of someone who had once been as ignorant. \"This is Arg-e-Shahi, the palace! Arg is your new home, Shekib-jan!\"\nCHAPTER 23\n\n\"Take off your chador.\"\n\nI kept my face to the wall and pulled my legs in under me. The room was small enough that I could hear each raspy breath.\n\nAbdul Khaliq stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips. From this angle, he looked larger than life. He took two steps in and shut the door behind him.\n\n\"I said, take off your chador.\"\n\nI lowered my head and told myself to breathe. I prayed he would be frustrated and walk away, as he had yesterday.\n\n\"I will not tolerate insolence. Yesterday, I let you be. That was my gift to you, to show you I can be kind. Today, things are different. You are in your husband's home, my home. You will behave as a wife should.\"\n\nI was sharing a house with Abdul Khaliq's third wife. I was his fourth. The other wives lived in separate homes within the same compound, all interconnected. It had been nearly dark when we got to the compound and I hadn't seen much. Bibi Gulalai, his mother, had insisted on using me as a cane to get to the car. She was old and I was not rude enough to refuse, though I only answered her questions with one-or-two-word responses. She was sizing me up.\n\nBibi Gulalai led me to a small room at the end of a hallway. This was to be my room, she said. There was a bathroom just outside my door, the likes of which I had never before seen. It was modern, with running water and a toilet.\n\nWife number three was Shahnaz. I saw her for just a moment before I was ushered into my room. She turned her back to me and walked away, uninterested in introductions.\n\n\"That's Shahnaz. You'll meet her in the morning when she shows you around.\"\n\nMy room had a cushion in the corner, a pillow and a small table.\n\n\"We'll send you a plate of food for tonight. Tomorrow you become part of your new home,\" Bibi Gulalai said smugly.\n\nI doubted it.\n\nI had nearly screamed yesterday when Abdul Khaliq entered the room. I was crouched in the corner. He wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand. He had just finished eating. My plate was untouched.\n\n\"You haven't eaten? My wife is not hungry, eh?\" He chuckled.\n\nI said nothing.\n\nHe squatted next to me and lifted my chin with two fingers. His touch was rough. I kept my gaze averted. He pulled my chador off my head and felt the back of my head.\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" he promised, and walked back out of the room. I shook with fright.\n\nNight came and went and I didn't sleep. I tossed and turned on the mattress, listening for the sound of footsteps, a hand on the doorknob, a knock. I thought of my mother, my sisters. I wondered if Shahla and Parwin were close by. I prayed we were all in the same compound and I would see them in the morning, every morning. I wondered what Rohila was telling Sitara, who every day had been asking more questions that we couldn't answer. I wished I could be laid out at Khala Shaima's feet, listening to her tell another chapter of Bibi Shekiba's story.\n\nI wished more than anything that I could be back in class, Moallim-sahib's back turned toward us, Abdullah and I shooting each other bored looks, kicking each other under the table and tilting our notebooks so the other could see the right answer.\n\nI wished I could be anywhere but here.\n\nWhen my bladder could wait no longer, I opened the door a crack. I looked into the hallway, saw that it was empty and crept out slowly to go to the washroom. Shahnaz caught me on the way out.\n\n\"Good morning,\" she said plainly. She looked a few years older than Shahla, with features that matched the dullness in her voice. She was thin and stood a couple inches taller than me. She balanced a baby on her hip, no more than six months old.\n\n\"Salaam,\" I replied cautiously. I knew who she was and I remembered my mother's warnings.\n\n\"Your name is Rahima?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"All right, Rahima. Bibi Gulalai has asked me to show you around. So, let's get started. You've hid in your room long enough.\"\n\nShahnaz looked disinterested in me but she'd been given a task, and as Madar-jan had advised, she was doing what her mother-in-law\u2014our mother-in-law\u2014had asked of her.\n\n\"This has been my home for three years. I was told I wouldn't be sharing it with anyone else. This room is for my children and me. Here is the kitchen. That is our living room. That hallway leads to the rest of the houses, the better houses. I expect that you'll do your share of the cooking and cleaning. As you can see, I've already got my hands full.\"\n\nShe paused and looked at me carefully.\n\n\"Your hair. Why is it cut so short?\"\n\n\"I'm a bacha posh. I mean, I was a bacha posh.\"\n\n\"I've never seen a bacha posh before. Why were you made into a boy?\"\n\n\"My mother had only daughters and my father wanted a son.\"\n\n\"So they dressed you as a boy? And did you go out of the house like that?\"\n\nI could hear more curiosity than dislike in her voice. It gave me confidence to continue the conversation. Something about her reminded me of Shahla and I could already tell I would be desperate for an ally here.\n\n\"Sure. I went to school. I ran errands for my mother. I even worked and brought money home. I was learning how to fix electronics,\" I boasted. That was more than I had done for Agha Barakzai but Shahnaz wouldn't know the difference.\n\n\"Well, don't expect to be treated like the special son here.\"\n\nAs soon as she said it, I realized that's what I had secretly been hoping.\n\n\"Who else lives here in the compound?\" I asked, hoping my face didn't show my disappointment. The baby started to whine, her small hands batting at her mother's face.\n\nShahnaz led me into the living room, where she began to nurse the baby.\n\n\"Our home is one of three. Each wife has her own home. Or at least we did, until you came along. His first wife is Badriya. She has the biggest home, with the bedroom on the second level. His second is Jameela. She lives in the biggest part of the house too but on the lower level. Abdul Khaliq's room is in that main house. I thought you would have seen it last night but I'm sure you'll see it soon enough.\"\n\nI ignored her last comment, scared to think of what that meant. The memory of his touch made me shiver.\n\n\"Where does . . . where does Bibi Gulalai live?\"\n\n\"In the compound next door but she's here often, keeping an eye on her eldest son's affairs. Especially since he's gone so often. Be careful with her. She rules with a heavy hand.\"\n\n\"And what about the rest?\"\n\n\"What rest?\"\n\n\"I mean his cousins, Abdul Sharif and Abdul Haidar?\" I was nervous to ask. I prayed she would tell me they were next door as well.\n\n\"Oh, I heard what happened. So, it's true then? Sometimes Safiya gets the story all wrong. She told me two other sisters were married at the same time. And one of them has a limp, right? Hard to imagine how they arranged that deal. Well, Abdul Sharif lives on the other side of the hill, about four kilometers away. Abdul Haidar lives on the other side of that wall. He's here often since he's Abdul Khaliq's right-hand man.\"\n\nParwin was close by! She was on the other side of the wall. I wondered what she was doing and if she knew that I was meters away from her. Shahla. Shahla had been taken the farthest.\n\n\"Does Abdul Sharif come here sometimes?\"\n\n\"He does, but not as often as his brother. If you think you'll see your sisters, though, don't get your hopes up. Neither one of them brings their wives when they come by. The women of this family don't travel much. Get used to these walls. They're going to be all you see.\"\n\nShahnaz tired of me and went to put the baby to sleep. She had two children, a two-year-old son and the five-month-old girl I'd seen her holding.\n\nI found out weeks later that Abdul Khaliq had taken her from a village in the south. He and his men had gone there and successfully pushed back the Taliban forces. The village had been saved so Abdul Khaliq and his men felt they earned the right to take what they wanted. They looted houses, harassed women. The village had no one to defend it. Most of the men had perished in the war. The men took whatever caught their eye. In Abdul Khaliq's case, it was Shahnaz. She hadn't seen her family since the day of her nikkah.\n\nIt could have been worse, she said. At least he took her as his wife. She had heard of many women who had been raped and left with their families. There was nothing worse than that.\n\nI thought about Shahnaz's village often, knowing my father must have been party to that mission. I wondered if he pillaged as the others had. I wanted to believe he hadn't.\n\nI could start with cleaning, Shahnaz said. She needed to bathe her son. I found the broom and began to sweep the floors as I'd seen my sisters do. The broom felt awkward in my hands and I waited for someone to relieve me from the duty. When Shahnaz didn't come back out, I put the broom away and went back to my room to pout. I missed my old life.\n\nBefore long, it was evening again. Bibi Gulalai came to eat with us, around the cloth laid out on the living room floor. Shahnaz had prepared a meal of stew and rice. I reminded myself to fold my legs under me and sit like a lady. I could feel my mother-in-law watching me. I helped Shahnaz clear the dishes and wash up before I went back to my room. Bibi Gulalai sat in the living room with her cup of tea, watching her grandson play with a wooden spoon.\n\nI listened for the sound of her leaving but she didn't. My door opened.\n\n\"Your husband has asked for you. You should go and see to him as his bride. Shahnaz will take you there.\"\n\nWhen I didn't get up, she came after me, pulling me to stand by my ear.\n\n\"Did you not hear what I said? Do you want me to repeat myself?\"\n\nMy twisted ear stung under her gnarled fingers. I yelped and stumbled to my feet. Shahnaz was in the hallway. She looked mildly entertained.\n\nWe went down the hallway and into the main house. Had I been less nervous, I probably would have noticed more of my surroundings. I remember thinking that the hallways were wide, the ceilings tall. We passed by many doors. I'd never imagined a house so large!\n\nShahnaz pointed to a door and told me to go ahead and knock. Before I could ask a question she turned and headed back down the stairs. I ran after her and grabbed her arm.\n\n\"Shahnaz, please, let me go back with you!\"\n\nShe shook her arm free and looked at me with annoyance.\n\n\"Let go of me!\" she hissed. \"Your husband has asked for his new bride. You'd be making a big mistake to keep him waiting. That's my best advice to you.\"\n\n\"Please, Shahnaz-jan! I'm scared!\" I panicked. I didn't want to be alone here. I wanted to go back to my dark room and my small mattress. I felt out of place and I hated wearing a dress. It felt unnatural, awkward. I was a bacha posh! Just like Bibi Shekiba, the palace guard!\n\n\"Are you stupid? Get in there or you'll regret it. You'll be punished worse than you could imagine.\"\n\nShe walked away and left me in the hallway, scrambling for options that didn't exist.\n\nHe must have heard me. I gasped and jumped backward when the door opened. My reaction made him smile. He beckoned me in. I hesitated, but fearing that Shahnaz was right, I followed.\n\nIn subsequent visits, I would realize that Abdul Khaliq's bedroom looked like what I might have imagined of a palace. His mattress sat on a wooden platform a few feet off the ground. A plush armchair sat in the corner and a beautifully woven burgundy carpet covered the floor. Two windows overlooked the courtyard, where three armed men were on guard.\n\nI walked in, too terrified to see anything but Abdul Khaliq. He had already made himself comfortable on his bed. He was sitting up, propped up against pillows.\n\n\"Take your chador off,\" he ordered.\n\nI looked at the ground and stood motionless. I had wanted to rip the chador off my head when Madar-jan put it on me but now, with Abdul Khaliq eyeing me in this way, I couldn't let it go. I watched him from the corner of my eye and saw his intrigued but exasperated face.\n\n\"Listen,\" he said, leaning forward. With his turban off, I could see that his hair matched his salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a beige cotton tunic and pants. His legs were outstretched. The room was lit by a lamp on his bedside table. \"Maybe you haven't received any instruction on what it is to be a wife. From what I've seen of the women in your family, I wouldn't be surprised. Let me explain to you how things are here. I am your husband and this is your home. When I ask for something, you make it happen. In return, you will be given shelter and have the privilege of being wife to Abdul Khaliq.\"\n\nAgain he beckoned me closer. I fought the wave of nausea and took two steps toward him. I was within his reach. My muscles stiffened.\n\nHe turned my face toward him. He was so close I could see the lines on his face. I could make out each hair of his eyebrow. I tried to keep my eyes lowered.\n\n\"Do you understand what I'm saying?\"\n\nI nodded. My mind flashed back to his bodyguards and their guns. I was terrified.\n\n\"Good. Now, do as I say and take off your chador.\"\n\nHe could have done it. I thought about it later and realized he could have done all the things he made me do, but that wouldn't have served his purpose. One by one, he made me take off everything I'd been wearing. First the chador, then my socks, my pants, my dress. With every piece, I trembled more. When my pants came down, I began to cry, which didn't faze him in the least. I was humiliated. I stood before him, weak and vulnerable, my arms doing their best to cover as much as they could.\n\nHe nodded in approval, his lips wet with excitement.\n\n\"You're not a bacha posh any longer. Tonight I'll show you that you're a woman, not a boy.\"\nCHAPTER 24\n\nThe thought of him made me queasy. I hated the feeling of it. I hated his breath, his whiskers, his callused feet. But there would be no escape. He called for me when he pleased and made me do what he wanted. Thankfully, it rarely lasted more than a few minutes. I wished Madar-jan had told me exactly what to expect, but then I think if she had, I never would have made it to the nikkah.\n\nShahnaz seemed to pity me the following day. She must have known. My face reddened when my eyes met hers.\n\nMy insides hurt. Raw and angry. I nearly cried when I urinated into the fancy western toilet.\n\nShahnaz asked me to prepare lunch for the family. She had the children to tend to. I went into the kitchen and looked through the vegetables on the counter, almost thankful to have a task that would keep my mind off what I had endured. There were canisters of flour and sugar as well. I thought of my mother and sighed. Ever since I'd been converted into a bacha posh, I'd been relieved of all cooking duties as well. If my father had seen his \"son\" working in the kitchen, his temper would have turned our home upside down. I had no idea how to make even a simple meal.\n\nI tried to think of the foods my mother and Shahla cooked. Even Parwin could prepare a decent meal, although she spent more time sculpting shapes out of the potatoes than she did actually cooking them.\n\nI set out to make some potato stew. I put the rice in water, as I'd seen my mother do. I tried to focus but my eyes kept drifting to the kitchen window, with a view into the courtyard. Several boys, two of them looking to be almost my age, were kicking a ball around. They shouted and teased each other. I felt my heart beat faster, wanting to be with them instead of bent over a metal pot with potato peels stuck to my fingers.\n\nI wondered who the boys were. I could see they wouldn't have been much of a challenge on the field. They kicked clumsily, barely making contact with the ball.\n\n\"Rahima! Why are you sitting like that? For God's sake, aren't you embarrassed?\"\n\nShahnaz's voice jolted me. I looked down and snapped my legs together, bending my knees. I'd been sitting like a boy basking in the summer sun. A bolt of pain shot between my thighs.\n\n\"Oh, sorry, I was just\u2014\"\n\n\"Have a little decency!\"\n\nI hung my head, my face flushed again. I cursed myself. Thank goodness my mother hadn't witnessed this. She had warned me over and over again to carry myself as a proper girl in my new home but I'd been living as a boy for years. There was a lot of unlearning to do.\n\nOur mother-in-law joined us for lunch. She hobbled in, her fingers on the shoulder of a young boy, probably a grandson. I kissed her hands and mumbled a greeting, following Shahnaz's lead. Her visit was a surprise to me, but not to Shahnaz. I looked to her for guidance. She didn't offer much.\n\n\"She did the same thing to me,\" Shahnaz whispered. \"She wants to see if you're being a good wife. Go ahead and lay out the food, the plates. Sit with her.\" She went into the living room and spoke sweetly to Bibi Gulalai. \"Khala-jan, with your permission, I'm going to feed the baby. I'm sorry I can't sit with you but your new bride has prepared lunch for you.\"\n\nI took out the food as Shahnaz suggested, thinking to myself that she'd just fed the baby before our mother-in-law walked in. But I quickly forgot about it as I began to put the potatoes into a serving dish. Nothing looked like the food my mother prepared. My hands shook as I laid it out on the cloth. Bibi Gulalai fingered her prayer beads while she eyed my every move. Once I had spread out the potato stew and the rice, she spoke.\n\n\"A cup of tea would have been a nice start. Looks like you're rushing us to lunch.\"\n\n\"I . . . I'm sorry. I can bring a cup of\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes. Bring a cup of tea first. That's how you treat a guest.\"\n\nI got to my feet and went back to the kitchen to boil some water. I sprinkled tea leaves into the teapot and searched everywhere until I finally found a teacup.\n\n\"Did you add cardamom?\"\n\nI sighed.\n\n\"No, Khala-jan. I'm sorry, I forgot the cardamom . . .\"\n\n\"Tea without cardamom?\" She shook her head in disappointment and leaned back. \"Maybe that's how your family drank tea, but the rest of us\u2014\"\n\n\"No, my mother always puts cardamom.\"\n\nHer eyes narrowed.\n\n\"I was saying\"\u2014she was not happy with my interruption\u2014\"that the rest of us prefer our tea with cardamom. So pay attention next time.\"\n\nI nodded silently while she slowly sipped her unflavored tea, the disappointment showing in her eyes. I watched the steam waft from the rice.\n\n\"All right. Why don't we try this food that you've made now.\"\n\nI reached over and spooned some rice onto her plate. Large clumps stuck together. The potatoes looked more reasonable. I prayed her eyes were old enough that they couldn't clearly see what I'd made of the rice. She took two bites and shook her head in frustration.\n\n\"This is cold. Food doesn't taste good cold. And we're supposed to eat grains of rice, not balls of it. How long did you cook it for?\"\n\n\"I don't . . . I don't know . . .\"\n\n\"Too long. Too long. And the potatoes are still hard!\" She sighed heavily. \"Shahnaz! Shahnaz, come out here!\"\n\nShahnaz came into the living room, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.\n\n\"Yes, Khala-jan?\"\n\n\"This girl cannot cook! Did you try this food? It's terrible!\"\n\n\"No, Khala-jan, I didn't. She insisted on making lunch so I let her. Otherwise, I would have been happy to prepare something for you.\"\n\nI looked at Shahnaz and began to realize that she was not as benign as I had thought. She avoided looking at me. I had the urge to throw a punch at her but kept my cool.\n\n\"That's not true! She told me I should make lunch. And she just fed the baby! You did this on purpose!\"\n\n\"Rahima, this kind of behavior is exactly what I was worried about. You're a wild child and not a suitable wife for my son but he's taken you and now we have to undo what you are. Listen to me carefully. You are to behave like a proper bride and learn to keep house. That tantrum you threw in your father's home will not be tolerated here. I'm leaving now but know that I'll be keeping an eye on you.\" She got to her feet and wobbled to the door. She said nothing more and let the door slam behind her.\n\nShahnaz tossed her hair back and walked to her room, a smug look on her face. She had set me up.\n\nMadar-jan, you were right. And this is probably just the beginning.\n\nI confronted Shahnaz later that day.\n\n\"Why did you do that?\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"You could have warned me. And you lied to her. You wanted me to look bad.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about? I didn't lie!\"\n\nI remembered one of Khala Shaima's favorite sayings: A liar is forgetful.\n\n\"Don't be upset, Rahima. You'll learn soon enough. God knows I did.\"\n\nShahnaz was a ball of contradictions. She was angry to have to share her home with me. It was bad enough that she had gotten the smallest of the houses. The other wives had more children and their marriages had been arranged by Bibi Gulalai. Only Shahnaz and I had been chosen by Abdul Khaliq himself and his mother clearly did not approve. Shahnaz was bitter one day but would sit and chat with me as if we were old girlfriends the next. She was lonely, I could see, and missed her sisters as much as I did mine.\n\n\"You know why she doesn't like you?\" she asked me one day.\n\n\"Because I'm a bad wife?\"\n\n\"No.\" Shahnaz chuckled. \"Although that's not helping matters any. She hates you because she wanted Abdul Khaliq to take her brother's daughter as his fourth wife. Instead, he took you.\"\n\n\"Why didn't he take his cousin?\"\n\n\"He was going to. That's what I'd heard from the others, at least. But something changed a few weeks ago and he made some excuse to his uncle's family. Next we heard he'd arranged for a nikkah with someone else\u2014you. And Bibi Gulalai's brother was more than a little disappointed, since they'd already courted his daughter.\"\n\nI knew I couldn't trust Shahnaz or anything she said but I was lonely too. She was the only person around me most of the time. Her son, Maroof, took to me quickly and I passed my time showing him how to kick a ball. Shahnaz would watch me suspiciously, as if waiting for me to do something wrong.\n\nAnd somehow it seemed I did everything wrong. I sat wrong, I cooked wrong, I cleaned wrong. All I wanted to do was get back to school and back to my family, my friends. I felt clumsy in a skirt, my breasts pointy in the brassiere my mother had purchased for me before my nikkah. I wanted to tie my chest down again. A lot of days, that's exactly what I did. I would wrap a long strip of fabric around my chest and pin it tight, trying to prevent full womanhood from setting in.\n\nMy mother-in-law came back often. When the house wasn't cleaned to her standards, she would pull me by my ear and make me scrub the floors while she watched. Shahnaz blamed everything on me and Bibi Gulalai was more than happy to believe anything she said.\n\nAbdul Khaliq returned, as determined as his mother to make me into a proper wife. I hated to feel his breath on my face, my neck. His teeth were yellowed and his beard rough on my face. I sometimes tried to pull away, to squirm from him like the fighters in the magazines. But the more I struggled, the more forceful he became. And worse than that was the smirk on his face. As if he enjoyed when I put up a fight. I shouldn't have been surprised. He was a man of war, after all.\n\nEach time, I felt dirty and weak. I hated that I was powerless under him. I was supposed to be this man's wife and that changed everything. I wasn't supposed to fight back. And the look on his face told me that fighting back would only make matters worse.\n\nSo many nights I lay curled on my side, crying quietly and waiting for morning to come so the man snoring beside me would stretch his arms and leave.\nCHAPTER 25\n\n\"Now taste this. See? It has no flavor at all. You've got to add some salt. Everything tastes better with a little salt. Mmm.\"\n\nShahnaz stirred the pot once more, the tomatoes melting into the simmering oil. She was teaching me a few basic dishes. It wasn't easy but I realized she took well to flattery. It was much better than antagonizing her.\n\n\"You see the difference? Now just touch the edge of the potato. It should be soft. See? It's cooked. My God, it really amazes me that you don't even know this much. You must have been so spoiled at home. I hope your sisters aren't such oafs in the kitchen!\"\n\nI wasn't worried about that at all. Shahla and Parwin could cook nearly as well as Madar-jan. But the mention of them made my heart ache. It had been two weeks since we were taken away from our home. I wondered what my mother was doing. I could picture my father, asleep in our living room with a satisfied smile on his face, clouds of heady smoke around him and his stomach heavy with food.\n\n\"Shahnaz, how can I see my sisters? I miss them so much! Parwin is so close by. Can I go to visit her?\"\n\n\"Not a question to ask me. Ask your husband. Or your mother-in-law,\" she said. I wasn't sure if that was really a good idea or if she was setting me up again.\n\nI saw my mother-in-law most afternoons. My third day at the compound, I was summoned back to the main house but this time by my husband's first wife, Badriya. There was laundry to be done. Badriya was also Bibi Gulalai's second cousin and, therefore, her favorite bride. Abdul Khaliq treated Badriya well, since she had been a good wife to him and because there was a family relation to respect. But as he added newer, younger wives to his compound, she spent fewer and fewer nights in his bed. This was a point of contention, though I couldn't understand why.\n\nBadriya was nothing near pretty. Her cheeks hung low and she had two moles above her mouth, a constellation that looked to me like the letter tay. Her face was as thick as her hips, but she didn't need looks. Now in her thirties, she was heavyset, her girth widened by the five sons and two daughters she had proudly borne her husband. Bibi Gulalai loved the grandchildren Badriya had given her and boasted about them to the other wives. This fed the tensions among Abdul Khaliq's wives and kept life interesting for Bibi Gulalai.\n\n\"Make sure she does a good job, Badriya. This girl has a lot to learn. She was a bacha posh, don't forget. Can you believe that? A bacha posh at this age! No wonder she has no clue how to carry herself as a woman. Look at the way she walks, her hair, her fingernails! Her mother should be ashamed of herself.\"\n\nBadriya was resentful of Abdul Khaliq taking me on as a fourth wife, but he was a warlord and this was common practice for anyone, so she bit her tongue as any good wife did. Badriya had nothing to complain about anyway. She had the best house in the compound, the one with an actual bed and sofas in the living room. She had a cook and a housekeeper to tend to all the chores in her house. She was the most esteemed wife, the one Abdul Khaliq would discuss matters with, and she made sure the others knew as much.\n\nThere was a rhythm and routine to life in the compound. The wives tended to their children while Abdul Khaliq tended to his affairs, whatever that meant. There hadn't been any armed fighting lately, but nearly every day he and his bodyguards sped off in his three black SUVs, clouds of dust in their wake. His entourage circled him as he walked, nodding when he gave out orders and keeping away from any of the women in the compound. The men ate meals together, served by the housekeepers that Abdul Khaliq had brought on. They ate in Abdul Khaliq's entertaining room, a carpeted room with a perimeter of cushions and pillows on which the men reclined, licking their fingers and sipping their tea as they discussed the day's affairs. When they were finished, the women and children ate what was left. The servants were the third round, hoping enough had slipped through the many greedy fingers before them.\n\nThe women never left the compound. The children played together and fought together as brothers and sisters but subdivided. Half brothers got along most of the time but a casual game of soccer could quickly disintegrate into a scuffle where the sons of the first wife teamed up against the sons of the second. The same held true for the girls, who could become catty in the blink of an eye.\n\nBadriya had no problem putting me to work. Nor did anyone else. Though they had plenty of help at the compound, the women seemed to derive a special pleasure from making me take on the most menial of tasks, especially since I fumbled with them. I swept the floors, washed the diapers and cleaned the western toilets as best I could. My hands burned at the end of the day and all I wanted to do was lay my head down. Most nights, that wasn't possible. Abdul Khaliq called for me to join him in his bedroom to repeat what he had done the night before. And the night before that.\n\nMy insides burned and I walked as if a shard of glass was stuck in my underwear. Sometimes I would wake up in the night remembering. It made it impossible to go back to sleep. I would pull my thighs together tight and curl up, praying he would tire of me. I wished my monthly bleeding would come more often but it had only started six months ago and came infrequently. My only escape was training my mind to wander when I was with him. I would close my eyes or stare at a stain on the wall, like seeing shapes in the clouds.\n\nDuring the day I watched the compound's walls, hoping for a glimpse of my sister. I prayed Parwin would hobble into our courtyard unannounced and surprise me with a visit, a drawing, a smile. I couldn't bear to think of what her days were like. I hoped she didn't have to do all the things I had to do. Parwin's legs moved slowly, clumsily. People didn't like that. If the people around her were anything like the people around me, she was sure to be punished. I'd been smacked around more than once for a job not done well enough.\n\nI couldn't bear knowing my sister was just over the wall. I wanted to see her. I wanted to look at a face that knew me, that loved me. I couldn't bear it anymore and worked up the nerve to ask Bibi Gulalai when I saw her walking through the courtyard.\n\n\"Khala-jan! Khala-jan!\" I panted, running up behind her.\n\nMy mother-in-law turned around, already displeased. When I reached her she wasted no time and slapped my face.\n\n\"What are you doing yelling and running like that? My God! You have absolutely no idea how to behave yourself! Have you learned nothing here yet?\"\n\nMy face stung and my mouth gaped as I searched for an apology that wouldn't make her angrier.\n\n\"Forgive me, Khala-jan, but I wanted to speak with you before you left. Good morning. How are you feeling?\" I asked, not really caring but trying to show her that I did have some manners.\n\n\"You came running across the yard like a rabid dog to ask me that?\"\n\nThere was no winning with her.\n\n\"Khala-jan, I wanted to ask you something. I really miss my sisters. It's been weeks since I've seen either one of them or anyone from my family. Would it be possible that I could see my sister Parwin, at least? She's just next door and I\u2014\"\n\n\"You were not brought here to go playing with your sister and taking her away from her responsibilities as well. It's bad enough that you can't manage what's asked of you here! This is your family now. Stop thinking about anything else and go finish your chores. Your sister is hardly a help over there with her limp leg. Forget about making things even worse.\"\n\n\"But, please, Khala-jan. Just to see her for a few moments. I promise I'll have all my work done. I've already washed the floors and beaten the dust from the carpets this morning. I could even go there and help her with whatever she needs to do\u2014\"\n\nAnother slap across my face. I took a step back and felt my eyes blur with tears. I was always surprised by the amount of force her wrinkled fingers brought.\n\n\"You had better learn to hear what I say the first time I say it.\"\n\nShe turned her back to me and walked out of the courtyard, shaking her head.\n\nI shouldn't have been surprised but I was. My sister was yards away but she might as well have been across the country. Bibi Gulalai made me wonder even more how she was doing, with her \"limp leg.\" I prayed the other wives had some sympathy for her, that there was at least one kind face.\n\nIn Abdul Khaliq's compound, there was only one person who was genuinely nice to me, Abdul Khaliq's second wife, Jameela. While Badriya and Shahnaz appeared friendly enough, it took a half day with each to see their true colors. Badriya, with her larger, second-story home, looked down on everyone but even more so on me, the young latecomer.\n\n\"Badriya was the same way with me,\" Shahnaz said when I came back to the house crying one day. \"It's not easy being the oldest wife.\"\n\n\"Why not? She's got everything! The best cook, the best maids, the best rooms!\"\n\n\"It's not about any of those things. Abdul Khaliq doesn't want her. He doesn't call for her, now that he's busy with you. He used to be the same way with me and she hated it. Hated me for it.\"\n\n\"But . . . but I don't want to be called to him. I would be happy if he ignored me. What does she do that he doesn't call for her?\"\n\nShahnaz laughed, her eyes lit up with amusement. \"Simple, just get old. You see how Abdul Khaliq doesn't like to eat food cooked yesterday? Men want something fresh, hot off the stove.\" She cocked her head to the side and gave a sly smile.\n\nThat night I prayed for Allah to make me old, as old as Badriya, who looked older than my own mother.\n\nBut Shahnaz was just as bitter toward me as Badriya was. She, too, hated being called by Abdul Khaliq, but it wasn't much better when she saw me going toward his quarters. She would bang the pots around, huff if I asked her anything and slam her door. The following day, more chores were piled on me than usual, even if I was also called to clean Badriya's house.\n\nJameela was the only one who was different. She was Abdul Khaliq's second wife and, being such, had the second-best accommodations of the compound. She lived downstairs and down the hall from Badriya. She had been given to Abdul Khaliq by her family as a token of gratitude. No one was sure exactly what they were grateful for\u2014it was always spoken of in very vague terms\u2014but she seemed content enough with the arrangement. She had borne him three sons and two daughters, making him satisfied enough that she was holding up her end of their arrangement.\n\nAt thirty, Jameela was much more beautiful than Badriya and even Shahnaz, who was at least ten years younger than her. Her eyes sparkled with kindness and good humor when she spoke. My mother's warnings had been sage advice when it came to the other wives of the compound, but when I met Jameela, I knew I could trust her.\n\nI had met Jameela last. She'd run into me coming out of Badriya's home.\n\n\"You must be Rahima! Ay, you're even younger than Badriya predicted.\"\n\n\"I'm not that young!\" I'd shot back. I was tired and sweaty and didn't need anyone else making comments about me. \"Who are you anyway?\"\n\n\"Looks like you're off to a good start.\" She'd smiled gently. Her reaction had embarrassed me. \"I'm Jameela. I live in the part of the house here with my children. My son Kaihan is probably your age. My daughter Laila, too. Have you met them?\"\n\nI shook my head. I hadn't seen anyone my age yet. I wondered if Laila was as nice as her mother.\n\n\"Laila!\" she called out. \"Laila-jan, what are you doing?\"\n\n\"Zarlasht dirtied her clothes, Madar-jan! I'm changing her!\"\n\n\"Come here for a second, janem, and bring Zarlasht with you. There's someone you should meet.\"\n\nI heard footsteps. Laila was indeed close to my age, probably a couple years younger than me, but the baby on her hip hid the difference. She looked like her mother\u2014her eyes and hair the color of night, dark and dramatic against her gauzy emerald head scarf. She looked at me with curiosity. Zarlasht was about a year old. Seeing them made me think of Shahla and Sitara. As a baby, Sitara spent just as much time in my sister's arms as she did in my mother's.\n\n\"This is Rahima-jan,\" Jameela said, taking Zarlasht from her daughter's arms. \"Remember the nikkah we heard about last week? This is your father's bride.\"\n\nLaila raised an eyebrow. \"You are?\"\n\nI stood still, unable to bring myself to admit to a title that seemed too heavy for my shoulders.\n\n\"She is, so you'll be seeing her around more.\"\n\n\"Why is your hair so short? Like a boy?\"\n\nI felt my face flush and turned away. I wasn't sure how much to share. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to tell everyone I'd been a bacha posh.\n\n\"That's . . . that's how I wore it when I was going to school!\" I blurted, hoping that was explanation enough but mostly wanting Laila to know that I'd been to school.\n\n\"School?\" she exclaimed. \"You were going to school like that? Madar-jan, she looks like Kaihan, doesn't she?\"\n\n\"You were a bacha posh, weren't you?\" Jameela asked. \"That's what I'd heard. Bibi Gulalai mentioned it before the nikkah. My children have never seen a bacha posh but I remember my neighbor's cousin had been one. Up until she was ten years old, that is. Then she changed back to a girl.\"\n\n\"What's a bacha posh?\"\n\n\"Laila-jan, I'll explain more later. I just wanted you to meet Rahima-jan for now. And this is Zarlasht, my youngest.\"\n\nMore footsteps came down the hallway as I tried not to stare too much at Laila, who reminded me how much I missed my sisters.\n\n\"Kaihan! Hashmat! Stop running inside! You boys are shaking the walls!\" Jameela turned to me and explained. \"Hashmat is about the same age as my son. He's Badriya's boy.\"\n\nI took one look at Hashmat and a knot formed in my stomach. He looked from Jameela to me and grinned.\n\n\"Who are you supposed to be?\" he said bluntly, his tongue slipping through his teeth and giving his words a wet lisp. It occurred to me that I'd seen him before, that I'd heard him before. We'd played soccer on more than one occasion in the streets a few blocks from our school. My voice escaped me. I wondered if he'd recognize me as well.\n\n\"This is Rahima, your father's bride,\" Jameela said. I turned my face and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Jameela was surprised by my modesty given how I'd spoken to her just a few moments ago.\n\n\"Oh. Yeah, I heard about you. You're . . . hey, aren't you . . . you're Abdullah's friend, aren't you?\"\n\nI didn't know how to respond. I fidgeted and looked to Jameela. I knew this looked strange to everyone. No girl my age should have been referred to as \"Abdullah's friend.\" Jameela looked at Laila, who seemed more confused now than before.\n\n\"Never mind that, Hashmat,\" she said intuitively. \"She's your father's bride and you'll be respectful of that. No one wants to hear anything else from your mouth.\"\n\nI stared at the ground, knowing now why he looked familiar. I remembered him pushing and shoving his way to the ball, his mouth open and his dirty fingernails clawing at anyone in his way. He had friends only because boys were afraid not to be friends with Abdul Khaliq's son, a lesson they'd learned from their parents. We had made a point to avoid him and his group entirely. It had been a year since I'd seen him.\n\n\"You're a girl?\" he exclaimed. \"What kind of girl are you? That's you, isn't it? That's why you're not answering!\"\n\n\"Hashmat! Do you want me to tell your mother\u2014\"\n\n\"Look at that! You've even got short hair and everything! What kind of bride are you? You've been running through the streets with Abdullah and his gang. No wonder you guys couldn't score a single goal!\" Saliva sprayed out when he spoke with excitement. I covered my face with my veil, wanting to hide from his wet assault.\n\n\"Hashmat! That's enough I said!\"\n\n\"Maybe Abdullah's a girl too! Maybe you all are!\" he laughed.\n\nI would think of lots of clever things to say later, when Hashmat was not around.\n\nInstead of saying any of those things now, I ran. I ran with the washrags still in my hand, my eyes blurring with tears. I wanted to get away from Hashmat, from this boy who knew me as I wished I still were\u2014a boy just as free as him. I hated that he lived here. I knew he would always bring it up. He would always look at me and laugh at the girl who used to be a boy.\n\nBy the time I got to my room and slammed the door behind me, I wondered if he would see Abdullah again. I imagined what he might say and felt my heart drop. I didn't want Abdullah to see me as a girl, as Abdul Khaliq's wife, as Hashmat's stepmother.\n\nI dropped my head into my hands and cried.\nCHAPTER 26\n\nIt drove me mad to think of Parwin. Months had passed and there was no hint that I would be allowed to see her. I knew where the adjacent compound was and tried to eavesdrop at the wall between the two homes to hear her voice or even someone speaking of her. I couldn't spend much time out there or Bibi Gulalai would come chasing after me to tend to something that no one else wanted to do. She had taken to using a walking stick these days, a change driven as much by her intensified desire to discipline me as her unsteady step.\n\nI waited a month before making another move. I needed to work up the nerve to try again and to figure out how I could manage to get out of our compound. I set off in the early morning, when I usually went to tend to the laundry. I took the pail and walked across the courtyard as casually as I could. My throat was dry as I scouted the area. A few servants here and there but no one seemed to be paying any attention to me. My husband had left earlier in the morning and wouldn't be back for hours.\n\nI moved closer and closer to the front gate, my palms sweaty.\n\nDon't hesitate, I told myself, and opened the gate to walk out. I waited but heard nothing. No one had even noticed.\n\nThe compound sat on an open dirt road, one that I hadn't seen since the day of my wedding. I looked to the right and saw the adjacent compound where Parwin lived. I pulled a burqa from the pail and donned it. I walked quickly and tried their gate but it was locked.\n\nI knocked lightly. This was the time of day that only the servants were in the courtyard and that was what I was counting on. If I could just get one of the servants to open the gate, I could find my way to my sister. I waited a moment but no one answered. I tried again, a little louder this time.\n\nOn my third try, beads of sweat trickling down the back of my neck, I heard footsteps and grumbling. I stepped back as I saw the gate open.\n\n\"As-salaam-alaikum,\" answered an older woman cautiously. From her worn clothing, I guessed she was one of the servants. I tried to see past her and into the compound. She squinted and narrowed the opening behind her. \"Forgive me, I haven't recognized you. Are you here to see someone?\"\n\nI cleared my throat and willed my voice not to betray me.\n\n\"Wa-alaikum as-salaam. Yes, I am. I am the sister of Khanum Parwin. I've come to pay her a visit.\"\n\n\"Ah, Khanum Parwin! Her sister? Welcome, welcome, but . . . have you come alone?\" she said curiously. She looked behind me, expecting to see a chaperone.\n\n\"My mother-in-law, Bibi Gulalai, was supposed to come with me and would be here if it weren't for her aching back. She had to rest. But she told me to go on without her,\" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. \"Is my sister around? I just want to see her for a few minutes.\"\n\nThe woman looked confused. Indeed it was strange for one of Abdul Khaliq's wives to show up at the front gate unaccompanied, but then who would imagine that a young girl would lie about such a thing? She opted not to give me, Abdul Khaliq's wife, a hard time and pulled the gate open to let me through.\n\n\"I think she's still in her room. I'll show you the way,\" she said.\n\nThe compound was much smaller than Abdul Khaliq's but set up in a similar way. My eyes looked for Parwin. I couldn't believe I'd made it this far! We walked past a few children, no more than six or seven years old. They glanced at me, too preoccupied with their own games to bother with the stranger in the burqa.\n\n\"Who is this with you, Rabia-jan?\" I stopped, as did my guide, whose name was apparently Rabia.\n\n\"Good morning, Khanum Lailuma. This is Khanum Parwin's sister. She's come from next door to pay a visit.\"\n\n\"By herself? You are Abdul Khaliq's bride?\" Lailuma said, her brows furrowed together with displeasure.\n\n\"Yes,\" I said. I reminded myself to look confident.\n\n\"Does anyone know you're here?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" I said. \"As I told Rabia-jan, Bibi Gulalai was going to accompany me but she was having backaches. I just wanted to pay my sister a short visit. It's been so long since I've seen her.\"\n\n\"Well, that's . . . I just don't think . . .\"\n\n\"I'm so glad to meet you! I've heard much about the family next door to our compound but I haven't had the chance to meet anyone. Were those your children I saw just now in the courtyard? So adorable, God bless them!\"\n\nLailuma was disarmed by my flattery, which to me sounded much more like something Shahla would say than anything I would have come up with.\n\n\"They are, yes, thank you. It's a shame we haven't met. Well, then go on but don't be long because your sister has responsibilities to tend to.\"\n\n\"Of course! I don't want to keep her,\" I said as sweetly as I could.\n\nRabia sighed and hurried me along, not wanting to be pulled away from her other duties any longer. We went down a short hallway and as soon as we turned the corner I saw her.\n\nParwin's back was to us but I could see her limping, a pail of water in one hand. The water sloshed with her wide gait, a trail of splashed water behind her.\n\n\"Parwin!\" I called out, running to her. My sister turned around, her face puzzled. She dropped the pail on the floor and I could see the servant shaking her head at Parwin's clumsiness.\n\n\"Rahima? Rahima! What are you doing here?\" she said, her eyes tearing up as I threw my arms around her thin frame.\n\n\"I came to visit you! I missed you so much, Parwin!\" I turned around and saw Rabia was already shuffling down the hallway. \"Let's go somewhere! I want to talk to you before I have to go back.\"\n\nParwin nodded and led me to her room, a small rectangular space without windows. It was even smaller than where I slept. We closed the door behind us and Parwin fell back onto her mattress with a sigh. She looked exhausted.\n\n\"Parwin, I've wanted to see you for so long but they wouldn't let me come! All they want me to do over there is work and work and I'm so tired of it! I scrub the floors and do the laundry and . . .\" My voice tapered as I realized my sister's life was probably no different from mine. I was being selfish to complain to her.\n\n\"I know, Rahima. It's terrible here too,\" she whispered. \"I pray every day that something will happen and I'll be able to go back home. I miss Madar-jan, Shahla and the girls! I even miss Padar-jan!\"\n\nI wanted to disagree with her but oddly, I missed our father too, even though I blamed him for putting us all through this.\n\n\"What is it like for you there, Rahima? They let you come here today?\"\n\n\"I snuck away, Parwin. I've asked so many times but Bibi Gulalai won't allow it. So today, I just walked over here. I told the servant that I'd gotten permission.\"\n\n\"Oh no! Won't they notice that you're not there? What are they going to do to you?\"\n\nI had given that some thought and only hoped that my reasoning worked.\n\n\"I've gotten in trouble a couple of times. The last time, Bibi Gulalai threatened to send me back to my parents. I'm hoping that if she finds out about this, that's what she'll do. I want to go back home. I hate it over there!\"\n\n\"Do you really think they'll send you back?\" Parwin seemed doubtful. My sister looked different, I realized. Her face looked thinner and her eyes lacked their sparkle. Her cheeks were marked with dark spots.\n\n\"I don't know but I really wanted to see you. And I thought it was worth a try,\" I added with a smile.\n\n\"I wish they would send me back too,\" she said wistfully.\n\n\"Are you . . . are you doing all right here? Are they nice to you?\"\n\n\"I would rather be home. Remember those birds that used to fly over our yard? Remember how mad Shahla got when their droppings got on the laundry\u2014twice in one day! That was so funny!\" She was looking past me. Seeing something that no longer existed.\n\n\"Parwin, are you still doing your drawings? Have you sketched anything new? I miss looking at your work.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"There's too much to do and I don't want to disappoint anyone here. I have to keep up with my chores. Anyway, I don't really feel much like sketching.\"\n\nThis was completely unlike Parwin. I held her hands in mine and wondered what to say. There were questions I wanted to ask but the answers would only hurt us both. I stared at her while she smiled awkwardly. She talked about Rohila and Sitara, told me stories about them as if she'd seen them just days ago. I wondered what her husband was like. I wondered if she had to tolerate the same things I did.\n\n\"Khala Shaima said that Rohila is probably going to go to school now. Isn't that wonderful? She's going to love it.\"\n\n\"Khala Shaima? Did you see her? Did you talk to her?\" It sounded like Parwin had completely lost her mind.\n\n\"Yes, she came here. About two weeks ago. I just saw her by the front gate for a few moments and then she left again. She asked about you too but I told her I hadn't seen you.\"\n\n\"She came here? Why didn't she come see me too?\"\n\n\"She tried.\"\n\nOf course, they'd kept her away from me. They probably didn't want me telling Khala Shaima how they treated me.\n\n\"What else did she say?\"\n\n\"She said Padar-jan is the same, but happier now that he can get a lot more medicine. And Madar-jan and the girls are doing all right. We didn't really talk for very long. I wished she could have stayed and told more of her stories. I liked hearing about Bibi Shekiba, didn't you? I think about her a lot now.\"\n\nI thought about her more than anyone could know. I often wondered what she would have done in my place. Or what I would have done in hers. Or if there was much difference anyway.\n\n\"Parwin, maybe we should just run away!\" I whispered, interrupting her chatter. \"Just like I snuck out this morning. We could just take off!\"\n\nIf only I'd known then what the future held, I would have done just that. I would have snuck away with her in the night. At least that would have given her a chance.\n\n\"Rahima, you're always making trouble. I'm all right here. It's a lot of work but it's okay. Madar-jan said we should do what's asked of us and I am. You're going to get yourself into big trouble if you try anything.\"\n\nI felt my throat tighten to hear her talk this way. She wasn't herself but I realized there was no running away for us, especially her. Parwin wouldn't make it more than a few feet from the compound with her limp.\n\nVoices in the hallway grew louder.\n\n\"Where is she? Who let her in here?\"\n\n\"She came alone? Does Bibi Gulalai know about this?\"\n\nI heard the footsteps and knew my time was up, quicker than I thought. I didn't bother turning around to see who had come after me. I kissed my sister's face and squeezed her hands as the door flung open.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Parwin. I'm sorry about all of this,\" I said. \"I'm not far from you, Parwin, remember that, okay? I'm not far from you!\"\n\nI kept my eyes on her as I was yanked to my feet. Parwin looked oddly peaceful amidst the shouting.\n\n\"Birds fly away, one by one . . . ,\" she said meekly, watching as I was pulled away from her once again.\nCHAPTER 27\n\nBibi Gulalai seethed with anger.\n\nSomeone had seen me leaving the compound. Word got back to Badriya, who, probably happily, reported the news to Bibi Gulalai. It didn't matter much. Just made me hate them more. Badriya was a more spiteful person than I'd first thought. I prayed I'd one day find a way to get even with her. No wonder Hashmat was such a jerk.\n\nBut I'd invited this round of punishment. I'd asked for it. With every blow, every curse, I held out hope that my mother-in-law would blurt out that she'd had enough, that she was sending me back to my mother. I covered my head with my arms and waited to hear what she'd said the last time. When she didn't say it, I spoke up.\n\n\"If I'm so terrible then why don't you send me back?\"\n\nShe paused. At that moment, I realized I hadn't done myself any favors. She knew that was exactly what I wanted and refused to give it to me, even if it would shame my family and me before our entire community. No, at that moment she decided she would straighten out this pesky bride herself. My plan had backfired but at least I'd seen Parwin. Or what was left of her. My sister, so different and delicate in her disposition, had been changed by her new life. I knew it was partly my doing. This had all come about because of me, the bacha posh, and because of the argument I had with my mother. The rest of the blame sat on my father's addicted shoulders.\n\nI thought of Shahla. I wondered if she still blamed me too. She had forgiven me on the day of our nikkahs, but I wondered if things were different now. Maybe things were better for her than Parwin or me. Shahla had a way of pleasing people, making people smile. I found it hard to believe anyone could treat her badly.\n\nNow the relationship between Bibi Gulalai and me was forever soured. She focused her energies on making life miserable for me. My husband took from me what he wanted, did to me what he wanted and left the rest of my existence in his mother's hands. He was too busy to care about the details, now that he had even more lucrative business with some foreigners. His power and influence in our area were growing, and with it, so was his aggression and domination at home. We four wives shared a fear of his ready fist.\n\nThere was something else that worried me these days. For two weeks, I had been waking up in the mornings, my stomach reeling with nausea. The feeling frightened me and I finally confided in Jameela, who looked at me and sighed.\n\n\"Let me see your face,\" she said, cupping my cheeks in her hands. She turned my head from side to side, looking at my skin and my eyes. I let out a yelp when she felt my full breasts. \"Yes, it looks to be true. You're going to become a mother, Rahima-jan.\"\n\nHer gentle words stunned me. For some reason, this possibility had not occurred to me.\n\n\"What? How can you tell?\"\n\n\"Rahima-jan, how long has it been since your monthly illness?\"\n\nCome to think of it, I couldn't remember when I had last bled. It happened so irregularly that I never could keep track. I shrugged my shoulders.\n\n\"Well, it seems that you're pregnant now. The sickness will pass, you'll see, but other things will change for you.\"\n\nI felt light-headed. Jameela took me by the arm and sat me down on a stool in the courtyard.\n\n\"It's all right, dokhtar-jan,\" she said. \"Every woman goes through the same thing. All of us. This will help you, you'll see. Your husband and mother-in-law will be pleased. Bearing children is a wife's duty.\"\n\nOne that Parwin had not fulfilled. Maybe that was why they had made her life so miserable. I wondered if Bibi Gulalai would treat me any better knowing this.\n\n\"I don't want anyone to know!\" I whispered. I didn't want anyone to look at me differently. I felt ashamed.\n\n\"Do not say anything to anyone. It's not proper, anyway. We don't speak of these things. Keep quiet, do your work and let Allah handle the rest. In a few months you will see your child, if Allah wills it. May God keep you in good health,\" she whispered at the end.\n\nI had no idea what was ahead of me. Jameela looked worried, even as she tried to comfort me. In her wisdom, she kept from me the troubling things she'd seen before she was married. Her uncle had married two girls around my age. When the first delivered her child, she bled for three days until her veins went dry and she could bleed no more. Her baby, with no one to nurse him, followed her ten days later. His second bride survived childbirth but the baby had ripped through her immature body, leaving a hole in its wake. Her husband, repulsed by the constant trickle of urine down her leg, said she was \"unclean\" and sent her back to her family to hide from the world in shame. Young mothers did not fare well but Jameela did not want to frighten me.\n\nI took Jameela's advice but before long Shahnaz recognized the way my nose turned at the smell of food.\n\n\"You're pregnant!\" she laughed haughtily. \"Now you'll see how tough life can really be!\"\n\nSome days I hated her more than Bibi Gulalai. She shared the news with Badriya, knowing it would make her even more spiteful toward me. If I brought a son into Abdul Khaliq's compound, her husband and mother-in-law might not treat me as the lowly servant in the house. I doubted much would change. Bibi Gulalai looked at me as one would look at a flea-infested dog yapping at one's feet.\n\nBut surprises were always around the corner and a month later, I was permitted visitors. I wasn't sure if it was because my mother-in-law had learned I was with child. I was shocked to see Khala Shaima standing in our courtyard, looking around with a suspicious eye. Behind her stood Parwin, clutching her chador at her chin and keeping her eyes downcast, a model of modesty. I dropped the heap of laundry I was carrying and ran over to them. It felt so good to see their faces, though I prayed they wouldn't be able to see the change in mine. I didn't want to share the news with them.\n\nI held Parwin's hand tightly. Khala Shaima balked when I tried to kiss her hand. She grabbed my shoulders and looked me over, assessing the changes of the past few months.\n\nKhala Shaima shook her head and sighed when she saw my full face and rounded belly. My baby was three months away. She didn't look surprised in the least.\n\n\"Are you feeling all right?\"\n\nI nodded. We didn't speak any more on the matter. I was thankful for that.\n\nSatisfied that I was at least whole and fed, she pulled me aside so we three could talk with some privacy. I had so many questions for her. She was my link to my past life.\n\nOur first meeting was bittersweet. Or sweetbitter, which better represented the order of things. I was thrilled to have them here but I knew how painful it would be when they left. Parwin and I couldn't get close enough to Khala Shaima.\n\n\"How's Madar-jan? Why didn't she come with you?\"\n\n\"Your mother is fine. You know how she is. She manages things inside the house but she's been kept under your father's thumb for so long that sometimes she forgets to stand on her own two feet.\"\n\n\"What about Rohila and Sitara?\" Parwin asked. \"Do they ask about us?\"\n\n\"Of course they ask about you! They are your sisters. That hasn't changed just because you're living somewhere else now! Don't listen to the garbage that some people say about girls belonging to other people. Bah! Girls belong to their families and always do. You have a mother and sisters and nothing changes that\u2014I don't care who you've married.\"\n\nWe nodded but I looked around quickly to make sure no one was within earshot. I knew enough about Khala Shaima to know that her fiery comments invited trouble.\n\n\"But why didn't Madar-jan come then? Is she all right? Doesn't she miss us?\"\n\n\"Of course she misses you! She's . . . well, you might as well know. She's been very upset since you girls left. She's been so upset that she started taking some of your father's medicine.\"\n\n\"She what?\"\n\n\"That's how things go sometimes. Listen, girls, when things are rough, people look for an escape. A way out. Sometimes it's hard to find the right way. Your father's escape has been that damned medicine and now your mother too. It was just a matter of time. It's in front of her face every day.\"\n\nI was angry. Madar-jan was going to be just like our father. I pictured her glassy eyed and snoring on the couch, Rohila looking after the baby.\n\n\"What about all the money? What are they doing with it?\" I asked bitterly.\n\n\"They divided it up. Of course, your father took most of it but he gave some to his brothers and your grandfather. They feasted on greasy meals, showed off around the village thinking it's going to change the way people look at them. God knows what else he's spending it on. I know your mother hasn't had a finger on any of it.\"\n\n\"What about Shahla? Have you heard anything about her?\"\n\n\"No, I asked your father about her since he's more in touch with that family than anyone else but he just says she's doing all right. He hasn't seen her. So far away, that poor thing. At least you girls have each other.\"\n\n\"But, Khala Shaima, I never get to see Parwin! She's so close but it's like she's on the other side of the world.\"\n\n\"Hmph. Still? Well, I'll just have to stop by more often so we can all see each other then. How are they treating you girls otherwise? Parwin?\"\n\n\"I'm all right, Khala-jan. They're treating me just fine,\" she said so sweetly that no one would have believed it.\n\nKhala Shaima's eyes narrowed. \"Your mother-in-law? Does she beat you? Do you get enough to eat?\"\n\n\"She's kind to me, Khala Shaima. She shows me how to do things and I eat plenty. Most of the time I'm not hungry anyway.\"\n\nKhala Shaima turned to me, unsure what to make of Parwin's answers.\n\n\"I'm all right, Khala-jan. My mother-in-law, Bibi Gulalai, she's hit me a few times but I've figured out how to keep her happy. And she can't hit very hard anyway, that old witch.\" I lowered my voice instinctively. Bibi Gulalai always seemed to pop up when I least wanted her to.\n\n\"Witch is right,\" Khala Shaima hissed. \"Damn these people, taking such young girls.\"\n\n\"Khala Shaima, can you promise to come often? I miss seeing you so much!\" I blurted. Parwin nodded her head in agreement.\n\n\"Of course. I'll come as often as I can with this damned back of mine. Somebody's got to keep an eye on you girls. Abdul Khaliq may be the biggest man in this village but you girls have a family too. I want to make sure these people know that.\"\n\nHer words, her presence, were such a relief, although it did nothing to change our daily life.\n\n\"And maybe you could tell us more about Bibi Shekiba?\" I asked.\n\n\"Ah! Now, there's something we should pick up again. No one likes an unfinished story . . .\"\n\nPeriodically, she would pick up Parwin and bring her to Abdul Khaliq's compound, where the three of us could sit and talk. She was persistent and managed to get her way. I thanked God for that. Those were the rare occasions when I was able to see my sister. Each time broke my heart and almost made me wish I hadn't seen her at all. The weak smile she gave me and Khala Shaima looked ridiculous on her fragile frame, her sallow skin. I hated her husband's other wives for what they were doing to her.\n\nParwin never complained to us. She never told us just how things were.\n\nIn some ways, I think she was the bravest of all. She, my meek and timid sister, was the one who acted in the end. She was the one who showed those around her that she'd had enough of their abuse. As Khala Shaima said, everyone needed a way to escape.\nCHAPTER 28\n\nOver the next few weeks, and with Ghafoor's help, Shekib became familiar with her new home. Arg was a majestic building and Ghafoor had explored every niche. The palace had been built by Amir Abdul Rahman, while Shekiba was just a toddler. A trench of water surrounded the heavy walls and a tower stood watch at each of the four corners of the estate. At the top of each tower, Shekib could make out a canon aimed into the distance. There were ramparts all around the fortress and soldiers posted everywhere.\n\n\"That building over there, on the eastern side, that's Salaam Khana. That's where the king receives his visitors. There are a few smaller buildings behind it where he spends time with his family or his closest advisers. There is where the soldiers sleep and that building is all for weapons.\"\n\nThey walked onward; the soldiers kept their gaze averted but watched their movements with great interest. They crossed the vibrant gardens and walked to the other, western side of the palace grounds.\n\n\"What's that one over there?\" Shekib pointed to a larger structure, tall enough that you could see it looking over the palace walls. It was a beautiful piece of architecture, stately appearing and just a short walk from Arg.\n\n\"Ah, that one! That's Dilkhosha Palace.\"\n\n\"It looks amazing!\"\n\n\"It is. The inside of it is so beautiful that it can make your heart melt! There are paintings, carvings and gold vases. You could never imagine anything so beautiful!\"\n\n\"You've been inside?\"\n\n\"Well, I haven't exactly been inside . . . but that's what I've heard.\" Ghafoor's voice was full of conviction.\n\n\"Where does the king live?\"\n\n\"Oh, well, he travels a lot but when he's here, he stays in that building over there with his wife.\"\n\n\"His wife? Do the women ever go in there?\"\n\n\"For God's sake, no! What kind of crazy idea is that? The women of the harem stay in the harem. That's their place. They can wander into their courtyard and they have their own bathhouse that they can use whenever they please but they are not to be confused with the king's wife!\"\n\n\"The harem?\" Shekib took a deep breath. If she wanted to survive this new place, there was a lot she needed to learn.\n\n\"Yes, like haram. It means that it's forbidden for other men to enter. Except for the king of course. That's part of the reason why we're guarding it instead of his soldiers. But mostly it's because he knows men would be men and they can't be trusted around women, not even women who belong to the king.\"\n\nShekib had left the harem with Ghafoor early in the morning. The women were still sleeping and the other guards were just dressing to begin their duties.\n\n\"How many women are in the harem?\" Ghafoor had only pointed out five or six women yesterday evening but their quarters were large with many rooms. Shekib thought there could be more.\n\n\"How many? Hmm . . . by last count there are twenty-nine.\"\n\n\"Twenty-nine?!\"\n\n\"Sure. Twenty-nine. That is, if you still consider Benazir one of them right now!\" she laughed. \"She won't really get his attention now that her belly has begun to swell. He won't bother with her until after it's done.\"\n\n\"Until what's done?\"\n\n\"Until it is done. Until the baby is born,\" she said.\n\n\"Oh. And their children, they will live with their mothers in that house?\"\n\n\"Of course. Did you not see Halima's children there with her?\"\n\n\"Where did he find all the women? For the harem, I mean.\"\n\n\"Same way he found me. And you. Lots of families can do without their girls. Lots of families need things. Anyway, he is the king. He takes what he wants.\"\n\n\"And what of the children? Does he have anything to do with them?\"\n\n\"Surely. You know\"\u2014Ghafoor brought her voice to a whisper\u2014\"the king himself was born to a slave mother. He knows firsthand that any child can rise to greatness, not only those who are born to the first wife.\"\n\nA steady breeze began to blow and Shekib reminded herself that her backside was not exposed. It would take some time to get used to wearing pants, she decided. Ghafoor, on the other hand, looked entirely comfortable in her garb.\n\n\"Does it hurt?\" Ghafoor asked casually.\n\nShekiba knew to what she was referring but feigned ignorance. \"What?\"\n\n\"Your face. Does it hurt?\"\n\n\"No.\" Shekib kept her gaze straight ahead. It was no accident that Ghafoor was walking on her right side, her good side. With the head scarf gone, she had no cover for her deformity. She wanted Ghafoor to see her face as it should have been.\n\n\"That's good.\"\n\nShekib was glad the conversation ended there.\n\nThey returned to the harem, now bustling with chatter as the women had woken up. With so many new faces around, Shekiba's hand rose up instinctively to bring her head scarf over her cheek but there was nothing to pull.\n\nPast the foyer, there were women everywhere, sitting in groups of four or five. Two or three were feeding young children; one nursed in the corner. Some were in their thirties and some looked to be around Shekib's age. Some were slender and others were plump. Few bothered to look up. Ghafoor put a hand on her elbow and led her into a large room with stone floors. In the center was a large pool. Three women sat with their bosoms half submerged in the water. Their voices echoed against the walls.\n\n\"This is the pool room,\" Ghafoor announced, watching for the astonished reaction she knew the view would draw. Shekib's mouth opened slightly and Ghafoor chuckled. Shekib ignored her amusement. The stone walls rose tall and grand. A balcony on the second level overlooked the pool.\n\nThere were plants in the room, lush green leaves that drank in the room's moisture. The women looked over at Shekib and Ghafoor briefly, but seeing only Shekib's good half, their attention quickly returned to their conversation. The guards walked onward.\n\n\"These rooms are for the concubines. Some have to share, but the ones with children each get their own. In about a half hour, the palace will send over lunch. The palace has female servants who come to these quarters but sometimes we help them gather the plates when the meals are done.\"\n\n\"What else are we supposed to do?\" Shekib's eyes were busy looking at the maze of doors.\n\n\"Just keep an eye on things. Most important is to control the ins and outs. No one is to come in without our knowledge and approval, just as no one is to go out. Every once in a while, especially for someone who is new here, they may want to wander around. It is our responsibility to guard against things like that. And sometimes the women call on us for help with something. Nothing else, really. Like I said before, everybody has a role in the palace. This is ours.\"\n\nThe voices in the large room grew louder in unsynchronized excitement. Ghafoor's ears perked.\n\n\"Let's go see what has the women feisty this morning. That kind of chatter means something's going on.\"\n\nGhafoor was not wrong. Amanullah, the king's son, had returned to the palace.\nCHAPTER 29\n\n\"Why all this excitement for the king's son?\"\n\n\"Why? Do you not know about his son Amanullah? You poor thing. You have so much to learn still!\"\n\nShekib decided Ghafoor was a snob but tolerable.\n\n\"Tell me then. Why all the fuss for him?\"\n\n\"He's the one. All bets are that he will succeed the king. He's the governor of Kabul and he's in charge of the army and the treasury.\"\n\n\"What's the treasury?\" Shekib had never before heard the word.\n\n\"You know! It's the group that works with the army. They give out food and uniforms. And . . . and sometimes they take care of the horses too.\" Something about the way Ghafoor fidgeted told Shekib her answer could not be trusted. \"But the most important thing about him is that he is not yet married. Amanullah is of age and his father is in search of the right bride for him. What a lucky girl she will be!\"\n\n\"When will he marry?\"\n\n\"The king has not yet decided. But Amanullah is well loved among the women of the harem. He is kind and handsome, more so than his father. The women servants of the palace are always on their best behavior around him, wishing they could be his concubine instead of his father's.\"\n\n\"Does he have his own harem?\"\n\n\"No. He hasn't yet married. He probably will once he marries.\"\n\nAmanullah had been gone for two months. Traveling to the disputed British-Afghan borders had exhausted him and he did not care for the usual palace pomp. Shekib would not get a look at him today but two days later, she did see his father.\n\nAmanullah must have brought good news from the front line.\n\nShekib stood in the corner of the pool room shifting her weight and wondering how long she would be living in this palace. Life was comfortable enough. The rice and vegetables were plentiful, the cakes sweet. She had a blanket to keep her warm at night and the company of women-men who meant her no harm. But Shekib was still restless. She wondered what her mother and father would think to see her living in the king's palace. She wondered if they could see her from heaven, dressed as a man. Her father would likely not notice any difference. He had never seen her as girl or boy while he walked the earth. She still grew angry when she thought of her father's land. Her land. Seeing the torn deed scatter in the hakim's courtyard like fallen leaves had hurt more than Azizullah's beating.\n\nBring your head out of the sky and understand your place in this world, Khanum Marjan had said.\n\nEveryone has a purpose here in the palace, Ghafoor had told her.\n\nShekib wondered what her place in this world was. Something told her it was not her place to be a house servant. And it was not her place to be the unwanted granddaughter. Surely, being a harem guard could not be her fate either, as comfortable as it had seemed in the last couple of days. Shekib knew in her heart that she would need to act if she were to find her true purpose.\n\nIf she hadn't been so preoccupied with finding a way out of her current situation, she might have noticed the king sooner. As it was, she had no idea how long he had been on the balcony. She hadn't even noticed that the women in the pool had quieted their loud laughs and started behaving more demurely.\n\n\"Guard!\"\n\nShekib jolted at the sound of a man's voice. She looked up and recognized the man from the carriage. Her heart pounded.\n\nHad he seen her daydreaming? Her defenses went up instinctively.\n\n\"Guard! Come here!\"\n\nShekib straightened her back, bowed her head and walked up the narrow stairs that led to the balcony. The king had entered from a back stairway, unnoticed. He had his uniform on but no hat. He was leaning over the railing, eyeing the women in the pool with casual interest.\n\nShekib said nothing and kept her head lowered.\n\nA lifetime passed before he spoke.\n\n\"Bring me Sakina.\"\n\n\"Bring her here?\"\n\nThe king turned around sharply. He was not accustomed to hearing the guards speak. His squinted eyes bored into her face. She instinctively turned to the side.\n\n\"You are new?\" he said finally.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Hmph. Tell Sakina I have called for her. She will show you the way.\"\n\nShekib nodded and headed back down the stairs. The women had heard the king's voice and awaited Shekib's return. They were familiar with his perch and his habits. Shekib still had much to learn about the palace. The women looked at each other but dared not look up. They spoke in a hush.\n\nShekib stood at the poolside and looked at Sakina, her thick, dark hair pulled back in a braid and her pale shoulders beaded with moisture.\n\n\"He calls for you,\" Shekib said softly.\n\nSakina smiled slyly, her lips pulled to one corner. \"Me, again? Dear God, I thought he had had enough of me by now.\" She spoke loudly enough for the ladies in the pool to hear.\n\nShekib saw some eyes roll, some mouths tighten. Benafsha's green eyes fixated on Sakina's behind.\n\n\"Some days men crave qaimaq. Other days they make do with spoiled milk.\" Benafsha's voice was cool and even. The others tried to hide their giggles. Benafsha dipped her head back, her long dark locks fanning into the water. For now, she was the qaimaq, the cream of the harem.\n\nSakina turned and shot her a hateful look. She stepped out of the water and reached for her towel. She wrapped it around her naked body and patted herself dry before standing at Shekib's side. Some of the women noticed Shekib's face for the first time.\n\n\"Allah, have mercy! Look at that! I guess after Benafsha, they have made an extra effort to pick guards who won't tempt the king!\"\n\n\"Mercy, Allah, please! I can't even imagine . . .\"\n\nSakina looked at her expectantly, ignoring the jabbering behind them.\n\n\"He said . . . he said you would show me the way,\" Shekib said finally.\n\nSakina raised an eyebrow. \"Yes, I know the way.\"\n\nShekib heard the conversation continue as she turned around.\n\n\"It looks like haleem, doesn't it?\"\n\nShekib sighed. This was not the first time her face had been compared to the dish of slow-cooked meat with grains, mushy enough that it could be spoon-fed to infants.\n\n\"Her face?\"\n\n\"Oh, you're right! How awful!\"\n\n\"Damn you, you know how much I love haleem! You've just gone and ruined my breakfast for me!\"\n\nThere were quiet chuckles as Shekiba's new nickname was passed around and adopted by the group.\n\nSakina took the lead and Shekib followed her into a back corridor and up a separate flight of steps. At the top of the steps was a heavy wooden door. Sakina stopped and turned back to face Shekib. \"Now, knock on that door and when you hear an answer, you'll open the door, then turn around and return to the others. This is as far as you go.\"\n\nShekib nodded and did as Sakina instructed. From within, she heard the king's voice bellow something incomprehensible. She opened the door just enough for Sakina to enter, holding her towel around her and her head lowered. Shekib closed the door and waited for a moment. She could hear their voices talking quietly. A laugh. A squeal. Shekib felt her face blush remembering that Sakina had nothing but a towel to cover her. She turned back down the stairs, suddenly afraid that she would be discovered lingering outside the room.\n\nHer introduction to the harem was complete. She understood now that the king visited who he wanted, when he wanted. He came often but usually didn't stay long. There were some consorts he favored more than others, some he ignored for the most part but kept in the harem. The nine women who had borne him sons were treated better than the others. These nine women were given dresses with the finest embroidery and the choicest fruits, and they walked taller than the rest. Their places were more secure than the others', thanks to their gifted wombs. Neelab, whose three boys had not lived more than a month, was the exception. She had disappointed the king more than those women who had borne him daughters and she would receive no special treatment until she could give him a son who would live long enough to at least take a few steps.\n\nShekib watched and learned over the next few months. She paid attention to the way the palace functioned, the way the women interacted with each other and the habits of the king. She was stronger than the other guards and began to take on duties that the others struggled with. It was easy for her to lug the heavy pails of water into the harem. She had no trouble carrying the children when they fell asleep in the courtyard. She was not a threat to anyone, thanks to her disfigurement.\n\nBut Shekib did not stop thinking about her own plight. She watched the women of the harem. At least they belonged to someone. At least they had someone to care for them, to look after them. Daughters looked at their mothers' faces, nestled against their bosoms. How that must feel!\n\nBut what would become of the guards?\n\nShekib needed a plan. In the meantime, she made sure to fulfill her obligations and keep Ghafoor and the palace satisfied. She did not want to invite any punishment, thinking back to her grandmother and Azizullah. In more powerful households, the food might have been better but the penalties were that much harsher.\n\nShe was in the courtyard of the harem when she saw him. He walked casually with another man, a man with a wool hat and a short beard. Shekib had seen the man in the wool hat before. He was Amanullah's friend, she had been told. His name was Agha Baraan. Shekib wondered what they were talking about. This was the fifth time she had seen the prince and she now understood why his arrival had created such a stir.\n\nAmanullah, the king's son, was striking. He was solidly built, a few inches taller than Shekib. When he walked, his broad shoulders spoke of confidence, even though he seemed to be close to Shekib's age. He exuded a natural boldness, tempered with kind, rational eyes.\n\nShekib melted into Shekiba.\n\nShe had instinctively tried to cover her left face and lower her gaze the first time she saw him. After the third sighting, however, she changed her approach as she realized she could take advantage of her \"manhood.\" She stared at the prince, who did not see her gawking anyway.\n\nHe gave her something to think about instead of her father's land. Or her dead family.\n\nThey were headed into the palace gardens. Shekib's hand touched her face and hair, wondering what she looked like to him. She knew half her face was actually beautiful. She could tell by the reaction of those who only saw as much.\n\nShe had worried that if she were ever to have children, they would turn away from her, repulsed by the demi-mask she wore. But the children of the harem reached out to her, trusted her, laughed when she tickled them. Maybe her own children would do the same. Maybe her own children would see her as her mother had, as unflawed and worthy of love.\n\nAnd then Shekib realized how she could change her fate. How she could stop being gifted from one stranger to another. But to do so she needed to belong to someone, to a man. And if she had sons, she would seal her fate. A mother of sons would not be passed from hand to hand like livestock.\n\nAmanullah had paused. His companion was pointing to some bushes that had flowered in the last week. He bent over and touched the leaves with an attentiveness Shekib would not have expected from the commander of the army. And the treasury, whatever that really was.\n\nShe stood tall, the right side of her face turned in his direction. She willed him to turn and look at her, to see her. She walked a few steps forward, hoping movement would attract his attention. He stood up and, almost as if pulled by her thoughts, turned in her direction.\n\nShekib's heart leapt into her throat. She froze, watching him from the corner of her eye and wondering what she should do. She gave a half smile and bowed her head just slightly, without diverting her view.\n\nHe began to speak and turned back to the friend, without changing his expression. Was he saying something about her? What could it be? Could he tell her apart from the other guards at this distance? Maybe the king had told him about her, the newest of the women-men.\n\nShekib realized she was smiling and turned back to face the house. She did not want anyone to see her staring at Amanullah and his friend as they walked thoughtfully through the maze of bushes and flowers. She bit her lower lip and pulled her shoulders back. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind but it would require some work.\nCHAPTER 30\n\nSeasons changed, two years passed and I feared I was forgetting what my mother looked like. I doubted I would recognize my younger sisters if I were ever to run into them. I got updates from Khala Shaima but it usually wasn't good news. She tempered what she told us but she felt we had a right to know. Madar-jan had become as much of an addict as my father. Rohila and Sitara were mostly left to fend for themselves, though my grandmother sometimes stepped in to pick up the slack. In return, Madar-jan was doing more work around the compound and the already strained relationship between her and her in-laws had deteriorated. Padar-jan, when clear-headed, made her life miserable. After all, as his mother pointed out, she wasn't being much of a wife or mother these days.\n\nPart of me was thankful that I wasn't around to see what had become of my mother. Part of me wondered if things would have been different had I been sent back. Once I started that line of thinking, I could go on for days with what-if scenarios. I always ended up in the same place\u2014wondering how things would have worked out had I never been made a bacha posh. I think that's where my family started to crumble. Inevitably, I would wonder if Shahla and Parwin had the same thoughts. And if they still resented me.\n\nI also wondered what Bibi Shekiba was planning. The walls around me were so stifling I couldn't imagine what had given her a spark of hope.\n\nIn the meantime, I learned the rhythm of the compound and found my niche within it. The crescent moon rounded and thinned many times over as I found ways to make my life easier, though nothing changed who I was to Bibi Gulalai.\n\nMy son, Jahangir, was ten months old at the time, a miracle in his own right. Carrying him for nine months and pushing him out of my body had nearly ripped me apart. I had never seen so much blood. Jameela delivered him, as she had Shahnaz's children. Abdul Khaliq did not like for his wives to go to hospitals and there were no midwives in our area. My husband's wife cut the umbilical cord while I lay exhausted and stunned. I'd never felt so weak. Jameela rubbed my belly and brought thick broths of flour, oil, sugar and walnuts to my lips, urging me to drink. I faintly remember her praying over me, mumbling something about my not having the same fate as her uncle's wives. I wonder if it was her prayers that protected me.\n\nJameela and Shahnaz cared for my little boy for the first week while I recovered. Even Bibi Gulalai left me alone for a while. At least I had borne a son, she said. Finally, I had done something right.\n\nJahangir was named after a character Abdullah, Ashraf and I had created, a figure born of our collective imaginations. Jahangir was a strong and mighty man who feared no one. He was the ultimate athlete, the strongest fighter and the cleverest person in the whole country. He was the conqueror of the world, as his name implied. We all wanted to be Jahangir. He could do anything.\n\nIt became a running joke between us. When Abdullah huffed that he couldn't learn the newest karate move we'd seen, we told him Jahangir wouldn't have given up so easily. When I couldn't get the soccer ball anywhere near the goalpost, I focused my thoughts on Jahangir and how he would kick the ball. Ashraf channeled Jahangir's persona when he tried to haggle his way through the market, gloating when he felt he'd gotten a real bargain out of a vendor.\n\nWhile I was pregnant, I hadn't given much thought to a name, as if I believed babies were born with names, just as they were born with two arms or two legs. I was so frightened by the prospect of having a baby that I didn't care much about its name. But Jameela got me thinking.\n\n\"You must have a name and it has to mean something,\" she said.\n\nBy the time she had finished washing the blood from my thighs, my son was named.\n\nIt took me a couple of weeks to adjust to him. I would always be grateful to Jameela for her help. Even Shahnaz, at nineteen, was an experienced mother and couldn't resist teaching me how to feed, bathe and hold this tiny person.\n\nI fell in love with him. Jahangir was my salvation\u2014his face became my escape. He gave me reason to rise in the morning and to hope for tomorrow.\n\nKhala Shaima hadn't been by for months, which was unlike her. I worried that she might be ill but I had no way of getting in touch with her or finding out. I could only wait for her to show up again. I hadn't even seen Parwin in about a month. I wanted them both to see Jahangir. He was starting to clap his hands and would grab on to tables to stand up. I wanted his aunt to see the things he could do now.\n\nI had made up my mind to arrange a visit with Parwin. I had been given a little more freedom these days, now that I'd borne the family a son. Abdul Khaliq was bringing a foreigner to the house to talk business and there would be a lot of preparations to attend to. I knew I would be summoned to help the cook and servants. I decided to put off my visit until the following day.\n\nJust after midday prayers, I began kneading the dough for dumplings when Bibi Gulalai came into the kitchen. I waited for her to point out what I was doing wrong. She looked perplexed, as if there was something she wanted to say.\n\n\"What are you doing now?\"\n\n\"I'm going to roll out the dough for the aushak, Khala-jan. I finished cleaning the living room. It's ready for tonight.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, maybe . . . I guess that's fine. Keep on doing what you're doing.\"\n\nI was puzzled by her behavior. \"Is everything all right?\"\n\n\"Yes, everything's fine. Why? Why do you ask that?\"\n\n\"No reason, just that I . . . well, I was just asking,\" I said, and turned my attention back to the dough. It was getting tough. It was time to cut it into ovals and stuff it with leeks and scallions.\n\n\"Fine then,\" Bibi Gulalai said, and went back out the door.\n\nThat was my first clue that something was wrong. I think my mother-in-law, as cold as she was, was working up the nerve to tell me the news. She returned two hours later. This time Jameela was with her. Jahangir was crawling around the kitchen. I had blockaded off the stove, remembering how Bibi Shekiba had been burned as a child. I didn't want my son to carry such a scar. Life was difficult for the disfigured, I'd learned.\n\nJahangir was pulling on my skirt hem, whining. He was hungry but I wanted to finish the aushak before the guests arrived. I kept an eye on him but the expression on Jameela's face put my nerves on edge.\n\n\"Rahima, my grandchild is looking for food. I'll have Shahnaz feed him something,\" Bibi Gulalai said. She looked almost as uneasy as I felt.\n\n\"I'm done now, Khala-jan. I'll make something for him,\" I said nervously. \"Jameela, what's going on? What is it?\"\n\n\"Oh, Rahima-jan, something terrible has happened! I don't know how to share this sad news with you . . .\"\n\nMadar-jan. My mind flashed to her.\n\n\"What's happened, Jameela? Tell me!\"\n\n\"Your sister! Your sister Parwin has been taken to the hospital! She's been very badly injured!\"\n\nParwin?\n\n\"What hospital? How was she hurt?\" I was on my feet, my son in my arms.\n\n\"I only know what I've heard from Bibi Gulalai.\" Jameela turned to our mother-in-law, who scowled and looked away.\n\n\"Go on, tell her already!\"\n\n\"They say she set herself on fire this morning . . .\"\n\nNothing Jameela said registered after that. I put Jahangir on the ground as my head closed in on itself. Parwin had tried to kill herself. All I could picture was her unconvincing smile, her feeble reassurance that she was doing all right, that people were treating her well enough. Why hadn't I gone to visit her this morning?\n\nI pieced things together much later. Jameela took me to her house to lie down. She brought Jahangir along and one of the older girls in the house watched him while she sat with me. I asked her over and over again what happened and she explained it as best she could. Parwin had doused herself with cooking oil in the morning, while most of the women and children were eating breakfast. Her husband, Abdul Haidar, had already left the house.\n\nAbdul Haidar's second wife, Tuba, came to help tell me what had happened. Some things she made clear. Others she twisted in vagueness but I understood that my sister had been seen that morning with a fresh bruise on her face.\n\nTuba claimed they had no idea Parwin would do such a thing to herself. There were no warning signs, no red flags. She hadn't said anything, and as a matter of fact, Tuba said Parwin had smiled at her last night. I wanted to call her a liar. I knew the empty smile Tuba was talking about. I wanted to call them blind and stupid but my tongue was tied with guilt. If I, her own sister, had ignored her behavior, what could I expect of her co-wives? What could I expect of her husband?\n\nThey had heard the screams. She'd lit the match in the courtyard and that's where they found her, tried to cover her with a blanket to put out the flames. She'd fallen to the ground. There was a lot of confusion, screaming, trying to help. She'd passed out. They had taken her back to the house and tried to undress her, clean her burns. But it had been too much. They talked about it and talked about it and finally someone had decided that Parwin needed to go to the hospital.\n\nThe nearest hospital was not near at all. Her husband was not happy about being called back to the house to deal with the situation.\n\nSomehow, they'd sent word to my parents.\n\nMadar-jan must have been crazed with worry. Even Padar-jan, who had given us away for a bag of money, had been partial to his artistic daughter. The news must have shaken him. Khala Shaima had been at the house when they sent the message. She was on her way over to see me. I wanted to be with her but feared her reaction.\n\nPlease don't make this worse, Khala Shaima.\n\nBut Khala Shaima was our voice. She said what others dared not say. I needed her. She arrived in the evening, out of breath and teary eyed.\n\n\"Oh, my dear girl. I heard what happened! This is just awful. I can't believe it. That poor thing!\"\n\nShe hugged me tight. I could feel her clavicles press into my face. I'd never realized just how little flesh she had on her frame.\n\n\"Why did she do this, Khala Shaima! I was going to go see her today but I didn't. How could she do such a thing?\"\n\nI shuddered thinking of how painful it must have been, how horrifyingly painful.\n\n\"Sometimes women are pushed too far, kicked too hard, and there's no escape for them. Maybe she thought this was her only way. Oh, my poor niece!\"\n\nWe all need an escape. Khala Shaima was right.\n\n\"What did my niece say?\" Khala Shaima demanded. \"Tell me, was she talking when she was taken to the hospital?\"\n\nTuba shook her head. It had been an ugly scene. The smell of burning flesh, agonizing moans, hysteria. She couldn't bring herself to describe the horror to us.\n\n\"She wasn't talking at all? Was she conscious?\"\n\n\"She was . . . she was just lying very still but she was awake. I was talking to her,\" Tuba explained. \"She was listening to me but she just wasn't saying anything.\"\n\n\"She must have been in so much pain! Allah save her, that poor thing!\"\n\n\"I'm sure they will give her medicines in the hospital, Shaima-jan. Allah is great and I'm sure he's watching over her.\"\n\nI resisted the urge to spit at her. Pretending. She was pretending that things hadn't been that bad. Parwin hadn't been in that much pain. The hospital, which was a day's journey away and itself in woeful condition, would patch her up in no time. Allah, who had let this happen in the first place, would fix everything. It was all a game of pretend, just as Parwin had pretended every time we'd seen her. There was no honesty in our lives.\n\nKhala Shaima began to lament. I wished she would stop. The sound of her wails made my head spin.\n\n\"You people destroyed her,\" she cried. \"If she dies, her blood is on the hands of this family. Do you understand? This young girl's blood will be on your hands!\"\n\nThe women were silent. Tuba bit her lip and fought back tears. I wondered if she could be honest with me.\n\nI asked Tuba, with one mournful whisper, if my sister would live.\n\nThrough tears, she told me that God was great and that the whole family was praying for Parwin and that she was on her way to the hospital, so they really were very hopeful.\n\nI wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that my sister would be okay.\n\nTuba's eyes told me it wasn't in her naseeb.\nCHAPTER 31\n\nParwin had stopped pretending.\n\nAfter ten agonizing days, her peace finally came.\n\nHer body was brought back and buried in the local cemetery. My father attended the burial, as did a few of my uncles and my grandfather.\n\nAt the fateha, I saw my mother again. The first time since my wedding day. Had I had a life more ordinary, I would not have been able to believe what she'd become.\n\n\"Rahima! Rahima, my daughter, oh God! Can you believe this? Allah has taken my daughter, my precious Parwin! So young! Oh, Rahima-jan, thank God she at least had you nearby!\"\n\nMy mother's hair was thin and stringy. Her words came out wet and lisped. She was missing a few teeth. Her skin sagged and she looked much older.\n\n\"Madar-jan!\" I hugged her tightly, surprised at how much like Khala Shaima she felt. \"Madar-jan, I've missed you so much!\"\n\n\"I've missed you too, my daughter! I've missed all of you! This is your son? God bless my grandchild!\"\n\n\"His name is Jahangir, Madar-jan. I wish . . . I wish you could have come to see him. He's a sweet child.\"\n\nMy son smiled, showing off his two bottom teeth. I waited for my mother to reach out to hold him. She didn't. She touched his cheek with her trembling hand and then looked away. Jahangir looked as disappointed as I felt in her lack of interest.\n\n\"Oh, I've wanted to come and see you, Rahima-jan. Especially when I heard about my grandchild, but it's not easy for me to get away from home, you know that. And your husband's home is not very close. With two kids at home, it just hasn't been possible.\"\n\nI bit my tongue, wondering why the distance wasn't too much for Khala Shaima and knowing that she could have brought my sisters or left them with one of my uncles' wives if she'd wanted to. My mother was weaker than I'd ever realized.\n\nWe women in mourning sat in a row, a wall of misery and tears. Women from our village came to pay their respects, whispering the same words of condolence to each of us one by one. Some even cried. I wondered why. So many of them had laughed to see my sister try to keep up with the other children, had called her Parwin-e-lang and had thanked God out loud that their own children weren't similarly deformed. They had made her feel small and wrong. Today they pretended to share our pain. I despised the insincerity.\n\nWe prayed. The women sat in rows before us, rocking to the rhythm of the prayer, the gray haired in the group blowing their noses into handkerchiefs and shaking their heads. They cried for us, their hearts softened with age and they themselves one step closer to the grave than most others. In the last ten days, my eyes had dried up. I sat still, blankly watching the faces in front of me. Madar-jan reached over and held my hand.\n\nRohila and Sitara sat on my right. I shook my head. How wrong I was to think I wouldn't have recognized my sisters! They had grown taller, more mature, but their faces were unchanged. They spoke sweetly and I hurt to think what home was like for them. Rohila grabbed me and wouldn't let go.\n\n\"Rahima, is it true? Is Parwin really dead? That's what Madar-jan told us but I can't believe it!\"\n\n\"I wish it weren't true.\" Nothing good came of pretending, I'd decided. \"How are you, Rohila? How are things at home?\"\n\n\"Can't you come back home sometimes? It's been so lonely since you all left!\"\n\nI believed her. I'd felt the same loneliness. I bet we all had, each in her corner of the world, separated by so many walls.\n\n\"Are you taking care of Sitara?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Rohila nodded. It occurred to me that she was now the same age I'd been when I was married off. I looked at her and wondered if I'd looked just as young. I could see that her breasts were just starting to bud. Her shoulders were hunched forward, her chest pulled in. I recognized her posture. She was uncomfortable with her changing body. I wondered if Madar-jan had given her a bra yet.\n\nSitara was now almost nine years old and clung to Rohila more than she did to Madar-jan. She looked unsure around me, as if she didn't trust anyone but Rohila.\n\n\"How's Madar-jan been, Rohila?\" I whispered. I knew I would draw looks for talking, even in a hushed voice, during the fateha but this was my only opportunity to see my sisters. What I saw worried me.\n\nRohila shrugged her shoulders and glanced over at Madar-jan. \"She just lies around most of the time, just like Padar-jan. She cries a lot, especially when Khala Shaima comes over. That just makes Khala Shaima angrier.\"\n\nAt the mention of her name, Khala Shaima looked in our direction. I expected her to give us a chastising look but she didn't. She didn't give a damn about decorum.\n\n\"Are you going to school?\"\n\n\"Sometimes. Depends on what Padar-jan says. Sometimes, when she's taken Padar-jan's medicine, I have to stay home to clean up and get Madar-jan up and dressed. If Bibi-jan sees her the way she is, there's always a big fight.\"\n\nSitara stared at the ground but I could tell she was listening to our hushed conversation. She looked so timid, so different from the inquisitive little girl I'd left behind. I looked back to see Madar-jan wiping tears away, muttering angrily and fidgeting in her chair. I stared at her cheekbones, the lost look in her eyes. She was every emotion and blank at once. She was as badly addicted as my father.\n\nMadar-jan, what's become of you?\n\nMy stomach sank when I thought of what might happen to my sisters. I prayed for God to keep Khala Shaima alive and present in their lives. I pushed away the thought that they would be addicts soon too.\n\nThings were worse than I'd let myself believe, even with Khala Shaima's dismal updates.\n\n\"Rahima, why isn't Shahla here?\"\n\nShahla hadn't been allowed to come. She had just delivered her second child and it wasn't proper for her to be out of the home in her condition. I wondered how she had taken the news, alone and so far from the rest of us.\n\nRespects had been paid. The prayers were complete. The women repeated the procession, again wishing for Allah to ease our suffering, praying for Parwin's place among the angels in heaven and to themselves thinking it was in her best interests that she put herself out of her handicapped and childless misery. I wanted them all to disappear so I could spend this precious time with my mother and sisters.\n\nThe fateha passed quickly. I was back at the compound, but even more miserable. Madar-jan was in bad shape. Rohila had taken over as matriarch. How had this happened to us? I was the only one of my sisters who'd had a chance to live any kind of childhood at all, and that was only because I'd been a bacha posh. I looked at my son and thanked God for making him a boy. His lips turned up in a cheerful smile, his eyelashes so long they looked like they could get tangled. At least he had a chance.\n\nI wanted to be alone but there was little possibility of that at the compound. With the fateha over, so was my period of mourning. I was expected to resume my duties. Bibi Gulalai treated me just as she always had, if not worse. I think she had convinced herself that Parwin's suicide had been a purposeful attack on her family. With Parwin gone, I took the fall for the tragedy she'd brought to her extended family.\n\nI ignored everything and everyone. I carried out my duties, often with Jahangir a few feet away, playing or napping. I watched him wistfully, vowing to be better to him than my mother was being to my sisters. Thankfully, Abdul Khaliq had no trouble clothing and feeding his family. Jahangir was his son, as much as the other boys in the house. He would go to school and enjoy the privileges that came with being a warlord's son.\n\nAnd his father loved him in a way that surprised and relieved me. Abdul Khaliq kept his daughters at arm's length but his sons stayed at his side. The older boys even joined their father in some of his meetings. The younger ones nervously scattered when Abdul Khaliq came home, afraid of getting yelled at for spending too much time playing. He didn't have much patience for crying babies but he would watch them while they slept. Except for my son. Often, I caught him gently stroking Jahangir's cheek or whispering something into his ear. He held him with the same adoration I did. He chuckled when Jahangir spilled things and his chest swelled with pride to hear him say \"baba,\" as if he were hearing the word for the first time. The rhythmic breathing of his sleeping son calmed even his foulest of moods. I was happy Jahangir was a favorite, knowing I never would be. At least my son was safe.\n\nThe older boys, my son's brothers, both feared and adored their father. They vied for his attention and looked for ways to make him happy\u2014or at least not angry. The older boys stood tall when they recited suras from the Qur'an and the younger ones would bring him his sandals when he asked. He was proud to have boys. He smiled for them, and for little else.\n\nMy husband was spending more and more time with foreigners and the men he kept around as close advisers. Plans were brewing. The wives were on edge, though only Badriya knew why. If things were not going well for Abdul Khaliq, then things would not be going well for us. When we asked Badriya, she brushed us off dismissively.\n\n\"Don't bother yourselves worrying about it. He's worked up because he's renegotiating the arrangement he has with some of these people. It's too complicated to explain to you,\" she would say, not wanting to divulge the knowledge that set her apart from the rest of us. As his first wife, he discussed these matters with her. It was really the only interaction he had with her since he rarely called her to his bed. Everyone had a role in the house. That was hers.\n\nBut walls were thin and I spent most of my time at the main part of the house. I started to hear things when Abdul Khaliq and his men sat in the living room.\n\n\"They've got five more open seats for the province. The seat from our region needs to be filled. There are a few other powerful men who will be looking to step in and challenge you, Abdul Khaliq, but a woman candidate would be a sure thing. She would take the seat without question because of these stupid rules they've created.\"\n\n\"I don't like this idea. Why should we put a woman in a man's place? And even worse, you're asking me to put my wife in my place? Since when do we have a woman do a man's job?\"\n\n\"I understand that, sahib, truly. And, believe me, I don't like it any more than you do, but these are the rules. I'm simply suggesting we find a way to work around the system so that we don't lose all control over this area. The elections are coming up soon. We must plan for this.\"\n\n\"Damn whoever decided on these shameful rules! Telling us we have to have women representatives? They have no business there! Who do they think is going to look after the children then?\"\n\nHis advisers were silent. I could hear my husband pacing, grunting. I was surprised at what I was hearing. It sounded like they were suggesting that one of Abdul Khaliq's wives run in the upcoming parliamentary election! Would he really even consider such a move? We wives rarely left the compound. How could he possibly send us out to interact with strangers?\n\nI looked at the clock on the wall. Jahangir had been sleeping for forty minutes. He would be waking up soon. And Khala Shaima had promised to come over today. Tomorrow would mark forty days since Parwin's death.\n\n\"I'm simply presenting an option, sahib. I know it's not an attractive one but it may be our only one. I just don't want you to lose the opportunity to have some influence in the government. You're already in good position with the contracts you've secured.\"\n\nSmoke wafted from under the doorway, the acrid, thick smell of opium. My mind drifted home, to my father asleep in the living room and my mother sewing our clothes.\n\n\"It's true,\" another voice chimed in. \"There's no one else who can guarantee the same security\u2014especially over the bridge. Those foreigners, they certainly don't want to send their own soldiers to guard it. They depend on us. This pipeline is not a small project. They've been talking about it for years and this time it looks like it's actually going to happen.\"\n\n\"It's true. There's a lot of money in that pipe. And this area belongs to you, sahib. It would be a shame to lose even part of that control.\" The voice was measured and cautious.\n\n\"I know that!\" Abdul Khaliq thundered. \"Don't you think I know that? I don't need you to tell me things I already know!\"\n\nI didn't want to be around for what I knew was coming next. I picked up my son and walked back toward my own quarters to wait for Khala Shaima. I wanted her to take my mind off things. To tell me about Bibi Shekiba's mysterious plan.\nCHAPTER 32\n\nShekib waited for the right time. Mahbuba was rarely alone but she was the right person, Shekib had decided. She had borne the king four sons.\n\nThe first stage of Shekib's plan was to find out what Mahbuba had done right. How was it that she came to have four sons while other women continued to bring girls? There must have been something she had done differently to not have a single girl in her brood.\n\nHer boys ranged in age from one to seven years old. When Shekib came upon them, Mahbuba was bathing her youngest son. Her eyes searched for a towel, while the older boys ran off to play.\n\n\"Thank you! I thought I had something here with me,\" she said as Shekib handed her a cloth from a nearby shelf. Mahbuba held Saboor's hand as she dried him off.\n\n\"Certainly,\" Shekib mumbled. She had made a point of being quietly helpful with the king's consorts. It was unlike her to start a conversation but she forced herself to speak the lines she had rehearsed.\n\n\"You have lovely sons.\"\n\n\"Thank Allah, they are blessings,\" she said, sighing. The boy was wiggling to escape his mother's grip. His eyes chased after his brothers.\n\n\"The others have daughters. Mostly. You are lucky.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, some of us are blessed with sons and others have to bear daughters.\"\n\n\"You have made the king very happy.\"\n\nIt dawned on Mahbuba that this conversation was peculiar. She turned around to see who she was talking to.\n\n\"Oh, you! What is your name?\"\n\n\"Shekib.\" She looked at Mahbuba straight on. The women of the harem had made her quite comfortable in the last few weeks. They were too busy picking each other apart to pay attention to the woman-man guard with the melted face. Shekib no longer missed being able to pull her head scarf over her cheek. She found it liberating to walk about, her hands in her pockets and the sun on her face.\n\n\"Right. Shekib. Let me ask you something. What's your real name, my dear? Your girl name?\"\n\nShekib fidgeted. Mahbuba had surprised her.\n\n\"My name is Shekiba.\"\n\n\"Clever. Bet that was Ghafoor's idea. Do you and the others get along well enough with her? She can be such a nuisance.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Shekib said vaguely.\n\n\"It's so ridiculous that they have you wearing those uniforms. As if anyone would forget that you are not men. As if we need guards anyway. What we need are more servants to help us with the children. But that would offend the king's sense of security.\"\n\n\"Some people forget.\"\n\n\"Forget that you're women? Do you really think so?\" Mahbuba was struggling to dress her son. He scratched at his mother's face in angry protest. She turned him around and locked him between her knees. He looked at Shekib with a defeated pout.\n\n\"How did you make it so . . . how did you manage to have boys?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I want to know how you managed to have all boys. What did you do?\"\n\nMahbuba laughed naughtily. \"Do you want me to start with the basics? You are dressed as a man but know nothing about their parts, eh?\"\n\nShekib blushed. \"I mean . . . no, that's not what I meant. I was asking how . . . the other women have girls. How did you manage to have boys instead of girls?\" she stammered.\n\n\"Do you think you are the first to ask me such a question? Most of the women in this house have come to me looking for that very answer. I have borne the king more sons than any other woman!\" Mahbuba needed a minute to sing her own praises. Shekib waited. \"I have given him son after son and nothing but sons! That is why he looks at me with fire in his eyes, with respect in his heart. You are a wise girl-boy. You are looking for the key to a satisfied man.\"\n\nThe humidity of the bathhouse made Shekib's breaths heavy. She wondered if Mahbuba would ever reveal her secret. Maybe this had been a mistake.\n\n\"But tell me. Why are you asking such a question? You are a man now, are you not? Are you to be turned back into a woman? Are you to be married?\"\n\nShekib shook her head.\n\n\"I did not think so. Then why bother to ask for answers you have no business using? Did someone send you to ask me this? Who was it? Was it Shokria? I've seen the way she looks at my boys. Five girls, she has. Can you imagine? That witch. I'll fix her if she casts a jealous eye on my sons!\"\n\n\"No, no one sent me!\" Shekib panicked. She did not want to cause any fuss among the women. If it led back to her, it would not help her situation.\n\n\"Farida? She's another one with her devil eyes . . . can't be trusted. You shouldn't go about the harem doing their dirty work for them!\" Her son had managed to finally twist himself free. Mahbuba sighed. He was missing one sock.\n\n\"Forgive me, I have not been sent by anyone. I was . . . I was just asking out of my own curiosity.\"\n\n\"Are you wanted by a man?\"\n\n\"Am I . . . no, I just\u2014\" Shekib decided she should close this conversation.\n\n\"I am teasing you. I will tell you a few tricks if you promise\u2014\" Mahbuba paused and looked from left to right dramatically. Her voice turned into a hush. \"If you promise that you will not share these secrets with anyone else. You can use them if you find yourself under a man one day and in the mood to give him a son.\"\n\nShekib squatted next to Mahbuba, her ears hot.\n\nSome of what she was told, she never would have anticipated. And would never have been able to repeat.\n\nBut she committed the tips to memory, hoping that they might prove useful. The shape of the moon, the seeds of the yellow flowered plant, the juice of an apple with no brown spots. These were simpler. But the other things, the things with the man, these made Shekib wonder if Mahbuba was not looking to make a fool out of her. But there had been no glimmer of trickery in her eye. She spoke casually, as if the things she talked about were commonplace and ordinary. To Mahbuba they were. To Shekib, they were not.\n\nDid the women really allow the king to do such things? She thought of Halima and could not imagine it. Then she thought of Sakina, the way she had walked, half-naked, to the king's chamber and knocked on the door with feigned timidity. It could be true.\n\nShe could not stop her mind from drifting to Amanullah, the governor of Kabul. She thought of the way he walked, the confidence of his step, his fingers grazing the petals with delicate respect. She wondered what it would be like to be near him, to feel his breath on her face, moist and warm like the air of the harem's bath room. She thought of her fingers tracing the borders of his neatly trimmed beard and the medals of his uniform pressing against her unfettered bosom.\n\nShekib shook her head and hoped her face did not betray her thoughts.\n\nAt night, the guards slept in a room just outside the concubines' quarters. They took turns standing guard. Tonight was Shekib's turn. Kabul's air was brisk but she did not mind it. She wrapped her coat tighter around her and rubbed her hands together. She thought back to her first night on duty, a night she spent standing at attention, terrified that someone would find her asleep or sneak up on her. By morning she had drawn her weapon, a heavy baton, a half dozen times, only to frighten the frog who had wandered too far from the pond. She nearly collapsed when Ghafoor came to ask her how her night had gone.\n\n\"Why are there so many noises at night? There are frogs and lizards and soldiers coughing and pacing! You said I should just stand in the quiet night until morning. It wasn't a quiet night at all!\"\n\nGhafoor had laughed uncontrollably. Two soldiers had turned, their brows furrowed in disapproval to hear a woman laugh so loudly, even if it was a woman-man.\n\n\"Did the frogs shake you up? Well, little girl from the village, I didn't think a few little night critters would make you so nervous!\"\n\nShekib had felt a little embarrassed. \"It wasn't the frogs, it was mostly the soldiers . . . they are loud but I couldn't see them. I just thought . . .\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it. The next night will be easier on you. You'll grow accustomed to the sounds of the palace at night. You might even enjoy it more than the days.\"\n\nGhafoor was right, although Shekib kept that revelation to herself. Over the next few months, she grew content to sit in the dark, the dim light from the king's main residence and a few oil lanterns casting enough of a glow to make a game of shadows. Shekib smiled when some resembled animals, laughed when one took the shape of her grandmother.\n\nTariq joined her on those nights when she could not sleep. She had been in the king's presence more than a few times and he hardly glanced at her. She was losing hope for being that rose that is plucked from the garden, as she had put it. She fretted, bit her nails and creased her forehead but Shekib did not mind her company.\n\n\"Ghafoor is snoring again.\"\n\nShekib nodded.\n\n\"It's like sleeping next to a congested horse. I can't take it. I don't know how the others ignore it.\"\n\n\"She'll deny it in the morning.\"\n\nTariq smiled. \"Anything happening in the palace?\"\n\n\"No, not so far.\" It was quiet in the gardens, but the palace was unpredictable. People came and went at odd hours sometimes. And from time to time, King Habibullah hungered for a concubine in the darkest hour.\n\nThe guards were silent. Tariq sighed. Something was on her mind.\n\n\"Are you happy here?\" she asked.\n\n\"Happy? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean, are you happy? Are you satisfied with this?\"\n\n\"I've seen worse.\"\n\n\"You don't miss your family?\"\n\n\"I miss them as much as they miss me.\"\n\nTariq did not know how to interpret Shekib's response. She understood from her tone that she would not elaborate. She pulled at her bangs, tried to make them reach her eyebrows.\n\n\"But how much longer do you think we will be here?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"I wonder sometimes.\"\n\n\"About what?\"\n\n\"I wonder what the palace will do with us. How long will they keep us here? I want to be married. I want to have children and a home. I want to live somewhere else, don't you?\"\n\nTariq, dressed as a man, was a woman after all. Her voice was nearly cracking. Shekib understood better than she let on. She had to protect her own plan.\n\n\"I don't know. We have a comfortable life here.\"\n\nTariq sighed heavily. \"It's comfortable, but this can't be it. I'm not like Ghafoor. Or even Karim. I don't want to wear pants for the rest of my life. I was happy as a girl.\"\n\nTariq's laments were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming shut. The guards froze and looked for the source of the noise. They focused their eyes in the dark, trying to locate the footsteps.\n\n\"Where was\u2014\"\n\n\"Shhh!\" Shekib hissed.\n\nA shadow scurried away from the harem's side door. The figure was running back into the palace.\n\n\"Do you think it's the king?\"\n\nShekib did not. King Habibullah never left from the side door. And he had no need to sneak past the guards either.\n\n\"Who goes there?\" she called out. She wrapped her fingers around her baton.\n\nThe figure scurried faster, passing under the yellow glow of a lantern. From the breadth of the shoulders and the shape of the pants, they could see it was a man. A man in the harem?\n\n\"This is bizarre. Stay here. I'm going to check on things inside,\" Shekib said.\n\nBut the harem was peaceful. Shekib could hear the light snores. The man had come from somewhere though. She waited, cocked her ear for any movements. She tiptoed through the hallway slowly. Carefully.\n\nWhen she had crossed through the bath and checked the hallway on the opposite side, she retraced her steps. Something stirred by the foyer. She focused her eyes in the dark as the figure turned toward her.\n\n\"Did you find anything?\"\n\nIt was Tariq.\n\nShekib sighed and shook her head. They stepped back into the night air and looked into the courtyard, across the gardens, to the palace. Nothing moved. Shekib wondered who it could have been. Someone had paid a visit to one of the king's concubines. Who could be so bold as to trespass here? And which woman had allowed him into her chambers?\n\nShekib and Tariq sat in silence, chewing over the same thought. If the palace were to find out, the guards would be held responsible.\nCHAPTER 33\n\nShekib and Tariq entered their sleeping quarters when daylight broke. They had neither seen nor heard anything else throughout the night. The soldiers were walking about now and the servants looked hurried. The king was likely expecting a visitor.\n\nGhafoor was awake, her arms stretched over her head as she yawned. The others rubbed their eyes.\n\n\"Tariq? You're up already? Did you not sleep last night?\" Ghafoor asked, puzzled.\n\n\"Something happened last night,\" Shekib said softly. \"Something you all need to know about.\"\n\nHer words, rare as they were, got everyone's attention.\n\n\"We saw someone leaving the harem through the side door, which should have been locked. It looked like a man. He ran off toward the palace but in the dark we couldn't make out his face.\"\n\n\"It must have been the king. You know his urges come at odd hours.\"\n\nTariq shook her head. \"It wasn't the king, trust me. I know his shape. This man was leaner, taller. And the king doesn't sneak in and out of the side door. He comes and goes as he pleases, even when the hour is late. This was someone else.\"\n\nGhafoor and Karim leaned forward; they were just now making the realization that Shekib and Tariq had made last night. Qasim looked at her sister's concerned face.\n\n\"Did you hear anything inside? Was anyone awake?\" Karim asked.\n\n\"Nothing. I walked through the hallways and heard nothing at all, saw no one. Whoever it was that let him in was not making a sound,\" Shekib said, her tone flat and serious.\n\n\"Of course not,\" Ghafoor said. \"But if this has happened once, then it has probably happened twice and three times and more. We have a serious problem on our hands, guards. If the king learns that someone has been sneaking past us and paying secret visits to his private harem, we can start saying our final prayers.\"\n\n\"Should we tell someone in the palace?\" Qasim asked nervously. \"No, absolutely not!\" Ghafoor cried. \"We have to find out what we can on our own and stop this from exploding on us.\"\n\nKarim and Tariq nodded in agreement. Shekib stood in silence. Ghafoor was taking charge now.\n\n\"First of all, we need to speak with the concubines, privately, one at a time, and see if anyone can give us any information.\"\n\n\"You think whoever brought him in is going to tell us?\" Qasim asked.\n\n\"No, she won't tell us anything, I'm sure. But if this has been happening, someone must have heard something and I'm sure that someone else will be willing to talk about it. You know how these women are with each other. They can't wait for a chance to rip the others to shreds.\"\n\n\"I can't believe we haven't already heard about this,\" Tariq said.\n\n\"This was bound to happen. It was just a matter of time. There are just too many women in one house. One of them was going to invite trouble.\" Ghafoor spoke confidently, as if she had predicted this months ago.\n\nShekib and Tariq lay down to get some rest. The others assumed their posts, rotating to cover Tariq's position as well so that she could close her reddened eyes for a few hours. The situation had given Ghafoor new energy. Her face was serious and her tone urgent. She gave orders as if she were a palace general commanding her soldiers.\n\nKarim and Qasim shot each other looks but let her be.\n\nShekib could not sleep. From the moment she had seen that shadowy figure, a feeling had taken root in her stomach. Something would come from this. She lay on her side, looking at the cracks and crevices of the stone wall. She was not in her village now. She was not even in Azizullah's house. She was in the king's palace. Bigger people meant bigger problems.\n\nSleep claimed her finally but briefly. In the afternoon, she rose and dressed. She found Karim in the bathhouse. Five women soaked in the pool. Shekib looked up and saw the balcony was empty.\n\n\"Have you heard anything?\"\n\nKarim shook her head. \"Ghafoor says she has her suspicions but no one is talking yet. I've asked two of the women, Parisa and Benazir, if they heard anything odd last night but they said they hadn't. We have only asked those women who have children since it's unlikely young ones would sleep through a visitor in the dark.\"\n\nShekib nodded. The reasoning made sense.\n\n\"But it is best not to create too much of a stir since one of the women might actually tell King Habibullah what we've been asking.\" Karim sighed heavily. \"There are just so many ways for this to turn on us.\"\n\n\"That's how things are. There always has to be someone to blame,\" Shekib said. She could still see Bobo Shahgul's crooked finger pointing at her, her beady eyes filled with hatred.\n\nThe next week brought no revelations, no clues as to who had come to visit the harem. The only proof that Shekib and Tariq had not imagined the whole thing was that the visitor had returned. Just five days after the first sighting, he was seen again leaving the house. This time it had been Qasim's turn for night duty.\n\nQasim's description seconded what Shekib and Tariq had described.\n\n\"Did you go after him? Did you see his face?\" Ghafoor had demanded.\n\n\"No . . . I only saw\u2014\"\n\n\"You just stood there? We're trying to find out who this is and you just stand there? Great job guarding the harem!\" She threw her arms up in exasperation.\n\n\"He was walking so fast. I didn't think I should . . .\"\n\n\"Forget it. It's fine. There's no point chasing this man down. He probably already knows that we've seen him and obviously he doesn't care. He's only concerned about getting caught by the palace. He knows we cannot do anything,\" Karim said with annoyance.\n\n\"What are you talking about? If Qasim would have had half a nerve, she could have\u2014\"\n\n\"Then you can take her night duty and you can chase him down yourself!\" Karim shouted. She was tired of hearing Ghafoor's complaints. Ghafoor pursed her lips but was silenced.\n\nThe bickering had seeped through the harem and into the guards' quarters. Their small troupe now felt the pressure and it was straining the thin friendships that had formed among them. Shekib watched as the cracks grew, week by week.\n\nThe man visited the harem about once a week and though we posted a guard at the side door, we were somehow unable to confront or identify him. By Ghafoor's account, he never appeared on her overnight shifts but the others doubted this. More likely, she was turning a blind eye since she too did not want to be the one to chase him down in the middle of the night. Better to find out from the woman and put a stop to it there.\n\nIn the meantime, Shekib decided to continue laying the groundwork for her own plans. She approached a few women with two purposes in mind. She asked if they had heard anything, any strange noises in the night. And she found ways to make mention of her own family. She awkwardly and clumsily told a story about them, about the string of boys her mother had borne, her aunts had borne, her grandmother had borne.\n\nWomen in our family have many sons. I was the only daughter.\n\nCurious looks. The women were not sure why the disfigured guard was sharing such information but they nodded politely and moved on. Or they shooed her off and crossed their brows. But Shekib persisted.\n\nSomething told her she did not have much time.\nCHAPTER 34\n\n\"She looked terrible, Khala-jan,\" I said. \"I just never thought I would see my mother looking like that. Shahla would have been in tears to see her!\"\n\nIt occurred to me, though, that Shahla too had likely changed. None of us were what we had been three years ago. Shahla now had two children. I thought of her when I looked at Shahnaz. I wondered how her new family was treating her. I prayed she was faring better than Parwin had.\n\n\"Rohila is a smart girl. I just wish they would send them to school.\" She sighed. \"That's all I wanted for each of you. A bit of education that you could carry with you through life.\"\n\n\"What good did it do me?\" I asked in frustration. \"I went to school for a few years and it did absolutely nothing to change where I am now.\"\n\n\"You'll see later in life. Every bit does some good. Look at me. I'm lucky I know how to read. It's a candle in a dark room. What I don't know, I can find out for myself. It's easier to fool someone who can't figure things out on his own.\"\n\nI bit my tongue. I still didn't see what use it was. Khala Shaima had been the only one of her sisters to make it to the eighth grade, since no suitors had come for her. Other than her being able to read a newspaper or a book here and there, I didn't see how her life was any better. She hadn't been able to stop anything from happening to my sisters or me.\n\n\"Your mother will be all right,\" Khala Shaima said, misreading the doubtful expression on my face. \"The human spirit, you know what they say about the human spirit? It is harder than a rock and more delicate than a flower petal.\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Your mother is protecting herself. She's protecting her spirit, making the delicate petal as hard as rock with the medicine your father brings home because it's the only way she knows to survive. You should do the same, in a different way, of course. Don't forget that you are part flower petal and part rock too.\"\n\nShe sighed.\n\n\"That damn medicine. Now that Abdul Khaliq is your father's damaat, he can get as much as he wants. There was just too much of it for your mother to resist.\"\n\n\"They made out well in this whole arrangement,\" I said with more cynicism than I'd intended. Sometimes I saw my mother as a victim. Other times I thought of her as my father's coconspirator. Either way, my sisters were the ones who suffered. I looked at Jahangir and swore never to do the same to him.\n\n\"You can blame your mother but it won't do any good. You don't know what it was like to be in her position. In an ant colony, dew is a flood.\"\n\n\"But you said it too! You were the one telling her that she shouldn't give us away. I remember you arguing with her!\"\n\nKhala Shaima sighed and looked away, frustrated. \"Of course I told her all those things! And she tried. She tried to talk to your father but he's\u2014\"\n\n\"I know what he is.\"\n\nKhala Shaima quieted. She bit her lip. It was time to change the subject. \"How has Abdul Khaliq been with you lately?\"\n\n\"He's so busy with his own affairs that he's hardly around the house at all.\"\n\n\"Good. Busy with what?\"\n\nI shrugged my shoulders. \"I'm not sure exactly but I heard him talking with his advisers and guards the other day. Something about his soldiers doing what the foreign soldiers can't do.\"\n\n\"Or don't want to do. He's got a good racket. These other countries come in here and throw a few bombs around. Friends today with yesterday's enemies. They just change their hats and all of a sudden, they're allies to these western countries. No one cares what Abdul Khaliq was doing for the past few years.\"\n\n\"What was he doing?\"\n\nKhala Shaima's lips pursed together. \"He's your husband, Rahima, so I would have thought you'd have a better idea by now. How do you think he got to be so rich and powerful? Off the blood of our own people, that's how. By ransoming, stealing, killing and then washing up and looking pretty for the westerners who either don't know any better or pretend not to. Your husband is not the only one and he's probably not even one of the worst. You were too young to really know how things worked and no one in your house would talk about it since your father was fighting under him.\" Khala Shaima's voice was a cautious whisper.\n\nI remembered how Shahnaz had come to be Abdul Khaliq's wife\u2014pillaged from her home as if she were a piece of jewelry or silver serving tray.\n\n\"You should know these things, Rahima, since you're living here in this house. As his wife, no less. But don't speak of them, ever. Not even with his other wives. Understand me?\"\n\nI nodded. Her warning was unnecessary. I already knew how loose the lips in this house were.\n\n\"His advisers were telling him he should have one of his wives run for parliament,\" I said, thinking of the conversation I'd overheard. \"It sounds like such a crazy idea.\"\n\n\"Run for parliament? Those conniving bastards!\"\n\n\"They really want him to. That would be a big change for him, Khala Shaima, wouldn't it? Imagine, one of his wives in the parliament.\"\n\n\"To hell it's a big change! It's a charade. There's a rule that a certain number of seats have to be filled by women. They made this rule part of the constitution because otherwise no one would give any woman the time of day. But he'll put one of his wives in and tell her exactly what to say, how to vote, who to talk to. It's no different than Abdul Khaliq taking the seat himself!\" Her words were bitter, underscored by the way she spat some letters out.\n\nI hadn't thought of the situation that way but Khala Shaima's reasoning made sense. And it explained why Abdul Khaliq was even considering the option. It was as his adviser had said\u2014this might be the only way to keep control over the region.\n\n\"Did he say which wife he wanted to have run?\"\n\n\"No, they didn't.\" I had wondered the same thing myself.\n\n\"Probably Badriya.\"\n\n\"Why Badriya?\"\n\n\"Because Jameela is too pretty. He won't want men's eyes on her. And you and Shahnaz are too young.\"\n\nShe was right.\n\nOver the next few weeks Badriya was groomed for the election. Abdul Khaliq spent more time with her behind closed doors. We didn't know what they were talking about and Badriya was tight-lipped, or at least put on the appearance of being so.\n\n\"It's going to be a difficult election,\" she said, tapping her finger against her lips. It was obvious she was feeling very special to have been chosen for the task. \"We've been discussing getting the word out, getting my name out.\"\n\n\"What kinds of things will you have to do if you're part of the parliament?\" Shahnaz asked. It was a warm afternoon and the children were all in the courtyard. Abdul Khaliq had gone on an overnight trip and Bibi Gulalai was in bed, recovering from a cold that she said had nearly killed her three times over. The compound could breathe now that Bibi Gulalai swore she couldn't.\n\n\"Silly thing! Don't you know what the parliament does? Good thing it's me and not you that's running!\"\n\nI saw Jameela swallow a smile. We both knew Badriya was trying to come up with an answer.\n\n\"It's a lot of work once you hold a jirga seat. There are things to vote on, decisions to make . . .\" She waved her hand about as if it was just too much trouble to bother explaining.\n\nShahnaz raised her eyebrows. \"But you're going to be covered, right?\"\n\n\"Of course! I'll be wearing my burqa.\"\n\n\"And if you make it into the parliament, then what? It's mostly men, isn't it? You'll have to go and meet with them?\"\n\n\"Yes, that'll be my responsibility as an elected official. We'll have to talk about the voting, the issues.\"\n\n\"When are the elections?\"\n\n\"In two months. There's a lot to be done.\" Badriya sighed as if she had just realized how much work awaited her.\n\nBadriya, the first wife, had been accustomed to a status within the compound but she had started to resent all the attention the other wives were getting. This development was just the boost she needed to reclaim her distinction. But not all attention was good attention.\n\nAbout a week after our conversation, I woke up in the morning, tied my hair behind my head and slipped on my work dress. I was to clean out the chicken coop. The smell always turned my stomach so I brought a square of cloth to tie around my nose and mouth.\n\nI walked outside and went to the far edge of the compound. The chickens were up early and clucked with excitement at my arrival. Feathers flew into the air, making me cough. I adjusted my mask and took a deep breath.\n\nBefore I could pick up my broom, the clucking heightened, and the chickens started to pace the area as if they'd been upset by something. I turned back toward the compound and saw Badriya walking behind the house. She had her left arm tucked in under her side and walked with a slight limp that made me think of Parwin.\n\nI watched her and realized she hadn't seen me. She stopped at the clothesline and reached up to pull off a chador and a dress. It took her three tries before she was able to get the dress down; each time she reached upward, she would stop short and withdraw her arm sharply, shaking her head. I wondered what had happened and was happy for an excuse to delay my task anyway.\n\n\"Badriya-jan! Sobh bakhair!\"\n\nBadriya whipped around, her surprised expression interrupted by a wince. \"Oh, Rahima! Yes, sobh bakhair. Good morning to you too. What are you doing back here?\"\n\nHer arm was still tucked in.\n\n\"I have to clean out the henhouse,\" I explained. \"It looks like you're having a hard time with your arm. What happened?\"\n\nBadriya frowned. \"It's nothing,\" she said unconvincingly. As she went to turn back to the clothesline, I caught a glimpse of her neckline and saw bruising around her collarbone. I started to say something about it but caught myself. She tried to move around as usual but her face betrayed her.\n\n\"Just get on with whatever you were doing, Rahima. I'm too busy to chat,\" she said dismissively. I walked back toward the chickens, looking over my shoulder to confirm that she was still limping. Hashmat met her at the door of the house and helped her in. He noticed me watching and shook his head. I kept my distance from him these days. By now I'd figured out that I shouldn't be around boys my own age or older, no matter what their relation to me. And I didn't want to invite any talk about Abdullah, who now seemed like a character I'd created in my imagination.\n\nIn the afternoon, I returned to Jameela's house. Most of the time, my son joined me while I did my chores, but cleaning the henhouse was impossible with him around. Jahangir had taken to spending time with Jameela while I was attending to some of the more taxing work. She enjoyed having him around now that her own children were grown and I trusted her more than anyone else. Even though I lived with Shahnaz, it was Jameela I turned to with every question about feeding and bathing Jahangir. She even knitted a sweater and cap for him to keep him warm through the winter.\n\n\"He hasn't been too much trouble, has he?\" I asked, knowing what her answer would be.\n\n\"Oh, he's getting sweeter every day, Rahima. Tomorrow we should espand him, to keep the evil eye away. Before you know it, he's going to be talking his mouth off. You should see him trying.\"\n\n\"Have you seen Badriya today?\" I asked, wanting to talk to someone about what I'd observed.\n\n\"No, are you looking for her?\" She was feeding morsels of tea-soaked bread into Jahangir's open mouth.\n\n\"I saw her this morning, outside behind the house. She looks like her arm's pretty badly hurt. And she's not walking right.\"\n\n\"Hm. Did you ask her about it?\" Jameela said, shaking her head.\n\n\"Yes, but she brushed me off.\"\n\n\"She expected too much.\" Jameela sighed. \"A man has to feel that he's in charge of his home, at the end of the day. Especially a man like Abdul Khaliq Khan.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"You know it's not easy for him to agree to have her run for election. Her name has to be publicized in the area for people to vote for her; she will be talked about. And it will be big news that the powerful Abdul Khaliq's wife is out of the house, running for parliament. It's not what he wants.\"\n\nI felt stupid for not figuring this out on my own.\n\n\"Last night, I heard him.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"He warned her not to turn into one of those women, the kind who make a lot of noise, talk with lots of people. He wanted her to know that it was his decision to put her into the election and that it had nothing to do with her. I think he's heard her talking about it. That's not what he wants of his wives. I don't know what exactly she said but he was rough on her last night.\" Jameela shook her head and clucked her tongue. \"It sounded like he was at his worst.\"\n\nAs much as her smugness had irritated me, I pitied Badriya. We all knew Abdul Khaliq's heavy hand. I wondered if Badriya regretted being chosen to run for the jirga seat.\n\n\"Is he still going to go through with it? I mean, to have her run for the parliament?\"\n\n\"I think so. He wants the power. Through her, he would have his finger in a lot of different projects. He's not going to give that up, as much as he might hate to have his wife's name written on ballots and know that she's going to have to be away from the house sometimes to fulfill her duties. I'm sure he's trying to think of a way around all that anyway.\"\n\nAbdul Khaliq had indeed taught Badriya a lesson. She didn't talk about the upcoming election after that. He met with her from time to time as well as his advisers. I caught bits and pieces of conversations. Things weren't going well. His advisers weren't sure Badriya would win the seat in the jirga but Abdul Khaliq had a way of convincing them.\n\nMy husband was used to getting his way. If he wanted Badriya elected, she would be.\nCHAPTER 35\n\nAbdul Khaliq and Badriya traveled to Kabul frequently. He hated it. She claimed to enjoy it but we could see that she didn't. Abdul Khaliq was always tense before they left and even worse by the time they returned.\n\nBadriya had won the election, mostly thanks to the women's votes, according to local news. To me and my husband's two other wives, it seemed unreal that something as important sounding as the parliament would let women vote. Khala Shaima had come by again. I asked her about my family and Bibi Shekiba. She asked me about Badriya and Abdul Khaliq. By this time, my na\u00efvet\u00e9 had been washed away. I knew just what kind of man I was married to and I knew he had done terrible things to people. Jahangir, my son, was starting to look like his father, which frightened me. Sometimes I worried I might grow to dislike him if he did. I cringed when he became angry or frustrated, his shrieks taking on a familiar hostility. But his moods were nothing in comparison to his father's and he was otherwise very loving and affectionate, pulling my face to his and patting my head as if I were the child and he the parent.\n\nKhala Shaima's breathing was more labored today. It could have been the dust in the air, her waning health or my own paranoia. She was the only family that I had left and I often worried about what I would do without her visits. I prayed for her health selfishly.\n\n\"He's telling her exactly how to vote. She's got no choice but to follow his orders.\"\n\nI nodded. \"You should see how exhausted she looks every time they return from Kabul. She looks completely drained.\"\n\n\"But there must be some way, some way for her to vote on her own. He doesn't go into the parliament, you know. Once she's in a session, he's not there to sway her.\"\n\n\"I'm sure he's got ways of knowing or watching every little thing that happens behind those doors.\" I pried Jahangir's small hand open and took away the stone he had found. He had watched his older half brothers playing and now wanted to imitate them. His round eyes lit up when he saw them, his mouth broke into a wide grin and he would pull my face and point for me to look at what he was seeing.\n\n\"Yes, bachem, I see them. You're going to grow up to be just as big and strong. Just wait.\" Sometimes I tried to imagine what he would look like in ten years but my mind couldn't envision him as anything but the sweet toddler he was. When I tried to picture myself in ten years it was frightening. My hands were already rough and knobby. My back ached at night, partly from carrying Jahangir for nine months and partly from being bent over to wash clothes and scrub floors most days. This home, this life, had aged me. Maybe that was what Parwin had seen, life in ten years. Maybe it was a sight too ugly to bear.\n\nEveryone needs an escape.\n\n\"Maybe you can go to Kabul with her,\" Khala Shaima suggested. She started to cough, a rough cough that rattled her whole body. I put my hand over hers and pushed a glass of water closer to her. \"Thank you, dokhtar-jan. Bah! The dust is irritating me more than usual today.\"\n\nI hoped that was all it was.\n\n\"Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, why don't you see if you can go to Kabul with her?\"\n\n\"What am I going to do in Kabul, Khala-jan?\"\n\n\"Who knows,\" she said vaguely. \"But in Kabul you'll see different things. It's an education of sorts. See how people live there, see the buildings and see what the parliament is doing. It's an opportunity for you.\"\n\nThe idea was tempting. I wouldn't have minded seeing what the big city of Kabul looked like. I'd only heard about it through the story of Bibi Shekiba, which I hoped Khala Shaima would continue today. It was as if she read my mind.\n\n\"I know you enjoy hearing about your bibi Shekiba. She lived in Kabul, you know. It's a different life there.\"\n\n\"But you've never seen it, have you?\"\n\n\"Look at me, Rahima! I'm thankful my ragged bones bring me this far. When I was younger, though . . .\" Her voice softened. \"I did dream of going to Kabul. I wished a carriage would come down the road, pick me up and take me to see the presidential palace and the shops and the streets and the airport. I wanted to see all the places I had read about.\"\n\nThat was her escape, I realized. Where her body couldn't take her, her mind went.\n\n\"Maybe you could go now?\" I suggested. The yearning in her voice made me wish she could go.\n\n\"My time has passed. But think about it. Badriya is going back and forth between here and the city. It shouldn't be a big deal for her to take you along. Offer to help her.\"\n\n\"Help? The only help she needs of me is right here, washing, scrubbing, ironing, rubbing her back even . . .\" The list went on and on.\n\n\"I know Badriya's type. I doubt she can read. I wonder how she's managing that with her role in the parliament. Let her know you can read and write. That would be a much better way for you to be useful to her.\"\n\nThat was true. Badriya had never learned how to read. I'd once seen Hashmat reading her a letter from her family. She listened eagerly as he deciphered the scribble. She wasn't alone. Most women in our village didn't know how to read. My sisters and I had only learned thanks to Khala Shaima's insistence. Rohila and Sitara may not have been getting the same opportunity, I thought, now that Madar-jan had retreated into herself and Khala Shaima's health was not what it used to be.\n\n\"She can't read. Neither can Shahnaz. Jameela can read a little bit, I think.\"\n\n\"Well, there you go,\" she said. She leaned forward and exhaled slowly, her lips pursed. \"Talk to her, nicely. I think it would be good for you to see the places your bibi Shekiba saw.\"\n\nThe idea excited me even more once she brought up Bibi Shekiba. I had already experienced her double life, living as a boy. I wanted to see the places she'd seen. But I wanted more than she had too. I didn't want to be a pawn the way she had been, passed from one set of hands to another. I wanted to be bolder. I wanted to make my naseeb, not have it handed to me. But from what my mother had always said, I didn't know if that was possible.\n\n\"Khala Shaima, do you think you can change your naseeb?\"\n\nShe raised an eyebrow. \"Tell me this, how do you know what your naseeb is?\"\n\nI didn't have an answer for her. \"I don't know. Madar-jan said it was my naseeb to be married to Abdul Khaliq. And for Shahla to be married to Abdul Sharif and Parwin to be married to Abdul Haidar.\"\n\n\"And what about this morning? What did you eat for breakfast?\"\n\n\"I ate a piece of bread with tea.\"\n\n\"Did someone bring you the bread?\"\n\n\"No.\" I nearly laughed at the thought of someone bringing something to me. \"Of course not! I got it myself.\"\n\n\"So maybe this morning it seemed it was your naseeb that you shouldn't have any breakfast at all. And then what happened?\"\n\n\"I changed it?\"\n\n\"Maybe. Or maybe it was your naseeb all along that you should have the bread and tea. Maybe your naseeb is there but waiting for you to make it happen.\"\n\n\"But wouldn't people say that is blasphemous? To change the naseeb that Allah has for us?\"\n\n\"Rahima, you know how deeply I love Allah. You know I bow before God five times a day with all my heart. But you tell me which of those people who say such a thing have spoken with Allah to know what the true naseeb is.\"\n\nThat night I lay awake thinking of what Khala Shaima had said. Jahangir breathed softly, tucked in next to me, his small hand on my neck.\n\nWas it Parwin's naseeb to die that way, her skin a mess of melted flesh? Or had she missed an opportunity to change things? To realize her actual naseeb? Was it Madar-jan's naseeb to lie dazed with opium while Rohila and Sitara fended for themselves? Dodged my father's angry rages on their own?\n\nIt baffled me. I sighed and pulled the blanket over my son's shoulders. I traced his pink lips with my finger. His face twitched in his sleep and the corners of his mouth turned up in a dreamy grin. I smiled.\n\nI didn't know what my naseeb was, much less that of my son. But I decided that night I would do whatever I could to make it the best naseeb possible. For both of us. I was not going to miss any opportunities.\n\nFrom what Khala Shaima had told me about Bibi Shekiba, she looked for chances to make her own naseeb. I, her great-great-granddaughter, could do the same.\nCHAPTER 36\n\nShekib's heart pounded; her mouth was dry. Amanullah was again walking through the gardens. Shekib was standing at her post, just a border of shoulder-high shrubs between them. He was walking with the older man again, his friend. Shekib recognized him by his wool hat. They took a seat on a bench and made Shekib's palms sweat.\n\nIt was naseeb that they should walk through here now, while I am on guard.\n\n\"There are many forces at play here. Your father will have to tread carefully. We are mice in a field of elephants but if we are smart about our moves, we can save ourselves from their heavy feet.\"\n\n\"The problem is that we have unrest within our borders and unrest at the borders. Our attention cannot lag or we will be weakened.\" Shekib could hear the respect in Amanullah's voice. He trusted this man.\n\n\"This is true. But the two are linked. A country secure in itself will stand strong against those who eye it hungrily. And those who eye us know that troubles at home make for easy prey.\"\n\n\"Our army is weak compared to theirs.\"\n\n\"But our will is strong,\" he said firmly.\n\nAmanullah sighed thoughtfully.\n\nShekib stiffened at the sound of his breath. She took a step to the right and then two to the left, stirring to make her presence known.\n\n\"Our people know so little of what goes on outside these borders. They are barely aware what happens one province, one village away from their own.\"\n\nShekib held her breath. She wondered if Amanullah realized it was her. Her back was facing the two men but she kept her head turned just slightly, her right profile to them\u2014if they had bothered to look. They stood and walked back toward the palace. Shekib could not resist the opportunity to look at Amanullah when she was close enough to see the color of his eyes. She twisted at the waist and looked from the corner of her eye.\n\nHe looked back. A nod.\n\nHe looked! He nodded! He saw me!\n\nShekib felt her breath quicken. Nearly an hour passed before she realized that Agha Baraan, too, had nodded in her direction, a subtle acknowledgment. She rubbed her moist palms on her uniform pants. She had made contact with Amanullah. He had noticed her and nodded. She had not detected any repulsion in his expression, not an ounce of disgust. Was it possible? Could Amanullah have looked past her disfigurement?\n\nThe afternoon reenergized her. She needed more contact with the palace, with anyone outside the harem. But the guards were insulated, were they not? Shekib considered the situation. She had more freedom than the concubines. She could travel the palace grounds without restriction. She could interact with the servants who came to deliver meals to the harem.\n\nKarim came to relieve her of her post.\n\n\"You can get some dinner. I think they were going to bring the carts over soon.\"\n\n\"I am not that hungry yet, actually. I may just go for a stroll.\"\n\n\"Whatever you want. Just keep your eyes open. It's been weeks and we know nothing.\"\n\nThe women were tightlipped. Each guard had her own suspicions but the questions they asked had gotten a spectrum of useless and curious answers.\n\nShekib traversed the gardens, passed the statues, the pond, two soldiers talking quietly to each other, eyeing her from afar. She looked out at Dilkhosha Palace, impressive and forbidden. She wanted to see inside but she had no business there. She let her imagination tell her what might be within.\n\nMaybe there were doves inside, graceful white winged birds that fed on warm palace bread and chirped blessings for the monarch. Or perhaps there were mountains of food, delicacies baked by cooks to tickle the king and queen's palates.\n\nThings were so different here in Kabul, in the palace. So many things Shekib had never before heard of, things she had never heard her parents speak of. She wondered if the palace thought of the villages as much as they thought of these other things. Why were they so preoccupied by these Russians, whoever they were, when villages were struggling without water?\n\nShe was so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed Agha Baraan sitting on a bench, sheets of paper in his hand.\n\n\"As-salaam-alaikum,\" he said gently.\n\nShekib turned sharply. When she realized who it was that had startled her, she turned her shoulders and head so her right faced him.\n\n\"Wa . . . wa-alaikum as-salaam,\" she whispered.\n\nHe turned back to his papers, reading thoughtfully.\n\nShekib took a step to leave but realized she had walked into a rare opportunity. Here was a link to the palace, a man very close to Amanullah. There were no walls between them, no interferences. She could speak to him, if she could make her voice follow her command.\n\n\"I . . . I guard the harem,\" she said simply.\n\nBaraan looked up, his brown eyes surprised. \"Yes, I remember. We saw you earlier today by the courtyard. You have an important position here in the palace.\"\n\nEverybody has a role in the palace.\n\n\"Yes. And it seems you do as well.\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"That will depend on who you speak with.\"\n\n\"What is it that you do?\"\n\n\"What do I do? Well, I am an adviser, you could say. I work with one of the viziers. An assistant to the assistant, so to speak.\"\n\nDo palace people always speak in riddles? Shekib wondered, thinking of his earlier conversation with Amanullah. \"Are you in the army?\" she asked. Her voice no longer trembled. His demeanor, his voice, his words told her he was not a threat.\n\n\"I am not. I work with them but I am not a soldier myself.\"\n\n\"I don't know anything about Kabul.\"\n\n\"You are from a village. That is not surprising.\"\n\nThere was condescension in his voice but Shekib chose to ignore it.\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\nShe paused before she answered. \"Shekib.\"\n\n\"Shekib, I see. And the name your parents gave you?\"\n\n\"Shekiba.\"\n\n\"Shekiba-jan. My name is Agha Baraan. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Is your family nearby?\"\n\n\"I have no family.\" The words rolled off her tongue before she could reconsider. But it was the truth. Bobo Shahgul and her uncles had made that abundantly clear.\n\n\"I am sorry to hear that.\"\n\nShekib suddenly remembered her plan. If she wanted to change her naseeb, she could not waste an opportunity like this. She tried to recover from her misstep.\n\n\"I mean, I had a family but now I live here. I no longer see my family. But I had many brothers. I am the only daughter in a long line of sons. My aunts all had boys. My grandmother too.\"\n\nAgha Baraan's lips tightened slightly. He looked away for a moment before returning to Shekib. \"Their husbands must be happy.\"\n\n\"They were.\" She fidgeted; her tongue felt thick with lies. He watched her. She wondered if he had sensed the dishonesty in her voice.\n\n\"Are you content here in the palace?\"\n\n\"Yes . . . mostly.\" Shekib hesitated. She was not sure how much to say. \"The palace is beautiful.\"\n\n\"It is. You are in Kabul, in the king's palace, the heart of Afghanistan. It is here within these walls that history is made.\"\n\nSuch grandiose talk, she thought, but she let her expression reveal nothing. \"The king's son.\" She could not bring herself to utter his name. \"He is an important man?\"\n\n\"He is and he is not.\"\n\n\"That's not possible.\"\n\nBaraan raised an eyebrow. \"Why is that?\"\n\n\"Because he either is or he isn't. He cannot be both,\" she said bluntly.\n\nHe chuckled again. \"You disapprove of contradictions. Well, you are ill prepared for life in the palace then. These walls are home to all that is and is not.\"\n\nTwo soldiers walked by and looked at them curiously. Shekib saw one whisper something to the other. She turned away from Agha Baraan abruptly and straightened her back.\n\n\"I need to get back to the harem.\"\n\nShe was clumsy and unrefined, Baraan thought, but interesting in an odd way. He wondered how she had gotten her scar and how much of what she had said was true.\nCHAPTER 37\n\nBadriya looked surprised.\n\n\"It's just that you look like it's bothering you. You've been holding your back all day long. I think you'd feel better if you let me rub it.\"\n\n\"That's just what I need. You're right. I have some oil here. Let me lie down.\" She wasted no time leading the way back to her bed, where she stretched out on her side, her back to me. She wiggled her dress up to her neck, looking over to make sure the door was closed.\n\nI dipped my fingers into the tin of animal fat and started to knead into her back. Rolls of skin hung loosely around her waist.\n\n\"Wooeee wooooeee,\" she moaned. I rolled my eyes. She tended to complain about her back only when there was something to be done around the house. Other times, she loved to point out that she was more active than Jameela and even Shahnaz, who were both much younger than her. Just another one of her contradictions.\n\nShe was putting on a good show now, although it wasn't necessary.\n\n\"Akkkh, you're young. You have no idea what aches and pains are. Have a couple more children and you'll see. My back, my knees, even my neck! Every part of me hurts from morning to night. And the road from here to Kabul is long and bumpy. My muscles get so stiff that by the time we get to the city, I can barely straighten my legs.\"\n\nI kneaded harder, knowing she loved the attention. She had brought up Kabul, though, and I searched for a way to broach Khala Shaima's idea.\n\n\"Are you going back to Kabul soon?\"\n\n\"In about three weeks. The parliament is meeting again. We have to vote on a couple of laws and there are some subjects up for discussion. Things you wouldn't understand.\"\n\nMy massage must have relaxed her. She was falling into her old habits and boasting about her position. This was what had gotten her black and blue under Abdul Khaliq's fist before she'd even taken the seat in the jirga.\n\n\"It must be a lot of work for you to do while you're there.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is. It's a huge responsibility. And going back and forth from here to Kabul is exhausting. It's not easy.\"\n\n\"You must be so tired.\" My tongue felt heavy and awkward saying things I didn't mean. Badriya hardly lifted a finger around the house and her children were mostly grown. They helped her with what little she had to do. And if she was so happy to have been elected to the seat in the jirga, then she should have been happy to travel to Kabul.\n\n\"I am\u2014I am so tired. Push harder here,\" she said, pointing somewhere in her lower back.\n\nI told myself not to huff. My fingers started to cramp but I dug my palms in where she had pointed. I needed her cooperation for the plan that was starting to take shape in my mind. Khala Shaima had planted a seed.\n\n\"You know, I was thinking, maybe I could help you in Kabul.\"\n\n\"You? Help me?\" Badriya balked. I gritted my teeth. \"You're young, just a girl! You know nothing about the jirga or what goes on there. It's government business, not child's play.\"\n\nIt had been a long time since I'd had time for any kind of child's play. And, as Khala Shaima had explained, Badriya had no experience or knowledge to qualify her to participate in the parliament. She was there only because Abdul Khaliq wanted her to be.\n\n\"I just thought I could help you with some of the smaller things, like filling out any paperwork or reading through the Kabul newspapers . . .\"\n\nBadriya's breathing paused. I could feel her hips tense under my hands. \"You . . . you wouldn't mind that kind of thing? You can read?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"And you can write too?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you can do it well? Not just a couple letters here and there?\"\n\n\"Yes. I got high marks in school on writing and reading. Better than my classmates,\" I said before reminding myself not to reminisce too long on that time of my life.\n\n\"Hm. I'll think about it. It's a demanding job and I could use some help with it . . . but I wonder what Abdul Khaliq would say. You know he doesn't like for us to be away from home. He made an exception for me,\" she said with an arrogance that could not be contained.\n\n\"He is different with you. I think it would be best if you would explain to him that I would be there for you, to make things easier on you. Because obviously he likes you best.\"\n\nShe looked satisfied with my reasoning. For a moment she forgot how often Abdul Khaliq called me to spend the night with him. As if the night was not bad enough, I always had Badriya's bitterness to look forward to the following morning. Once she beat me with her sandal for breaking a plate when she had seen her son knock it from my hand. Everything was reported back to our mother-in-law, who took exceptional pride in reinforcing my punishments.\n\n\"What about your son? Jahangir is still young. You would leave him behind? Bibi Gulalai is not going to like that idea.\"\n\nShe was seriously considering my proposition. I hadn't thought my idea through so I spoke slowly, making it up as I went along.\n\n\"I think I could bring him along. He's not a difficult child so I don't think he would disturb you much. I could look after him in Kabul and still help you out.\" I stopped myself before I said anything about Bibi Gulalai. She hated everything I did anyway.\n\n\"I don't know if Abdul Khaliq wants his son traveling to Kabul.\" She seemed skeptical but I felt an opening. I pushed it.\n\n\"Just bring it up with him. Please. I think I could be useful to you.\"\n\n\"But why? Why do you want to do this?\" She turned around to see my face. Her eyes narrowed to slits. I shifted and moved my hands to her shoulders, trying to divert her attention.\n\n\"Because . . . because you have so much to do and I thought . . . well, I've always wanted to see Kabul. I thought this would be a good chance. As you said, Abdul Khaliq makes exceptions for you, so maybe if you discussed it with him, and told him that I could help you . . . maybe he would agree?\"\n\nShe closed her eyes and let out a sigh as I worked my way over to her shoulders. She liked the idea. Now we just had to work on our husband.\n\nI hoped she would be as convincing as I was.\n\nEvery time I asked her about it, she shrugged me off. She either hadn't had a chance to ask him or she had forgotten, or he wasn't in the right mood to bring it up. Her next trip to Kabul was coming up soon. Two weeks away. One week away. I became discouraged. She didn't have the nerve, even though I knew she liked the idea. A few days after I approached her, she'd asked me to read a few things around the house. I think she was testing me. Not that she could tell the difference but she seemed reassured that I actually could make sense of letters.\n\nWhen just two days remained Badriya finally approached Abdul Khaliq. The way Badriya told it, he wasn't excited by the idea, but after much cajoling, she managed to get him to agree. I asked her again when I brought her the dresses she'd asked me to press.\n\n\"Make no mistake, he wasn't for the idea at all. And for all the reasons I had predicted. I really didn't think that even I could get him to agree, but he did. So there you go. You got your wish. We'll leave Sunday to be there in time for Monday's session. You'd better make yourself very useful to me there or I'll regret going to such trouble for you.\"\n\n\"You won't regret it\u2014you'll see! Thank you so much! I'd better pack some things for me and Jahangir!\"\n\n\"Just you,\" she said, and turned her back toward me. She put the clothes directly into a duffel bag. \"You won't need to pack anything for Jahangir.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I asked, confused.\n\n\"He's not going. Abdul Khaliq says he's too young to travel. He said Jameela can take care of him while we're away.\"\n\nI became tense. I'd never been apart from Jahangir. The mention of leaving him made my heart fall. Should I insist? Should I stay behind?\n\n\"Oh, I didn't think . . . he said that? For sure?\"\n\n\"For sure? Do you think there's any mistaking what Abdul Khaliq says? It's always for sure, Rahima. Just pack a few clothes together. Jahangir will be fine with Jameela. She's got a soft spot for little children.\"\n\nI squirmed still. \"How long would we be gone for?\"\n\n\"Rahima, enough with these idiotic questions. Parliament is in session for four months. I've been going back and forth to get things prepared and we get breaks.\"\n\n\"Breaks for what?\"\n\n\"Breaks are for us to come back to the areas we represent. To meet with people and get an idea of the issues at home.\"\n\n\"But you've never met with anyone.\"\n\n\"Do you think Abdul Khaliq would have me running around town talking with this and that one? Honestly, it doesn't matter. No one is checking up on us and I don't think any of the others actually go back to talk to constituents. Who needs to? I'm sure everyone in this region has the same issues we do.\"\n\n\"And what issues are those?\"\n\nBadriya looked frustrated. \"Maybe you don't have enough to do around the house! Have you been sitting and thinking of nonsense to ask me? You won't be talking with people in Kabul but you might be seen, so bring your nicer clothes. Not that ratty blue housedress you always wear.\"\n\nThe ratty blue housedress. I'd worn it so much I could almost see through the material, as Shahnaz had snickered and pointed out one day. I'd been embarrassed but it was hard retiring it. The navy blue reminded me of a pair of blue jeans I'd happily worn for a few months. Denim. In denim, I had been free to run down the block, to walk with my best friend's arm around my shoulder, to kick a soccer ball between the goalkeeper's legs. That ratty blue housedress was my freedom flag, but no one else knew it.\n\n\"How long would we be gone?\" I was calculating. I knew Badriya had made several trips back and forth in the last session but I'd never paid attention to how often she came back for a break.\n\n\"Two weeks, I think. Then we come back for a short break before heading back to Kabul . . . that's the way it goes.\"\n\n\"Two weeks? Oh, wow. Two weeks . . . I suppose I could . . .\"\n\n\"You suppose? You brought this all up, so don't be such a child about it.\"\n\nShe wants me to go with her, I realized, and nearly smiled. She needs me. It almost felt like I had a card to play.\n\nI learned later how things really worked. Badriya, like all the other parliamentarians, was given a stipend to hire one assistant, one driver and two personal security guards. So far, Abdul Khaliq had been garnering her stipend and salary since he'd already sent her with his own driver and guards. Unable to do any of her own paperwork, Badriya had been going to the director general's office more often than any other member. They were tired of seeing her and had insisted that she find an assistant as soon as possible or they would take part of the stipend away.\n\nIt was an empty threat but an assistant would make things easier for everyone.\n\nBut I didn't know how things worked at the time. I surely didn't know that Abdul Khaliq and Badriya were doing what so many other parliamentarians were doing too. It seemed that no one in Kabul followed up on money. Or promises.\n\nAll I could think was that I could do this. I trusted Jameela would take good care of my son. Maybe this would be good for Jahangir and me in the end. Anything had to be better than waiting on every person in this house.\n\n\"All right,\" I said in agreement, thinking this might be my crossroads, my naseeb.\nCHAPTER 38\n\nWhen Shekib had first arrived at the palace, she could barely make eye contact with anyone she came across, even the women. She had been veiled for so long and had worked in homes where people wanted neither to hear nor see her. The first time she'd crossed paths with a soldier, her heart had nearly pounded out of her chest because he'd muttered some unintelligible greeting to her. The second time, it was a gardener. It took an hour for her hands to stop trembling and for her to get over the awkward eye contact they had made.\n\nIt was hard for Shekib to believe that she could look directly at a stranger and speak. Instinctively, she wanted to run away. But as days passed and her legs grew more confident in their pants, she slowly became more accustomed to small interactions. She forced herself to speak with the other guards and listened when they spoke with each other.\n\nSome days, Shekib came across people who worked in the palace, not just outside it. Each time, it became the slightest bit easier for her to strike up a conversation. And inevitably, she would find a way to interject something about the long lineage of sons in her family. She wasn't very deft about it, but that was of no concern to her.\n\nIt had been a year since she had first arrived at the king's palace. She walked the grounds with confidence. She knew more about each concubine than she had thought possible. She had watched their children, the king's children, take their first steps, write their first words. Habibullah seemed to be a good king, according to the palace workers. He had expanded the network of roads across the country. He had founded a military academy and other schools.\n\nKing Habibullah was gone for weeks at a time and occasionally returned with a new concubine, girls, doe-eyed and nervous. Shekib watched as the new consorts floundered until they settled into the harem.\n\nEverybody has a role in the palace.\n\nNew concubines made older concubines purse their lips and reconsider their position. Sakina grew feistier, gave the newcomers facetious advice and stayed silent for days when King Habibullah passed her over for a fresh face. Benazir had given birth to a little girl. She had named her Mezhgan and lined her eyes with kohl, as Halima advised.\n\nFatima had grown pale in the last few weeks. Her son had just turned a year old but spent a good deal of time with Halima, since she rarely had enough energy to keep up with him. Her illness unnamed, she was visited often by the harem's physician, a British woman named Mrs. Brown. Kabul had only male doctors, which would not suit the king's insecurities. Mrs. Brown had been brought in from abroad, a kind but firm woman who satisfied the monarch in both her competence as well as her demeanor. She stayed at the palace and traveled back to England infrequently. Mrs. Brown (\"Khanum Behrowen,\" as the women called her) placed her stethoscope on Fatima's chest and back, her hands pressed into her belly. She would sigh and tap her forefinger against her lips, thoughtful.\n\nDespite its tensions, the harem was a family. The older women were mothers to the younger concubines, while the younger consorts had rivalries with each other like siblings with only one toy. King Habibullah visited when he chose, appearing sometimes in daylight and other times well into the night. He came with minimal fanfare but he made no secret of his visits. Unlike the other man.\n\nThe other visitor, whoever he was, came rarely. The guards would almost believe he had tired of his mistress when he would make another appearance, always under the cloak of darkness. He must have known the guards had seen him and probably surmised that they felt powerless to stop him. Whoever he was, he boldly betrayed the king with the most sinful trespass and then returned to slumber in his palace.\n\nShekib wondered who could be so brazen. And why.\n\nAmanullah stayed closer to the palace while his father ventured out into the country to check on the roads he had commissioned. He came to the harem's courtyard from time to time, leaning over to pat his younger half siblings on the back, ruffle their hair and kick a stray ball back in their direction. Shekib watched him, her heart beating in odd tempos, wistful and hopeful. He would acknowledge her and give her a light smile, a formal nod. Like a secret handshake between them, Shekib thought.\n\nI probably look a bit older than him but I haven't outgrown the possibility of marriage. I am young yet, able-bodied and strong. I hope the others have told him about me, how I help the gardeners replant shrubs, how I carry the children when they grow sleepy, how I bring trays of food into the ladies' quarters. My back is as strong as that of any soldier in the palace, my arms solid and my mind rational. Think of me, Amanullah-jan, and I am certain I would not disappoint a man like you.\n\nShekib was not the only one thinking of Amanullah's naseeb.\n\nKing Habibullah also believed it was time for his son to be given a bride. In his mind, there were a handful of contenders\u2014daughters of the viziers or his closest advisers. In his own words, words Shekib overheard one day as she stood outside his suite in the harem, \"I cannot force his hand. He will choose for himself, my boy. Amanullah is different than his brothers. He is more like me than the others. And so unlike me in other ways. I sometimes wonder how I would feel about him were he not my own son.\"\n\nShekib felt a clock ticking. Amanullah would choose a bride soon. She charged ahead with her humble efforts. She found a reason to speak to nearly anyone who crossed her path and made certain to mention that women in her family rarely bore anything but boys.\n\nShe saw him again with Agha Baraan. They crossed the palace's grounds, returning from a meeting at Dilkhosha Palace. Shekib dug her hands into her pockets and looked around. She floated in and out of genders easily now, aware of her flattened bosom and hidden curves only in Amanullah's presence. She tingled for him. She hoped he knew.\n\nThe men stopped at the bench. Agha Baraan plucked a red rose, breathed in its perfume and stuck it in his blazer pocket. Shekib was a good distance away but slowly and casually made her way toward them, pretending to inspect the shrubbery as she wandered over. Once seated, their view was blocked by the greens and they were unaware of the woman-man guard at their side, eavesdropping and flirting.\n\n\"So you have decided?\"\n\n\"I am ready, Agha Baraan. I think it is time for me to take a wife. I want to have a legacy of my own and I must start a family to do so. I want to have at my side a woman who is thoughtful and who will be as dedicated to Kabul as I am. I am confident in my decision. She is strong-willed and has undergone hardship; people have turned against her and yet she walks with her head held high. When I see her face, I see that she brings with her a gentle understanding because of what she has experienced.\"\n\nShekib froze. Her face? Could he be talking about my face? Yes, people have turned against me! Nearly everyone has turned against me! But I would work so hard for Kabul! I would do anything he needs! She did not move, terrified that she would give her presence away.\n\nMaybe Agha Baraan had told him about her? Maybe he had shared those morsels she had laid out for him and maybe they knew she was listening at this very moment.\n\n\"And what will your father say? I mean, given where she comes from . . .\"\n\n\"I know that, but it was my father and this palace that introduced me to her.\"\n\nShekib's eyes widened. Indeed, it was King Habibullah who had brought her to the palace and into his son's life. She straightened her shoulders, wanting to comport herself as a palace woman would.\n\n\"I will speak with him again tonight. I have brought this up before but he did not believe I was serious.\"\n\nBaraan took a deep breath.\n\nShekib said nothing to the other guards but for two days they shot each other looks, noticing a change in her. Ghafoor had to repeat herself three times before Shekib would notice she was talking. Karim and Qasim watched her meals go barely touched and shared her leftovers when she walked away. Tariq tried to approach her, to talk about her dreams of motherhood. Shekib blankly nodded and shook her head in a way that told Tariq she might as well have been talking to the pigeons.\n\nTwo days passed as such. In the nights, Shekib stared at the wall, pictured Amanullah's face and imagined how someone from the palace might approach her with his proposal. Where would she live? She would grow her hair. She would wear makeup, as some of the women in the harem did from time to time. A British woman visiting the palace had brought rouge and powder, showing the women how to lighten their complexions and bring an alluring tint of color to their cheeks. Shekib wondered if the powder could conceal her disfigurement, her half mask.\n\nOn the third night, Shekib was on duty. She stood outside the harem, watching the palace and wishing her mother was alive. She took longer than she should have to react to the footsteps and talking inside the harem. Halima was at the front entrance just when Shekib was starting to realize something was going on.\n\n\"It's Fatima! She's not well. We need to send for the doctor!\"\n\nFatima had taken a dramatic turn for the worse and with it, Shekib's naseeb changed course.\nCHAPTER 39\n\nThe road was bumpy. My sides ached with every jolt. Badriya watched me from the corner of her eye. The experienced first wife wasn't surprised. Last night Abdul Khaliq had asked me to visit him. I entered his room quietly. Although I was no longer a new bride, the nights with my husband still repulsed me. I had to take my mind elsewhere, think of the chores I still needed to do or school days when the moallim would teach us to sing our multiplication tables to memory.\n\nWhenever my wifely obligations were fulfilled, I would wait to hear my husband's snores, a signal that I could put myself back together and retreat to my room. Last night was different.\n\nBadriya and I were set to leave in the morning for my first trip to Kabul. I was excited but anxious about leaving Jahangir behind. Abdul Khaliq's even breaths told me he was relaxed but not yet asleep. I took a chance.\n\n\"I wanted to ask something . . . ,\" I said hesitantly. I looked for the combination of words that wouldn't anger him right away. He looked surprised to hear me speak. With a raised eyebrow, he told me to explain.\n\n\"Tomorrow . . . because I will be helping Badriya-jan . . . I was hoping I could take Jahangir with me so that\u2014\"\n\n\"Jameela will watch him.\"\n\n\"But I didn't want to trouble her. She's already got her own to look after.\"\n\n\"He'll be fine.\"\n\n\"And I want to be sure that Jahangir eats well. Sometimes he can be so picky . . .\"\n\nI had said too much.\n\n\"Then don't go!\" he thundered. \"It was an idiotic idea to start with! Now I have to listen to you nag! You appreciate nothing!\"\n\nHe was up now, the sheets pulled behind him, leaving my legs uncovered.\n\n\"I'm sorry\u2014\" I started to say, hoping to stymie the reaction I could see coming.\n\nIt was too late. Abdul Khaliq spent the next thirty minutes making me regret I'd spoken.\n\nI realized then my husband understood people. He knew just how to get to people to do what he wanted, to make them angry or sad or fearful. I realized that was probably how he had been successful at whatever it was that he did.\n\nMorning came and I kissed my sleeping son before laying him on a cushion in Jameela's bedroom. I touched his cheek and watched as his lips turned slightly in a dreamy smile.\n\nJameela bit her lip when she saw my face. My cheek was starting to turn a deeper red, a bruise in the outline of a hand taking shape.\n\n\"He'll be fine, Rahima-jan,\" she said warmly. \"I'll have Jahangir sleep right next to me with your blanket. We'll talk about you until you come back. This will be good for you, you'll see.\"\n\nI was grateful and knew Jahangir loved being with her and her children. Still, I hated to leave my son.\n\nTwo weeks, I thought. We'll be back in two weeks for our first break. It's not that long, right?\n\nI ran my fingers through his dark locks once more and leaned over to kiss his head. He turned onto his side, his perfect lips parting just wide enough for me to see his petite teeth.\n\n\"It's okay, Rahima-jan. He'll be fine, you'll be fine. You'll see,\" Jameela said. She hugged me delicately, knowing one bruise heralded the presence of others.\n\nI carried my duffel bag out to the car. Bibi Gulalai and Badriya were outside, as was Hashmat. He looked over and smiled snidely.\n\n\"Good morning!\" he called out.\n\n\"Good morning,\" I mumbled, my mind still on Jahangir's soft face. I was in no mood for Hashmat's facetiousness today. \"Salaam, Khala-jan.\"\n\nShe ignored my greeting. \"You're ready for your trip to Kabul I see. I don't know how you could leave a young boy to go off doing things you've no business doing. My son is being kind in allowing this, so you better make yourself very useful to Badriya.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Badriya echoed.\n\n\"I doubt she'll be worth the trouble she'll cause,\" Bibi Gulalai muttered.\n\nHashmat laughed. \"Isn't that nice that you'll be joining Madar-jan in Kabul! I bet all your classmates would be jealous if they knew you were going to see the city,\" he said.\n\nI shot him a sharp look that went unnoticed by Bibi Gulalai and Badriya. Hashmat made a point of talking about my bacha posh days and my male classmates as often as he could. He used to do it in front of his father but it sometimes resulted in such an explosion of anger that he would be caught in the overflow. Something about me as a bacha posh had piqued Abdul Khaliq's interest, but now he could not tolerate hearing about me even sitting next to boys in school.\n\nAbdul Khaliq's guards put our bags in the back of the car. We donned our burqas and climbed into the backseat.\n\nDon't speak to the guards. They'll watch out for you but if you do anything . . . let me assure you . . . you'll regret it. And in Kabul, I have people. I will hear about everything you do. If you do anything to embarrass me, I promise you that you'll wish you never stepped foot in that city.\n\nHe was clear. I was thankful Jahangir was too young to cause much trouble. Abdul Khaliq's temper came hard and fast and often without warning. I had asked Jameela to make sure Jahangir did not get in his father's way. I wouldn't be there to shield him.\n\nThese thoughts played over and over until the rough road finally lulled me to sleep in the backseat. Badriya was in no mood to talk. She leaned her head on the window and started to snore lightly.\n\nI don't know how many hours passed before structures came into view again. There were buildings, houses, horses and cars. I sat up straight. We were in a jeep with tinted windows so I dared to look out and see what the people of Kabul looked like. My mind jumped to Bibi Shekiba and her first impressions of the capital, as Khala Shaima told it.\n\nI was the same, wide-eyed and amazed, but in a different way. I had never seen so many cars and people in one place! It looked as if everyone who lived in Kabul owned a car. And store after store, the streets were lined with exotic wares and different foods. Bakeries, tailors, even a beauty salon! This was so different from home. I wished Shahla could be here to see it all with me. Or the boys. There were so many places we could have explored if we'd grown up here!\n\n\"Kabul is . . . Kabul is amazing!\" I exclaimed.\n\nBadriya seemed entertained by my reaction. \"Of course it is! There's a lot going on here. We won't have time for me to point everything out to you.\" I saw Maroof and Hassan in the front seat look at each other. It was unlikely Badriya had actually seen any of Kabul. She had complained to Jameela that the guards took her from her hotel to the parliament building and back. \"We're almost there. We're going to be staying at a guesthouse run by some Europeans.\"\n\nDown a tree-lined street, a building came into view.\n\nIt had a gated entrance flanked by porticos with stone pillars, Through the main entrance, a wide path led to and encircled an imposing tower with a flag flapping from its summit. I craned my neck to get a good view.\n\nThat tower reaches the sky! I thought.\n\nThe palace's fa\u00e7ade was embellished with carvings and arches, dull and chipped, but it surely once looked very majestic. A woman walked past the front gate, her green-yellow head scarf pulled across her face, hiding everything below her nose and cascading down her shoulders. As we drove past, she turned slightly and looked directly at my tinted window, her eyes meeting mine as if she could see through it. This first glimpse of a Kabuli woman was exciting for me, a girl from a village.\n\n\"What's that building?\" I asked, already knowing the answer.\n\n\"That's Arg-e-Shahi, the presidential palace.\"\n\n\"Bibi Shekiba . . . ,\" I whispered. I got a chill thinking of how my great-great-grandmother must have felt when she first saw those gates. And to think of what she had seen on the other side. As usual, Khala Shaima had left her story unfinished. The turn of events in her life was unpredictable. I wanted to know what became of her almost as much as I wanted to know what would become of me.\n\n\"God have mercy, what the hell are you mumbling about?\"\n\nBadriya's question went unanswered. I stared at the palace, where my legacy began.\n\nWhat happened to you here? I wondered.\n\nMaroof turned left, then right and left again, weaving through the crowded streets and cursing every car in his path. There were tanks and soldiers in fatigues and helmets. They didn't look Afghan. These were the foreign soldiers Badriya had told us about. Just like my husband's guards, they had large guns hanging at their sides. Little boys stood in front of them, looking curious. The soldiers laughed and chatted casually.\n\n\"Are they American?\" I asked Badriya.\n\n\"They're from everywhere. Some are American, some European or whatever they are.\" She pointed to a building coming up on our left. \"We're here,\" she announced.\n\n\"Is this where you always stay?\"\n\n\"Yes, it's a nice place. You'll see.\"\n\nBadriya was right. We pulled up to a metal gate on a small street, tucked away from the busy market.\n\nOur driver rolled down his window when we pulled up to the blue-uniformed guard at the gate. He mentioned Abdul Khaliq's name. I thought the men were shaking hands but I realized Hassan's fingers held a folded stack of bills that the man slipped into his pocket.\n\nI looked over at Badriya but she either hadn't noticed the exchange or didn't care.\n\nHassan opened the gate and our driver, Maroof, pulled into a circular drive that looped in front of the largest building I'd ever seen. It was three stories tall with rows of windows lined up like a hundred eyes. Two columns framed the glass, double-door entrance.\n\n\"And this is where the meetings are?\"\n\n\"No, you fool. The parliament meets in the parliament building.\" I was too excited to be annoyed with her condescending tone.\n\nWe were led into an elegant lobby with a reception desk. A man wearing a crisp dress shirt and slim pants was talking on the phone, but he nodded when he saw our driver and the other guard. He cradled the receiver and looked up at our guards. I stood behind Badriya, not wanting to make an inappropriate move. Three women walked in from outside dressed in fitted tunic tops and denim pants. Their head scarves were demurely tied under their chins but wisps of hair framed their faces and their delicately arched brows. Their shoes got my attention most. Black leather pumps broke the silence in the room.\n\nLooking at their clothes, I was thankful the burqas hid our faded, baggy dresses. I felt suddenly unsophisticated and awkward. I tried to hide my feet behind Badriya. The women were busy talking and hardly noticed us.\n\nThe conversation between Abdul Khaliq's bodyguards and the man at the reception desk went back and forth until finally there was another handshake. Another wad of bills slipped into the receptionist's palm and from there was quickly tucked into his jacket pocket, while he made a quick glance around the room to make sure no one else was watching, not that anyone would have cared.\n\nWe were led to a room on the third floor with two single beds and a bathroom with a western toilet. The window looked out on the courtyard behind the hotel, a small stone area surrounded by flowering plants and shrubs. I saw a pigeon waddling in the shade of a tree.\n\nLike the palace gardens where Bibi Shekiba used to stand guard, I thought.\n\n\"I can't believe this is where you stay in Kabul! No wonder you like coming here so much!\"\n\n\"Don't get used to this,\" she said, opening her duffel bag and pulling out a sweater.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because we'll be in an apartment soon. Abdul Khaliq is only using this place temporarily. He's been looking to find a place in Kabul where we can stay with more privacy, only his guards outside.\"\n\n\"Has he found a place yet?\" I asked.\n\n\"How the hell should I know?\" she replied. She sat on the bed and took her sandals off. Her heels were cracked and yellow. She rubbed one of her soles and sighed. \"Look, Rahima, I know why you're doing this. Don't think I'm stupid.\"\n\nI looked at her but said nothing. I thought it best I let her explain.\n\n\"But as long as you help me with what I need to read and write for these meetings, then I don't care much. Just don't expect to see much of Kabul.\"\n\nBadriya was right. Our personal guards kept to themselves but were never more than twenty feet away. Most of the time they stayed in the small seating area on the third floor, just two doors away from our room. I hated knowing that Abdul Khaliq was keeping tabs on us at all times, but Jameela had told me about the threats against parliament members, especially the women, so there was something comforting about knowing Abdul Khaliq's trusted bodyguards were watching over us in this new, busy town. I felt safer because of them.\n\nWork started the following day. Our guards drove us to the parliament building in the morning. We wore our burqas until we got there. Badriya slipped hers off and instructed me to do the same. I looked over at the guards to see their reaction. They had turned away but watched peripherally while we entered a long and stately building with a row of columns before it.\n\nPeople walked in and out, men and women who looked to be from all different regions. Some of the men were dressed in the flowing caftans and pants common to our village, their heads wrapped in turbans, one end cascading over a shoulder. But it was the women who made my jaw drop. Some were dressed as we were, in simple flowing calf-length dresses with loose pants underneath. But others wore button-down shirts and long flowing skirts. Some even wore jackets and slacks. They wore their colorful head scarves smartly. As we got nearer, I could see that a few women wore lipstick or rouge, while others had outlined their eyes with kohl. I wondered what their husbands thought of them walking uncovered, with painted faces.\n\nWe came to a security station. Four uniformed guards stood at the entrance, two men and two women. The mass of people slowly melded into three lines. Badriya took me by the elbow and led me past the others. She paused briefly when she came to the security guard, dressed in the same khaki color as her male counterparts but in a long skirt.\n\nA woman guard. Just like Bibi Shekiba, I thought. I couldn't help but stare at her face, wondering if she looked anything like the woman I'd heard so much about.\n\nBadriya muttered a quick greeting and waved at her. The guard nodded and turned her attention back to the woman in front of her. She pulled her behind a partition.\n\n\"What are they doing?\"\n\n\"They're here for security. They're checking people for weapons. That room back there is where the female guards check the women. We're not supposed to bring anything into this building. And we're not supposed to take anything out of it either.\"\n\n\"We don't have to go through the checkpoint?\"\n\n\"Well, we're supposed to but I don't. The guards know me. And no one else from the parliament goes through either. We are the parliamentarians, after all! How ridiculous if we were to be patted down every time we walked in! I wouldn't stand for it!\"\n\nI bit my tongue, knowing she would stand for it if she were ordered to.\n\nBadriya smiled politely to a few people she knew. Two women, wearing dresses and longer head scarves, approached with bright and cheerful faces.\n\n\"Badriya-jan! Good to see you again! How are you? How's the family doing?\" They were of similar height and build and even face structures. But their ages differed by about ten years, the older woman's face with more lines, her hair with more wisps of gray.\n\nCheeks pressed to one another, kisses in the air, an arm around a shoulder. The women greeted each other.\n\n\"Sufia-jan, qandem, salaam!\" My eyes widened to hear Badriya greet her with such syrupy sweetness. \"Thanks be to God, everyone is well. How are you and your family doing? And you, Hamida-jan? How are you?\"\n\n\"Fine, thank you. Ready for another busy session?\" Hamida replied. Her face was plain, unpainted and serious.\n\n\"Yes, I am. When do you think it will start?\"\n\n\"They said we should be starting in half an hour,\" Sufia said, scanning the entryway. She was the older of the two. There was gentleness in her eyes that put me at ease. \"But my guess is that we don't have enough people here. We'll probably begin in about an hour. Maybe two. You know how it is.\"\n\nBadriya nodded politely and was silent.\n\nShe doesn't know what else to say to them, I thought.\n\n\"And who do you have here with you? Is this your daughter?\"\n\nHamida and Sufia were looking at me expectantly and smiling. I looked at Badriya and felt the urge to step away. I didn't like the idea of her being mistaken for my mother. She didn't like it either, but for different reasons.\n\n\"Her? Oh, no, she's not my daughter. She's my husband's wife.\"\n\n\"Your husband's wife? Oh!\" Hamida's smile tightened. She disapproved.\n\n\"Have you brought her to see how the parliament runs?\" Sufia asked, trying to distract us from Hamida's reaction.\n\n\"Yes, er . . . she wanted to see for herself what it is that I do. That we do. So I've decided to hire her as my assistant.\"\n\n\"Oh, she's going to be your assistant! What's your name?\"\n\n\"Rahima,\" I said. \"I am pleased to meet you.\"\n\n\"And we're pleased to meet you as well,\" Sufia said, looking impressed with my manners. \"I think it's a great idea for you to come see what the parliament does. Maybe you would want to join your . . . er . . . Badriya-jan and take a seat in the jirga. We need women to get involved in our government.\"\n\nBadriya nodded but looked uncomfortable.\n\n\"Why don't you both come to the resource center tonight? After the session is over.\"\n\nBadriya shook her head. \"No, we can't make it. Some other time.\"\n\n\"Why not, Badriya-jan? They have some instructors there who have helped us very much. Tonight we're going to work on the computers. It's not easy. You really have to spend some time to figure those machines out. It would be good to get familiar with it.\"\n\n\"I know that. I've seen computers. It's not that hard,\" she said, her eyes shifting nervously.\n\nThe look on my face confirmed for Hamida and Sufia that Badriya was not in the least familiar with computers. Hamida decided to ignore the obvious lie.\n\n\"What else do they teach there?\" I asked. I had been away from school for so long. The idea of instructors and lessons excited a part of me that Abdul Khaliq's compound had buried.\n\n\"They teach lots of things,\" Sufia said, happy to hear my curiosity. \"How to speak English, how to do research, how the parliament is supposed to function . . .\"\n\n\"It's a school? Can anyone go?\"\n\nHamida nodded. \"You could come, as her assistant. It's only for women parliamentarians. It's run by a foreign organization and it's open after the sessions end for the day. Maybe you can convince Badriya-jan to come along. There are too many people doing nothing in this building. We all need to do something more.\"\n\n\"Excuse us, ladies. I want to show Rahima-jan around the building and then we're going to get to our seats,\" Badriya said, her fingers wrapped around my elbow firmly. She wanted out of this conversation.\n\nI followed her lead but my heart lightened at the talk of classes. I was starting to taste the possibility of change here.\nCHAPTER 40\n\nShekib stood frozen.\n\n\"Don't just stand there! She needs the doctor. Go and get Khanum Behrowen!\" Halima threw her hands up in frustration. Shekib nodded and turned around but stopped short, realizing she had no way of summoning the doctor without walking right into the palace in the middle of the night. She turned back to the guards' quarters.\n\n\"Ghafoor! Ghafoor, wake up. We need to get the doctor for Fatima. She's ill and needs help.\"\n\nGhafoor, the consummate guard, bolted upright and answered the call to take charge.\n\n\"She's ill? Worse than before?\"\n\n\"I suppose so. I haven't seen her.\"\n\n\"What? You haven't even gone in to check on her? What were you . . . never mind! Karim, get up. Go and see how Fatima is doing. Take Qasim with you. I'll go to the palace and ask for the doctor.\"\n\n\"What should I do?\" Shekib asked.\n\n\"Nothing. You can do that much, can't you?\" Ghafoor said with annoyance. She brushed past her and went to pull on her uniform quickly. She fastened her belt brusquely before shooting Shekib one last glare.\n\nPeople from the palace will be awakened. I should resume my duties, she thought, and returned to her post outside the harem. Karim and Qasim soon walked past her and entered the harem. Tariq, hating to be alone, followed after them, her arms folded against her chest in the cool night air. She half smiled through tight lips as she passed Shekib.\n\nShekib tapped her foot. She could see the way they looked at her, the distance. The same look Khanum Marjan had given her\u2014some pity, but no friendship.\n\nI am on my own, Shekib thought. Nothing has changed. She began to pace in front of the harem, walking around to the side entrance and making sure she looked like she was actively guarding the building.\n\nGhafoor and Dr. Behrowen emerged from the darkness. Ghafoor carried a lantern and Khanum Behrowen a black bag, their pace hurried. Two men followed behind them, sent to observe and bring word back to the palace. Shekib turned to walk back to the front entrance when she heard a door open. Before she could turn, she had been pushed aside, just roughly enough to make her stumble. She braced her fall with her hands and knees and looked up to see the man's back as he darted off.\n\nShe started to call out after him and then caught herself. She looked over at Ghafoor and the approaching team from the palace. They hadn't seen the man knock her down, nor did they see him disappear behind the shrubs. She kept her mouth shut and scrambled to get back to her feet. She wanted to meet them by the front entrance.\n\n\"The others are inside with Khanum Fatima,\" Shekib announced as they approached. \"I am standing guard here.\" She made sure to be loud enough for the men to hear. They stood back, rubbing their hands together and speaking quietly as they watched the women enter the harem. \"Should I come in with you?\"\n\nGhafoor did not pause. \"Do whatever you wish,\" she called out from the foyer.\n\nShekib followed them in. The hallways were lit with multiple lanterns. They followed the sounds to Fatima's chamber. It was a small room toward the back of the house. Nabila and a few others stood in the narrow hallway, shaking their heads and muttering to each other. Inside the crowded room, Shekib could see a circle of women. Sakina sat behind Fatima, holding her head up on her lap. Fatima's face looked wan, even in the amber glow of the lanterns.\n\nDr. Behrowen knelt at Fatima's side and opened her bag. She laid a hand on her forehead and called out for some wet cloths in rudimentary Dari. Halima rushed past Ghafoor to bring them. The doctor picked up Fatima's wrist and placed two fingers on it, her forehead tightened and her lips pursed. She took out her stethoscope and bent over Fatima with her head turned to the side, listening carefully. The chatter in the room had grown louder with the doctor's arrival. She finally lifted her head up and pointed an angry finger toward the door.\n\n\"Hush! Step outside if you wish to chat!\" Though they did not understand English, the room was immediately silent.\n\nBeads of sweat lined Fatima's brow, like soldiers preparing for battle. She moaned softly and turned her head to the side. Her son began to whimper and pulled at her sleeve. Benazir picked him up and whispered something into his ear that quieted him, his bottom lip still curled out.\n\n\"She is feverish. I want to bring her to a cool bath. Ladies! Help her to the bath area!\"\n\nThe women looked at Dr. Behrowen, puzzled by her instruction. Dr. Behrowen had learned a few words of Dari over time but most of her communication with the harem was through gesture. Sighing with frustration, she motioned for Sakina and Nabila to lift Fatima and then pointed at the doorway. They nodded and Karim and Qasim jumped in to help. Grabbing limp arms and legs, they carried Fatima into the hallway. Dr. Behrowen pointed toward the bath area.\n\n\"Aab, aab!\" she called out.\n\n\"She wants us to go to the baths!\" Qasim called out. They hurried down the hallway. Khanum Behrowen pointed at a shallow bath and instructed the women to place Fatima in the water.\n\n\"We have got to bring her temperature down,\" the doctor muttered to herself. \"She is burning up.\"\n\nFatima reacted to the water, but Qasim held on, her hands under Fatima's armpits to keep her head above water. She looked more awake, more alert, turning her face to Khanum Behrowen.\n\n\"I feel so weak, doctor,\" she said.\n\nDr. Brown nodded. That much was already clear to her.\n\n\"What's going on in there?\" It was a man's voice echoing from the front entrance. The women jolted at the sound. Ghafoor looked up at Shekib.\n\n\"Go and tell them she has a fever and that Dr. Behrowen is bringing it down. Go!\"\n\nShekib nodded and hurried to the front door. The two men were pacing just outside the entrance. They were growing impatient.\n\n\"She has a fever. She is in the bath now to bring it down. She is weak.\"\n\n\"Is she going to be all right?\"\n\n\"I don't know much more than this. Dr. Behrowen will have to tell you.\"\n\nThey huffed, dissatisfied with the answer but helpless to find out more for themselves.\n\nShekib returned to the baths. They had pulled Fatima out of the water.\n\n\"Let's have her lie down!\" Dr. Behrowen pointed at the nearest door, just a few feet down the hallway. It was Benafsha's room. The door was closed.\n\n\"Khanum Benafsha, open the door please!\" Ghafoor called out. She knocked a second time, louder, when there was no answer. \"Khanum Benafsha!\"\n\n\"Please, I am sleeping!\" she called back. The women looked at one another in surprise.\n\n\"Khanum Benafsha, please, this is an emergency. Khanum Fatima is\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, may God have mercy. Just open the door!\" Sakina said angrily, and pushed the door open into Benafsha's chambers. Benafsha's mouth opened in surprise to see them lay a pale-faced Fatima on her floor. Benafsha's face was flushed and she had pulled a robe around her nightgown. Someone had thought enough to bring dry cloths and a dry gown for Fatima. They began to strip her wet clothes when Sakina looked over at Benafsha.\n\n\"What is the matter with you? You can hear us, can't you? She's not well!\"\n\nBenafsha bit her bottom lip and rubbed her eye. \"I was sleeping. I didn't hear anything.\"\n\n\"You must sleep well if you\u2014\" Sakina paused. \"What is that?\"\n\nA dozen eyes followed her finger.\n\nOn the floor of the room, behind the door, was a gray lamb's-wool hat. A man's hat.\n\nBenafsha's mouth gaped. Her face grew as pale as Fatima's.\n\n\"This is a man's hat!\"\n\nShe was speechless. The women looked at each other, slowly realizing the implications. Benafsha tried to recover.\n\n\"It is his, it belongs to our dear Habibullah . . . come on, Sakina, what are you trying to . . .\"\n\n\"It's you, isn't it? The guards have all been asking about strange noises, any odd events! It's you they've been asking about! Where's Ghafoor? Where's Karim? Here!\" Sakina stormed to the door, picked up the hat and waved it wildly in the air. \"Is this what you've been looking for? Benafsha dares to have a lover!\"\n\n\"Sakina, you tramp! Watch what you say or you'll regret it! I don't have to answer to you! You of all people with your . . . your . . .\" Her eyes searched the room for an ally. Unfortunately, in her time in the harem, Benafsha's haughty attitude had made her no real friends. She looked at Tariq, her eyes pleading. Tariq looked away, her face conflicted.\n\nBenafsha's attempts to retaliate failed. Her eyes welled with tears and her tongue floundered as she looked at a room of hostile stares. Only Dr. Behrowen's attentions stayed on Fatima, who had been stirred both by the cool bath and now by the fresh scandal. She had propped herself up on her elbows, her bleary eyes looking around with the others.\n\nSakina could hear the panic in Benafsha's voice. She pounced.\n\n\"Well, if it is Habibullah's hat, then we can just take it to him and ask him to confirm it. That's easy enough,\" she said sweetly. She pushed the hat into Benafsha's face and then tossed it to Ghafoor. Ghafoor looked at the gray hat with almost as much trepidation as Benafsha. Her mind scrambled, knowing nothing good came from bringing bad news to the palace.\n\nBenafsha was crazed.\n\n\"Sakina, sisters,\" she cried, looking around the room. \"You can't possibly think . . . please, don't say such things about me to Habibullah! He will think things . . . he will . . . please! I have never been unkind to any of you! Please just stop and think before you act on such wild ideas!\"\n\n\"Wild? Look who talks of wild!\"\n\n\"Khanum-ha, please! Hush!\" Dr. Behrowen grew frustrated with the storm of tears and screaming. Her patient still needed attention. \"I don't know what you women are arguing about but surely it can wait,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Sakina, let's consider this a moment,\" Halima said, her voice feigning calm. \"Let's just stop for now and focus on Fatima-jan. We will address this later. Let's see what Khanum Behrowen needs for the moment.\"\n\nShekib watched but her ears tuned out the talking. She saw nervous glances, hot whispers, tongues clucking. There was pacing, head shaking and hot tea. Children walked in and were sent back out. Benafsha's green eyes blurred behind tears. She pitied herself. She hated Sakina.\n\nShekib noticed something the others had not. A single red rose petal on the floor, trampled under the many slippers of the king's concubines.\n\nShekib knew exactly whom Benafsha had welcomed into her bed.\nCHAPTER 41\n\nFatima's condition improved. Benafsha's worsened.\n\nThe harem was tense. Periodic updates were sent to the men outside. Nothing had been said yet about Benafsha, but it was just a matter of time. A matter of hours. Some of the more sensitive women had regressed into their own chambers, knowing the palace, the king, would not take Benafsha's transgressions lightly. She had made a fatal mistake and they could do nothing for her.\n\nNo one wanted to break the news to the palace, fearing they would strike broadly at anyone remotely involved.\n\n\"Have mercy, please. Have mercy,\" Benafsha whimpered in the corner. She was on her knees, her head touching the ground in supplication.\n\nThe guards and a few of the concubines had gathered outside her room. Fatima had been returned to her own chambers, Dr. Behrowen still at her side.\n\n\"It should be one of the guards,\" Sakina decided. \"You are the ones responsible for the happenings of the harem. It is your duty to report back to the palace what happens here.\"\n\n\"What if we say nothing?\" Nabila suggested meekly. \"I am sure she will put an end to this sinful behavior after tonight. She looks as if she's suffered enough now.\"\n\n\"You would dare hide this from the king? And what if he comes to find out some other way? We will all be blamed!\" Sakina said. \"I can't take that chance with my life.\"\n\nA few others nodded, agreeing with Sakina's reasoning. What if the men outside had actually heard everything? What if they were going to report everything to the king? The harem had to be forthcoming if they were to save their own hides.\n\n\"Khanum Sakina, maybe it would go easier on the king's ears if he were to hear it from someone he fancies. And since you were the one who made the discovery, I am sure he will reward you for sharing this with him and putting an end to such a shame,\" Ghafoor said.\n\nShe is impressive, thought Shekib. She could have Bobo Shahgul's blood in her veins.\n\n\"You are talking as if it is your first day in the palace. You know very well that you are the ones who report to the king's people. We, women of the harem, are not to be involved in this discussion. I will not hide anything from my dear Habibullah but it is not my place to march up to his chambers and make such an announcement.\"\n\nGhafoor chewed her lip and looked at Karim. She shook her head, having nothing to add to the argument. Ghafoor grew more nervous, knowing that, as leader of the guards, she was responsible for direct communications with the palace. The onus sat heavily on her shoulders. She could be rewarded for her service or she could be struck down for bearing such devastating news. She motioned with a subtle tilt of her head for the other guards to follow her into the foyer. A quick peek outside confirmed that the two men were idling by the far end of the courtyard, their backs to the harem.\n\n\"Karim, why don't you and Qasim go and ask those men for a chance to speak with the king directly. It may be worse for this message to go through too many ears before reaching his.\"\n\n\"With all due respect, Ghafoor-jan,\" Karim said facetiously, \"since you have always been in charge of our troupe, this does not seem to be something you can delegate out like a night shift. Neither one of us would dare infringe on your responsibilities.\"\n\n\"Nor us,\" Tariq said, glancing at Shekib. She, too, felt the need to pair up with someone.\n\nGhafoor huffed. \"Fine. Fine! Cowards. I'll go and speak to them myself.\" Her eyes betrayed her confidence. She paced the foyer for ten minutes before putting her hand on the doorknob.\n\nKarim had her ear to the door, trying to listen in, but the voices in the courtyard were hushed. The guards looked at each other, paced and sighed frequently. Eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and conflict. When Karim cracked the door open ten minutes later, the courtyard was empty. They had taken Ghafoor to the palace.\n\nAn hour passed, painfully, before Ghafoor reappeared. Qasim and Karim had fallen asleep leaning against the foyer wall. Tariq sat near the door as if ready to make a quick escape. She tapped her foot nervously. Her eyelids were heavy and dark. Shekib sat against the wall opposite the sisters, her stomach uneasy. A house under stress had never boded well for her. She had no reason to believe she would emerge from this unscathed.\n\nGhafoor looked about nervously and took stock of the situation.\n\n\"How is Fatima?\" she asked quietly, her eyes shifting around the room, hesitant to land on anyone in particular.\n\n\"She's a little better. She's had some tea with sugar and was talking for a bit. Now she's fallen asleep. Dr. Behrowen left a few minutes ago. You probably passed her on the way here,\" Tariq said, her voice as exhausted as her eyes.\n\n\"Good.\"\n\n\"Aren't you going to tell us what happened?\" Karim asked impatiently.\n\n\"I spoke with the men outside and they took me back to Agha Ferooz, our king's most trusted adviser. They did not want to disturb the king himself. I explained the situation and they are, of course, very upset. They notified the king.\"\n\n\"And? What will happen now?\" Qasim asked.\n\n\"He is angry. He wishes to speak with Shekib.\"\n\nShekib was not in the least surprised.\n\n\"What is that they want to speak to me about?\" Her tone was measured, even. It made Ghafoor nervous. She looked at the others while Shekib saw through her act.\n\nShe's done something.\n\n\"How should I know?\" she said defiantly. \"They asked me who was on night duty tonight and I gave them an answer. I had better check on Khanum Fatima. There's a soldier waiting outside, Shekib. He'll escort you to the palace. I'm sure it's not a big deal.\"\n\nShekib was sure that it was.\n\nBut she said nothing, staring at the back of Ghafoor's bobbing head as she scampered down the hall, putting distance between them as quickly as she could.\n\nThe others watched her leave and then turned to Shekib. She said nothing but rose and walked to the door. As Ghafoor had promised, outside stood a soldier. A baby's face in a man's uniform. He looked nervous in the brisk dawn air. He motioned for her to follow, turning back once to steal a glance at her face.\n\nHe walked her to the palace's heavy front doors, intricately carved and oddly inviting even at this moment. He opened the door and led her in, down one long hallway with ornate patterns on the walls, gilded pedestal tables and richly embroidered chairs. Shekib noticed her surroundings with vague interest.\n\n\"In this room,\" he announced, and cracked the door open enough for her to enter. He stayed back and looked thankful that his duties ended there.\n\nShekib entered, remembering to keep her back straight and her eyes focused. Weariness was blurring her judgment as well as her vision.\n\nIn the room, King Habibullah paced behind a handsome wood-carved desk, his fingers pulling at the fringes of his beard. Two men sat anxiously in armchairs to his left, opposites of each other. One was heavyset and short, the other tall and lanky. Had Shekib been less nervous, she might have noticed how ridiculous they looked as a pair. They looked up at Shekib, their lips tightening.\n\n\"You!\" King Habibullah called out. He had stopped pacing abruptly, his blue chappan flapping as he whirled to a stop.\n\n\"As-salaam-alaikum, Your Highness,\" she said in a hush, keeping her head bowed and her eyes downcast.\n\n\"As-salaam-alaikum, eh? As if nothing has happened? Do you know the meaning of the words, you idiot?\"\n\n\"I apologize, esteemed sir. I meant no disrespect\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't patronize me, guard! You are here to answer questions, to speak up for your actions\u2014or inaction, as it appears! It was you who was on guard tonight, when a man somehow managed to evade your attention and enter my harem!\"\n\nA conversation began to take shape in Shekib's mind. She could imagine Ghafoor standing in this very room, not too long ago, painting a picture of an idle guard, passively allowing a man to violate the king's sanctuary, to indulge in his private stock of women.\n\n\"Dear king, I was on guard tonight but I saw no one enter.\"\n\n\"You saw no one enter? But someone did enter, didn't he!\" His face was the color of the carpets on the floor. A blue vein pulsed across his forehead like a lightning bolt. He fell into his chair and looked at his two counselors expectantly.\n\n\"Guard, did you see someone leave the harem tonight?\" The thinner man rose to his feet and spoke up.\n\nShekib did not have much time to consider her answer. \"No, sir.\"\n\n\"And you saw no one enter?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Are these the kinds of guards we have for my harem!\" The king exploded, his fist rattling the table with a thunderous clap. \"We might as well have brought donkeys!\"\n\n\"Guard, explain to our dear king what happened tonight. Was there a man in the harem?\" the lanky man demanded.\n\nShekib searched for the right answer, her hands trembling at her sides. She was afraid to move. They took turns shouting questions at her.\n\n\"Answer!\"\n\n\"I . . . I did not see\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't tell us what you did not see! Tell us what happened!\"\n\n\"Tonight we found a hat in one of the chambers.\" Shekib was not sure how to phrase such a finding. It was a sensitive matter and the wrong words could be dangerous. They were waiting for her to continue. \"There was no one there but the hat . . . the hat suggested that someone . . . a person had been there. We asked but\u2014\"\n\n\"Whose chambers were you in?\" the king asked, his eyes slits. He spoke slowly and precisely.\n\n\"We were in Khanum . . . Khanum Benafsha's chambers,\" she answered, her eyes cemented to the marble floor. Benafsha had shamed the palace with her iniquity but Shekib still felt reluctant to expose her. She pictured Benafsha back at the harem, prostrated, her face wet with misery.\n\nWhy did you do this? Why did you bring this upon us?\n\n\"Benafsha.\" Habibullah turned his back and faced the window. Heavy burgundy drapes framed his silhouette. \"That vixen.\"\n\n\"Have you seen anyone before? Coming in and out of the harem?\"\n\nWhat did you tell them, Ghafoor?\n\n\"I . . . I have not.\"\n\n\"This was the first time you learned of this?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThree men brooded. Shekib could hear their measured breaths.\n\n\"You. You believe this happened once?\"\n\n\"I . . . I . . . believe so.\"\n\n\"And who was it guarding the harem tonight?\"\n\n\"I was, sir.\"\n\n\"You are a liar. We have heard differently. Ghafoor has already told us that you saw this man before! And you kept it from everyone until tonight!\" the short man shouted.\n\n\"With respect, agha-sahib, I had not seen\u2014\"\n\n\"Liar!\"\n\nGhafoor, you scoundrel! You fed me to the lions!\n\nIt was clear now. Her word against Ghafoor's, and they were taking Ghafoor's. Shekib was not a bystander. She was a guilty party.\n\n\"Did you know of Benafsha's activities? Did she ask you to cover up for her?\"\n\n\"No, sir! I had no\u2014\"\n\n\"What about the man? Who is he? Did he bribe you?\"\n\n\"Please, dearest king, I had nothing to do\u2014\"\n\nHe barely heard anything she said. He was more interested in how this made him look.\n\n\"Know this, guard! An offense this grave does not go unpunished. My name has been besmirched. One look at your face and it is obvious you are damned! Have her locked up! And Benafsha too! We'll make swift examples of them both.\"\nCHAPTER 42\n\n\"Why did you have to do such a thing?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't understand.\"\n\nThe room was dark and smelled of rotted meat. The stench reminded Shekib of cholera, of mourning and loneliness.\n\nBenafsha's face had changed. Shekib was struck by the difference. Just eight hours ago, she had been the most striking woman in the harem. How quickly her face had grayed! Her hair was stringy and her green eyes looked defeated and bloodshot.\n\nOne of the king's most prized concubines. A life of luxury by any standards. The choicest foods, clothes. What had driven her to take all these for granted?\n\nAn hour passed in silence. Shekib wanted to ask her about Agha Baraan. She was sure it was him. The hat. The rose petal. But why? He was Amanullah's friend. Why would a man like him commit such an act against his friend's family, especially when his father was the most powerful man in Afghanistan?\n\n\"I am sorry you are here.\"\n\nShekib looked up. \"So am I.\"\n\nShe thought of Amanullah. What would he think when he heard of the night's events? How disappointed he would be in her! She wasn't much of a guard, according to the palace. What made her think she could be much of a wife? Benafsha had ruined everything. She looked at the girl with disgust and pity. Then there was Ghafoor, that split-tongued viper. She had set Shekib up, saving herself. No wonder she had run off. Coward.\n\nThe dank room was unfamiliar but the rest of the experience was not. Angry fingers had often pointed at Shekiba.\n\nOn the king's orders, Shekib had been led away\u2014through the hallways, through the kitchen and into the small room where the cooks once kept cured meats and vegetables. The room smelled of flesh and earth. Shekib closed her eyes and imagined her father's house. Her mind floated to those bare walls, her brother's shirt thrown across a chair as if he would run through the door looking for it. Her sister's amulet on the table. Her father, sitting in the corner clicking the beads of his tasbeh while he stared through the window onto fallow fields, a fallow home.\n\nShekib stood up and began to pace. The walls were tight but light crept in, framing the door with a yellow glow. The palace had electricity courtesy of a foreign company commissioned by the king. All of Afghanistan twinkled by lanterns but the palace shone, a beacon for the rest of the country.\n\nThe king must have his way. How much it must burn him that another man has had his way with his precious Benafsha. She's pretty, I suppose. If she doesn't show her teeth when she smiles. All pushed together, her teeth look like chickens climbing over one another in a crowded coop.\n\nBenafsha had her head between her knees. Shekib couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep.\n\n\"What do you think they're going to do with us?\" Shekib asked quietly.\n\nBenafsha shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath.\n\n\"How long do you think we'll have to be in here?\"\n\nBenafsha looked up. Her eyes were flat with resignation. \"You really don't know?\"\n\nShekib shook her head.\n\n\"When the crime is adultery, the punishment is sangsaar. I will be stoned.\"\nCHAPTER 43\n\nThe large auditorium, a room larger than any I'd ever seen, held hundreds of parliamentarians. Their chairs were arranged in rows that went from one side of the room to the other, leather chairs behind a row of desks. Each member had a microphone and a bottle of water.\n\nBadriya's and mine sat in the center of the room, sharing our row with Hamida and Sufia. In the front of the room sat a man with a neatly trimmed mustache and salt-and-pepper hair. He listened, nodding his head from time to time.\n\nThe men intimidated me. Some of them were my husband's age, gray haired with beards that nearly touched their chests. Others were younger, their faces shaved and their clothes different from what the men in my village wore. Pants, button-down shirts, jackets.\n\nAs we broke for lunch during the first week, Hamida had asked me what I thought so far. I was nervous to tell her, afraid I would sound stupid. And I worried that if they saw me reading and writing, they would realize how basic my knowledge was.\n\n\"They come from where?\" I asked, astounded by the accents I was hearing.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" She looked to see where I was pointing.\n\n\"I mean, I've never seen men dressed like . . . dressed like that.\" I pointed with my head to a man wearing brown pants and a military-style vest over a white shirt.\n\n\"That's what you'll see in Kabul, Rahima-jan,\" Hamida said, proudly. \"This parliament is where every corner of Afghanistan comes together.\"\n\n\"Comes together?\" Sufia scoffed. \"More like this is where Afghanistan comes apart!\"\n\nHamida laughed. A man one row away turned around and shot her a look. He shook his head and leaned over to mutter something to the man seated next to him, sharing his disapproval.\n\nThe session was called to order. Rahima tried to look around without anyone noticing. Badriya picked up a pen and held it to the blank paper before her as she watched the speaker. She was playing the part.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, the matter of the president's cabinet members will now be introduced. Seven people have been nominated by the president. It is up to this parliament to approve or reject the nominations.\"\n\n\"Badriya, are we going to see the president?\" I whispered. It was hard to believe I might come face-to-face with our nation's most powerful man.\n\n\"No, you fool! This is the parliament. He does his work and we do ours! Why should he come here?\"\n\n\"We'll talk about the candidates one by one. I'll call on you to ask whatever questions you may have. We need to decide if these individuals are suited for the job. And if they'll help take our country in the right direction. First up is Ashrafullah Fawzali, nominated for position of minister of justice.\"\n\nThe speaker went on to talk about Fawzali's background, his home province and his role in training the police force.\n\nA woman parliamentarian sat in the seat beside me. I heard her huff, frustrated. I watched her from the corner of my eye, slouched back in her chair and shaking her head. As the candidates' virtues and experience were extolled by a man who had taken the floor, she became more and more displeased, fidgeting in her seat and tapping her pen.\n\nThe next candidate was introduced, someone equally distressing to her. She raised her hand to speak but the director looked past her. She waved her hand more dramatically.\n\n\"Excuse me, but I would like to say something about this candidate,\" she said, leaning forward and speaking into her microphone. \"Excuse me!\"\n\n\"Khanum, the time for the discussion of this candidate is up. We're getting close to ending today's session. Thank you all, please return for tomorrow's voting. The parliament is dismissed.\"\n\n\"Of course it is! God forbid we actually talk about these candidates!\" the woman hissed.\n\n\"Who is she?\" I asked Badriya.\n\n\"The one next to you? Oh, that's Zamarud Barakati. She's trouble. Make sure you stay away from her,\" Badriya leaned forward to tell me. \"She's one of those you don't want to get mixed up with.\"\n\n\"Why? What's wrong with her?\"\n\n\"She's a troublemaker. You see what she did today? Always interrupting things. That woman's lucky they haven't condemned her to sangsaar.\"\n\nStoning. I shuddered and thought of Bibi Shekiba.\n\nAs far as I had seen, Zamarud hadn't done anything that several other parliamentarians hadn't done. Just like the men, she had raised her hand and asked to speak. But I could see many people didn't appreciate hearing from her. Several men had rolled their eyes or waved their hand in annoyance to hear her ask for the floor's attention.\n\n\"She pushes her ideas too much. People don't want to listen to her all the time.\" We were walking out the security checkpoint by this time. Our driver saw us coming and went to turn the car on. Our guard was already with him. Zamarud walked angrily past us, her own security guards struggling to keep up.\n\nShe reminded me of Khala Shaima, the only woman I'd known who would speak up to men outside her own family. I wondered what Khala Shaima would have thought of Zamarud. Picturing the two of them in the same room made me smile. They could have the entire parliament up in arms.\n\nBut what I saw in that first day was just the beginning. The parliament was a fiery mix of personalities and politics. There were so many women there, but only a few of them spoke during the sessions. And there was only one Zamarud.\n\nAs the discussion of the cabinet nominations went on, Zamarud became more and more agitated. She was given opportunity to speak and took the floor like a storm, questioning the intentions and honesty of the candidates. She implied that the candidates had been chosen for reasons other than their qualifications, since one was the president's brother-in-law while another was the president's childhood friend. And there was no diversity, she said critically. They were all from one sect of the Afghan population. Afghanistan needed to represent all of its many colors, Zamarud insisted, or it would fall apart. Again.\n\nOn the fifth day of sessions, we took our seats. I missed my son more today and saw his round cheeks and almond eyes when I closed my eyes. I wondered if he was walking at this moment, one hand tightly gripping Jameela's. I wanted to hear his voice, the tiny sound of \"maada\"; he was still unable to roll his tongue to produce the proper \"madar.\"\n\nZamarud's voice brought me back.\n\n\"It's imperative that we think of the future of this country. We Afghans have become complacent, letting almost anyone take on these positions of power and influence. Let's think about it carefully and then decide.\"\n\n\"Khanum, I believe it would be wise for you to consider before you speak. There are many people here and you're not thinking\u2014\"\n\n\"I'm not thinking? I'm thinking about it a great deal! It's you and the rest of you that need to start thinking. I'm going to speak my mind right now.\"\n\nBadriya looked over at me. Waves of anger were rippling through the room. The men were leaning over and complaining to their neighbors. Hamida and Sufia looked over at Zamarud nervously.\n\n\"From what I have seen, the nominations that have been presented thus far have been of men who worked alongside the most sinister characters in our country's recent history. The money in their pockets comes from drugs, from alliances with warlords and mercenaries. They have the blood of their fellow Afghans on their hands.\n\n\"And there are candidates who are family members, getting special treatment from those in the highest position.\"\n\nIt was obvious she was talking about the president's brother-in-law, who traveled between Kabul and other cities like Dubai, Paris, London and Islamabad, importing and exporting goods. He had built a successful trade business and a life of luxury for his family. But everyone knew his business didn't account for all of his income.\n\n\"We must watch who we place in these official positions. They should be there for the right reasons, for the development and protection of our beloved Afghanistan. We have suffered enough in the hands of others in the last decades. Our people deserve to have right-minded individuals in power. I wonder, as do so many others, how it is that some of our nominees have been able to amass a fortune when our people go hungry. How is it that they are able to live lavishly when they are engaged in simple businesses? We all know the answer. We know that there are sources of money that are not talked of, that are not openly discussed. Bribes. Nepotism. Drugs. These practices will bring our country down.\"\n\nThe room began to talk. Zamarud continued, louder.\n\n\"I will not stand for this. I will not approve the election of such people, brothers and cousins taking under the table what rightfully belongs to our country. Are we to sit here quietly and let them suck the blood of the Afghan people? Getting fat off of government money?\"\n\n\"That's enough!\" one man called out. Others echoed after him.\n\n\"Shut her up.\"\n\nZamarud went on, unfazed by their comments. She raised her voice over the protests.\n\n\"Every person in this room, every man and every woman, who would dare to approve these nominations will share the responsibility for keeping those lips greasy with the money that should go to the Afghan people, to the Afghan country. And for what? For a chance of fattening your own pockets! You know who you are. You come here and pretend to represent your provinces when really you represent nothing but your own pockets!\"\n\n\"Who does this woman think she is?\"\n\n\"I will not listen to this harlot babble on!\"\n\nThe yelling became angrier. Hamida and Sufia, not far from Zamarud, had gone over and pulled her back to her seat. Sufia was talking to her, saying something in her ear, while Hamida put a hand over the microphone. We were close enough that we could still hear her.\n\n\"I will not be silenced! I have had enough of their nonsense! Which of you will speak up if I do not? Call me what you like but you know I speak the truth and it is you all that are damned for what you're doing! It's a sin! It's a sin!\"\n\nTwo men went to confront her directly. Fingers were pointed, just inches from her face. I felt my body tense with their aggression. I wanted to pull Zamarud back but I sat frozen, my eyes wide. I prayed for her to stop talking.\n\nThe room was on its feet. Arms were waving. A group of men had gathered in a corner of the auditorium, pointing in Zamarud's direction and shaking their heads. Two other women had joined Hamida and Sufia in trying to restrain a belligerent Zamarud. Others were on their feet, watching the fray with interest or enjoyment.\n\nI was nervous for her, as was every other woman in the room. I'd never seen a woman speak so boldly, so directly, and in a room full of men! Everything I'd ever seen in my life told me Zamarud wouldn't make it out the door.\n\n\"This is bad,\" Badriya muttered, keeping her head low. We had not stirred from our seats. \"We can have no part in this, understand me? Just stay where you are. We're going to leave just as soon as things calm down.\"\n\nI nodded. The last thing we wanted was for Abdul Khaliq to get word we'd been involved in a shouting match between the parliament's most outspoken woman member and the group gathered by the door. They were men like my husband, older and with fearful constituencies back home. They were warlords.\n\nHamida walked over to us when things calmed.\n\n\"Unbelievable,\" she said. \"These people are wild!\"\n\nBadriya nodded politely, not wanting to weigh in with an opinion.\n\n\"I mean, she's a bit bold, I'll give them that. Actually, she's a bulldozer. But she's right. Especially about Qayoumi. He has friends in the Ministry of Defense and they fed him every contract that came through their office. As if he needs any more money. Have you seen his car? His house?\"\n\n\"No, I haven't,\" I said, intrigued. Badriya was so silent around these women that I almost forgot she was there. It was completely unlike her but she tensed, fearful that Abdul Khaliq would hear about any idle chatter.\n\n\"Let me tell you, his house is one of the nicest houses in Kabul. He tore down an old, run-down home in Shahr-e-Naw and then built himself a two-story mansion! And you know how expensive that area is! No Afghan can buy anything there. All those properties go for at least half a million U.S. dollars. At least!\"\n\nHalf a million U.S. dollars? My mind reeled at the staggering amount.\n\n\"Half a million . . . ?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's right! He'll do anything to get what he wants. Anything. He was a Taliban ally not too long ago and they pillaged one town, robbed the people of everything they had. Setting fires, lining up the men and killing them. By the time they finished with that town, whoever they left alive had only the clothes on their back. Sinful!\"\n\n\"And they want to vote him in?\" If this was common knowledge, why weren't people more upset about him?\n\n\"Yes, they do. That's how it is. For God's sake, warlords make up at least a third of the parliament right now. Those people who led the rocket attacks, the bloodshed\u2014they're all sitting in this assembly room. Now they want to fix what they broke. It's almost comical,\" she said, shaking her head. \"If I thought of it too much, I'd go crazy. Like Zamarud!\"\n\nHad I been anyone else, I might have been more surprised. But I was a wife of Abdul Khaliq, a man who inspired fear in every corner of our province. And I was sure I didn't know a quarter of what he had done in the years of war. Actually, I still didn't know what he did when he set out with his guards and his automatic weapons. Someone could nominate him for a post as well.\n\n\"What can you do? Our politics are full of people like that. But I can tell you, I won't be approving the nomination of that corrupt butcher. Sufia's talked to the other women. They're going to be rejecting him as well.\"\n\n\"If so many people are going to vote against his nomination, he won't stand a chance, right?\" I watched Badriya, her lips pulled down in a frown. I was asking too many questions.\n\n\"He stands a very good chance, actually. Warlords make agreements, alliances, to serve their own purposes.\"\n\nI wondered if Hamida knew who Abdul Khaliq was. I wasn't sure how far his name had reached. Where we came from, he held a lot of power and he was trying to grow that. Badriya's involvement in the parliament was a step in that direction.\n\n\"Hamida-jan, we're going to get a cup of tea from the cafeteria, if you don't mind,\" Badriya said. The conversation had touched a nerve. Her voice was stiff. \"Can I bring you anything?\"\n\n\"No, I'm fine, thank you. Let me go see what Sufia is up to. The session will probably resume in another thirty minutes.\"\n\nIn our hotel room that night, I asked Badriya about Zamarud's allegations.\n\n\"Is it true? Are there that many people in politics who are that corrupt?\"\n\n\"Don't bother yourself with things like that. It's none of your business.\"\n\nThat angered me. I was fairly sure Sufia would not have agreed with her. \"But it's yours, isn't it? You're going to be voting on those nominations tomorrow. Are you going to approve them?\"\n\n\"Of course I am.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Why? Because that's who I will vote for! Have you finished filling out that form yet? The director's office has been asking about it all week.\"\n\n\"It's almost done.\" I sighed. I wondered how Badriya had coped in her last stay in Kabul. She could barely scratch out her own signature. \"But how do you decide how you will vote?\"\n\n\"I decide, all right? I know what the issues are and then I choose.\"\n\nI thought back to today's heated session, Zamarud's determined look. \"Does she have a husband?\"\n\n\"Who? Zamarud?\" she snickered. \"They say she does but I can only imagine what a mouse of a man he must be! Can you believe the way she behaves?\"\n\n\"She's not afraid of them.\"\n\n\"She should be. Zamarud's gotten more threats than any other woman in that assembly. Not surprising, the way she carries on. Shameless,\" she said, clucking her tongue.\n\n\"You haven't gotten any threats, have you? Hamida said most of the women have. Her family begged her not to run for parliament again but she wanted to.\"\n\n\"She's another mule of a woman. I haven't gotten any threats because I know what I'm doing. I mind my own business and do only what needs to be done. I'm not here to embarrass myself or my husband.\"\n\nI shuddered to think how Abdul Khaliq would put Zamarud in her place. But I didn't think Badriya had any special business in the parliament. My instincts told me it had something to do with our husband.\n\n\"This form asks if you want to join the group traveling other countries with parliaments. As a learning experience, it says. Europe. It says, 'the director highly recommends that all parliamentarians go to learn how other assemblies function.' \"\n\nNow that I was in Kabul, I was hearing of places even grander and more unimaginable, like Europe. I wondered what a place like that could look like. We'd come all the way to Kabul. Maybe we could go to Europe too? Badriya lifted her head, as intrigued as I was by the exotic name.\n\n\"Go to Europe? Really?\" Once she'd said it, Badriya realized how ridiculous it sounded. \"Forget it. Not interested. Put that damn thing away. I'm tired. You can finish it in the morning. I'm going to bed.\"\nCHAPTER 44\n\n\"We will now take a vote on the candidate Ashrafullah Fawzali. Please raise your paddles with your vote on his nomination.\"\n\nThe parliamentarians each had two paddles, one red and one green, which they raised to vote aye or nay in the assembly. This was the first vote to be taken and Badriya looked nervous.\n\n\"Are you going to vote for him?\" I whispered.\n\n\"Shhh!\" she hissed at me, her eyes scouting the room. Paddles were going up, many at a time. Badriya reached for the green paddle and raised it halfway, still unsure.\n\nI followed her eyes to a man sitting toward the front of the room. From our position, we could see his profile. He was a burly man with a heavy beard and thick features. His gray turban sat coiled on his head like a serpent. He held a green paddle.\n\nI saw him look in our direction, giving Badriya a subtle nod. Her green paddle went up and she kept her eyes fixed on the front of the room. I was puzzled. I didn't recognize this man but it looked like Badriya did.\n\n\"Badriya, what are you doing? Who is that?\"\n\n\"Shut up! Just take notes or whatever it is that you're doing.\"\n\n\"But he's looking over here!\"\n\n\"Shut up I said!\"\n\nI crossed my arms, shut my mouth and watched. That's how things went for the rest of the session. Each time the director asked the parliament to vote on a candidate, Badriya waited until this man raised his paddle. And each time she would pick the paddle that matched his. Green, green, red, green, red, red. And each time he looked over, his face was smug with approval to see her vote his way.\n\nThe ladies looked over at Badriya, seemingly confused. Sufia whispered something to Hamida, who shrugged her shoulders.\n\nQayoumi. It was time to vote on his nomination. I looked over at Hamida and Sufia. They were shaking their heads as the director prepared to take a vote. A small murmur wove through the assembly as the parliamentarians prepared to decide on one of the most controversial figures in Kabul. Tongues clucked with disapproval even before the paddles went up.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your votes. Raise them high so we can see them!\"\n\nThe man voted green.\n\nI looked at Badriya. I was sure she could feel my eyes on her but she avoided my gaze.\n\nShe watched as the ladies both raised their paddles red. The representatives around them raised their red paddles as well. There were pockets of green here and there, almost all men.\n\nThe mumbling got louder as green paddles went up.\n\nBadriya kept her head down and picked up her paddle. I opened my mouth to say something.\n\nGreen.\n\n\"Badriya! What are you doing? Didn't you hear what they said about him? Why are you voting for him?\"\n\n\"Please, Rahima, shut up!\"\n\nHamida and Sufia looked over, eyebrows raised. They looked away and leaned toward each other. I thought of our conversation with Hamida. I couldn't ignore everything she'd told us.\n\n\"But Hamida said\u2014\"\n\n\"If you can't shut your mouth, leave then! Just get out!\" she snarled. \"I don't need you.\"\n\nI stared at her. There was nowhere for me to go. I sat beside her, fuming, even though I had no right to. Maybe I would have done the same if I were her. Maybe I would have aped the votes of the man in the corner.\n\nAbdul Khaliq. He set her up for this. That man must have something to do with that security contract he wanted to land. Just like Hamida talked about.\n\nI was surprised only that my husband's influence was this far-reaching, into the parliament building of Kabul. And wherever that man was from.\n\nHamida looked over, her lips pursed.\n\nMaybe I wouldn't have been like Badriya if I were in parliament. Maybe I could have been more like Hamida. Or Sufia. Or even Zamarud. Maybe I would have sat in that assembly seat and made up my own mind.\n\nBut I probably would not have. It wouldn't be easy to go home to Abdul Khaliq after going against his instructions. Especially in a matter this big.\n\nThe session closed for the day. Badriya rose quickly from her seat and gathered her bag. She made her way down the row and out the main aisle without turning around to see if I was following.\n\nWe ran into the ladies near the security check. Not even a polite smile. It was obvious they were disappointed in Badriya's voting. They could tell her reds and greens were decided by outside forces. She was part of the problem.\n\n\"I'm glad the day is finally over,\" Sufia said neutrally.\n\n\"Yes, so am I,\" Badriya said, agreeing demurely.\n\n\"Interesting day,\" Hamida murmured, adjusting her head scarf.\n\nI watched the exchange, wanting to shout out that I wasn't part of this. I wanted to say that I wouldn't have voted for Qayoumi. Even though I was almost certain I would have. I was learning that cosmopolitan Kabul was, at least in that way, no different from my obscure village. Many of our decisions were not decisions at all. We were herded into one choice or another, to put it gently. I wondered if the other women representatives truly felt free to make their own judgments.\n\nI sat in the car and leaned back, wishing I was home with Jahangir. He was probably taking a nap now, his mouth half open and his eyelids fluttering with innocent dreams. Thank God Jameela was there to look after him.\n\nBadriya got in from the other side, slid across the seat, turned and slapped my face so hard I fell against the car door.\n\n\"Rahima, you question me again and I swear I will go straight to Abdul Khaliq and tell him you're opening your idiot mouth in the assembly. We'll see if you're so eager to wag your tongue then! Learn to control yourself, you bitch.\"\n\nMaroof looked into the rearview mirror. An expression of surprise twisted into a smirk. He was entertained. My face stung but I said nothing. I had the rest of our stay to get through and I refused to become a spectacle for our bodyguards.\n\nThe following morning, we wove through clusters of foreign soldiers and returned to the parliament building. Late, because of Badriya. But there was no voting today, only discussions. Nothing of importance to her, though she was obligated to make an appearance.\n\nI wasn't speaking to her, just answering her questions and keeping out of the way. I was beginning to reconsider if being in Kabul was worth putting up with her attitude. As bad as she was at the compound, she was worse here. There was only me to take all her attention and the pressure of following our husband's plan was getting to her.\n\nI took notes for her and filled out a survey distributed by some international organization looking to improve the parliament, and then we broke for lunch. I gravitated toward Hamida and Sufia. Badriya reluctantly followed with her tray.\n\n\"How are you two doing?\" Hamida said. They looked at us differently now. Yesterday had changed things.\n\n\"Fine, thanks. You?\" Badriya was curt. It wasn't helping the situation.\n\n\"Still surprised from yesterday. We were hoping to block more of those nominations. But I guess it was their naseeb to get approved.\"\n\nNaseeb. Did Sufia really believe that? If she did, why bother voting?\n\n\"Maybe so,\" Badriya said in agreement.\n\nI searched for something to say that would tell the ladies I was on their side but without riling Badriya's nerves.\n\n\"Sometimes people surprise you, don't they?\" I said. \"Maybe something good will come of it.\"\n\n\"An optimist\u2014there's something we don't see often.\"\n\nI had no reason to think Qayoumi was anything but the bastard they said he was. I had almost no reason to believe anyone would do anything good, really. My \"optimism\" was just words, strung together in hopes of making me look neutral. I wanted to be friendly with these women. They were independent and happy, something I'd tasted only as a young boy.\n\n\"Sufia and I are going to the resource center this evening. Maybe you would want to join us?\"\n\n\"Thank you but I can't,\" said Badriya. \"I'm going to my cousin's home tonight. I haven't seen her in over two years.\"\n\nI looked at her, surprised. Was she telling the truth? She spoke up, seeing the look on my face. \"My mother's cousin lives here in Kabul. I haven't seen them in so long and my aunt is getting older. They've insisted that I come by and visit them. They live on the other side of the river, by the women's hospital.\"\n\n\"Well, if you ladies are going there tonight then maybe another\u2014\"\n\nBadriya looked startled. \"Us? Oh, no. I'm going alone. Since it's my cousin, you know,\" she said, fumbling her words as she tried to undo my accompanying her. \"And Rahima-jan said she didn't want to go anyway.\"\n\nEyes on me for confirmation.\n\n\"Well, you kept saying they were such nice people. Maybe I should go after all, huh?\"\n\nBadriya's eyes widened. \"Really? You want to go? Are you sure that's what you want to do?\" she said. Her glare told me the answer she expected.\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"You know what? I think I've changed my mind. You should go and see your aunt and cousins. Maybe I'll go to the resource center instead. It would be great to see what they offer. I wouldn't mind taking some lessons while we're here.\"\n\nHamida's eyes lit up. It was as if she saw me in a new light.\n\n\"That's a great idea! That's what we'll do. While Badriya visits her aunt, we'll go to the resource center. We can go meet directly after the session closes today and then head over to their office. You'll be ready to go then, right?\"\n\nI agreed, satisfied that I'd gotten my way, even if Badriya had gotten hers as well. We parted ways when the session closed and I followed Hamida and Sufia. Badriya had taken Maroof and the guard. I was left with no one, which made me feel more free than alone. We picked up some dinner from the cafeteria and carried the plastic bags with us.\n\n\"Do they have these classes all the time? Is it like a school?\" I asked. I was getting more and more excited at the thought of returning to a classroom. Even if nothing came from the lessons.\n\n\"They have different instructors. Haven't you heard Sufia speak English? Where do you think she learned to say so nicely, 'Hello, how are you?' \" Hamida mimicked cheerfully.\n\nI had no idea what she'd said but I was impressed that they were learning English. Even more than that, I wanted to learn how to use the computers I'd seen in the parliament's library. The library was a small room in the basement level with three bookcases, two of which were empty. The book collection was sparse but the woman in charge was determined to amass a collection with works on politics, law and history. I thumbed through the books and realized how much there was to learn about government. It was not as simple as raising paddles.\n\nThe computers caught my eye. There were three of them but more were coming, we were told. The three were all being used by men whom I recognized from the assembly. I tried not to stare over their shoulders but I wanted to know what they were looking at on those screens. I watched from the corner of my eye as they punched slowly and carefully at the keyboard, piecing letters together in a way I'd never before seen.\n\nThe women took me to a small, newly constructed building with small windows and a sign out front in both English and Dari.\n\nWomen's Training Center, it read.\n\n\"This is really just for women?\" I asked. \"The men can't come here?\"\n\n\"Absolutely not, just like the hammam.\" Sufia chuckled. \"Thank God, someone finally took our involvement seriously. You know, Rahima-jan, international organizations send teachers and computers. All of it is available. We just have to use it.\"\n\n\"Do many of the women from the parliament come here?\"\n\n\"Hardly!\" Hamida said. \"So many of those women have no idea what they're doing. I had no idea what I was doing either but now it's my second term and I am just starting to realize how much we still have to learn before this assembly is really functional. We're like babies, just learning to crawl.\"\n\nAn image of Jahangir, his knees rough and dark from crawling about, his palms slapping against the floor with excitement. I missed my son.\n\nSufia must have read my face.\n\n\"You have children?\"\n\nI nodded. \"I have a son.\"\n\n\"How long have you been married?\"\n\n\"Almost three years.\"\n\n\"Hm. You were how old when you married?\"\n\n\"Thirteen,\" I answered quietly, my mind still on my little boy's face. I wondered what he was doing.\n\n\"Your husband must be much older, judging by Badriya's age,\" Hamida said, pausing before she opened the door to the training center.\n\nI nodded. I realized they both were trying not to look as curious as they were.\n\n\"Your husband . . . what does he do?\"\n\nI drew a blank. I wasn't quite certain what he did and I was even less certain how to avoid explaining it.\n\n\"I don't know,\" I said. I blushed when I saw the way they looked at me.\n\n\"You don't know? How can you not know?\"\n\n\"I never asked him.\"\n\n\"Never asked him? But you live there! You must have some idea what he does.\"\n\nThis outing was not as innocent as it appeared. They were interested\u2014probably after seeing Badriya's bizarre voting trend. But talking too much would come back to haunt me.\n\n\"He has some land. And he provides security for some foreigners, some people who are trying to build something in our province. I don't really know the details. I keep out of his business.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Sufia said in a way that made me feel like I had just given everything away.\n\nI needed to stop talking.\n\n\"Did Badriya talk to you about the candidates? The people she voted for?\" Hamida tried to sound casual.\n\n\"No,\" I said, reaching for the door. This conversation had to end. \"We don't really discuss the parliament issues. I'm just here to help her with paperwork and reading the documents.\"\n\n\"Can she not read?\"\n\nFrom the first day, I'd liked these women. I really had. But they were making me very uncomfortable right now, hitting every nerve. I was certain I was going to pay for this later.\n\n\"Let's go in, please. I can't wait to see what they have inside.\"\n\nThey relented. I followed them into the center, where an American woman was sitting at a computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She looked up and smiled brightly to see us, the first visitors she'd had all week.\n\nShe came over and hugged us, greeted us warmly. Sufia, her confidence growing, practiced her English and asked her how she was doing, how her family was getting along.\n\n\"Why isn't anyone else here?\" I whispered.\n\n\"Not interested. They just show up to the sessions and then go home. No one cares to learn anything new. They think they know what they're doing, even though they've never done it before. Born experts!\" Hamida laughed.\n\nThe ladies introduced me to Ms. Franklin and explained to her that I was an assistant to another parliamentarian. She seemed thrilled to have me there. I stared at her light brown hair, soft bangs peeking out from under her head scarf. She looked to be in her thirties, with a brightness in her eyes that made me think she'd never experienced sadness.\n\nIf that's true, lucky her, I thought.\n\n\"Salaam-alaikum, Rahima-jan,\" she said, her accent so thick it made me giggle. \"Chotoor asteen?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, thank you,\" I answered, and looked at Hamida. I'd never before seen an American. I was amazed to hear her speak our language. My reaction looked familiar to Hamida.\n\n\"Her Dari is good, isn't it?\" she laughed. \"Now, dear teacher, what can you show us today?\"\n\nWe spent almost two hours there, Ms. Franklin patiently guiding us through the basics of using a computer, guiding the mouse across a table to move a pointer on the screen. I was thrilled, feeling an excitement I hadn't felt since my days as a bacha posh.\n\nImagine if I learned to use this machine. Imagine if I could work like this woman, Ms. Franklin. To know so much that I could teach it to others!\n\nI felt privileged. A new feeling! I doubted even Hashmat had ever seen a computer, much less received personalized instruction on how to use it. I would have loved to see the look on his face if he ever learned what I was doing in Kabul.\n\nBut it was going to get dark soon and it was time to leave. The women had promised Badriya that one of them would escort me back to the hotel with her guard and driver. I hugged Ms. Franklin before we left, making her laugh out loud, her blue eyes twinkling with kindness.\n\n\"I want to come back here, please! I like it very much!\"\n\nIf only our day had ended with that sentiment.\n\nSufia had a hand on the door when a large explosion startled us all. We dropped to the ground, out of the way of windows. Nervous stares.\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\n\"Something. Couldn't have been too far. But it didn't sound like a rocket.\"\n\nWe were a people of war; explosions were familiar to our senses. But not for Ms. Franklin. Her face drained of color and she was shaking. Hamida put an arm around her young teacher, trying to reassure her. Sufia squeezed my hand. No other sounds came. Sufia got up cautiously and went to the door. People in the street were yelling, pointing. Her driver and guard jogged over to the door. They looked frustrated. They were panting.\n\n\"What is it? What's happened?\" she asked.\n\n\"Some kind of bomb. Looks like it was right by the parliament building. Stay here. We're going to find out what happened.\"\n\nWe were huddled by the window, trying to read the faces of the pedestrians. Hamida called out into the street.\n\n\"What's going on? Was that a bomb?\"\n\nThe street was chaotic. Either no one heard her or no one bothered to answer.\n\nWe inched out the door, our curiosity overwhelming. I was nervous. Although my father and my husband had been in the throes of battle, the war had always been at least one village away from me. I wondered if Badriya was anywhere near here.\n\nSufia's driver came back, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. Hamida's guard stopped him, wanting to know what he'd found out.\n\n\"It was two blocks from the parliament building. A bomb in a car. Looks like they were trying to get Zamarud.\"\n\nMy stomach lurched. I pictured her storming out of the building, remembered the hateful leers she'd drawn from some of the men. Even some of the women had shaken their heads as she walked by. People thought she was out of line, and the punishment for being out of line was severe in our world. It always had been.\n\n\"Zamarud! Not surprised, with the finger-pointing she's been doing. This isn't good. Is she all right?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Someone said she was killed. They took her away. I didn't see her there, or her guards. We'd better get out of here.\"\nCHAPTER 45\n\nWhen Abdul Khaliq got wind of what happened, he told his driver and guard to bring us back to the compound. The bombing had scared me badly. Badriya and I stayed in our hotel room, afraid that other women parliamentarians would be targeted, and heard a hundred versions of yesterday's events from our guard and the hotel staff.\n\nShe was dead. She was alive but had lost a leg. She was unscathed but three children walking by had been killed. It was the Taliban. It was a warlord. It was the Americans.\n\nI didn't know what to believe. Badriya believed each and every story wholly until the next one came along. My head spun. I prayed for Zamarud, thinking there was something inspiring about the way she had riled the entire parliament with her irreverent behavior. The guards came back; our driver was smoking a cigarette, his eyes red from the lingering smoke of the bomb. He'd been too curious to walk away. When he nodded that the car was ready, I sighed with relief. I wanted to hold Jahangir.\n\nI imagined how my little boy might squeal and laugh when he saw me, how he might run to my arms. I couldn't wait to hold him, praying he didn't hate me for leaving. Though I regretted thinking it, I hoped I wasn't like my mother. I didn't want to abandon him and leave him to raise himself. I opened my small bag and checked for the ballpoint pen and a few sheets of paper I'd taken from the parliament building. I smiled, thinking how happy it would make Jahangir to scribble.\n\nMy son was the bright spot in my return to the compound. I went directly to Jameela's room and called his name. He froze at the sound of my voice and toddled to greet me at the door, an innocent grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.\n\n\"Maa-da! Maa-da!\"\n\nMy heart melted to hear him call for me.\n\n\"Play ball outside! Maa-da!\"\n\nHe wasted no time trying to recruit me to play with him. I smiled, wishing I could join him in the courtyard, where we could kick his brother's soccer ball back and forth. I was close enough to childhood that playing still appealed to me. But they had just killed a chicken for Abdul Khaliq's dinner guests and there was little time to pluck and clean the bird for tonight's dinner.\n\n\"Forgive me, bachem, but maybe later I can come outside with you. Right now I have to get some work done. Maybe your brother can go outside with you.\"\n\nI think I secretly hoped that my work in Kabul would change how I was treated at the compound, but that idea was quickly dispelled. Bibi Gulalai stopped by the next day to make sure my time in the city hadn't undone all the work she'd put into me.\n\n\"That was Kabul, this is here. In this house, remember who I am. There are no meetings or papers for you to look after here. Now go wash your face. You look filthy. How embarrassing.\"\n\nI sighed, nodded and walked away before she talked herself into a worse mood on my account.\n\nI kept to my room. My last night here with my husband had been exceptionally unpleasant, exceptionally violent, and I didn't want to put myself in his way again. I wondered if he'd let us go back to Kabul after this. I still didn't know if Zamarud was alive or dead.\n\nAnd something was happening at home. I didn't know what it was but Jameela looked anxious and distracted. She was polite with Bibi Gulalai but she would quickly excuse herself. Bibi Gulalai seemed to be surveying our home with a discriminating eye. I asked Jameela but she smiled and changed the subject. Shahnaz, bitter because I had been allowed to travel to Kabul, was curt and snide with me. There was no use approaching her.\n\nThrough Jameela's younger son, I sent word to Khala Shaima that I'd returned from Kabul. I wished very much to see her. Where before I was a listener, we could now exchange stories. I wanted to tell her about Zamarud and the bombing. And about Hamida and Sufia and the resource center. But a week passed and Khala Shaima had not come. I asked Jameela if she'd heard anything about my aunt but she hadn't. A second week went by and still nothing.\n\nI was worried and frustrated but there was nothing I could do. Already I was feeling the differences between home and Kabul. That taste of independence, even the possibility of it, made me yearn to go back.\n\nThree weeks passed. Badriya and I were waiting on Abdul Khaliq's decision. He was most likely going to allow us to return to Kabul and complete the remaining three months of sessions. He hadn't said anything to Badriya and she was my source of information. Abdul Khaliq did not discuss these matters directly with me. In that respect, he treated me more like a daughter than a wife. It didn't matter to me. The less interaction I had with him, the better.\n\nBadriya finally approached Bibi Gulalai and asked her what was going on. Leaning against the living room wall, her shawl across her lap, Bibi Gulalai began to speak to her in a hush. When I paused by the doorway, the two of them looked up, annoyed.\n\n\"Go on, get to the carpets! And do it right this time. I don't want them looking dingy,\" Bibi Gulalai said.\n\nI moved away from the door but lingered in the hallway.\n\n\"When did this come up?\" Badriya said when I was out of view.\n\n\"Right when you all left. He knows her brother. I wish he never would have taken this stray. I don't know what he wanted with Rahima. Such a worthless family.\"\n\n\"I agree. Why he wanted a bacha posh for his wife, I'll never understand. But, Khala-jan, why do you think he would want to get rid of her? She is the youngest here and he wanted her for something . . .\"\n\n\"He will. I think he knows now that she was a mistake. And he wants to make up for it with this one. He's going to marry her.\"\n\n\"But why not just keep her and marry this girl?\"\n\n\"Because he's living by the hadith! He is a respected man in this village, in this province! He leads by example, so he is doing as the Prophet said. And the Prophet, peace be upon him, said that a man should take no more than four wives at a time. This wouldn't have been a problem if he wouldn't have taken that bacha posh.\"\n\nMy throat went dry. What was my husband planning? A fifth wife?\n\n\"Well, God bless him. It's admirable that he wants to be such an upright, devout Muslim.\"\n\nBibi Gulalai gave a quick hum, agreeing with Badriya's praise of her son.\n\n\"Just don't say anything to Rahima about this. She's wild enough as it is. We don't need her or her insane aunt Shaima making a fuss about this. It's none of their business anyway.\"\n\n\"I won't say a word but she'll find out soon enough . . .\"\n\nThe kids were coming down the hall. I slinked away from the door and melded into their footsteps.\n\nI needed to talk to Jameela. Would Abdul Khaliq really try to get rid of me? How?\n\n\"Why? What did you hear?\" Jameela said, her eyes narrowed.\n\nI recounted the conversation for her. She listened intently.\n\n\"I don't know anything more than that. Bibi Gulalai will only talk to Badriya, of course, her angel. The rest of us will only hear when something happens. But God help us all. If he really does this, it's going to be a disaster.\"\n\n\"But do you think he'll take a fifth wife? He wants to get rid of me, Jameela-jan. Can he do that?\"\n\n\"He can do\u2014\" Jameela started to say, but changed her response after a brief pause. \"I don't know, Rahima-jan. I really don't know.\"\n\nWe left it unsaid. If he wanted to take another wife without going over the limit, that would mean getting rid of one of us, and Bibi Gulalai had already made it clear that I was the expendable one. I'd once prayed my husband would send me back to my parents. Now that would mean leaving my son behind. Jameela had told me of one girl who had been sent back to her father's house, her husband dissatisfied with her as a wife. The girl's family, unable to tolerate the shame, refused to take her in. No one knew what happened to her.\n\nFour weeks since our return. Jahangir came into our bedroom, where I was mending a tear in my dress, the blue housedress Badriya had warned me against wearing in Kabul. And after seeing how most of the women parliamentarians dressed, I could see why. But it was in fair shape and there was little chance of new fabric coming my way.\n\nJahangir called out to me. I looked up, surprised to see Khala Shaima hobbling a few steps behind him. She had never come into this part of the house.\n\n\"Khala-jan! Salaam, Khala Shaima-jan, you came! I was so worried about you!\" I scrambled to greet her.\n\nKhala Shaima put a hand on the door frame, leaning forward and steadying her breathing.\n\n\"Salaam . . . ah . . . salaam, dokhtar-jan. Damn Abdul Khaliq for building his compound so far from town,\" she panted as I kissed her hands. I could hear the air whistle in her lungs. I quickly glanced in the hallway to be sure no one heard her curse my husband.\n\n\"I'm so sorry, Khala Shaima-jan. I wish I could come to you.\"\n\n\"Eh, forget it. I'll walk as long as my feet allow. Now, let me sit and get myself together. You must have something to tell me from your trip. And what the hell are you doing back here for so long?\"\n\nI told her about everything, the hotel, the guards, the buildings and the foreign soldiers. Then I told her about the bombing and the reason we came back.\n\n\"I heard about that on the radio. Bastards. Can't handle a woman with a voice.\"\n\n\"Who do you think was responsible?\"\n\n\"Does it matter? They may not know who brought the bomb there but we all know why. She's a woman. They don't want to hear from her. The last thing this country needed is one more cripple. And that's what we've got now.\"\n\n\"She's not dead? What happened to her?\"\n\n\"You don't know?\"\n\n\"We heard so many things before we left. And here no one cares to find out. I'm sure Abdul Khaliq knows, but . . .\"\n\n\"But you're not going to ask him.\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"It seems the bomb went off just next to her car. Exploded and killed one of her guards. But she survived the attack. I think they said her leg was burned but nothing more.\"\n\n\"Is she going to come back to the parliament?\"\n\n\"She wants to.\"\n\nI didn't doubt that. Zamarud was not one to be scared off easily. I wished I could be more like her\u2014so determined and brave.\n\nAnd I should be, I thought. I'd been so self-assured when I was a bacha posh. Walking around with the boys, I feared nothing. If they had dared me to wrestle a grown man to the ground, I would have done it. I thought I could do anything.\n\nAnd now I trembled before my husband, before my mother-in-law. I had changed. I had lost my confidence. The dress I wore felt like a costume, something that disguised the confident, headstrong boy I was supposed to be. I felt ridiculous, like someone pretending to be something he was not. I despised what I was.\n\nKhala Shaima had read my mind.\n\n\"She's taking risks and she just might be a total lunatic, but she's doing what she wants. And I bet she doesn't regret it. I bet she'll keep doing it. That's what people have to do sometimes to get what they want. Or to be what they want.\"\n\nKhala Shaima was like no one else. Everyone else thought Zamarud was a fool to say the things she did and an even bigger idiot for willingly offending men.\n\nCarefully, quietly, I told Khala Shaima about Abdul Khaliq wanting to take another wife and what Badriya and Bibi Gulalai had said about me.\n\nShe said nothing but I could tell the news unsettled her. She looked anxious.\n\n\"Did they say how soon?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Dear God, Rahima. This is not good.\"\n\nHer words made me more nervous.\n\n\"We have to figure something out. But keep this to yourself for now. Remember, the walls have mice and the mice have ears.\"\n\nI nodded, blinking back tears. I had hoped Khala Shaima would say something else. That the rumor was absurd. That I was safe here as Abdul Khaliq's wife.\n\n\"Things don't always work out the way you think they will. I bet you've been wondering what became of Bibi Shekiba. Shall I pick up where I left off?\"\n\nI half listened to my great-great-grandmother's story. My mind was preoccupied.\n\nI did have to figure something out. And I should be able to, shouldn't I? Why did it matter if I wore a dress now? Why did it matter that I no longer bound my breasts flat? I wanted to be the same person I had been. Zamarud let nothing get in her way. She wore a dress and she had married and she campaigned to get a seat in the jirga. A seat she occupied as a real parliamentarian.\n\nThe dress didn't hold her back as it did me. I felt restless. I thought how much more comfortable I would be if I could just button my shirt and walk into the street. If I could just slip into my old clothes . . . how much more capable I would be. Zamarud might have disagreed but the clothes meant something different to me because I'd lived in them.\n\nThe dress, the husband, the mother-in-law. I wished I could toss them all aside.\nCHAPTER 46\n\nWhen Shekib had been a girl, she'd heard about a woman in a nearby village condemned to stoning. It was the talk of their town as well as the neighboring towns.\n\nThe woman had been buried shoulder-deep in the earth and encircled by a crowd of onlookers. When it was time, her father had thrown the first stone, striking her squarely in her temple. The line continued until she slumped over in atonement.\n\nShekiba had listened to the story being recounted by her uncle's wife. Her mouth gaped at the horror of such a punishment and the grains of rice she was sifting fell through her drifting fingers and missed the bowl. An anthill of rice collected on the floor.\n\n\"What had she done?\"\n\nHer uncles' wives turned around and paused their conversation, surprised. They often forgot she was there.\n\nBobo Shahgul's eyes narrowed seeing the wasted rice on the floor.\n\n\"She ruined her father's life and gave her entire family nothing but grief!\" she said brusquely. \"Watch what you're doing, you absentminded fool!\"\n\nShekiba looked down to see the mess she had made. Her mouth closed sharply and she turned her attention back to the rice. Bobo Shahgul tapped her walking stick in warning.\n\nSangsaar? A chill coursed through Shekib's veins as she looked at Benafsha and pictured her half-buried. Stones hurled at her head.\n\nShe asked no more questions of Benafsha. The room was silent but for the grumbling of two empty stomachs.\n\nTwo days passed without food or water. The door did not open once, though Shekib could see people walking behind it, stopping and listening before walking off. From the slit beneath the door, Shekib could make out the soles of army boots and knew soldiers were guarding them.\n\nOn the third day, the door opened. An army officer looked down at the two women, curled up on the floor. Shekib pulled herself to stand. Benafsha barely stirred.\n\n\"Guard. Khanum Benafsha.\"\n\nShekib dusted her pants off and straightened her back.\n\n\"Your offenses against our dear king are grave and reprehensible. You are both to be stoned tomorrow afternoon.\"\n\nShekib gasped. Her eyes widened in disbelief. \"But, sir, I\u2014\"\n\n\"I did not ask you to speak. You have shamed yourself enough, have you not?\"\n\nHe turned around abruptly and slammed the door shut behind him. Shekib heard him order a soldier to lock the door. A chain clanged and a key turned, leaving the two women with their fate.\n\nBenafsha let out a soft moan once the door closed. She had known.\n\n\"They're going to stone us both!\" Shekib whispered, her voice tight and unbelieving. \"Even me? I did nothing!\"\n\nBenafsha had her elbow tucked under her head. Her eyes gazed at the wall in front of her. She had known exactly what they would do to her. Why had she brought this upon herself?\n\n\"This is your fault! They're going to stone me because of you!\" She knelt at Benafsha's side and grabbed her shoulders roughly. \"Because of you!\"\n\nBenafsha rattled limply in her hands. \"With Allah as my witness, I am sorry that you are here,\" she said softly, her voice tearful and resigned.\n\nShekib pulled back and stared at Benafsha. \"Why? You knew what they would do to you. Why did you do this? How could you do such a thing in the king's own palace?\"\n\n\"You would not understand,\" she said for the second time.\n\n\"No, I do not understand how you could do something so stupid!\"\n\n\"It is impossible to understand if you do not know love,\" Benafsha whispered. Her eyes closed and she started to recite lyrics I'd never heard before. Phrases that I memorized because they echoed in my mind after she'd stopped talking and meant different things to me at different moments.\n\nThere is some kiss we want with our whole lives,\n\nThe touch of Spirit on the body.\n\nSeawater begs the pearl to break its shell.\n\nAnd the lily, how passionately it needs some wild\n\nDarling!\n\nAt night, I open the window and ask the moon to come\n\nAnd press its face against mine. Breathe into me.\n\nHer melancholy verses pulled at my heart. I knew nothing of that kind of love. I knew nothing about pearls and shells either except that one had to free itself from the other. We were both calmer than we should have been, Benafsha because she had lived her love, and me because I had never known it.\n\nThe hours crept by.\n\nDay turned into night and night became morning. One final morning.\n\nMaybe this is how it is meant to be. Maybe this is how I will finally be returned to my family and saved from this wretched existence. Maybe there is nothing for me in this world.\n\nShekib swung wildly between anger, panic and submission in those hours. Benafsha whispered words of apology from time to time but mostly prayed. She held her head between her hands and atoned for her sins, said there was no God but Allah.\n\nAllahu akbar, she whispered rhythmically. Allahu akbar.\n\nThere was talking outside their door. Shekib could not make out what they were saying but heard a few words here and there.\n\nWhores. Stoning. Deserved.\n\nWhores? Shekib realized she was a woman again. As guilty as the woman lying a few feet from her.\n\nI have been both girl and boy. I will be executed as a girl. A girl who failed as a boy.\n\nStoning. Today. Stopped.\n\nStopped? What was stopped?\n\nShekiba listened carefully.\n\nKing. Pardon. Gift.\n\nAt hearing \"gift,\" Shekiba realized something was happening to her. She strained to hear the voices more clearly but could not make out most of what they were saying.\n\nThe door opened. The same ranked soldier reappeared, his face cross.\n\n\"Khanum Benafsha, prepare yourself. You,\" he said, looking at Shekiba with disgust. \"You will attend the stoning and then you will be punished for your crime. After that, you will be given in marriage. You should thank Allah that you have been shown a mercy you do not deserve.\"\n\nThe room went dim again and the chains were locked in place. Shekiba's heart pounded.\n\nThey will not stone me! I will be given in marriage? How could this be?\n\nBenafsha looked at her, the corners of her mouth almost turned up in a weak smile.\n\n\"Allahu akbar,\" she whispered; the condemned's prayer had been answered.\n\nShekiba's hands trembled. Was it Amanullah? He must have intervened! But why would he want her now that she had been accused of such treachery? Now that she had made herself an unworthy wife?\n\nEveryone spoke of Amanullah's noble character. Maybe he had seen through the accusations. Maybe in their brief exchanges he had seen something, something that told him she was more than just a woman-man, more than just a harem guard. Was that not what he had told his friend Agha Baraan?\n\nTears ran down Shekiba's cheeks. Now all she could do was wait. The hours passed slowly. It became painful to sit in the same room with Benafsha. Shekiba looked at her glazed eyes and broken spirit. She crawled over and crouched at her side.\n\n\"Khanum Benafsha,\" she said, her words a hush. \"I am praying for you.\"\n\nBenafsha's eyes focused on Shekiba. She looked hollow but grateful.\n\n\"I cannot understand why you . . . but I want . . .\"\n\n\"I fulfilled my destiny,\" Benafsha said calmly. \"That is all I did.\"\n\nWhen they came for Benafsha, Shekiba was holding her hands. Two soldiers dragged Benafsha to her feet and another two pulled Shekiba up by the shoulders. Shekiba's fingers lost their grip when they bound Benafsha's wrists together and covered her with a blue burqa. Benafsha looked at her and began to wail, long slow moans that grew louder as they walked through the hallways.\n\n\"Shut your mouth, whore!\" a soldier snapped, whipping his hand against the back of Benafsha's head after he had made sure they were not being watched. Though she was about to be executed, she was still the king's concubine.\n\nBenafsha's head bounced forward. She began to pray loudly.\n\n\"Allahu akbar. Allahu akbar. Allahu . . .\"\n\nThey shook her gruffly by the shoulders and warned her again. Her prayers went on.\n\nThrough the palace, out a back door and into the courtyard, where the afternoon sun nearly blinded the women. Shekiba looked at the harem and saw the women lined up outside, head scarves pulled across their faces. Halima in silhouette, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Sakina stood among them, her arm linked with Nabila's.\n\nYou did this, Shekiba thought bitterly.\n\nGhafoor, Karim, Qasim and Tariq stood in front of the women, solemnly watching the dead woman walk by. Even from this distance, Shekiba could see Tariq trembling. Ghafoor kept her eyes averted, whispering something to Karim as she looked back at the concubines.\n\nCoward. You can't even look at me.\n\n\"Allahu akbar. Allahu akbar . . .\"\n\nSoldiers stood everywhere. The palace grounds were quiet, an eerie silence given the number of people in sight. Benafsha's prayers echoed through the gardens, her toes dragging through the ground. The women of the harem shrank into the distance. Shekiba could hear someone crying. Others tried to hush her but the sobs continued. Shekiba thought it sounded like Nabila.\n\n\"Do not weep for those who damned themselves!\" a voice boomed.\n\nShekiba turned around to see where the voice came from. Ahead of them stood a general. From this distance she could not tell if it was one of the men who had come to their makeshift prison cell. Three soldiers stood on either side of him, their backs straight as rods.\n\nA hundred times Shekiba had crossed the palace grounds but never had it seemed this far. They inched along.\n\n\"Allahu akbar. Allahu akbar. Allahu . . .\"\n\nShekiba began to mouth the words too. Her voice was barely audible, her throat so dry it burned to talk.\n\nAs they neared the general, he nodded to the soldiers and they walked past the fountains, toward the far limits of the palace. They marched solemnly to a clearing where a semicircle of soldiers stood at attention. Shekiba's heart dropped. In front of the soldiers lay two separate piles of stones, most the size of a fist. The heaps reached the soldiers' knees.\n\nShekiba's prayers grew louder, synchronizing with Benafsha's. She tasted tears. They walked to the edge of the palace; high walls shielded the onlookers. King Habibullah emerged from the palace and stood beside the general he had placed in charge of the execution. The men whispered to each other, keeping their eyes on Benafsha.\n\nThe general nodded at something the king said and approached the condemned as she was brought to the center of the semicircle. A deep pit had been dug in these outskirts of the palace, behind a row of fruit trees, a place Shekiba had never before ventured. The soldiers, about fifteen feet away, stared at Benafsha. Shekiba was still within earshot.\n\n\"Tell me, Khanum Benafsha, are you ready to divulge the name of the man you welcomed in your chambers?\"\n\nBenafsha looked up and met his stare.\n\n\"Allahu akbar.\"\n\n\"You could be granted mercy if you would at least tell us who this man is.\"\n\n\"Allahu akbar.\"\n\nThe general threw his arms up and looked back at the king, exasperated. The king nodded, his face a contorted mix of wrath and disappointment.\n\n\"Very well! Khanum Benafsha, your crimes have been reviewed by the scholars of our beloved Islam and according to the laws of our land, you are to be stoned for the grave offense you have committed.\" He looked at the two guards and pointed at the hole. Benafsha let out a wail as they held her by the armpits and lowered her into the pit, her legs kicking, her blue burqa flailing like a goldfish pulled from the palace fountain.\n\nShekiba took a step toward her and felt two hands tighten on her arms. She looked over at King Habibullah. His arms were folded, a finger over his lips as he mouthed something. At the sound of Benafsha's voice, he shook his head, lowered his gaze and walked away. He would not stay for the execution.\n\nThe soldiers shoveled the earth back around Benafsha until she was buried to her chest. She continued to twist and turn but she was deep in the ground and her arms stuck to her, useless. As the dirt piled up around her, she moved less but moaned louder. Shekiba closed her eyes and heard the wails: \"Allahu akbar. Allahu akbar. Allahu . . .\"\n\nSuddenly a sharp yelp. Shekiba opened her eyes, startled. A thin line of darkness formed above the eye mesh of Benafsha's burqa. Three stones lay near her.\n\nIt has started.\n\nThe soldiers bent over, picked stones from the arsenal before them and mouthed something before hurling them at Benafsha, the blue half person.\n\nMay Allah have mercy on you, Khanum Benafsha!\n\nHer body jerked with each stone that hit her. The soldiers took turns. Picking, hurling, and moving to the back of the half circle. Ten minutes passed, a hundred stones. Benafsha's voice grew weaker; she slumped forward, her burqa stained in a dozen places, dark circles bleeding toward one another. The earth around her grew dark as well, blood soaking into the soil. Two stones had ripped through the blue fabric, gashed flesh showed through the holes.\n\nShekiba turned around, unable to stomach any more. She saw the row of blue burqas behind a row of spectator soldiers. Benafsha was to be an example to the dozen or so who had been brought out to bear witness. As horrified as Shekiba, the blue cloaks were half turned away.\n\nStone after stone, scream after scream, until Benafsha went silent and still. The general raised his hand. The execution had been carried out.\nCHAPTER 47\n\nBenafsha's limp body flashed over and over in Shekiba's mind as she received her own punishment. She had been sentenced to a hundred lashes, which were delivered precisely by one of the soldiers, a general standing watch over him. Shekiba had been made to kneel while they stood behind her, her wrists bound as Benafsha's had been.\n\nThough her face twisted in pain with each blow, she did not make a sound.\n\nHer back stung, hot and wet. The soldier had a book tucked under his arm, as law instructed, to soften the striking force. They counted out loud and when they reached a hundred, Shekiba's wrists were untied and she fell on her side in exhaustion. The men said nothing and left the room.\n\nHer mind drifted. She felt water on her lips. Hands rubbed ointment on her back. It was nearly a day later before Shekiba realized Dr. Behrowen was tending to her wounds. The British woman clucked her tongue and shook her head, almost as an Afghan would, muttering something that Shekiba did not understand.\n\nShekiba closed her eyes to block the horror but it was still there, the images seared onto the insides of her eyelids. She opened her eyes again and looked at Dr. Behrowen. She was squeezing water out of a wet rag. She considered Shekiba carefully.\n\n\"Dard?\" she asked, her British accent blunting the letters so thickly that the word was unrecognizable. She had to repeat herself twice more before Shekiba understood she was asking about pain.\n\nShekiba shook her head. Dr. Behrowen raised her eyebrows and turned her attention back to the bucket of rags.\n\nShekiba looked down. She was wearing thin pantaloons that tapered at her ankles. A head scarf lay strewn across a chair in the corner of the room. Shekiba realized she was in Benafsha's room in the harem. Through the walls, she could hear women chatting. She remembered how Benafsha had begged and prostrated herself before them, asking forgiveness and mercy from a crowd focused only on saving their own skins.\n\nThe door opened and Halima peered in.\n\n\"Can I come in?\" she asked quietly, looking at Dr. Behrowen.\n\nDr. Behrowen must have understood; she nodded and waved Halima into the room.\n\n\"How are you feeling?\"\n\n\"Better.\" Her throat felt like sandpaper.\n\n\"I'm glad.\" She knelt at Shekiba's side. \"Things have been ugly here the last few days. Never have we experienced such things.\"\n\nShekiba had nothing to say in reply. Halima sighed heavily and looked quickly at Dr. Behrowen with tears in her eyes.\n\n\"Tariq is outside. She wants to see you but she's very nervous. Is it all right if she comes in for a few moments?\"\n\nShekiba nodded. She remembered seeing Tariq when she turned her gaze from Benafsha's stoning. Tariq's mouth and eyes were open wide with horror, a small pool of vomit at her feet.\n\nHalima placed a gentle hand on Shekiba's forehead before she stood and quietly walked out. Shekiba wished she would come back, stroke her hair and hold her hands as a mother would. Instead, Tariq rushed in and fell at Shekiba's side; the trembling in her hands vibrated her voice.\n\n\"Oh, Allah have mercy! Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? What did they do to you?\"\n\n\"I was punished.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"One hundred lashes.\"\n\nTariq scanned her body, her brows furrowed together in angst. \"How awful! How very awful! Oh, Shekib! Did they say why they were punishing you?\"\n\n\"Because I did not do my job as a guard.\"\n\n\"Oh, Allah forgive us! We were all as guilty as you!\" she whispered, as if afraid the palace would hear her.\n\n\"But only I had been on duty that night. Ghafoor made sure to tell them that.\"\n\n\"She . . . I never would have imagined she could be so . . . I mean, I know she thinks only of herself but I just never thought she would do something like . . .\"\n\n\"That's what people do. She's no different than anyone else.\"\n\nIt suddenly occurred to Shekiba that Benafsha had been different. The general had offered leniency in exchange for a name. Although she must have known his offer was a lie, even the possibility of mercy didn't faze her resolve. She never named the man. Why had she done that? Why had she protected Agha Baraan?\n\n\"She said that they only wanted to talk to you. She said she did not know they were going to punish you.\"\n\nShekiba recalled Ghafoor's shifting gaze on that night and on the day of the stoning.\n\n\"What did they tell you? Benafsha . . . she brought such shame to the palace but I never thought . . . I just cannot believe this happened here! I thought things were different here in Kabul, in the king's palace!\"\n\n\"No man could tolerate such an offense. The king would have shamed himself if he had agreed to a lesser penalty.\"\n\n\"And what will become of us guards?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"What about you? Will they send you back to your family?\"\n\nShekiba remembered that she had been spared for a reason\u2014she was to be married! She pictured Amanullah's face. Could it really be? Had he rescued her from execution to live on as his wife? Or maybe as a concubine? Even curled up on the floor with her raw back covered in salves, Shekiba yearned to be in a new home, her own home, and with child. She wanted to feel tiny palms pull at her face with unquestioning affection.\n\n\"No. I do not know where they will send me.\" She decided to say nothing about the marriage until she knew more. She did not want word getting back to Ghafoor, lest she find a way to ruin things for her.\n\n\"Oh, what an awful mess! I'm so sorry, Shekib. I'm so sorry that you took the fall for this. The whole harem is terrified. They're worried more will be punished, just to set an example, or maybe if they believe others were involved . . .\"\n\nShekiba decided Tariq was exhausting her. She asked her to leave so that she could close her eyes. Tariq looked disappointed but nodded and walked out, her uniform looking bulky and awkward. She was less of a man now than she had ever been.\n\nShekiba was just drifting off when Tariq burst back into the room.\n\n\"Shekib!\" she said excitedly.\n\n\"Please, Tariq, I just want to sleep for a few\u2014\"\n\n\"I know and I apologize, but the palace sent over a messenger. They asked me to tell you . . . to tell you to be ready in two days.\"\n\nShekiba looked up.\n\nTariq's face flushed with a nervous smile.\n\n\"They said you're going to be married!\"\nCHAPTER 48\n\nIt was the holiday of Eid. Five weeks since the attack on Zamarud. Badriya had received several letters from the director general. If she didn't return to her duties immediately, she would be stripped of her position. Abdul Khaliq had made up his mind. We would be going back after the holiday.\n\nJameela told me what it was all about.\n\n\"He's got a deal with a foreign company. You know these westerners he's always going out to meet. He wants them to pay him to provide security. But it's up for vote in the parliament whether or not that company should be allowed to build a pipe through our province. If they aren't allowed to build, they won't need his security.\"\n\n\"That's why he put Badriya in the parliament? To get her to vote for the pipe?\"\n\n\"Yes. And to vote for all the right people for other positions, the people who will give him what he wants.\"\n\nBadriya's voting made perfect sense now. Abdul Khaliq must have told her to watch for his friend's signals. She wanted us to believe she actually mattered but she was a stooge. She was nothing like Hamida and Sufia. No wonder she seemed so awkward around them.\n\nI was happy we would be returning, although this time I knew it would be even harder to leave Jahangir. This time I knew just how much I would miss him. But I dared not ask again if I could take him with me.\n\nWe, the four wives, went to Bibi Gulalai's compound next door to pay our obligatory respects on the first day of Eid. After that, we went home and braced ourselves. For three days, our house received visitor after visitor. I spent three days in the kitchen with the cook and the maid, drying dishes, filling bowls with nuts and raisins and pouring cups of tea. I wasn't invited to sit with any of the guests as Badriya and Jameela were. Even Shahnaz came out from time to time and chatted with the women who came by.\n\nAnd if my husband were to marry again, I had no reason to expect things would get better for me. I knew my family would not take me back. It was a matter of pride. My uncles would never tolerate having a rejected wife, a dishonored woman, back in their fold.\n\nIt was possible that he would keep all his wives. But there was no room in the house for that. We were all uneasy with the possibilities. Bibi Gulalai and Abdul Khaliq were remarkably tight-lipped about the idea.\n\n\"Rahima! Rahima-jan, come out here! Look who has come to see you!\"\n\nI dried my hands on my skirt and hurried into the living room, hoping to see Khala Shaima. My jaw dropped to see that my eldest sister, Shahla, stood before me, a little boy holding her hand and another baby, no more than four months old, in her arm.\n\nShahla smiled brightly to see me while I simply stared. Her face and hips had rounded, taking her out of adolescence. She looked cheerful.\n\n\"Rahima! My dear sister!\" She let go of her son's hand and took a step toward me. I couldn't believe I was seeing her after all this time. It felt so good to have her arms squeeze me, to have her hands touch my face.\n\nI felt her tears against my cheek, mixing with mine.\n\n\"It's so good to see you, finally!\" she whispered. \"Forgive me, Rahima. I couldn't come to be with you when . . . when everything happened.\"\n\nI had missed Shahla so much, and never more than when Parwin had taken her own life. Seeing her reopened the hurt.\n\n\"I wanted to be here. I wanted to come but it was so close to the time when this little one . . . ,\" she said, pointing to the baby girl in her arms.\n\nI touched the little girl's face, her skin soft and smooth like Shahla's.\n\n\"I know, Shahla. I wish you could have been here too. It was . . . it was so terrible!\"\n\n\"Allah forgive her, I'm sure it was. Poor Parwin! I can't imagine what she must have gone through!\"\n\nBibi Gulalai stood in the corner of the room, eyeing us suspiciously and looking displeased. I looked and saw there were other guests I hadn't greeted. I exchanged quick kisses with Shahla's mother-in-law and two of her sisters-in-law. Shahla had taken a seat on one of the cushions, her little boy beside her and her daughter in her lap. I sat next to her, Bibi Gulalai's eyes following me.\n\n\"Oh, Shahla, look at your children! They're beautiful! I have a\u2014\"\n\n\"Rahima!\" Bibi Gulalai barked. \"Don't you think it would be more polite to bring our guests some tea before you start boring them with your yammering?\"\n\nMy face flushed with embarrassment and anger. At least five Eid holidays had passed and this was the first time my sister had been able to pay a visit to the compound in that nearly three years' time. I hadn't seen her since the night of our miserable weddings. I could see the surprise on Shahla's face to hear the way Bibi Gulalai spoke. Jameela intervened.\n\n\"Let me, Khala-jan. Rahima's dear sister is here and it would be nice if the girls could spend some time together.\"\n\nI loved Jameela for understanding. And stepping in. She brought cups of tea and passed around a dish of nuts and dried mulberries. The ladies chatted amicably while Shahla held my hands. Her son, Shoib, grinned shyly while her daughter's tiny arms waved this way and that, her eyes glued to her mother's face.\n\n\"Shoib, did you say salaam to your khala-jan?\"\n\n\"Salaam,\" he said quickly, then hid behind his mother's shoulder.\n\n\"He's very timid,\" Shahla said, smiling.\n\n\"I want you to meet my son, Shahla.\" I rushed into the hallway and called out for Jahangir. The ladies in the room thought we looked ridiculous. Everyone had children. They didn't understand why we were making such a fuss over them.\n\nI heard footsteps from Jameela's room. My son had become quite comfortable staying with her while I was in Kabul. Whenever he wasn't with me, I knew exactly where I would find him.\n\n\"Come, bachem, come and meet your khala-jan,\" I beckoned. My son, looking curious, took my hand and followed me into the living room.\n\n\"He's a darling, nam-e-khoda!\" she said, praising God's name and blowing three times to ward off the evil eye. \"He's got your face.\"\n\n\"Do you really think so?\" It pleased me to hear that.\n\n\"Absolutely! And Madar-jan's hair. Look at the way the curls twist behind his head.\"\n\nWe both winced at the mention of our mother.\n\n\"Have you seen her?\" I tried to be discreet.\n\nShahla shook her head. I looked at my feet, dark with dust. This was a sore spot for both of us and I didn't want to tell my sister everything I'd heard about Madar-jan's downward spiral. With all these women present, it felt like a betrayal. But I wanted to pour my heart out to her, to tell her about our younger sisters, left to fend for themselves even with two parents at home. I wanted her to tell me she would talk some sense into Madar-jan, even if Khala Shaima couldn't. I kept it bottled.\n\n\"And your little girl\u2014she's so sweet! What's her name, Shahla?\"\n\nI put my hand in front of her hand. Her long, graceful fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed tight.\n\nShahla lowered her voice and looked to see if anyone was paying attention to us.\n\n\"I named her Parwin,\" she said quietly.\n\nA second look and I realized Shahla's daughter had our sister's doelike eyes and pink, puckered lips. My throat tightened. Shahla smiled wanly.\n\n\"Parwin?\"\n\n\"Yes. My mother-in-law wanted to name her Rima, actually, but I asked if I could choose the name. She agreed to let me.\"\n\nI stared at my niece's face. The longer I stared, the more of Parwin I saw. Then I thought of my own mother-in-law. She had only gone along with my son's name because my husband had approved of it. He must have liked it very much or she would have changed it for sure.\n\n\"I can't believe she agreed.\"\n\n\"I know. It was difficult because she thought it would be bad luck, you know, to name a child after someone with a lame leg. Thank goodness I named her before . . . I mean if she had been born after, I couldn't have convinced anyone. The name would've carried too much shadow.\"\n\nShahla looked at her daughter's face wistfully.\n\n\"Then after all that happened, everyone started calling her Rima. I could barely bring myself to say her name either so for a long time it was a relief to call her Rima. But now, when it's just me and her, I call her Parwin. It makes me feel better. Funny, isn't it? We hear the same name and while they see dark, I see light.\"\n\nI knew just what she meant.\n\nHad the guests been anyone else, I would have returned to the kitchen long ago. But it was my sister and I wanted to spend every second I could with her. Jameela refilled the teacups, passed around a plate of cookies and made small talk. She kept an eye on Bibi Gulalai and when it looked like our mother-in-law was about to say something to me, Jameela would ask a question or say something to distract her. When our eyes met, I thanked Jameela silently. She smiled.\n\n\"Shahla, you look so well!\" I exclaimed. And I meant it. My sister looked more mature but otherwise unchanged. And she looked content. I even saw her make eye contact with her sister-in-law once or twice and smile. Genuinely. Her mother-in-law was a soft-spoken woman, nothing like Bibi Gulalai and her searing glare. She must have been in her sixties, wisps of gray hair peeking out from under her head scarf. She listened to Jameela talk about our mother's illness with a look of sincere concern.\n\n\"Really, Shahla, are things okay?\" I whispered when the room was divided in conversation. \"Are you happy?\"\n\n\"I miss you so much, Rahima! I miss everyone. I wish so much that I could see Rohila and Sitara. I want to know how big they've gotten, what they're doing. But I'm happy.\"\n\nI smiled. I believed her.\n\n\"What about you?\" Jahangir pulled at Shoib's sleeve, inviting him to play in the hallway. Shoib shrugged his shoulders and followed.\n\n\"Me?\" I could feel Bibi Gulalai's stare boring into the back of my head. I nodded. My sister knew me too well. Her face grew somber.\n\n\"Good, I'm glad to hear that,\" she said in a way that told me the opposite was true.\n\n\"I go to Kabul now. Did you hear about that?\"\n\n\"I heard something, but . . .\"\n\nI told her about Badriya's seat in the jirga and how I worked as her assistant. I told her how different Kabul was, just like in the stories Khala Shaima told us. I was proud when I saw how impressed Shahla was.\n\nIf only I could have suspended time. I would have sat beside my sister, our children playing together in a picture of innocence, our hearts supporting each other as we mourned our dead sister, the mother we once had, and the sisters we'd left behind.\n\n\"You see Khala Shaima still, don't you?\"\n\nI nodded. \"She comes by when she can. It's getting harder for her but I miss her so much when she doesn't come.\"\n\n\"Does she still tell you stories of Bibi Shekiba?\" Shahla asked. She started to rock when she noticed her daughter's eyes begin to close, just as I did with Jahangir. It was amazing how quickly girls took on the instincts of motherhood.\n\n\"She does. I love hearing those stories. It makes me think of . . . it makes me think of other times.\"\n\nShahla sighed. She missed it as much as I did.\n\n\"I know, Rahima-jan. But times change. Everything changes. Birds fly away, one by one.\"\nCHAPTER 49\n\nShekiba was told nothing more. A nikkah was to be performed in two days' time. Word spread through the somber harem quickly and several women came together to prepare the new bride.\n\n\"Who is this man? How fortunate you are! You were spared by our dear king for marriage! That is quite an honor!\"\n\nThose voices were in the minority. Shekiba heard the whispers around her, angry and incredulous. Some said that she had probably conspired with Benafsha and that she should have been stoned alongside her.\n\nYou see how comfortable she is in Benafsha's room? As if it's been hers all along!\n\nI bet she helped hide Benafsha's lover. I'm sure of it. I heard her footsteps in the middle of the night from time to time and I knew\u2014I just knew something had to be going on!\n\nThey must be giving her to a blind man. Who else could stand to look at such a face!\n\nHow quickly they turned on her! How quickly they forgot how she had carried their children, brought hot water for their baths and even scrubbed their backs when they asked. All the while she had been Shekiba-e-haleem to them; they winked to one another when she served the bowls of the hot dish to the women from the breakfast delivery.\n\nShekiba-e-haleem, serving up her special dish!\n\nMaybe she should pour a bowl over the other side of her face\u2014I swear it's just the right color to match her complexion today! The cook must be a genius!\n\nBut there were a few, namely Halima and Benazir, who pitied Shekiba and knew that she needed help preparing for her nikkah.\n\n\"Who is this man?\" Halima asked as she combed oil through Shekiba's dull, short hair.\n\n\"I don't know, Khanum Halima. No one has said anything to me.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's one of the servants from the main palace. Maybe they will have you work there now?\" Benazir suggested. \"Would you like that?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Shekiba said, her voice contained. That was not what she wanted at all, but she could not bring herself to share her secret with anyone. It was Amanullah that she hoped for\u2014not a palace servant!\n\n\"Well, it is a bit strange that they have not told you anything.\" Halima looked hopeful but reserved. Shekiba had misfortune written all over her and it was hard to imagine that even a marriage would bring her peace.\n\n\"You know, there are many things that come with marriage. You have seen this harem and you know what happens between a man and a woman. Your husband will expect you to fulfill wifely duties. You will not want to disappoint him,\" Halima said gently.\n\nShekiba felt her stomach drop. She had not given much thought to what would happen between her and a husband. She thought of the squeals and grunts that came from the king's chambers. She thought of what Mahbuba had told her and felt something between her legs tighten with anxiety.\n\n\"It is painful the first time,\" Halima said.\n\n\"So painful!\" Benazir echoed.\n\n\"But each time after that will be easier. And maybe Allah will bless you with a child.\"\n\nBenazir smiled and looked at Mezhgan, who lay sleeping a few feet away.\n\n\"You have said that the women in your family all bear sons. If you do so, you will make your husband a happy man. Especially if it is his firstborn.\"\n\n\"Do you really think she'll be a first wife?\" Benazir asked.\n\n\"Anything is possible,\" Halima said, looking at Shekiba and thinking of the last few days in the palace.\n\nLater that afternoon, a second wave of news rippled through the harem. Nabila came running into the bath area. Shekiba could hear her through the door.\n\n\"Have you heard the news? He is to be engaged! Our dear prince Amanullah is to be engaged! He has finally chosen a bride!\"\n\nNo one else connected the two stories. No one but Shekiba, who closed her eyes and prayed with a nervous heart.\n\nAs promised, a soldier came to the harem two days after Tariq brought word to Shekiba. Ghafoor was standing outside and called into the house for Shekiba. They had not spoken since that dark night.\n\n\"Shekiba!\" she called unceremoniously. \"The palace has sent for you.\"\n\nShekiba had spent her last night in Benafsha's chambers, wondering about tomorrow. Her back still sore, she slept on her side. She stared at the door and imagined Agha Baraan entering to take the king's concubine in secret. Why hadn't Benafsha given her lover's name?\n\nShekiba stood up slowly and smoothed her skirt, trying not to wake Tariq who had quietly joined her last night. She pictured Amanullah in his military uniform, his pants neatly pressed and his hat perched perfectly on his head. Looking at her own clothing, she felt embarrassed. She picked up her head scarf and crossed the corners under her chin. Tariq woke up, stretched and jumped to her feet. She threw both arms around Shekiba's neck and squeezed her tightly. The gesture caught Shekiba by surprise.\n\n\"Is it time already? I wish you all the best, dear sister! May Allah bless the steps you are about to take and give you a lifetime of happiness.\" Tariq's eyes were tearful. \"And don't forget to pray for me sometimes too. Pray that I'll be so lucky!\"\n\n\"I'll pray that you'll be even luckier.\"\n\nWith the palace waiting, there was no time to find Halima or Benazir to say good-bye. Shekiba walked past Ghafoor to the front door.\n\n\"How are you, Shekiba-jan? I hope you're feeling better. I heard your punishment was severe.\" She looked uncomfortable; her eyes wandered past Shekiba to the soldier waiting outside.\n\n\"I was delivered to them, blame already assigned. What else were they to do?\"\n\n\"They must have assumed\u2014\"\n\n\"They assumed what they were told.\" Shekiba spoke coolly.\n\n\"I did not . . . regardless, congratulations.\"\n\n\"And to you too.\"\n\n\"To me too?\"\n\n\"Certainly. It's not every day that one can successfully escape a fire.\"\n\n\"Just wait a minute! I did not\u2014\"\n\nSomething in Shekiba made her turn around and look Ghafoor in the eyes. She was tired of holding her tongue.\n\n\"There's something you do not know about me, Ghafoor.\" Shekiba turned to glare at her directly. Her eyes narrowed with hate. \"Do you wonder why my family sent me away? My family sent me away because I carry a curse and those around me ended up in a grave years before their time. And now, under these clear skies and with Satan listening, I curse you. May you suffer a hundred times over for each lash I bore. Mark my words, you snake, you will get what you deserve,\" Shekiba said quietly.\n\nGhafoor's shoulders stiffened with anger but her face went pale. Satisfied, Shekiba turned and walked toward the soldier.\n\nShekiba was led into a small room in the east wing of the palace. The two men who had questioned her only a few days ago sat waiting. The short man looked at the lanky man, waiting for him to begin speaking.\n\nWill Amanullah come here? Is it possible I will meet him today? Is it possible that there will really be a nikkah between us?\n\n\"Salaam,\" she said quietly with her head bowed. She fidgeted with her clothing, her head scarf, wanting every piece to look perfectly in place. They motioned for her to sit in the chair across from them. One man spoke while the other nodded in agreement and parroted his words.\n\n\"You are a fortunate girl.\"\n\n\"Very fortunate.\"\n\nShekiba did not look up.\n\n\"You have been shown mercy that you did not deserve. You should be very grateful.\"\n\n\"Very grateful.\"\n\n\"Someone has agreed to take you on as wife, a title one would have hardly expected for you. But this is a chance for you to redeem yourself. To attempt to live a respectable life and fulfill your duties as dictated by our holy Qur'an. Do you think you can do this?\"\n\n\"I was raised with love for our holy book, sir. I want nothing more than to live an honorable life.\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow. Maybe he had anticipated a more insolent response.\n\n\"Very well then. As you can imagine, our dear king Habibullah has no desire to lay eyes on you again after the tragedy that befell this palace. But he has given his blessing that you be given in marriage.\"\n\nShekiba's heart pounded. Still they had not mentioned the man's name. She waited on each word he uttered, anxious to hear that name, that sweet name\u2014Amanullah!\n\n\"Your future spouse is in the room next door with the mullah. He is signing the marriage certificate.\" The door opened and a third man appeared. He gave the other two a nod and they turned back to Shekiba.\n\n\"He has agreed, stating his intentions clearly thrice over. Now it is your turn. We will speak on your behalf. Do you agree to take Agha Baraan as your husband in life?\"\n\nShekiba began nodding before she heard the name. She kept nodding even when she heard the name and even for a few seconds after, before her mind was able to process it.\n\n\"Agha Ba . . . . ?\"\n\n\"It is a simple yes-or-no response. Do you agree to take Agha Baraan as your husband? And might I add that you would be a bigger fool than we already know you to be if you should even consider any response other than yes.\"\n\nShekiba sat speechless. They stared at her expectantly while her mind spun.\n\nWhat is happening? Why would Agha Baraan want me? Agha Baraan? Benafsha's secret lover? This doesn't make any sense at all.\n\nShekiba felt her face tingle.\n\n\"Yes or no?\" Louder, impatient.\n\n\"Are you stupid? Just say yes so we can send word to the mullah to close the nikkah! Maybe we should just speak on her behalf. I'm in no mood to wait.\"\n\n\"Fine, then it's agreed. She hasn't said no. I'll tell the mullah.\" The stocky man stood and walked out the door.\n\nWhat about Amanullah? Then who is he to be married to? How could I have thought . . . ?\n\nShekiba thought of the conversation she had overheard in the garden. Her throat knotted with anger. Maybe she was as foolish as everyone said.\n\nA paper was brought to Shekiba and she took the pen that was handed to her, already dipped in ink, and wrote her name on the line. She was dazed but aware enough to know there was nothing else she could do. She'd seen how the palace disposed of people.\n\nThey led her into the hallway, where she was instructed to don her burqa. She did as she was told and Agha Baraan emerged from a nearby room. He looked in her direction, his face more somber than she remembered; his eyes heavy, dark and mournful.\n\nHe nodded at her and walked down the hallway toward the door. She followed, hearing the sighs of relief from the king's lanky and stout advisers behind her. She was leaving the palace with Agha Baraan. Her nikkah had been signed, the contract official and binding. Shekiba was married to Agha Baraan.\nCHAPTER 50\n\nSeeing Shahla made me miss her more. And Parwin. As the car bumped down the dirt road to Kabul, I thought about my sisters. Shahla looked like she was being treated well. Her mother-in-law seemed to be kinder, gentler than Bibi Gulalai. Just last night, Bibi Gulalai had taken her walking stick to my shoulder as I swept the hallway. She snapped the stick against my kneecaps when I fell to my side. She didn't like the way I was crouched, she said. It was shameful.\n\nI shifted in the seat, realizing the seat belt was pushing against a sore spot below my collarbone. I sighed heavily. Badriya pretended not to notice and I was grateful for that. I had no intention of crying on her shoulder.\n\nBut there was something else that I'd been thinking about since Shahla's visit. Something that had been creeping into my mind since we sisters left our father's house. Shahla had chosen to name her daughter Parwin. I loved Parwin with all my heart but it was undeniably bold and bad luck to name a child after someone with a lame leg. I wondered if I could have brought myself to name a child Parwin. Or Shaima. I hoped my aunt would never know. I felt a surge of shame to think it but I wouldn't have used either of those names.\n\nBringing Jahangir into the world had nearly killed me. I prayed I would not become pregnant again and for once Allah had answered my prayers. But by now my body had regained strength and my mind had blurred the memory of his birth; I had started to want another child. I wasn't sure why I hadn't become pregnant again but I thought maybe Allah had a plan for me. Maybe next month. As foolish and illogical as it was, I prayed my next child would be a girl.\n\nWhat name would I choose? Raisa. My mother. Absolutely not. I was less embarrassed to admit that. I could picture her eyes in a toxic glaze, red with smoke, while Rohila and Sitara watched on helplessly. No, I could never use my mother's name. But I couldn't think of my mother without missing her, missing the way she held me on the day of our nikkahs, the day that broke her.\n\nZamarud? Maybe, but probably not. Too many people disliked her, enough to try to kill her. If they tried once, they would likely try again and maybe succeed. Then it would be the name of a murdered parliamentarian. No, I thought. That wouldn't do.\n\nHamida? Or Sufia? Very possibly. I liked them both, Hamida a bit more because she had pushed Badriya to let me see more in the parliament, to do more outside.\n\nShekiba. That was it. That was the name I would have chosen. The name of my bibi's bibi. The woman who lived the double life I had, walked in a man's clothes, worked with a man's strength and fended for herself. That's what I would want to name my daughter, if I were to have one. If.\n\n\"I'm not going to babysit you just because of what happened with Zamarud. You better look out for yourself,\" Badriya said sharply. Kabul's busy streets were coming into view. I turned and looked at her, not sure what she was implying.\n\n\"Fine with me. I didn't think you were looking out for me before,\" I said flatly, but I was too late to catch myself. Badriya's eyes widened.\n\n\"Why, you insolent little . . .\" Unable to find the words, she whipped the back of her hand against my face. My eyes watered and my nose stung. I prayed it wouldn't bleed on my freshly washed dress. \"Don't you dare talk to me like that, you worthless girl. Just remember you're here only because of me and I can change my mind about your usefulness anytime.\"\n\nI bit my tongue and looked out the tinted window.\n\nWe checked back into our room at the hotel. The apartment our husband had purchased needed a lot of work before we could stay there. He'd asked his guard and driver to find some local workers to replace the flooring and cover the windows. He didn't want people or neighbors catching a glimpse of his wives.\n\nBadriya set to unpacking right away, hanging her dresses in the closet.\n\nI saw something that made my jaw drop. Our room had a television in it! It hadn't been here on our last trip and Badriya had never mentioned having one before. I turned it on and saw Badriya watching me, very interested.\n\nThere was a knock on the door. I looked at Badriya.\n\n\"Don't just stand there like an idiot. Find out who it is!\"\n\nIt was the man we'd seen downstairs when we checked in. Our driver stood behind him, his arms crossed.\n\n\"Excuse me, khanum-ha, forgive me for intruding but it seems that we've forgotten one thing. May I enter please?\" He looked back at Maroof, who nodded.\n\nI stepped away from the door, turned to the side, and kept my head scarf pulled across my face. I didn't need Maroof reporting anything back to my husband about my behavior. The man entered our room, turned the television off and unplugged it. He wrapped his arms around it and lugged it out the door while I watched, brokenhearted. I had seen about thirty seconds of a woman singing in a grass field, the small mirrors on her traditional Afghan dress catching the sun.\n\nThe door closed. Abdul Khaliq had a television back at the compound. A large box he kept in his own room, with an antenna that tracked to the roof of the house. We weren't permitted to watch it. Once he'd caught me in there, eyeing it and fingering the buttons, daring myself to turn it on. I didn't expect him to be home. He'd thundered into the room and grabbed me by the neck so hard I couldn't breathe.\n\n\"What do you think you're doing? Let me catch you watching television and I'll rip your eyeballs out of their sockets!\"\n\nKhala Shaima had explained his reaction to me when I asked her if she had a television at home.\n\n\"Your husband is a lot of things but he's not a stupid man. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want you to see what's going on in the rest of the country, what the other women are doing. These television stations now have so many programs, female singers, female news reporters. Even men advocating on behalf of women. Can you imagine that? Now can you imagine how you would feel if you were to see women like that every day? He needs to keep you blindfolded.\"\n\nThe hotel manager had forgotten to remove the television before we got there. It angered me to realize how tight our leash was, even this far away from Abdul Khaliq. I felt like I was being buried in a hole, deeper and deeper every day until I could hardly see daylight.\n\nAt least returning to the jirga sessions was a break for me. And I was thankful to see Hamida and Sufia again. They greeted us with hugs and asked about our children. I couldn't help but notice, happily, that they were warmer with me than they were with Badriya. I liked that they liked me.\n\nThe attack on Zamarud had frightened Badriya, as it had many other female parliamentarians. Hamida told me two women had decided not to return, afraid that they would be in danger as well. Zamarud was badly hurt, she said. Her wounds had gotten infected and she'd been hospitalized. She was not expected to survive.\n\nThe session opened with a prayer. I sat with Badriya, our heads bowed and our hands cupped. I spent the day filling out her papers and reading documents to her. She snapped at me for reading too slowly but I said nothing. It was easier that way. After the sessions and during our breaks, I would tag along with Hamida and Sufia, who were kind enough not to ask why I didn't accompany Badriya. It was only within the parliament building that my husband's driver and guard did not keep track of my whereabouts. Here, the leash slackened.\n\nAfter the sessions, Badriya wanted Maroof and our guard to escort her back to the hotel. She had no interest in attending classes at the women's training center but I certainly did. The guards had more stock in looking after Abdul Khaliq's first wife, so they watched nonchalantly as I climbed into Hamida's car, leaving me under the watch of her guard and driver.\n\nWe opened the door to the training center, which was, as usual, empty until we got there.\n\n\"Hello!\" Ms. Franklin called out happily.\n\nI wondered how she could be so cheerful all the time.\n\nWe alternated every day. One day she would teach basic English, and the following day we were back on the computer, learning to navigate the Internet or type notes. I thrilled at being a student again and longed for a real classroom, one full of boys my age whom I could learn with, joke with and play soccer with.\n\nMs. Franklin was proud of our progress. She said she'd told her parents all about us, about how impressed she was with our dedication, with our desire to work in government as women. I liked her praise. It had been a long time since I'd heard any.\n\nSo when the door opened, thirty minutes into our session, we were understandably intrigued to see who it was.\n\nA tall, thin woman in her forties entered and looked around, unsure.\n\n\"Hello, come in!\" Ms. Franklin said.\n\nThe woman wore a calf-length black jacket over a deep-plum-colored tunic and pants. Her ponytail was hidden by a plum-colored head scarf.\n\n\"Salaam!\" she replied. \"You are Ms. Franklin?\"\n\nHer name was Fakhria and she put Ms. Franklin in a tricky situation. She worked at a women's shelter here in Kabul and wanted to attend the classes at the resource center. Ms. Franklin looked mildly perplexed. The funds that supported the center were specifically allocated to women parliamentarians. The classes were not open to the public because, theoretically, the center couldn't accommodate more than the women jirga members. But so few of them came.\n\nMs. Franklin pursed her lips and waved Fakhria in, as I would have done. Somehow, she was not a woman you could turn away easily.\n\nAt the end of the class, Hamida asked Fakhria about the shelter. She and Sufia had heard of a women's shelter but hadn't ever seen it. I was surprised to hear such a place existed.\n\n\"My sister was killed by her husband. I decided I needed to do something and then I came upon this shelter. It was founded by an Afghan woman who was living in America. She raised money and emptied her pockets into building this place for girls. She travels back and forth now but we have a few people who look after the shelter.\"\n\n\"And your husband, he doesn't mind you spending time there?\" Sufia asked gently.\n\n\"No, he is very supportive actually. He's a kind man, my husband. After what happened with my sister, he knew I would go crazy just sitting there in mourning. We've got five children to keep me busy at home but I needed to do this. I wanted my children to see me do something.\"\n\nFakhria started to tell us about the shelter, about the girls who came there. She told us about a girl she called Murwarid. Murwarid was only fifteen years old, she said, and had come to the shelter two weeks ago, bruised and desperate. At the age of eight, she'd been married to a man in his sixties, living in the countryside. Her husband had abused her in every way possible. Her nose was crooked after he'd broken it twice. When he'd tired of her, he'd started to take her around to other villages, selling her off to men to have sex with her. She had tried to run away once before but he caught her and sliced off one ear, dragging her home by the other.\n\nSix months later Murwarid decided again that she wouldn't survive if she stayed with this man. And this time, if he killed her, she would be better off. So she ran.\n\nShe came to Kabul and found the women's shelter, where she was living now, recovering. She still woke in the night screaming.\n\nFakhria invited us to visit the shelter. It would be great, she said, if the parliament could help support such a place. Maybe offer some training or jobs to the women living there.\n\nHamida and Sufia clucked their tongues to hear the stories Fakhria told.\n\nI sat frozen. Too much of what she said sounded familiar.\n\nYou see that? Murwarid found her escape, I could hear Khala Shaima say. Why haven't you found yours?\nCHAPTER 51\n\n\"Read this one to me.\"\n\nBadriya had unfolded Kabul's weekly newspaper on the table. She pointed from one column to the next. She stopped me one paragraph into a story about drought conditions in a province to the south.\n\n\"Forget it. Who needs to know about that? I want to know what's happening here. Try this one,\" she said, picking out a column on the following page. I sighed and got ready to read about a new bank opening next month when I was interrupted.\n\nA knock on our door.\n\n\"There's a phone call from home. Come down to the lobby to take the call.\" It was Hassan, our bodyguard.\n\n\"Now?\" she huffed. \"As if we haven't had a long enough day!\"\n\nBadriya and I had just gotten plates of food sent up from the hotel kitchen. I loved the food there. Maybe it was that I had no part in cooking it or cleaning up after it. Maybe it was the pretty floral pattern of the plates. My mouth watered at the smell of the cumin-infused potato stew. I tore off a piece of bread as she resentfully left the room. I dipped a piece of bread into the stew and brought it to my mouth. The grease felt good on my lips. No reason for us both to eat cold meals, I figured.\n\nBadriya returned a few moments later.\n\n\"The qorma is really good,\" I announced as she walked in. I looked up and saw that her face was drained of color.\n\n\"Are you . . . are you all right?\"\n\nShe looked at me, her mouth open slightly. Her eyes searched.\n\n\"Badriya-jan, what is it? Who was on the phone?\"\n\nHer hand covered her mouth. Something wasn't right.\n\n\"Badriya-jan, are you all right?\"\n\nSuddenly, something in her shifted. She straightened her shoulders and pulled her lips together tightly.\n\n\"It was Abdul Khaliq on the phone. He called about Jahangir.\"\n\nMy stomach fell at the sound of his name.\n\n\"He's not well,\" she said, choosing her words carefully. \"He's not well. Seems he's been very sick since we left.\"\n\n\"Since we left? Why didn't he call sooner?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Rahima-jan. I don't . . . he's going to have Maroof take us back.\"\n\n\"I want to go back now!\"\n\n\"We are. Maroof is bringing the car around.\"\n\nI wanted to be there already. I wanted to see my son. The last time he had been ill, he'd spent two days in my arms. Whispering every prayer I could remember, I stroked the moist hairs from his sweaty forehead and watched his cherry lips tremble until the fever released him. I knew he must have cried for me and I hated that I wasn't there.\n\nWe packed our belongings in a matter of minutes. Badriya moved surprisingly quickly. Forty minutes later, Abdul Khaliq's SUV was on the main road leaving Kabul, whizzing past tanks and western soldiers, their curious eyes shielded by sunglasses. Maroof grunted something to Hassan in the passenger seat.\n\nThere was something peculiar about Badriya's behavior. Jahangir, like all the other children in the compound, had survived fever and illness. I looked over at her. Badriya busied herself folding papers neatly and putting them away in her purse. Papers she couldn't read.\n\n\"What did he say, Badriya? Do they want to take him to a doctor? Has he been eating anything?\"\n\n\"I don't know, dear girl. The connection was lousy and you know Abdul Khaliq. He doesn't explain much.\"\n\nThe hours dragged on. I tried to fall asleep, hoping I would open my eyes and find myself back at the compound, Jahangir coming to the gate to welcome me. It would be midnight before we got back. I hoped Jameela had made him a cup of the herbal tea she had given him last time. I hoped the other children were not disturbing him.\n\nJust as I was beginning to drift off, it occurred to me that there was something odd about my conversation with Badriya. Something other than Jahangir being ill.\n\nThe way she had looked at me. What was that look?\n\nConcern? Annoyance? Fatigue?\n\nPity.\n\nI don't know, dear girl.\n\nNever before had she addressed me with endearments.\n\nMy mouth went dry. I started to pray.\nCHAPTER 52\n\nShekiba and Agha Baraan did not speak on the way to his home. Shekiba sat beside her new husband but kept her gaze straight ahead. Agha Baraan guided the horse expertly down Kabul's busy streets, small shops and pedestrians everywhere. He looked in her direction only once but his expression told Shekiba nothing.\n\nHe turned down a narrow, house-lined street, homes packed so close together that a child could toss an apple into his neighbor's courtyard. Shekiba thought of her village, the homes divided by kilometers of open fields.\n\nAgha Baraan's home was in the middle of the street; the royal-blue door set it apart from the rest.\n\nShekiba suddenly felt a panic set in at the thought of being behind those walls with this man. She briefly considered running\u2014disappearing into Kabul's maze of roads. But she remembered Azizullah dragging her back from Hakim-sahib's doorstep and decided against it.\n\nHe opened the door and she followed. The courtyard was small, much smaller than houses in her village, but it was neatly kept and had bright flowers and a birdcage with three small canaries. She followed her husband through the house door.\n\nA woman in her twenties looked up from her needlework. She did not seem surprised.\n\n\"Gulnaz, this is Shekiba. You can show her to her room please. She has no belongings so you'll have to give her a dress or two for now.\"\n\nGulnaz stood up and looked at the blue cloak before her. Agha Baraan walked out, uninterested in how the two would take to each other.\n\n\"You can take your burqa off. You look ridiculous wearing it inside.\" Shekiba understood by the tone of her voice that Gulnaz was Agha Baraan's first wife and that she was not happy to see her. Shekiba lifted her burqa but kept her right profile toward Gulnaz.\n\n\"I hear they call you Shekiba-e-haleem. Let me see your face.\"\n\nShekiba turned, making a point to look Gulnaz in the eye. Each woman took a moment to consider the other. Gulnaz was a beautiful woman but nowhere near as striking as Benafsha. She had almond-shaped eyes and gracefully arched brows. Her hair looked soft and thick, loose curls tossed over her shoulders.\n\n\"I see,\" she said, wincing. \"Well, come this way. I'll show you to your room.\"\n\nThe layout of the house was similar to Bobo Shahgul's. Behind the living room was a small kitchen. Off the main hallway were three other rooms, which Shekiba was not shown. The last room was to be hers, an eight-by-ten-foot space without a window. A thin cushion lay against the wall and a lantern sat on a narrow round table.\n\n\"I'll bring you some clothes later. For now you can stay here. We won't be eating dinner for a while. I've prepared the meal for tonight. You can start helping tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Khanum Gulnaz, I\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't call me that. It doesn't sound right. Just call me by my name. You're his wife now and it would sound strange if someone were to hear you say that.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Let me warn you. This is my home. I do things the way I like and you better not expect to change things. You're here because he wants you to be here but that does not mean you can do as you please.\"\n\n\"I had no intention\u2014\"\n\n\"Good. Then it's understood and I'll expect no problems from you. I asked him to have you in a separate house but there just isn't room for that right now. You'll have to be here.\"\n\nGulnaz was only slightly older than Shekiba but she spoke with such condescending authority that Shekiba felt like she was being chastised by one of her uncles' wives. She had no reason to expect Gulnaz to be any kinder to her, but Shekiba thought Gulnaz might be able to shed some light on her situation.\n\n\"Excuse me, but can I ask one question, Gulnaz-jan? Can you tell me why I am here?\"\n\n\"What? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"You said he wants me to be here. Why does he want me here?\"\n\n\"You have no idea?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nGulnaz shook her head and walked out of the room, leaving Shekiba with more questions than answers.\n\nShe heard from Gulnaz once more that night, when she walked by the room and announced that there was food left in the kitchen if she wanted some. Shekiba stared blankly at the door but did not respond. She felt terribly out of place. And she was now a woman again. Her dress felt cumbersome and heavy. She had just about forgotten how to keep her head scarf in place. She had left her guard's uniform in Benafsha's room but took with her the corset used to bind her breasts. She could not tolerate their jiggling, even though the corset chafed her raw wounds.\n\nShekiba wondered how things would be here, with her living as a second wife to Benafsha's lover, the man who had betrayed the king in the worst way. How had she become involved in such a twisted affair?\n\nShe listened, nervous, for the sound of Agha Baraan approaching. She knew, from watching the king's habits, that men came for women at odd hours of the day and night. She felt unprepared to be near him behind closed doors. Shekiba dozed off sometime near morning.\n\n\"Look, you've got to get up and eat something. It doesn't really matter to me what you do but I won't have the blame on my shoulders if you get ill from hunger. Looks like you're not in great shape to start with. Here's a dress too. That's all you will be getting from me. He can buy you fabric if you need another.\"\n\nShekiba sat up and rubbed her eyes. She watched Gulnaz put a plate with bread and butter on the floor, along with a cup of black tea.\n\n\"And if we're to share the house then we'll share the work. You can't expect to just laze around all day long.\"\n\n\"Sorry, I didn't realize the time . . .\"\n\nGulnaz did not wait for an explanation. She was gone before Shekiba could finish her sentence. The butter melted on her tongue. She walked out of her room hesitantly and found the washroom. It was summertime and a bit of cool water felt good, especially on her scabs. Shekiba wondered how badly scarred her back was. She cursed Ghafoor again but Ghafoor wasn't the only one to blame. Agha Baraan and Benafsha had created the mess as well. Shekiba had been caught in an elephant stampede.\n\nI am not welcome here. I am his wife, but only half. Nothing about me is whole. Why did he do this?\n\nShekiba went out to find Gulnaz and make herself useful. This part was nothing new to her. It felt the same as being in Marjan's home. Or Bobo Shahgul's. She found the kitchen empty, a pile of raw potatoes on a counter. Shekiba looked around. Agha Baraan had a nice home. The walls were smooth and flat and intricate hand-knotted carpets covered the living room floor. There was a tufted sofa with carved wooden arms as well as a chair that Shekiba had not noticed the day before. On the walls were framed pieces of calligraphy, Allah's name written in graceful curves, slants and dots.\n\nShekiba went back into the kitchen and looked around. There were cups and plates in the cabinets and a pile of pots and pans underneath the counter. Shekiba found a knife and sat down to peel the potatoes. It was a relief to be doing something and when Gulnaz came back in from the courtyard, she pretended not to notice the second wife in her kitchen, walking to her room instead.\n\nThey have no children, Shekiba realized. That was what was different in this house. No excited footsteps, high-pitched voices or crying. They lived alone and apart from the rest of Agha Baraan's family.\n\nIt would be hard to get lost in such a small household. Gulnaz said nothing more to her than household instructions. She left dirty clothes in a pile and told her Aasif, Agha Baraan's first name, needed his shirts for the morning. They did not eat together. Gulnaz and Agha Baraan shared their meals when he was home but Shekiba kept herself occupied with chores and made no motion to join them. Nor was she invited. She took her meals to her room or ate a few bites in the kitchen.\n\nAasif said no more than a few words to her each day, mostly small greetings in passing, his eyes averted. Shekiba would mumble something to complete the exchange. Aasif was different with Gulnaz. He chatted about the people he had seen and told her of Kabul's local news. Gulnaz listened and asked questions. Sometimes they even laughed together. Shekiba wondered how things had been for Aasif and Gulnaz when they were first married. Had Aasif been as cool with her as he was now with Shekiba? Would he ever say anything more to her?\n\nThe silence was uncomfortable, but Shekiba dreaded a conversation with Aasif. That day in the palace, when she had spoken with him, he had seemed a gentle person, a noble man. But what she knew now made her question her first impression.\n\nFour nights passed before he came to her room. Shekiba had begun to believe he had brought her only to help with the housework when she heard her door open. It was late and her eyes were just beginning to feel heavy with sleep. In the darkness, she could make out his thin silhouette.\n\nHe stood there for a moment, watching her. Shekiba kept her eyes mostly closed, feigning sleep and praying he would turn and walk back out. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He came in and closed the door behind him. Shekiba nearly stopped breathing.\n\nHe sat beside her mattress on the floor, his back turned to her. His head was lowered.\n\n\"Things turned out badly,\" he said quietly. \"I regret that it happened this way.\"\n\nShekiba stayed silent.\n\n\"She was a good woman and did not deserve what they did to her. I did not want . . . I did not think it would go so far. But once they found out, there was no stopping it. I was foolish to ignore what might happen\u2014what did happen,\" he whispered, his voice cracking. \"She warned me and I ignored it. I ignored it. Still, she spared me or I would not be sitting here now. I am very aware of that.\"\n\nRamblings of a guilty conscience. He knew Shekiba was aware of their affair. Maybe he thought Benafsha had revealed his identity to her or maybe he thought she had recognized him as he stumbled past her on that night. Shekiba did not know why he was making this admission but she listened carefully.\n\n\"Gulnaz is not happy. Things will be difficult for a time but it will get better.\"\n\nAnd without a word from Shekiba, Aasif, her husband, walked out of her room and closed the door behind him.\nCHAPTER 53\n\nIt was pitch-black when we arrived at the compound. Never had I been so relieved to see those gates. Maroof parked the car, looked at Hassan and sighed. Badriya had fidgeted so much in the last hour of the drive back that I'd thought she might just jump right out of the car. I didn't bother with my burqa. Our car had barely stopped before I jumped out and opened the gate. There were lights on.\n\nI opened the door to find Jameela rushing toward it. Her face told me everything.\n\n\"Jameela!\"\n\n\"Oh, Rahima-jan! Allah, help us\u2014dear, young mother!\" Her voice rose and fell, my heart with it.\n\n\"Jameela, where's my son? Where's Jahangir? Is he all right?\" I grabbed her by the arms and moved her aside, pushing my way toward her room. Shahnaz emerged, holding her chador tightly at her chin. She was looking down, avoiding my gaze. I stopped short when I saw her. Her lips were trembling.\n\n\"Why are you all out here? Who's watching my son? Where is he?\"\n\nJameela rushed back and grabbed me before I could run into her room. By this time, Badriya had joined her.\n\nJameela hugged me tightly and held my head to her chest.\n\n\"Rahima-jan, Rahima-jan, God has decided to take your son! He's taken your little boy, dear girl. God give him peace, that darling little boy!\"\n\nI froze. That was what I'd read in Badriya's face. I looked at her now but she, like Shahnaz, diverted her tearful eyes.\n\nSomeone wailed. Someone moaned no, no, no, no. My son's name.\n\nIt was my voice.\n\nThis couldn't be true. This couldn't be real. I looked around, thinking everyone I lived with had gone mad.\n\nAbdul Khaliq came into the hallway, his eyes red, his lips tight. He looked at me and shook his head. I saw my husband's shoulders heave. Bibi Gulalai stood behind him, sobbing into a handkerchief.\n\n\"Why? Why would you leave a sick child? His mother should have been here with him!\" she cried out.\n\nI looked into my husband's eyes, our first truly intimate moment. It was as if no one else existed.\n\nIt's true . . . It's true, Rahima. What they're saying about Jahangir, our son, is true! Our beloved boy is gone!\n\nAbdul Khaliq covered his eyes with his hands before he looked up, took a deep breath and yelled for someone to find his prayer cap. His voice cracked and my chest caved in as the air was sucked out of the house.\nCHAPTER 54\n\nI'm not altogether sure what happened after that. There was whispering, wailing, cursing and praying. All at once and then one at a time. Voices and faces blurred around me.\n\nLet me see my son, I screamed. I want to see Jahangir.\n\nHave a sip of water. You look as if you're about to pass out.\n\nSomeone brought a glass to my lips.\n\nThe other children were in the living room, the older ones somberly watching over the babies and trying to keep them quiet.\n\nAbdul Khaliq's compound had never experienced such tragedy. Even I, who had lost my father, my mother, my sisters and myself, even I could not believe God would add this to my lot.\n\nThey led me to Jameela's room. My little boy. His tiny face looked pale, his lips gray. I fell to my knees and put my head on his small chest. I stroked his chestnut hair, touched his full cheeks. I talked to him as if there was no one else in the room, as if there was no one else in the world. I wanted to comfort him and breathe life back into his little body. I was his mother. I had given him life and when he was ill, I had nursed him back to health. Why should now be any different?\n\nI snapped when I felt a hand pull at my elbow.\n\n\"Leave us alone! I need to make my son better. He always wakes when I whisper his name. You'll see him yawn, rub his eyes and look around in confusion. He's going to tell me he missed me and that I shouldn't go away again.\"\n\nThere were traditions, rules that needed to be followed.\n\nOne hand became two, or maybe it was four. When there were enough, the hands became stronger than I and the room shrank away from me. I was in the hallway. I was on the floor. I was outside of myself. The arms melted away.\n\nThat is enough, they whispered. I hated them.\n\nBibi Gulalai was there. Wailing louder than anyone else.\n\nWhy? Dear Allah, what a sweet little boy he was! Too young, too young to take! His face, I picture his face before me as if he were still here. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! Oh, my poor son! Why should you have to have such a tragedy happen to you, my God-fearing son! My lion among men! If only I'd known sooner! I could have done more for him! I could have made him better!\n\nI hated her.\n\nI was numb. Days passed. Rituals were performed. All the right prayers were said. All the wrong people came to pay their respects. I noticed little of it, only the absence of my own family. My mother, my father. They never came to their grandson's fateha. My father was not there to carry my son or throw fistfuls of dirt onto his grave. It mattered, though it shouldn't have. Jahangir had never known them anyway.\n\nKhala Shaima came, as did Shahla. My aunt and my sister sat by my side as I rocked back and forth, their eyes red and raw. Someone asked Khala Shaima about my parents, if they were coming. Shahla bit her lip and looked at the ground. I heard my husband curse my father. He was insulted, not only as a son-in-law but also as a former commander. Whatever respect he owed his father-in-law, out of tradition, was lost now. And I didn't care.\n\n\"Oh God, Rahima-jan,\" Shahla whispered. \"I can't believe this! He was so full of light!\"\n\nI closed my eyes.\n\nKhala Shaima looked thinner than she had the last time I'd seen her but I couldn't bear to think on it much. She shook her head and whispered to me that the medicine had gotten the best of my parents. It was hard to tell which of them was worse than the other. She clucked her tongue in dismay and squeezed my limp hand.\n\n\"They can barely get themselves up and about in the house,\" she said.\n\n\"You're there a lot,\" I said blankly.\n\nShe nodded. She was concerned about Rohila and Sitara. She had mentioned in her last visit that rumors were circulating of suitors for my younger sisters. She wanted to make sure the girls were not given away in a careless stupor.\n\nMy aunts and uncles came. Even my grandparents. I kissed their hands. They cried and made sorry excuses to my husband and mother-in-law for the notable absence of my mother and father. They were embarrassed more than anything else.\n\nYou never saw him, I wanted to scream. You didn't know how sweet he was.\n\nI'd never expected much from my grandparents. They'd had little to do with my sisters and me since we were married off. It was as people said. Once married, girls no longer belonged to the families that raised them. Especially if they only raised them halfway. But Madar-jan, she'd been so different once upon a time.\n\n\"She's that bad?\" I asked Khala Shaima.\n\n\"She's that bad, dokhtar-jan,\" she said, confirming it. \"Your sisters, Rohila and Sitara, they really wanted to come see you. But your grandmother didn't think it was proper for them to come without your mother. And, of course, she wouldn't let them come with me. Rohila cried when she heard. She wanted to hide under my burqa and sneak over here. Sitara, she's very reserved but she's a strong girl. You girls would be very proud of your sisters.\"\n\nI was sure she was right. They were surviving in a home without a mother or father, essentially. They'd been abandoned just as much as my own son.\n\n\"I should have taken him, Khala Shaima. I should have taken him to Kabul with me. He wouldn't have gotten sick with me. And even if he had, I could have taken him to a hospital. They have the best hospitals there. Lots of doctors. Even foreign ones.\"\n\n\"Your husband never would have allowed it. He keeps his sons at his side, my dear. You know that.\"\n\n\"Then I should have stayed with him. I didn't have to go to Kabul.\"\n\nKhala Shaima said nothing. We both knew it had been her idea.\n\nMy son was buried in the family plot, a half kilometer from the compound. It was sacred earth for Abdul Khaliq's family.\n\nMy husband was quiet, different. I knew he was hurt.\n\n\"He's with his ancestors now. They're watching over him, as is Allah. His fate is our fate,\" Abdul Khaliq said to me when the men returned from the burial.\n\nNaseeb. Was it really Jahangir's destiny to be taken so young? Was it my naseeb never to see my son grow taller than me, to go to school, to help his father at work?\n\nAbdul Khaliq asked Jameela to look after me. I saw him pull her aside and have a few words. They watched me. Badriya too, although a week after Jahangir was buried, she quietly asked Abdul Khaliq when she could return to Kabul. His hand flew across her face so fast that she'd barely finished her sentence.\n\nI closed my eyes and wished for everyone to disappear, including myself.\n\nEvery Friday, Abdul Khaliq's friends and family members gathered at our compound for a khatm. Each person read one of the thirty parts of the Qur'an. Prayers were said at the completion, or khatm, of the holy book. I could hear them from down the hall and prayed along with them, hoping it did Jahangir some good. It did me none.\n\nKhala Shaima came back more often than before, even though the trip had become very difficult for her. She was worried. I was losing weight; my clothes hung loosely on me. When I looked in the mirror I saw someone I barely recognized. My face had dark spots and my eyes were heavy. I saw Jameela and Khala Shaima exchange worried looks.\n\nAbdul Khaliq let me be for the most part. He wasn't speaking much either. His guards tiptoed around him. His friends kept their voices low and their comments brief. My husband, the warlord, was not one to express or show emotion, but it was clear that he was grieving. He was short even with Bibi Gulalai.\n\nMy head felt like an empty, dark room. My insides were painfully hollow. I missed my son's face, his smile, the way his small fingers held on to mine. He was supposed to be safe. He had survived infancy. He had learned to walk, to talk, to tell me when he was hungry and when he was happy. Jahangir. His name was a dagger. His name was a salve.\n\nFour weeks passed before I was able to ask the questions that remained.\n\n\"Jameela-jan.\"\n\nJameela stopped short, surprised to hear my voice. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"What happened to him?\"\n\nJameela stood still for a moment, pondering my question. Then she sat on the cushion next to me in the living room, tucking her legs under her and straightening her skirt. She put her hand on mine.\n\n\"Rahima-jan, he became ill. Everything happened very quickly. So quickly.\" Her mind traveled back to that day. \"Abdul Khaliq called Badriya right away.\"\n\n\"I want to know what happened to him,\" I said insistently.\n\nAfter me, Jameela probably carried the most guilt. I'd left Jahangir in her care and come back to find my son dead. She felt terrible about it. She wasn't sure how much to explain and how much to leave unsaid. She told me in bits and pieces, filtering as she went along.\n\nFirst came the fever. His body was hot. From his head to his toes, so hot, Jameela said. She had tried to fan him, to cool him down with baths. His bowels were loose. Jameela looked for worms but saw nothing in his stool. When he started to complain about his stomach hurting, she'd talked to Abdul Khaliq. He saw Jahangir's trembling body and immediately called for Bibi Gulalai. Bibi Gulalai set to work making a soup heavy with garlic and herbs to clear the germ from his body. But instead of getting better, things got worse.\n\nOn the fourth day, Jahangir's belly was freckled with red spots. Jameela tried again to cool him with moist cloths on his forehead and sips of water. When Jahangir stopped whining and complaining about his belly, she thought he was finally getting better. She thought he needed a few days of rest and that by the time we returned he would be back to his usual self, just as I'd left him.\n\nWe were both crying. She paused her story two or three times, collecting herself and then looking at me. I nodded for her to continue. I needed to know.\n\nBy that afternoon, Jameela realized that Jahangir was delirious. He wasn't answering her questions but he was mumbling and batting away something that wasn't there. She called his name. His eyes were glassy. She called again for Abdul Khaliq, who had just returned from an overnight trip with his guards. Never before had she seen our husband so shaken, Jameela said. He took one look at his son, then flew out the door and summoned his driver and guards. He came back into the room and cradled Jahangir in his arms while he yelled for Jameela to pack some water and bread for the drive to the hospital. Before she knew it, Jameela was standing at the front gate, watching the tires of Abdul Khaliq's black truck spin and screech as they tore off down the road.\n\nShe didn't want to go on. I put my hand on hers. She looked tortured. She sighed and continued, trying to get her words out in one short burst.\n\nThey came back the next day, heavy, morose faces. Jameela ran out to meet them. Abdul Khaliq looked at her and shook his head.\n\n\"Crying,\" she said. \"I've never seen him looking like that. I never thought . . . the doctor wasn't able to do anything for him. He was too weak and they think he had developed a terrible infection of his stomach. Horrible. Something that just took over, making his belly stone-hard when the doctor tried to touch it. He was in the hospital until morning and they were giving him serum but it didn't work. I suppose . . . I suppose it was his naseeb,\" she said, sobbing. \"Rahima-jan, I'm so sorry. I don't know how he got so sick so quickly! He felt better for a bit. He let me rub his stomach. I thought it was helping . . .\"\n\n\"Why didn't he take my son to the doctor sooner?\" I knew she felt badly. At the moment, I didn't care very much. I wanted to know if something could have been done. I wanted to know who to blame.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq? He . . . he wanted to. Before he left for his meetings.\"\n\n\"Then why didn't he?\"\n\nJameela shook her head in frustration. \"Rahima-jan, what's done is done now. It won't help anything to ask so many questions. It's best you think of your son, pray for him to be in peace.\"\n\n\"I'm tired of praying, damn it. I want to know. What happened, Jameela?\" I said insistently. She was glossing over something.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq was going to take Jahangir to the hospital but . . . but Bibi Gulalai stopped him.\"\n\n\"What? Why on earth would she do that?\"\n\n\"She thought . . . she thought she could heal him with the teas and soups she was making for him.\"\n\nMy heart sank. Bibi Gulalai was going to save him. I nearly laughed. Her concoctions had never saved anyone from anything. She had stood in the way of my son getting to the doctor. My husband had tried, I thought.\n\n\"He really did try,\" Jameela echoed, as if she could read my thoughts.\n\nI had a fresh hatred for Bibi Gulalai. She'd been the one to delay Jahangir's treatment. She'd been yelling and carrying on about the absent mother being to blame. Now I knew why. Bibi Gulalai always boasted about the powers of her remedies. She claimed she could heal any ailment with her potent, homemade brews, and that she had. The family humored her. She wanted to look good, the grandmother who stepped in and cured her grandchild while his shameful mother played in Kabul.\n\nOne more question to ask, the question I dreaded because there was no good answer. It haunted me.\n\n\"Jameela-jan . . . ,\" I said, my voice breaking.\n\n\"Yes, janem,\" she said gently.\n\nI was looking over the edge of a cliff.\n\n\"Jameela-jan . . . did he . . . did he cry for me?\"\n\nJameela, loving mother of six, had also given birth to two children who had been claimed by Allah before she could see their smiles. Jameela pulled me into her arms and kissed my forehead. She read my heart.\n\n\"My dear madar-ak\"\u2014little mother\u2014she whispered, though I wasn't one anymore. \"What child doesn't call out for his mother? What could be more comforting than a mother's embrace? I believe, in his sleep, that's where your little boy was, feeling your arms around him, janem.\"\n\n\"But I wasn't there!\" I cried. \"I wasn't there to hold him, to wipe away his tears, to kiss him good-bye! He was just a baby! How scared he must have been!\"\n\n\"I know, Rahima-jan, but he wasn't alone. No one can replace you but at least his father was there with him. His father held him. And you know, Abdul Khaliq loved his little son very much.\"\n\nIt wasn't until weeks later that this conversation would bring me solace. For now, I stored her words, saving them for when my heart had healed enough to believe that my son had felt my embrace. That his father had held him lovingly in his last moments. That he did not feel as alone as I did now.\nCHAPTER 55\n\nShekiba swept the floor of the living room, beating the dust from the rug section by section. She had breathed a huge sigh of relief after Aasif had left her room, thankful that he had not touched her as his wife. At least for now. He felt remorse for what he had done. And Shekiba could hear something in his voice that she hadn't heard in a long time. Aasif sounded as if he cared about Benafsha. Maybe her first impression of him hadn't been that far off. There was still a lot to learn about him but it seemed he had a heart.\n\nShekiba had spent the rest of the night replaying his words in her mind and trying to piece together how she had come to be his wife.\n\nHe could not stop her execution. So he stopped mine. How did he propose this deal to King Habibullah? Does Gulnaz know all this?\n\nShekiba wondered why the king bothered to agree to it. And another question still lingered. How had he come to know Benafsha? As a concubine, her activities were limited to the harem. It wasn't as if she had been roaming around the palace grounds. Benafsha had originally been a guard before she had caught King Habibullah's eye and he must have seen her then.\n\nAnd Benafsha let him in? Willingly?\n\nYou wouldn't understand, was all she had told Shekiba. She was right about that.\n\nThe canaries were singing\u2014three yellow songbirds in a white wire cage suspended from a tree branch. They sang in the morning mostly, bright and melodic. Shekiba paused to listen to them, to decipher their chirps.\n\nTwo weeks had passed. Her back was healing. Her skin itched more and burned less, which was how she could tell it was better. With better days came better nights. She learned the routines of the house and found a way to fit in without being a nuisance. She knew from experience that she should not consider herself a permanent fixture in any man's house, even if she was his wife.\n\nAasif now said a few more words to her, but their exchanges were still brief and polite. He looked past her face and made only fleeting eye contact. Gulnaz watched their interactions from the corner of her eye and seemed satisfied that the second wife was not her equal. She began to see Shekiba more as a housekeeper than a second wife.\n\nThrough the window she could see one of the canaries pecking at the other's head. The two others tried to retreat. Peck, peck, peck. They tried to fly from one side of the cage to the other but hadn't enough room to flap their wings more than once before they crossed the cage. Contained. Three caged canaries singing.\n\nAasif came home that night. Shekiba kept her door open to listen in on their conversation.\n\n\"There will be a wedding in three months' time. The palace is preparing for a monumental event.\"\n\n\"I wonder how many people they will invite.\"\n\n\"Plenty. And it will be all the most important families of Kabul. His fianc\u00e9's family is well respected and they carry a great deal of clout. They could not have chosen better for Amanullah.\"\n\n\"What is her first name? I know her aunt, Aalia Tarzi. I have seen her in the market from time to time and she is a friend of my cousin Sohaila. Aalia-jan speaks very highly of her niece. She was educated while they lived in Syria. I wonder what kind of queen she will be.\"\n\n\"It's a powerful match, Amanullah and Soraya Tarzi, although I know Habibullah is not thrilled that his son is taking Agha Tarzi's daughter.\"\n\n\"Why is that?\" Gulnaz asked.\n\n\"Tarzi writes what he thinks. And what Tarzi thinks is not always what Habibullah thinks. But the problem is Tarzi thinks Habibullah is not doing enough to bring Afghanistan to modern times. He thinks we should look to Europe and learn from them.\"\n\n\"But we are a different people. We are a Muslim country. Why should we learn from them?\"\n\n\"Because they are making progress and we are not. Habibullah has made some roads but not much else. Tarzi wants science, education\u2014and not just the religious kind. But Amanullah, his ears are open to Tarzi's ideas.\"\n\n\"But, Aasif-jan, he is not king.\"\n\n\"He will be. I don't see his brothers taking the position. Amanullah has been groomed for this since a young age. He'll make a much finer king than his father, who spends his days quail hunting and riding around the countryside for attention.\"\n\nGulnaz sighed. Her husband detested the king and she feared his dislike would eventually be the subject of gossip. If it did, he could expect no mercy. And he had already done enough to jeopardize them. He didn't talk about it and Gulnaz wasn't sure if her suspicions were true. She'd heard things from others. A stoning. One of the king's concubines. She would not ask him about the girl. She did not want to know more.\n\nAasif saw his wife's eyes turn away. He knew her burdens were his doing.\n\n\"Anyway, I'm busy with my own work. I don't have time to be Amanullah's counselor anymore.\" His way of saying he would stay away from the palace.\n\nGulnaz looked at the door, pictured the hallway and the scarred woman hiding in the far room, her husband's other wife. She wondered if her husband's plan would work or if he had only added another barren wife to his home.\n\nShekiba listened carefully to every word. Amanullah was to marry Agha Tarzi's daughter. She marveled at her own na\u00efvet\u00e9.\n\nWhy should he look at me? I'm no one. I have no father or mother, no family name. I am a half woman with a half face. How stupid I was to believe anything else!\n\nShekiba waited till Aasif had gone out before she went to the kitchen to fix herself some food. The spinach and rice she had made earlier had cooled but she didn't care. She took a piece of bread and retreated to her room. She moved about so quietly that Gulnaz almost didn't hear her from the living room.\n\nIn the night, Shekiba woke with a start. Aasif was in her room again. The door stood open behind him while he considered walking back out. Shekiba's heart galloped. She prayed he was here only to talk some more. She did not move.\n\nHe closed the door and Shekiba pressed her eyes shut, hoping to ward him off. He sat next to her, with his back to her face for a few moments. Shekiba felt his presence. Her body was tense.\n\nWhat does he want?\n\nAasif sighed and turned to her.\n\n\"Shekiba,\" he whispered. \"You are my wife. You have an obligation to fulfill.\"\n\nShekiba did not answer. His voice was raspy and low. He did not sound like himself.\n\nShe clutched her blanket tightly with her two hands, knowing she had no right to resist. She was his wife and she had a responsibility to lie with him, even if it terrified her. Her breathing quickened. He turned toward her and pulled the blanket away. Shekiba could keep her eyes closed no longer. She saw him, saw him looking at her nightgown, the thin white cotton that surrendered without a fight. He undid the drawstring of his pants and lifted her hem over her hips. Shekiba pressed her back into the mattress, wishing she could melt into the floor. A wave of panic rolled over her body as Shekiba closed her eyes, clenched her teeth and became Aasif's wife.\nCHAPTER 56\n\nIn a way it was a relief. She knew now what to expect. He came to her infrequently and briefly, leaving when he had finished his grunting and sighing to sit in the living room. Sometimes he retreated back to Gulnaz. Shekiba always avoided Gulnaz the following morning, embarrassed and feeling as if she had committed an offense against her.\n\nHer only reprieve was her bleeding. Only then could she whisper in the dark, her face flush with humiliation, \"Forgive me, I have illness.\"\n\nHe understood right away and would leave her chambers, seemingly relieved. Only last night was different. She had started bleeding two days ago.\n\n\"I have . . . I have illness,\" she said softly, pushing her thighs together.\n\nBut he didn't leave. Instead he sat again with his back turned toward her. He put his head in his hands.\n\n\"Things are not going well. Why are you still having your illness? Are you lying about it?\"\n\nShekiba was surprised. His voice was gruff. \"No, I would not lie about . . . about such a thing.\"\n\n\"What happened to all that talk? All the talk about the women in your family and the lines of sons they birthed? You've been here for five months and you are still having your illness!\"\n\nShekiba once again realized just how simple she was. That was the reason Aasif had taken her from the palace. Gulnaz had given him no children at all. He didn't want Shekiba\u2014he wanted sons.\n\n\"I . . . I . . . it was not talk. I had brothers . . . I\u2014\"\n\n\"This is a joke! How can this be possible? They were going to execute you. Do you understand that? Do you understand what you escaped?\"\n\nShekiba understood better than anyone what she had escaped. She had been close enough to see the blood seep through Benafsha's burqa and pool in the earth. She understood exactly what she had been spared.\n\n\"I understand.\"\n\n\"Do you? Do you really? What are people to say? Two wives and not a single son! Do you know what that does to me?\" He was livid. Gulnaz could hear him through the thin walls. She turned on her side, knowing that Shekiba was receiving the anger that he intended for them both. \"A harem guard! Did you like being a man? Maybe that's what it is! You liked being a man so much that now you refuse to be a woman! What are you? You are not a man! You are not a woman! You are nothing! Do you have anything to say for yourself? Where's all the boasting now?\"\n\n\"I . . . I . . .\" Shekiba did not know what to say.\n\n\"I feed you and clothe you and for nothing! This is what you do to me! I should throw you out on the street! I should throw you back to the palace and let them do with you what they planned! You and your cursed face! Damn you!\"\n\nShekiba braced herself for the blow but it never came. She cowered in a corner of her mattress. Aasif stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him. A few seconds later, Shekiba heard glass breaking and the metal gate clanged loudly. Her throat clenched, she could not help but agree with her angry husband.\n\nNot a man, not a woman. I am nothing.\n\nGulnaz slipped quietly into Shekiba's room a few moments later. Through the open door, a sliver of moonlight lit the floor of the hallway. The two wives stared at it, Aasif's rant still echoing through the house. The first wife finally spoke.\n\n\"We have been married for one year and I have been unable to bear him a child. Your head would spin to know how many herbs I have ground under the pestle at my grandmother's instruction. I have prayed at the local shrine and given alms to the poor. Nothing. My bleeding comes month after month, as does yours. He thought you would be different but I suspect now that Allah may have cursed him and no matter what woman or how many women he beds, a son is not his naseeb.\n\n\"And now, now that he has heavy sins on his shoulders, he may have poisoned his naseeb even more.\"\n\nThis was the first reference Gulnaz had made to Aasif's involvement in the palace scandal. Shekiba was not sure how much she knew.\n\n\"You were a guard there for the harem. He told me this much. You were living as a man. Your short hair, the way you walk, the way you hide your breasts. I think you may have been more content that way. To be honest, I would not mind trying it myself. I wonder what it would be like to be able to walk through the streets freely, without a thousand critical eyes. Do you miss it?\"\n\nThis was something to which Shekiba, the woman-man, had given a great deal of thought.\n\n\"It did feel good. But . . . pants or a skirt, it changes nothing in the end. When it mattered, I was as vulnerable as any woman . . .\" Shekiba decided against talking about the lashing. \"And now I am here.\"\n\nGulnaz intuited what Shekiba meant. \"It must have been awful, what they did to you.\"\n\nShekiba felt her back stiffen. There were still three raised scars she could feel when she bathed. She wondered how many more scars she had that she could not see. Gulnaz sighed.\n\n\"He was so angry. He did not say much about it but a wife knows her husband's moods. He was angry from the beginning and I didn't understand why until Aasif's sister told me about her. She wanted me to know I wasn't her brother's first choice.\"\n\nHer. Shekiba looked at Gulnaz from the corner of her eye. Her expression was blank. She was talking about Benafsha.\n\n\"He knew her from before. She was nobody. Her family is as poor as they come and with three daughters, her father cursed his luck. She was just some girl who lived near his uncle's home. I don't know how, but he saw her once or twice.\n\n\"Aasif wanted her but his father rejected the idea. Not a proper family, not good enough for his son. But he kept at it. Kept trying to convince his father, and he had almost gotten his way when her father sent her to the palace. One less girl to provide for. Aasif was angry, but she was out of reach behind the palace walls so he let his father choose another family. And then we were married.\"\n\nShekiba listened intently. Gulnaz was speaking to no one in particular.\n\n\"Men don't like being denied something. Even if it is by the king. He won't say exactly what happened there but I know something happened. I know it must have been terrible because he came home with eyes so red he looked like he could cry blood. He didn't eat, sleep or speak for days.\"\n\nShekiba looked away. She did not want to explain and hoped Gulnaz wouldn't ask.\n\n\"And then he came home one day looking like he'd just met Shaitan himself. His eyes were dark and serious and he sat around staring at the walls, muttering something about atoning for his sins, begging forgiveness of God. He announced that he was going to bring home a second wife since I haven't been able to bear him a child. There was nothing I could say to that, especially when I saw the look on his face. His family had spoken to him about the idea months ago but he hadn't seemed all that eager. But I thought . . . well, when he said he would bring a second wife I wondered if he was crazy enough to think he could bring her here, but then it was . . . you.\"\n\nShekiba kept her eyes on the ground. Her head spun. Benafsha had not turned him away. She had loved him, enough to protect him with her own life. How could a woman love any man so much?\n\nBecause of Benafsha, Aasif had saved her life. For that, Shekiba was grateful.\nCHAPTER 57\n\nI was a little girl and then I wasn't.\n\nI was a bacha posh and then I wasn't.\n\nI was a daughter and then I wasn't.\n\nI was a mother and then I wasn't.\n\nJust as soon as I could adjust, things changed. I changed. This last change was the worst.\n\n\"Rahima-jan, remember that life has typhoons. They come and turn everything upside down. But you still have to stand up because the next storm may be around the corner.\" I hadn't changed much since I lost my son. Abdul Khaliq had become withdrawn. Bibi Gulalai was more present than before, making sure that the family was carrying itself properly. We had to mourn appropriately or our neighbors would talk. Her narrowed eyes fell on me, checking the color of my chador, the dress I wore and the expression on my face.\n\nWhen my mind wandered, she caught me and told me to stop staring. She told me to get back to work. I couldn't expect to just lie around forever. There were still floors to clean. There were clothes to wash. It would be good for me to get back to the routine.\n\nA mourning mother should have been given her forty days to grieve, our visitors were surely thinking. Bibi Gulalai, mother to the most powerful man in our province, knew their concern was driven by fear, not respect, and she did not care.\n\nKhala Shaima summoned the strength to visit me still. Each time she left, I wondered if she would make it home. And I worried that she wouldn't make it back. I needed her. In a house full of people, I still felt totally alone. There was something on my mind, something I didn't want to admit to myself or to Jameela. I didn't know how to feel about it.\n\n\"Khala-jan, do you know what the people of Kabul think of us?\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, Rahima?\"\n\n\"Kabul is different from here. Just like Bibi Shekiba thought. It's amazing how many cars, how many people, how many posters. There is so much noise there.\"\n\n\"What does that have to do with anything?\" Khala Shaima looked concerned that I was losing my mind.\n\n\"I wonder what those people think of us. They've got buildings, banks, taxis, hotels. People from all over the world, construction companies working on new buildings. Beauty parlors and restaurants. Hospitals.\"\n\n\"You've seen a lot of good places in your travels, haven't you? Seems like you haven't shared some stories with me!\" She smiled wanly.\n\n\"And the parliament . . . sometimes I can hardly believe that so many people could come together in one room. And they talk about things, even some of the women. Sometimes they talk about things people in this village don't think about in a lifetime.\"\n\n\"Rahima-jan, what's on your mind? Did something happen in Kabul?\"\n\n\"Lots of things happen in Kabul. It is so different from here.\"\n\nKhala Shaima looked thoughtful. \"Is that a good thing?\"\n\nI looked at her. Anything different from here was a very good thing.\n\n\"But there's something else,\" I said, my heart heavy with worry.\n\n\"There is?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nI looked away, my eyes starting to tear.\n\n\"I see.\"\n\nI knew she did. Khala Shaima knew me better than anyone else.\n\n\"Well, that's something to think about then.\" She sighed heavily and shook her head.\n\nI'd given it much thought. Thoughts I didn't care to admit.\n\nPeople close to death have little to lose. They can think things, say things, do things that others wouldn't. Khala Shaima and I were both in that position, she because of her health and me because I felt no desire to open my eyes in the morning. A conversation began to take shape between us. A conversation that happened in unspoken words, in false words, in knowing glances. It was difficult to say what we were both thinking but it was something to be explored.\n\nBecause, as Khala Shaima had so often said, everyone needs an escape.\nCHAPTER 58\n\nShekiba and Gulnaz kept house together and endured Aasif's outbreaks, episodes where his frustration got the best of him. He ranted, berated and slapped. He threw things, twice breaking windowpanes. The cost of replacing them sent him into a new rage.\n\nThe tension drew the two women together. They shared a husband, they shared blame, they shared punishment. They bickered as well. Shekiba hated Gulnaz's lofty attitude and her bland cooking. Gulnaz thought Shekiba dull and plain, a lousy conversationalist. But they made the situation work. Shekiba added spices when Gulnaz turned away and Gulnaz talked enough to make up for her husband's boring second wife.\n\nThere were a few months of nervous respite when Gulnaz's belly began to swell. She told Shekiba when she realized that she had not bled for two months. They wondered on the possibilities until Gulnaz began throwing up once every four days. Shekiba confirmed that these were the signs that a child was growing, as she had learned in the harem. Nothing was said to Aasif, since it was improper to discuss such delicate matters with men, but when he noticed her belly protruding, he smiled with satisfaction and entered Shekiba's room after dark with renewed zeal.\n\nAasif came home and shared meals with his wives. They had taken to eating together, the three of them, from time to time. Shekiba was cautious not to join them too often, knowing now that Gulnaz was carrying Aasif's child he would see Shekiba as an even bigger failure than before.\n\nBut Aasif was busy anticipating the birth of his first child. Aasif's family was quieted, their whisperings that he should take a third wife silenced temporarily. Gulnaz and Shekiba knew that he had been debating the idea but simply could not afford a third wedding and another mouth to feed.\n\nRamadan came and went. Gulnaz, excused from fasting, glowed with satisfaction as her belly grew large, her cheeks fattened and her breathing grew loud. She huffed walking from the living room to the kitchen. Shekiba had seen many women with child but none had looked as uncomfortable as Gulnaz. It was hard not to notice that she only panted and sighed when she knew Shekiba was around to hear it.\n\nWhen the pains came, Shekiba hurriedly walked the four blocks to summon the midwife. Gulnaz bit her lip and twisted in agony, her triumphant grin gone for now. Aasif came home and, hearing the midwife coaching Gulnaz through her moans, left again. Hours passed.\n\nThe baby finally came, just before Aasif nervously returned to a silent house. The midwife smiled politely and congratulated him as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and headed out the front gate. Aasif nodded and walked into Gulnaz's bedroom. Shekiba pretended not to hear him enter and kept her head over the stove, pouring flour into the hot oil and stirring as it thickened. Litti, the hot flour soup with sugar and walnuts, would help Shahnaz's womb heal and make her milk come in. Shekiba waited.\n\n\"After all that? A girl? How can this be?\"\n\nGulnaz mumbled something that Shekiba could not make out.\n\n\"Is there no end to my humiliation?\" he shouted. The baby began to cry.\n\nEven a newborn can tell she is not wanted, thought Shekiba. Aasif walked into the living room and yelled for Shekiba to fix him something to eat.\n\n\"And it better be hot,\" he shouted. \"I've had enough disappointment for today.\"\n\nHe fell asleep in the living room, his snores echoing down the hallway. Shekiba tiptoed into Gulnaz's room. She was lying on her side, trying awkwardly to get her daughter to nurse. Shekiba sat her up and showed her how to tuck the baby under her swollen bosom. Small pink lips slowly opened and pulled together, her mouth closing in on Gulnaz's nipple.\n\nShekiba noticed the funny look Gulnaz was giving her.\n\n\"I guarded a house full of women and children. I've helped with plenty of newborns.\"\n\n\"Well, I haven't. If only my mother were alive. It would be different then.\"\n\nShekiba sighed. If only my mother were alive.\n\n\"What will you name her?\"\n\n\"Shabnam.\" Morning dewdrops.\n\n\"Beautiful. I made you litti. You are zacha now. Warm foods will heal your body.\"\n\nWarm and cool foods had nothing to do with temperature but everything to do with a mysterious inherent property of the food. Walnuts and dates were warm. Vinegar and oranges were cold. Joint aches and childbirth made the body cold and were treated with a diet of warm foods.\n\nGulnaz took the bowl readily. The hours of straining had left her pale, exhausted and ravenous. She spooned the hot soup into her mouth, pausing just once to look up at Shekiba with gratitude.\n\n\"I am glad you are here, Shekiba.\"\n\nShekiba froze. It was not like Gulnaz to make such a statement and it made Shekiba fidget. She picked up the baby instead of responding.\n\n\"I thought it was going to be a boy. We waited for so long. And in the end, God gave me a girl.\"\n\n\"Aasif is upset.\"\n\n\"He says it's my fault. He didn't want to hold her. He was too upset.\"\n\n\"You will have another. You had one baby. The door is open now. God will give you another.\"\n\n\"Maybe. He wanted to name her Benafsha.\"\n\nShekiba looked up in surprise. Gulnaz's face was calm.\n\n\"Think of that. To name my daughter Benafsha. He's mad.\"\n\n\"What did you say?\"\n\n\"I told him I've never put up a fight before but there was no way I could call my daughter by that name.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\nGulnaz's face twisted with pain. Shekiba instinctively put a hand on her shoulder and leaned toward her.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"She warned me it would be painful.\"\n\n\"What would?\"\n\n\"It's my womb. The midwife said my womb would be angry and looking for the baby that used to live in it.\"\n\n\"It is angry?\"\n\n\"It must be. Oh . . .\" Gulnaz moaned.\n\nThe spasm passed after a moment and Gulnaz remembered their conversation.\n\n\"He wasn't happy. He stormed out. He said Benafsha would be a fine name for a girl, but I think he knows it's wrong.\"\n\nAnd if word got back to the palace, it could cast suspicion on him, Shekiba thought. She smiled to think of Aasif not getting his way.\n\n\"I'm going to wash her up some more. She still has blood in her hair.\"\n\nGulnaz gave a weak smile and closed her eyes, thankful for a moment's rest.\n\nShabnam's first year passed with two mothers. Gulnaz and Shekiba took turns bathing her, feeding her and rocking her to sleep. Shekiba held her head while Gulnaz lined her eyes with kohl and again a month later when she shaved her head to make her hair grow in thicker. Shekiba served tea and nuts when Aasif's family came to visit, days that reminded both wives how fortunate they were not to be living at the Baraan family compound. Aasif's mother made no attempt to hide her repugnance for Shekiba. She had been first to suggest her son take on a second wife, since his first appeared to have been defective, but this deformed creature with another barren womb was not at all what she had in mind.\n\nShe held her granddaughter but kept her eyes roaming around the living room, looking for evidence that her son's home was not being kept well by his two wives. She had a talent for masking criticisms with compliments.\n\n\"The colors of your carpet finally show! Looks like someone took the time to beat the dust from it, eh? How long had it been? I had to wash my dress last time I went home from here.\"\n\nNeither Shekiba nor Gulnaz replied to her comment. It would only feed the flames.\n\n\"Gulnaz-jan, those cookies that you sent over, they were delicious! How lovely that you've finally started baking sweets!\"\n\n\"I cannot take the credit for Shekiba-jan's hard work. She made the rosewater cookies and sent them over for you,\" Gulnaz said, pretending to ignore the snide comment.\n\n\"Oh, well, I wondered how it was possible that after this much time you would have started to treat your husband's palate to something tasty. Shekiba-jan, they were better than the cookies Khanum Ferdowz makes every year for her family and neighbors.\"\n\n\"Noosh-e-jan, Khala-jan,\" Shekiba said quietly as she refilled her mother-in-law's teacup. \"Please help yourself to another.\"\n\n\"Maybe I will. It's not often that my aroos makes such goodies.\" She shook her skirt, a shower of crumbs raining down on the newly cleaned carpet.\n\n\"Who knows, Madar-jan, maybe it's just not often that we get to taste them,\" Parisa said, laughing. Parisa was Aasif's eldest sister. She often accompanied her mother on visits, leaving her four children at home as she joined her mother's social circuit.\n\nAasif's mother smiled at Parisa's comment. Her lips curled up at the corners and the dark hairs on her upper lip cast a shadow. Shekiba opened the teapot and, although it was still full, headed back into the kitchen to refill it.\n\nGulnaz and Shekiba breathed a sigh of relief when Aasif's mother and sister finally left. Shekiba beat the cookie crumbs from the carpet and tossed the larger pieces into the cage for the canaries. They chirped and tweeted with excitement, watching Shekiba as they flitted from one side of the cage to the other.\n\nTwo had bald spots where the aggressive one had pecked their feathers away. Still, they looked content. They watched Shekiba cautiously, occasionally hopping a few inches closer to her for a better look. She reached her finger through the wires and wiggled it. All three birds retreated to the opposite side of the cage immediately, horrified that she would dare trespass into their home.\n\nShekiba withdrew her finger and watched their wings relax, their syncopated chirping less alarmed.\nCHAPTER 59\n\nShekiba did not have to guess. Though she recognized the signs, pregnancy was no less of a shock to her. She chewed on a piece of raw ginger and tried to ignore the nauseous rumblings in her stomach.\n\nI will be a mother. I will have my own baby. Is this possible?\n\nIt meant a permanent break from her previous life. She could no longer float between genders like a kite carried by the wind. No more binding her bosom to disguise her figure. She would fool no one.\n\nShe watched Shabnam pull on her mother's sleeve and try to pull herself up. She had learned to crawl only one month ago and had already tired of it. Shabnam was a beautiful girl. She had dark curly locks and lashes on her pleasantly plump face. Her loveliness softened her father's disappointment. But Aasif only smiled at her when he thought no one was looking. He let her crawl onto his lap and paw at his face until he heard footsteps.\n\n\"Come and get your daughter! She's driving me mad!\" he would call out.\n\n\"Shabnam, come and leave your father alone,\" Gulnaz would say as she swooped the smiling baby off her father's lap.\n\nShekiba had seen him caress her cheek, the corners of his mouth turning up in a quiet smile as he watched her slap her palms together clumsily. He laughed at the way she rolled around on her back, her feet in her hands.\n\n\"But he'll always resent her,\" Gulnaz said with a sigh.\n\n\"That's how it is for girls. A daughter doesn't really belong to her parents. A daughter belongs to others,\" Shekiba explained. Gulnaz should have been wiser in such matters, Shekiba thought.\n\nShe tried to hide her condition from Gulnaz, thinking her husband's wife might be envious. Shekiba dallied in the washroom until the waves of nausea had passed and her stomach had emptied itself. She knocked basins over to mask the sound of her retching. Gulnaz was so preoccupied with Shabnam, Shekiba needn't have worried so much.\n\nAasif did not notice either. After Shabnam's birth, disappointment temporarily cooled his fire. He opened Shekiba's door less often and she was thankful for the reprieve. There was nothing about his sweaty grunting that appealed to her and she hated the way he pressed her face to the side, as if her disfigurement might spoil his momentum even in the darkness. But after three months, he had a renewed determination. Shekiba could hope only for her monthly bleeding to save her from her wifely duties.\n\nWith her queasy stomach, Aasif's visits were even more repulsing. He suddenly had an odor that made her stomach reel. She would hold her breath for as long as she could, taking deep gasps in between, which her husband mistook for pleasure. He paused and looked at her, surprised.\n\n\"So, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Such a performance you put on!\" he said with a crooked smirk.\n\nHe did not notice her belly growing until she had missed six cycles of her bleeding. He looked at her curiously as she leaned against the wall to rest after dinner. Gulnaz was knitting while Shabnam slept beside her. Shekiba instinctively tried to bunch her dress over her growing abdomen. Aasif's eyes zeroed in on her belly.\n\n\"Maybe there is hope for this house after all!\"\n\nShekiba's face reddened. Gulnaz's lips tightened, just enough that Shekiba could see the tension in her face. Gulnaz had confronted Shekiba two months ago, having noticed the way she kept Shabnam's kicking legs away from her belly.\n\nWhen Shekiba had nodded, Gulnaz smiled, but with hesitation. She knew what it would mean if Shekiba delivered the son Aasif so desired.\n\nAasif let out a guffaw, an awkward sound in a room with air so thick.\n\n\"We'll see what Shekiba can do.\"\n\nGulnaz had whispered to Shekiba as she scrubbed the pots clean.\n\n\"He's so different from a couple of years ago. Can you imagine that he used to like to take walks in the evenings with me? This same man! The last two years have soured him. I don't know what he'll become if he's handed another daughter. There's nothing you can do now, is there?\"\n\nShekiba lay awake at night pondering that very question. She thought back to all the mechanisms Mahbuba had described but it was too late for any of them. Someone had told her about the powers of chicken livers, she remembered, and headed to the market the very next day to buy as many as she could find. She did not miss a single prayer and whispered to the ceiling, her palms open, with a fresh desperation.\n\nPlease, merciful Allah, I am begging you to give Aasif the son he so desires. Satisfy his wish so that we may live in peace with this bitter man.\n\nWhether it was the chicken livers or the prayers or just God's will, Shekiba gave birth to a son.\n\nAasif walked with his head high, a smug smile on his face as his family came to visit. Shekiba hardly noticed him. She was fascinated with the ten fingers, the perfectly formed pink lips and the tiny chin that nuzzled against her bosom. She had checked him over head to toe but there was nothing wrong\u2014nothing about him was marred or mangled.\n\n\"His name will be Shah. My son, a king among men! And a real one! Not like the coward we bow to now!\" Aasif had chosen a name. Shekiba could see the spite in his choice. When he mentioned Habibullah his jaw clenched in a way that made Shekiba shudder. She fretted as she stirred the litti. Gulnaz had tried to make some but had filled the house with thick smoke instead. Gray soot clung to the once-white ceiling.\n\nShekiba was not pleased with her son's name. She had secretly hoped to name him Ismail, after her father, but she knew she would not be as successful as Gulnaz in this battle. So his name was Shah and on the sixth day, they celebrated his birth with a prayer and halwa.\n\nAs the days passed, Shekiba became terrified. There were too many pats on the back, heartfelt embraces of congratulations, baskets of sweets sent to their house. She worried about nazar, that their good fortune would be cursed by someone with a jealous eye. Her king sleeping peacefully, she fired the espand seeds and wafted their protective powers over him.\n\nNazar was not the only danger. Shekiba remembered what she had seen Dr. Behrowen doing in the palace and boiled everything that came near the baby. She boiled his clothes, even the evil eye that she had pinned to his tiny blanket. She scrubbed her breasts raw before she let him nurse. Her fears multiplied when Aasif came home shaking his head.\n\n\"What is it?\" she asked. \"Has something happened?\"\n\nAasif was cordial with her these days, engaging in conversations as his first wife listened bitterly from her room down the hall.\n\n\"It's that damn illness again, sweeping across the villages. Even in Kabul.\"\n\n\"What illness?\" Shekiba asked, suddenly alarmed. Shah was only three weeks old. Instinctively, she pulled her swaddled baby closer to her.\n\n\"Cholera. Maybe you've never heard of it. It's a powerful disease. God help whoever it strikes. I've heard that at least twenty families in Kabul are sick with it. The doctors can't do anything about it.\"\n\nShekiba knew better than anyone else just how powerful cholera could be. Her back stiffened.\n\n\"We mustn't let the baby get ill,\" she said, her voice quivering. Panic was setting in.\n\n\"Don't you think I know that? Just take good care of him and keep him inside. You're his mother so it's up to you to keep him from getting sick!\"\n\nShekiba's mind flew back to her village, watching her siblings waste away in a corner of their rank home. Thinking of her mother, broken at the sight of her dead children, Shekiba boiled, washed and prayed fiercely.\n\nPlease, God, don't let anything happen to my little boy. He's the most perfect thing I've ever had. Please do not take him away!\n\nAnd when the cholera wave passed, there was time for Shekiba to think of new dangers. She would not let the baby near the kitchen and kept him away from anything made of glass. She surrounded him with pillows and did not take her eyes off him. It was clear she did not trust Gulnaz to watch him. What if he broke his leg and walked with a limp? What if he was hit and lost an eye? Shekiba could hear the names, the teasing, a crestfallen little boy. She wanted better for her son.\n\n\"You know, I have managed to care for Shabnam reasonably well this past year. I think I am capable of holding a baby! What is it with you? What do you think I'm going to do? Drop him from a window?\"\n\n\"I'm just . . . I'm just nervous. Don't be offended, please. It's just that I don't want anything to happen to him.\" Shekiba turned away so she wouldn't see the angry look on Gulnaz's face.\n\nShah changed every dynamic in the house, even for his half sister. When Shabnam waddled toward Shekiba, Gulnaz was quick to pull her back, and if she caught Shabnam eating something Shekiba had prepared, she would hold a hand in front of the baby's confused mouth and make her spit it out. But only when Shekiba was watching.\n\nIt hurt Shekiba to see Shabnam yanked away from her. She loved the little girl as much as she could love any child that was not her own. And Shabnam, who had grown up with two mothers, did not understand why one was now off-limits. She looked at Shah with suspicion, as if she knew he had disrupted her happy home.\n\nAasif made the situation worse. Gulnaz no longer joined them for dinner, always making some excuse about Shabnam needing to eat or sleep. Aasif, having just proudly celebrated his son's fortieth day, hardly noticed that his first wife had retreated into her room for over a week. What he did say to Gulnaz only made her more resentful of Shekiba.\n\n\"Long overdue, but worth the wait. Look at my son! Look at the healthy color in his cheeks! He's a lion, my son!\"\n\nGulnaz, listening from her room, bit her tongue, thankful that her daughter was not yet aware of her father's partiality.\n\n\"Nam-e-khoda. May evil eyes stay away,\" Shekiba murmured nervously as she looked at her fingernails, another superstition she had picked up from one of her uncles' wives, though she couldn't remember which one.\n\nGulnaz nearly laughed. An evil eye could hardly find its way to Shah, with all the talismans and prayers and espand that Shekiba used in the house. It occurred to her then that Shekiba was probably worried about her. She thought on it for a moment and realized it made sense. That was why she wanted to keep Gulnaz away from her precious son!\n\nAnd so Gulnaz retaliated. She showered Shah with compliments, purposely not invoking the name of God.\n\nHow plump his cheeks have gotten! How quickly he's learned to roll over! He'll be walking before you know it, Shekiba-jan.\n\nHow well he nurses! He'll grow up to be bigger and stronger than his father! And look at how alert and curious he is!\n\nShekiba was frenzied. She knocked on wood, burned espand and prayed even more. She tried to downplay the compliments as quickly as they came.\n\nOh, it's just today. Yesterday he barely wanted to nurse at all. I don't think he's gained any weight in the last couple weeks. He feels so light when I lift him.\n\nYou don't see how skinny his legs are? He'll probably end up short and bowlegged, at the rate he's eating.\n\nAnimosity simmered as Shekiba slowly realized what Gulnaz was up to. Frustrated, she decided to turn the game around. They sat in the courtyard, giving the children some sunlight while Shekiba hung the laundry on a clothesline. Gulnaz was watering the flowers.\n\n\"Just look at Shabnam! She's walking as if she's been doing it for years! I bet she could run right across Kabul with those strong legs!\"\n\nShekiba watched Gulnaz's mouth open slightly and her eyes widen. She mumbled something incomprehensible in return.\n\n\"Coo coo! Coo coo!\" Shabnam called out, her word for the canaries.\n\n\"Yes, my little one, coo coo is there,\" Gulnaz said without turning around.\n\n\"Coo coo! Coo coo!\"\n\nThe two mothers turned around and saw only two yellow birds flitting about the cage. Gulnaz walked over, her head cocked to the side.\n\n\"Where is the other? How could he have gotten . . .\" Her voice trailed off as she neared the cage. \"Oh no!\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Shekiba said as she walked over. Gulnaz's eyes were wide.\n\n\"He's dead.\"\n\nThe feathered creature lay lifeless on the floor of the cage while his roommates huddled close to one another and chirped softly. Both women were silent. The omen did not go unnoticed.\n\nWe're just like Aasif's mother, Shekiba thought with a sigh. Making daggers of words.\nCHAPTER 60\n\nThe relationship between Shekiba and Gulnaz had cooled now that Aasif had warmed toward his disfigured second wife. Shekiba prayed Gulnaz would have a second child, a boy, to even their score, but months and then years passed and Gulnaz had no other children. They learned to be civil with one another and make the house function as it had when Shekiba had first arrived\u2014two wives embittered against each other.\n\nShah and Shabnam made up for the relationship between their mothers. By the time Shah turned one, he was chasing after his older half sister, who giggled and watched him with a toddler's curiosity. Shabnam was much more beautiful than her mother, her perfect curls in a ponytail behind her head and bangs that shadowed her forehead. Her cheeks were full and rosy, her eyes almond shaped and chestnut colored. She had inherited the best of her parents' features, and a cheerful disposition that was foreign to their home.\n\nShah, as Gulnaz had so facetiously predicted, grew to be strong and taller than most boys his age. He had walnut-colored hair that curled just slightly and a grin that melted hearts. The two made a perfect set of siblings, despite the rancor between their two mothers.\n\nIn February of 1919, Shabnam was five and Shah was four. The temperature was barely above freezing. Hundreds of miles from Kabul, someone brought the country to its knees. Gulnaz and Shekiba were tending to the chores when they noticed that the streets were loud and boisterous. There were people shouting and doors slamming. Shekiba sent the kids into the house from the courtyard and opened the gate. Men were walking down the street in a hurry, consternation on their faces and arms waving wildly as they shouted.\n\n\"No, it's true! My brother is in the army! They have no idea who it was!\"\n\n\"What's going to happen?\"\n\n\"I don't know but it's best to get home and stay there until we find out.\"\n\nShekiba closed the door and leaned against it, the metal sending icy shivers down her spine. What could have happened?\n\nGulnaz met her at the inner door. The two canaries, brought inside during the winter months, tweeted loudly, egged on by the agitation in the streets.\n\n\"What is it? What's happening?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure. I just heard someone saying it's best to stay home. Something is going on.\"\n\n\"Where is Aasif?\"\n\n\"God knows.\"\n\nFour hours later, their husband showed up. The women had locked the doors and closed the windows, fearful without knowing what it was they were afraid of. His face was heavy with worry and his forehead sweaty, even in the cold.\n\n\"Aasif! What is it? What's happening?\" Gulnaz said, meeting him at the door.\n\n\"It's the king. Someone's killed Habibullah!\" he announced, his voice quiet and his breaths heavy. He took off his hat and scarf.\n\n\"Allah!\" Her hand covered her mouth.\n\n\"The city's in a panic. I was at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs when we got word. He was on some kind of hunting trip, as usual, and he was shot. For a while, they were trying to keep it quiet, but stories began to leak out. You can't keep something like that hidden for long! We thought it might have just been rumors\u2014you know how easy it is to spread stories in Kabul\u2014but it seems to be true. The army is on alert and they sent for Amanullah. Thankfully, he's in Kabul already.\"\n\n\"The shah is . . . ,\" Shekiba said incredulously. She could not bring herself to use her son's name and \"dead\" in the same breath.\n\n\"Did you not hear everything I just said!? Yes, Habibullah is dead! He's been assassinated, the bastard.\"\n\nHis wives winced. However Aasif might have felt, it was unwise to speak ill of the dead.\n\n\"How could this have happened? Was it here? In the palace?\"\n\n\"No, he was in Jalalabad. It must have happened two days ago at least, if word is getting to us now. I can't believe someone killed him.\"\n\n\"What's going to happen now?\" Gulnaz said while Shekiba put a hand on her son's head. Shah had just entered the room and looked at his father with concern. He had no idea what \"dead\" meant but he could sense that something was not right.\n\n\"I don't know. My guess is that Amanullah will take his father's place. And he rightfully should. But it's impossible to say. If his assassination was a coup, then his assassin will have to get through the army. They've sworn allegiance to Amanullah.\"\n\n\"Allah, have mercy on us. This could be a disaster for Kabul!\"\n\n\"We'll sit tight and see. Just keep the children inside and keep your mouths shut. This is no time to speculate with the neighbors. Be smart.\"\n\nShekiba turned away so Aasif would not see her roll her eyes. It was hard to swallow such words of wisdom from a man who had violated the king's harem and condemned Benafsha to a horrible death. Where was his sense of caution then?\n\nBut they did as he said and Aasif nervously returned to his post in the Ministry of Agriculture in the morning. The streets were desolate as panic spread through the capital. Aasif stockpiled extra food as a precaution. The assassin was still unidentified and no one had made any moves toward the palace but the army was on high alert, all the same.\n\nAasif had not seen Amanullah in nearly a year, but now it was critical he reconnect with his friend. He needed to pay his respects and make sure he was aligned with the man who would most likely be taking Habibullah's place as ruler of Afghanistan. He stopped by the palace, his nerves on edge.\n\nAmanullah was heartbroken and enraged, Aasif reported to his wives. His father's brother Nasrullah had accompanied the king on his hunting trip. Word came from Jalalabad that Nasrullah had been proclaimed Habibullah's successor, which angered Amanullah. Amanullah's eldest brother, Inayatullah, seemed to be in support of his uncle, as were many of Habibullah's sons.\n\nAmanullah, born to the king's chief wife, knew his father would have selected him to take the throne. And as leader of the military and treasury, Amanullah was in position to assume the reins of the country and declared himself the new king from his post in Kabul.\n\nShekiba could picture him, his heart heavy with grief, his noble face drawn and sad. He would be a just and wise king, she knew. She blushed to think of how stupid she had been five years ago, to think that such a man might want her.\n\nI have no reason to complain, though. I am married to a man with a respectable position in the Ministry of Agriculture. He keeps us fed and clothed in an esteemed neighborhood of Kabul. He provides for his children and does not beat me. What more could I have asked of Allah?\n\nAasif carefully worked to bring himself closer to Amanullah and the new king welcomed his friend's counsel in such a difficult time. He wanted to avenge his father's death and there were a handful of people under the cloud of suspicion, including his own uncle Nasrullah, who, it was rumored, had not shed a single tear at his brother's death. Amanullah made an announcement. He would find the assassins and bring change to Afghanistan. Reform was on the way. He banned slavery. He vowed to increase pay for the army. Afghanistan would maintain its friendly relationship with India.\n\nHe is not like his father. He is a better man, Shekiba thought as she heard the declarations. God be with you, King Amanullah.\n\nBy April, an investigative committee had looked into Habibullah's murder. Amanullah jailed his uncle Nasrullah and a dozen others in the palace dungeons. Aasif stood by his friend as the palace prepared to spill blood.\n\nAmanullah brought with him many new ministers and Kabul braced itself for the changes that would come with their new leader. Shekiba and Gulnaz felt more secure when it became apparent that there would be no bloody challenge to Amanullah's claim to the throne. Kabul transitioned relatively peacefully, eager to see their bold young king fulfill his promises. Shekiba smiled, ruffling her son's hair, feeling that Amanullah would make Afghanistan better for her Shah.\n\nTheir link to the palace revived, the Baraan family became host to some of Amanullah's other advisers. Gulnaz served guests tea and nuts that Shekiba prepared from the safety of the kitchen. They eavesdropped on conversations, feeling privileged to have the first scoop on Kabul's political affairs. Compared to the other wives of the neighborhood, they were much more informed, and Gulnaz, the more social wife, enjoyed flaunting it in conversations with other women. She made sure their audiences knew how well connected their household was. In a city like Kabul, connections counted for everything, so she didn't mind the extra work that came with Aasif's many guests.\n\nGulnaz and Shekiba wished the men would talk more about Amanullah's wife, Soraya. What they did hear was astonishing. She was educated and beautiful. She was born in Syria and spoke many languages. Amanullah took her everywhere and consulted with her. They wanted to hear more about their mysterious queen but the discussions usually centered on what Amanullah's next move would be, since he had promised big changes when he assumed the role of king.\n\n\"How much of Tarzi's reforms do you think he'll take on?\"\n\n\"He'll take on them all, if you ask me!\" Aasif said. \"He thinks the world of his father-in-law, probably even more than he thought of his own father, may Allah grant him peace in heaven.\"\n\nGulnaz shot Shekiba a look of surprise. It seemed Aasif finally knew how to speak respectfully of Habibullah when he needed to.\n\n\"You're as mad as Tarzi himself. This is Afghanistan, not Europe. We are not like those people and shouldn't try to be. Let us concentrate on our own country and stop ogling others.\"\n\n\"What's wrong with learning from others?\" someone asked.\n\n\"Depends on what you learn from them.\"\n\n\"What's happened with his brother Inayatullah?\"\n\n\"He and a few other brothers have sworn allegiance to Amanullah. He's going to release them from the dungeon tomorrow. His uncle will remain in prison. There is too much doubt over his head. He'll stay in chains for the time being.\"\n\n\"People are angry about that. They do not feel it is just.\"\n\n\"They will forget when they see what our king is capable of. Soon, they will not remember Nasrullah's name.\"\n\nIn May, Amanullah did what Aasif had suggested many years earlier while Shekib, the guard, had eavesdropped in the gardens. Amanullah flexed his muscles and sent soldiers into northern India. Amanullah had had enough of British dominance and acted on his father-in-law's teachings.\n\n\"Ya marg ya istiqlal!\" Demonstrators in the streets shouted for death or freedom. Gulnaz and Shekiba listened nervously, hoping the crowd would not turn on anyone.\n\nAmanullah had embroiled the country in the third Anglo-Afghan war. Kabul was tense. Everyone talked about the fighting. The army was small but fierce. The Baraan household braced itself. If the Afghans lost, there would surely be another regime change and it was impossible to know what that would bring.\n\n\"It's over,\" Aasif announced as he entered the house three months later.\n\n\"It's over?\" Shekiba repeated, a habit that drove Aasif mad. She knew it as soon as she said it but it was too late to undo. Shah ran into the living room to greet his father.\n\n\"Yes, that's what I said! Let me see my son! Shah, good news! It's over. We've won our independence from England!\"\nCHAPTER 61\n\nForty days after Jahangir's last breath, the house was still. It was the final day of mourning.\n\n\"The forty days will be complete today,\" Bibi Gulalai reminded us. \"People may come to say prayers with us or with Abdul Khaliq. Watch how you talk.\"\n\nShahnaz bit her lip and went to bathe her children. She kept her distance and, more important, made sure her children stayed clear of me. I made her nervous, as the mother of a dead child. Maybe I was cursed. Or maybe I would be jealous that her little ones were alive and my son was dead.\n\nForty days. What was so magical about forty? I wondered. Was I to feel differently today than I did yesterday? Was I to forget what happened just six weeks ago?\n\nWe Afghans marked both life and death with a forty-day period, as if we needed that much time to confirm either had truly happened. We had celebrated Jahangir's birth forty days after he'd left my womb, unsure if this child was here with us to stay. And now his death. Forty days of praying, alone, with others and everything in between.\n\n\"It's been forty days, Rahima,\" Badriya reminded me.\n\n\"And tomorrow will be forty-one,\" I shot back. Nothing would change.\n\nBut something did change. For forty days, Abdul Khaliq had kept to himself, sitting with the many men who came to pay their respects and read with him. He didn't look at me much. If we had been a different husband and wife, I might have approached him. I might have asked him about our son's last breaths, about how he was feeling now. I was thankful that he'd been good to our son in his last moments but nothing more. Now, more than ever, I wanted nothing to do with him.\n\nOn the forty-first day, the house breathed a sigh of relief. Badriya and her children no longer spoke in hushed voices. Jahangir had been given his due period of respect.\n\nAbdul Khaliq called for me that night. With a heavy step, I went to him. He was standing by the window, his back to me. I knew I should have closed the door behind me, but I did not. I hoped I wouldn't have to stay.\n\n\"Close the door,\" he said, his back still turned. His voice was firm, a warning buried in his tone.\n\nI obeyed.\n\n\"Come closer.\"\n\nI wanted to scream. I wanted to run far from him, from the scent that lingered behind his beard, from his rough hands, from the disdain in his eye.\n\nHaven't I suffered enough? I wanted to yell.\n\nHe turned around and looked at me, reading the reluctance in my face. He took another step, now within reach. I sighed and turned my head away, staring at the floor.\n\nA slap thundered across my cheek. My knees buckled.\n\n\"No wife of mine looks at me in that way! How dare you?\"\n\nMy eyes watered from the stinging blow. He was angry still. His fingers gripped my arm so tight I thought my bones might snap.\n\n\"I didn't\u2014I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . .\"\n\nHe tossed me to the floor. My right knee hit the ground first.\n\n\"Worthless! You've been good for nothing since you came here! A waste. A waste of my money, my time. Look at you! A big mistake for me to take you. I should have listened to what others said but I pitied your father. He suckered me, that rat! Made me believe his girls would make decent wives. Look what's happened! One worse than the other.\"\n\nHe was in a rage. Nothing he hadn't before said or done, but there was a renewed enthusiasm in his vitriol. He swung again as I pulled on the edge of the bed to stand.\n\n\"A bacha posh. I should have known better. You still don't know what it is to be a woman.\"\n\nI felt a trickle of blood from my lip and realized I should have anticipated this. I steeled myself for what I knew was coming. The blow that would shatter me. True or untrue, I didn't want to hear him say it.\n\n\"Hard to believe you could be even worse as a mother than you are as a wife! My son deserved better! He would be alive if he'd had a mother better than you!\"\n\nI closed my eyes, a surge of pain. The worst blow. I crumpled to the floor with my hands over my head. I crouched forward, almost as if praying. He was muttering something. I couldn't hear him over my own sobbing.\n\n\"Do you want to be a boy? Maybe that's what you want! Is that what you want?\"\n\nMy ribs.\n\n\"My mother couldn't make a woman out of you. Then maybe you should go back to what you were! That's what you want?\"\n\nI never saw where it came from. Maybe under his pillow. Or maybe in his jacket pocket. In a flash, Abdul Khaliq grabbed my hair and pulled my head off the ground. My head slipped forward. He snatched again and jerked my head up. My scalp screamed. When I saw locks of hair on the floor around me, I realized what he was doing. I tried to pull away, begged him to stop, but he was barely there. He was trying to take me apart, to disassemble the pieces that were hardly holding together as it was.\n\nMore hair on the ground. I tried to crawl away but his grip was tight. I shrieked as I felt my scalp lift off my skull.\n\n\"Please,\" I begged. \"Please stop! You don't know!\"\n\nHe had taken a knife to my hair, a blade I'd seen him tuck into his waistband before he and his guards went off for his meetings. The blade was dull and he had to chop at my hair again and again, holding it taut by the ends.\n\n\"One child! You've brought only one child and you couldn't even take care of him!\" My stomach lurched.\n\nOne child. One child.\n\nI wanted to let him end my misery, to give me the punishment my heart believed I deserved, those dark, dark thoughts that haunted my days and nights. I wished he could end it for me. Maybe I would have even taunted him, if it weren't for . . .\n\nHe was on the edge of his bed, his breaths slowing. My husband lacked the endurance to exact the punishment he intended.\n\nI lay motionless, curled up on my side at the foot of the bed. I waited for the signal.\n\n\"Get out,\" he hissed. \"I can't stand the sight of you.\"\n\nI crawled to the door, then pulled myself to stand by the chair. I heard footsteps scamper in the hallway as I exited. I held one hand over my throbbing belly and one hand on the wall to steady my slow step.\n\nOne child.\n\nIn my room, I waited. It didn't hurt as much as it should have, maybe because my mind was elsewhere. Into the thin light of morning, I waited for the bleeding to come. I knew it would.\n\nFresh tears for a new loss.\n\nI may have killed one of Abdul Khaliq's children. But he had just killed another.\nCHAPTER 62\n\n\"Do you want to go or don't you?\"\n\nI sighed and stared at my feet. My arches ached but it was too much effort to rub them.\n\n\"It's up to you. I can always find someone else to be my assistant if you don't want to do it anymore. I'm sure the director's office can help me. Someone else can do what you were doing.\"\n\nThis was actually her way of trying to be considerate.\n\n\"Look, I don't care either way . . .\"\n\nThis wasn't true and we both knew it.\n\n\"I'm just telling you, you need to make a decision soon because I'm leaving to go back to Kabul in three days and if you're going to go back then we have to let Abdul Khaliq know.\"\n\nBadriya had grown accustomed to my help. With me, the parliamentary sessions were easier to follow. I read all the briefs to her. I filled out and submitted all her documents. She listened as I went through the newspaper headlines to give her some background for the jirga discussions. She finally felt like she was participating in the process, like she was a woman our province should admire for her role in government. As if she were actually serving her constituency.\n\nShe was ignoring the fact that it was another man who decided if she should raise the red or green paddle when voting time came. She believed the lie of Badriya the female parliamentarian, and that was all that mattered to her.\n\nAs much as I wanted her to shut up and walk away, I knew I had to make a decision.\n\nAn escape. I need to find an escape.\n\nI'd been to the cemetery where Jahangir was buried only once, two months after I'd come home from Kabul to find my son cold and gray. Abdul Khaliq finally gave me permission to go with Bibi Gulalai and his driver. The dead can see people naked, superstition said, so he didn't think it was proper for his wife to step foot in the cemetery. I didn't believe it to be true and even if it were, I didn't care. I wanted to see where my son was buried. I asked Jameela to bring it up with him and she did. I knew I was playing on her sympathy when I asked her the favor but I was desperate. I don't know what magical words she used but our husband relented.\n\nMy mother-in-law and I stood over Jahangir's grave marker. Her wailing echoed across the emptiness, the same mournful cries that she'd made two months ago. I was quiet for a time. I didn't think I had tears left to shed.\n\n\"You sweet innocent child! I can't believe this was your time, your naseeb. Dear God, my poor grandson was so young to be taken from us!\"\n\nI stood there in disbelief. How could this mound of earth be my little boy? How could this be all that remained of my grinning, curious child?\n\nBut it was. And the more I thought of it, the more Bibi Gulalai's wailing tore at my heart. I wanted to dig into the dirt, to plunge my hands into the earth and touch my son's hand, to feel his fingers close around mine again. I wanted to curl up beside him, keep him warm and whisper to him that he wasn't alone, that he shouldn't be afraid.\n\n\"What is our family to do? Why did we deserve such tragedy? His smiling face, oh, it dances before my eyes and rips at my heart!\"\n\nI started to cry. Silently at first, then louder and louder until I was loud enough that Bibi Gulalai noticed over the sound of her own lamenting.\n\nShe turned around and shot me an icy glare.\n\n\"Haven't I told you a hundred times to watch how you act? Are you trying to shame our family?\"\n\nI sucked in my sobs, feeling my chest tense as I tried to contain it all.\n\n\"It's a sin! It's a sin for you to try to draw so much attention. Don't make such a scene here. It's disrespectful to the dead and people are watching!\"\n\nNo one was watching. We were all alone. Maroof stood back, leaning against the SUV and waiting for us to return to the car. I swallowed my sorrow and looked to the sky. Three gray-brown red-breasted finches flew overhead. They circled three times, swooped down toward us, then floated back to a tree about forty feet away. They cooed and clucked and cocked their heads so purposefully that I almost thought they were talking to me.\n\nBibi Gulalai pulled a handful of bread crumbs from her dress pocket and scattered them over Jahangir's grave. She tossed another palmful on a grave to the left, skipped one and tossed some more on a grave to the right.\n\n\"Shehr-Agha-jan,\" she said with a sigh. \"May the heavens be your place for eternity.\"\n\nI recognized the name as belonging to Abdul Khaliq's grandfather. Stories about him, the great warrior, were recounted so often that I had to remind myself I'd never seen him. He'd been gone over a decade.\n\nThe finches noticed the sprinkle of food and took flight again, swooping in gracefully and pecking here and there at the newly found bounty. Bibi Gulalai spread what was left on the graves that fell further away. Still she skipped the one to the immediate right of Jahangir.\n\n\"Eat, eat,\" she said mournfully. \"Eat and pray for my grandson. And for my beloved father-in-law. God rest his soul and may Allah keep him close and peaceful always.\"\n\nI watched. The finches bobbed their heads, picking at the crumbs and chirping their gratitude. It did look like they were praying, their little heads going up and down as if in supplication. It gave me some solace.\n\nI looked at the grave marker beside Abdul Khaliq's grandfather, Shehr-Agha. This area was where everyone from my husband's family was buried. I wondered why Bibi Gulalai chose to ignore this one grave.\n\n\"Who is buried here?\" I asked. I usually didn't invite any conversation with my mother-in-law but at this moment I didn't want to feel so alone. At least she had brought the praying finches to my son. Jahangir would have loved to see the birds, their tiny beaks. I could picture him imitating their delicate walk, their flapping wings and their red chests puffed out proudly.\n\n\"There?\" She pointed hatefully. \"That's where Abdul Khaliq's grandmother is buried, Shehr-Agha's wife. My mother-in-law.\"\n\nHer lips drew tightly together.\n\n\"You didn't toss any seeds there.\"\n\nBibi Gulalai stared at the earth angrily. She spoke after a moment of thought.\n\n\"Abdul Khaliq's grandmother and I did not see eye to eye. She was an awful woman. No one liked her,\" she explained without looking at me. \"I was respectful to her while she was alive but I've no interest in wasting my time praying for her soul now.\"\n\nThis was the first time I'd heard Bibi Gulalai talk about her mother-in-law. And it was the first time I heard her speak ill of anyone from her in-laws' side of the family. I was surprised at how spiteful she was. I shouldn't have been.\n\n\"When did she die?\"\n\n\"Ten years ago,\" she said, and signaled to Maroof that we were ready to leave. He opened the rear door and turned back to the front to get behind the wheel. \"She was an evil woman if there ever was one. She told my husband terrible things about me. None of them true, mind you, just poisoning his mind against me.\"\n\nI closed my eyes, knelt at my son's grave and said one more prayer, rushing through the verse so fast I slurred the Arabic words in my head, afraid that I would get pulled into the car before I could finish. But Bibi Gulalai paused\u2014as if she were waiting for me.\n\nI lowered my head and kissed the earth, the finches chirping sympathetically and watching me from the safety of their perch.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jahangir,\" I whispered, my cheek cooled by the feet of dirt between my son and me. \"I'm sorry I didn't take better care of you. May Allah watch over you always.\"\n\nI stood and took a deep breath, my eyes blurred with tears. We got into the car and I realized Bibi Gulalai was still thinking, unaffectionately, about her mother-in-law.\n\n\"She made my life miserable,\" she finally said. \"I did everything for that woman. Cooked and cleaned and took care of her son like no other wife would have. I cooked for their whole family, any time she had guests, when she was struck with a craving. But nothing was ever to her liking. She bad-mouthed me every chance she got.\"\n\nI listened, seeing a different side of my mother-in-law. And feeling, for the first time, that she and I had something in common. Ironically.\n\n\"What happened to her?\"\n\n\"What happened to her? What happens to everyone! She died.\" Her tone was sarcastic and annoyed. \"She wasn't feeling well one night. Asked me to rub her legs for her, so I did. Greased her dry feet and massaged them so long I thought my hands would never open again. The next morning, she came to check on the soup I was making. Shehr-Agha-jan, God rest his soul, he had invited thirty people over for lunch. She stood there, looming over my shoulder like a jailer watches his inmates, complaining that I was taking too long or something like that. She didn't look right though. I remember like it was yesterday. She was a pale yellow color and her forehead was sweaty. I thought it was odd because it was the middle of winter. Before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm and her neck twisted to the side. She fell to the ground and knocked over a bowl of onions I'd just finished peeling for the stew.\"\n\nI watched her recount the story. She was looking out the window, the cars' tires spinning up clouds of dust that obscured the view. It was as if she wasn't talking to me, just reliving the memory.\n\n\"I had to get everyone, let everyone know. What a day. But that's how she died\u2014unappreciative of what I was doing up until her very last breath. That's the kind of hard-hearted woman she was.\"\n\nIn other circumstances, I might have told Bibi Gulalai that I understood, that I could sympathize with her.\n\n\"You don't know how lucky you are,\" she said, suddenly remembering I was sitting beside her.\n\nThat was my only visit to my son's grave. I knew Abdul Khaliq opposed my going there. Truthfully, I wasn't even sure I was strong enough to go back. It wasn't easy. I lay awake all that night and the next wondering if Jahangir felt like he was suffocating in there. Shahnaz heard my crying through the thin walls and groaned in frustration. I couldn't get my mind off my little boy.\n\nWhen Badriya came to me again to ask if I wanted to go back to Kabul, I thought about it and made a decision that I thought Khala Shaima would approve of. I packed my bag, my heart heavy with guilt for leaving my son behind again.\n\nI thought of the cemetery, the rows of headstones, simple and hand carved. Some old, some new. The finches had watched us until we left. I saw them chirping to one another as we drove off and then, one by one, the birds had flown away.\nCHAPTER 63\n\nIt wasn't easy to stay focused on the work this time. Halfway into a parliamentarian's speech, I would realize I had no idea what he was talking about. My mind had drifted, remembering the last time I'd bathed my son. Or fed him halva, his favorite food.\n\nBadriya noticed but her exasperation was tempered by sympathy. Most of the time. She was hardly paying attention herself. She spent most of the session pretending to look at papers in front of her when I could see she was watching the people in the room. For a woman who had spent the greater part of her life confined by the walls of her husband's house, every session was a spectacle.\n\nShe was even more lax with me than before, which didn't mean much except that I spent more time with Hamida and Sufia and less time with her or our security guard and driver. The ladies were kind to me. When Badriya had returned to Kabul without me, they'd asked about me several times. She'd made vague excuses until she finally told them about Jahangir.\n\nSufia's arms around me were more comforting than I could have imagined. Hamida shook her head and told me of the three-year-old son she'd lost to some infection. She and her husband hadn't had the money at the time to pay for medications.\n\nI forced a smile and nodded, appreciative of their warmth but not wanting to talk about what had happened. There was too much there and I still felt a fresh guilt for leaving my dead son behind.\n\nThe home Abdul Khaliq was fixing had not yet been finished, so we continued to stay at the hotel. I floated through my daily routine in a perpetual state of misery, wondering from time to time why I bothered to do any of it at all. I think I was driven by fear of my husband. And because I didn't know what else to do.\n\nBadriya was dropping hints here and there about our husband's new prospect. As much as she didn't want to talk to me, there was no one else around and there were things that she could not bottle up.\n\n\"I'm not supposed to say anything. I only know because, of course, he thought it was right to share this information with me since I'm the first wife,\" she said with one hand over her chest as she spoke of her own importance. \"The girl's name is Khatol. She's very beautiful, they say. And Abdul Khaliq has known her brother for a long time. Her brother is a well-respected man. He fought alongside Abdul Khaliq but now he owes a lot of money to our husband. He showed him and his family much kindness. Even sent them food when he heard they didn't even have bread.\"\n\n\"But what will happen to . . . to the rest of us?\" I didn't want Badriya to know that I'd heard her conversation with Bibi Gulalai.\n\n\"The rest of us? Nothing! Why should anything happen to the rest of us?\" she said, and busied herself cleaning a grease spot from her dress. \"Aren't you going to that silly class with your friends?\"\n\nShe wouldn't say anything more than that, nothing about my husband's plans to keep in line with the hadith. It wasn't in her interests to alert me.\n\nI didn't understand why my husband suddenly found it so important that he follow the hadith. He wasn't a man who let rules dictate his decisions. If he wanted to have five wives, or twenty-five for that matter, he would.\n\nThick, industrial smoke from a million exhaust pipes blackened Kabul's air. Badriya coughed violently. I would ask, only because she would bring it up later if I didn't, if she wanted to join the ladies and me at the resource center. Each time she would wave me off.\n\n\"I'm not wasting my time with those busybodies.\"\n\nMaroof and our bodyguard stayed with her because she was the more important wife and because she always claimed to be considering going to visit her cousin across town. As far as I could tell, she never actually left our room. She knew better. She knew word would get back to our husband. Badriya's survival instincts were strong.\n\nI spent my evenings in the training center under Ms. Franklin's tutelage. I was getting better at navigating my way through the computer programs. For practice, I would type letters to my sisters Shahla, Rohila, and Sitara\u2014letters that were never sent. The woman from the shelter, Fakhria, came from time to time and brought with her stories of girls who had fled from home, hungry for a new chance. Their shelter functioned on money raised in the United States and it was becoming obvious that she was trying to garner Hamida and Sufia's sympathy, hoping to secure some funding from the parliament. I wanted to tell her that she was wasting her breath. Even I, the lowly assistant to a parliamentarian, could have told her there was no chance of getting the jirga to allocate money to a shelter for women who had run away from their husbands. In fact, I'd heard several people say the shelters were nothing more than brothels. I didn't think it was true, but others did.\n\nFour weeks remained until the parliament's winter break. Four weeks left for me to attend class at the training center, four weeks of Ms. Franklin patting my shoulder in praise, four weeks left of Hamida and Sufia, instead of cooking and cleaning.\n\nI wondered how Khala Shaima was doing. She looked worse each time I saw her. Still, she had outlived both Parwin and Jahangir. Their deaths had taught me that anything was possible, and that death was closer than I wanted to believe.\n\n\"I'm an old woman,\" Khala Shaima had told me before I left for Kabul. \"I've cheated the angel Azrael more than once but he'll come and claim my last breath soon enough.\"\n\n\"Khala-jan, don't say such a thing,\" I said, protesting.\n\n\"Bah. I've wanted to be around only so I can look after you girls, to tell you the truth. Nothing else matters much. But I can't slip through his fingers forever. It's like the story of that man\u2014did I tell you that one?\"\n\n\"No, Khala-jan. You've only told us about Bibi Shekiba.\"\n\n\"Ah, and I hope you've learned something from her story. You are her legacy, after all. Remember, your great-great-grandmother was Bibi Shekiba, guard to the king's harem.\n\n\"Dokhtar-em, my dear, I'm not well. You are not a na\u00efve girl anymore. It will give my heart peace if you can tell me that every story I've told, every mattal I've shared, that you've gotten some wisdom and courage from it. Remember where you come from. Bibi Shekiba is not a fairy tale. She is your great-great-grandmother. Her blood courses through your veins and gives strength to your spirit. Always walk with your head high. You are the descendant of a somebody, not a nobody.\" She sighed heavily, which turned into a long, exasperated cough. She took a minute to catch her breath before she continued.\n\n\"I've tried to tell Rohila and Sitara the same. But Rohila is to be married soon and I think she'll be better off. The family seems reasonable. Sitara will be alone with your parents, left to fend for herself. I can't do much more for her. I wish I could tell you to watch out for her but you could do more for her if a mountain stood between you. These walls hold you tight. Focus on yourself. Everything you've endured in life should have taught you something, made you hungry for something. Remember, Allah has said, 'Start moving, so I may start blessing.' \"\n\nI tried to find the words to reassure Khala Shaima, to tell her that I understood what she was telling me and that I was proud to know I was a descendant of Bibi Shekiba, the woman who had guarded the king's harem, who had walked through the royal palace. I may have lived my entire life in a small village but I was connected to Afghanistan's aristocracy.\n\nBut I'd never been able to find the right words. As I sat there, I had to admit I could see my aunt fading. She didn't look like the person I remembered. She had spent her adult life trying to guide us, trying to look out for my sisters and me.\n\nAnd she was right. As much as I might have wanted to do for my sisters, Abdul Khaliq's walls were high and his leash short. I could only pray for them.\n\nBadriya was lying on the bed. She'd spent the day griping about how long it was taking for Abdul Khaliq's men to finish the home he'd bought in Kabul. She was tired of staying in a hotel and having the man in the lobby watch our comings and goings with interest. I wanted to go for a walk, tired of listening to her complaints.\n\nI adjusted my head scarf and opened the door. Badriya looked up, shook her head and turned around to face the wall. I could tell she didn't want me to leave since it would leave her without an audience but I was starting to feel the walls close in. I walked out of our room.\n\nTo my right was a staircase leading to the lobby. I could hear Maroof and Hassan on my left, about forty feet down the hall, talking. I could make out Maroof's back, sitting on the chair. As much as I wanted to head directly down to the street level, I knew there would be hell to pay if I were to leave unchaperoned and unannounced.\n\nI could make out their voices as I neared.\n\n\"You told him that?\"\n\n\"I did. What the hell was I supposed to tell him?\" Maroof asked.\n\n\"God help her. What did he say?\"\n\n\"You've heard how he gets. He said a lot of things. I don't know what he's going to do to her but I had no choice. And it's your fault anyway, Maroof. You're the one who told him she was spending a lot of time with those two hags. You didn't stop to think that he would get pissed we weren't guarding her? Maybe you don't think it's your job since you're the driver, but I'm their guard. Did you miss that?\"\n\n\"What was I supposed to tell him? He called when she wasn't around. He wanted to speak to Badriya too. If I hadn't said she wasn't here, she would have told him. He would have had my neck for sure if he thought I was keeping something from him.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. Well, I hope he got that she went without our knowing about it. I don't want to get back to the house and find out it's us he's mad at.\"\n\n\"Just stick to what we said. She snuck out without telling us and went to hang out with those godforsaken women. He'll believe it. You know he doesn't think much of her anyway. You've heard about his plans. He's lost interest. She's not as exciting to him as she was in the beginning. Remember that day he saw her in the market?\"\n\nMaroof let out a guffaw.\n\n\"He looked like he might pick her up right there. Send a note and a few afghanis to her parents!\"\n\n\"Would've been a lot easier if he'd done it that way. What a pain her family was. Putting up a show like they come from royalty or something.\"\n\n\"But I remember your face when he made us stop so he could watch her . . . you thought she was a real boy then, you idiot!\"\n\n\"You did too!\" Maroof said in self-defense. \"She looked like a boy. How the hell should I have known there was something more interesting under those clothes?\"\n\n\"You probably liked her better the other way!\" Hassan chuckled. \"What do you think of her new haircut, eh? Got your appetite going?\"\n\nI backed up slowly and as quietly as I could, my mind racing.\n\nThey had sold me out to my husband. I trembled at the way they talked about me.\n\nMy thoughts tumbled and turned until I finally realized what it was that I had just overheard.\n\nI wasn't safe.\n\nI turned the doorknob, watching the hallway to see if the men had noticed my presence. They hadn't. I closed the door behind me and went straight to the washroom. I couldn't look at Badriya right now, knowing she would be of no help to me. It looked like she was asleep anyway.\n\nMy husband was a man of violence and I knew that I'd barely seen a tenth of what he was capable of. He was a man of war, of guns, of power. He demanded respect and obedience, and the guards had just told him that I was out of control. He must have been wild with rage.\n\nI couldn't help but remember he was looking to add a wife and that five was one more than he wanted. I knew what that meant for me.\n\nI thought of the woman in the shelter. She'd disobeyed and her husband had sliced off her ear. I had no doubt Abdul Khaliq could be just as vicious. I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding in fear. I had to think fast.\n\nWe were due to return home in three days.\nCHAPTER 64\n\nShah's feet pounded against the dirt of the road. Just because he was supposed to accompany his sister home from school didn't mean he couldn't race her to the front door. He panted, turned around and saw Shabnam walking hurriedly to catch up. She looked frustrated.\n\n\"Why are you always in such a rush? Don't you know it's not easy to run in a skirt? And anyway, Madar-jan would be upset if she saw me chasing after you through the streets!\"\n\n\"It's not my fault I'm faster than you. I could have been home a long time ago if I didn't have to wait for you!\"\n\nIt was the same argument every day. They bickered but adored each other, oblivious to the resentment between their mothers. Shabnam had long ago opted to ignore her mother's hand pulling her back and would sit with Shekiba while she washed the clothes, asking her question after question about everything from horses to baking bread. And Shah, who knew no boundaries thanks to his father, loved to torment Gulnaz by pulling at her knitting and running away, his giggles undoing her anger at the work he had unraveled.\n\nAasif had hoped for more children but Gulnaz and Shekiba seemed to alternate; one would start her womanly illness when the other stopped. He wondered if a curse had been lifted from him for those two years. Or maybe the women had done something . . . but he grew tired of being angry. His mother had not given up hope. Even one week before her death, she'd reminded her son that Allah had wanted men to take on more than two wives.\n\n\"And where will I put another wife, Madar-jan? In our small home, there is no room for another woman and I have enough trouble feeding the ones I have.\"\n\n\"Marry and Allah will provide a way,\" his mother had told him, her eyes half closed with fatigue.\n\nHe debated her advice, as illogical as it seemed, on his way to and from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He had been transferred from the Ministry of Agriculture and given a position working with a higher-ranked vizier two years ago thanks to his relationship with Amanullah.\n\nWhen Agha Khalil arrived with his wife, it was Shah who met them at the door. His knees were dusty from trying to climb past the second branch of the tree in their courtyard, which made the visitor and his wife smile and think of their own young son at home.\n\n\"Good evening, dear boy! Is your father home? I would like to speak with him.\"\n\n\"Yes, he is. Come in! My mother is making dinner. Why don't you stay and be our guest?\" he said with a grin, aping his father's hospitality. Agha Khalil's wife could not help but laugh.\n\n\"Isn't that kind of you! We wouldn't want to trouble her, my friend,\" he said just as Aasif entered the courtyard.\n\n\"Agha Khalil, how pleasant to see you!\"\n\n\"And you as well, Agha Baraan. Forgive me for dropping by at this hour but I wanted to bring you those papers since I will not be at the office tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Please, please, come in,\" Aasif said, motioning to the house door.\n\n\"Your son was quite the host and already invited us but my wife and I were just on our way home from visiting relatives. We don't want to be a bother.\"\n\nAasif insisted and Shekiba quickly set out cups of tea and dried mulberries. Gulnaz had taken to her room with a headache, so Shekiba was forced to join Aasif in sitting with the guests. Shekiba and Agha Khalil's wife, Mahnaz, were introduced and they sat in one corner of the living room while the men chatted in the other. Shekiba kept her head turned to the side as she always did when she met someone new.\n\n\"Your son is such a darling boy, nam-e-khoda!\" Mahnaz said. Shekiba bowed her head and smiled to hear the kindness in this woman's voice. Mahnaz wore a taupe-colored ankle-length dress with airy sleeves that buttoned at the cuff. She looked elegant and fitting of someone who might be a palace guest.\n\n\"May Allah bless you with good health, thank you,\" she said, not wanting to invite nazar by saying any more about her little king.\n\n\"Do you have much family in Kabul?\"\n\n\"No, I came from a small village outside Kabul.\"\n\n\"So did I. This city was quite a surprise for me! So different from where I grew up.\" Mahnaz was young, probably no more than twenty-four years old, with a bright and cheerful face. \"Where was your village?\"\n\n\"It was called Qala-e-Bulbul. I doubt you ever would have heard of it,\" Shekiba said. At the age of thirty-six, she hadn't thought of her village, named for the hundreds of songbirds that lived there, in years. And her village made her think of her songbird sister. Aqela's lifted voice and dimpled face flashed across her mind, blurry and vivid all at once as memories are.\n\nMahnaz's mouth dropped open. She put a hand on Shekiba's. \"Qala-e-Bulbul? Are you really from there? That is my village!\"\n\nShekiba suddenly felt a surge of panic. She did not regret in the least that she had no contact with her family. She looked over at Aasif and saw that the men were deeply engaged in a conversation. He had never cared to ask her anything about her family and she saw no reason for him to learn anything now.\n\n\"I left when I was fairly young and I barely remember anyone . . . ,\" Shekiba said quietly.\n\n\"What a remarkable coincidence! What is your family name?\"\n\n\"Bardari.\"\n\n\"Bardari? The farm that was north of the hill of the shepherd? Oh, my goodness! My uncle was neighbor to the Bardari family. I spent so much time at my uncle's house that I know them well. We lived not too far from there ourselves. How are you related to Khanum Zarmina or Khanum Samina? Their daughters and I used to braid each other's hair and sing songs by the stream that ran behind my uncle's land.\"\n\n\"You did? They are my uncles' wives.\"\n\n\"Oh my! Then it was your cousins that I played with as a girl! Do you write to them often? My letters to my family take so very long to reach home. Do you have the same trouble?\"\n\n\"I . . . I am not in contact with my family now that I am living in Kabul. It has been a long time,\" Shekiba said vaguely.\n\n\"Really? I understand. I was just there two years ago, you know. For my brother's wedding. The village hasn't changed a bit. But did you . . . Shekiba-jan, do you know about your grandmother?\" Mahnaz's eyes softened and her voice quieted.\n\n\"My grandmother? What is it?\"\n\nMahnaz bit her lip and looked down for a second. She shook her head and held both Shekiba's hands in her own.\n\n\"She passed away just two days after the wedding. It was such a sad time. I did not know her personally but I heard that she was a very strong woman. The whole village marveled at how blessed she was to have lived such a long life!\"\n\nShekiba was taken aback. Part of her had expected her grandmother to live on forever, pickled in her own bitter juices. She quickly realized that her guest was expecting some kind of reaction.\n\n\"Oh. I had no idea. May she rest peacefully in heaven,\" she mumbled, lowering her head.\n\n\"I am so sorry that I should share such sad news with you, especially in our first meeting. How awful of me!\"\n\n\"Please, please. My grandmother, as you said, lived many more years than anyone would have expected. Such is life and the same end awaits us all,\" she said, struggling to sound polite.\n\n\"Yes, yes, God bless her. She must have had a good soul to have been blessed with such a long life.\"\n\nYou did not know her, Shekiba thought.\n\n\"Mahnaz-jan,\" Shekiba said hesitantly. She wondered how to ask what she really wanted to know. \"Do you happen to know how the farms are doing? My father's land . . . my father's land used to produce such a yield of crops. I often wonder . . .\"\n\n\"Which was your father's land?\"\n\n\"It was behind my grandmother's house, separated by a row of tall trees . . .\"\n\n\"Oh, of course! Well,\" she said. The subject obviously made her uncomfortable. \"From what I heard there were some . . . some disagreements about the land. When I was there, Freidun-jan and Zarmina-jan were living there but they were about to divide it up.\"\n\nShekiba could decipher what Mahnaz was too polite to say. Her uncles must have quarreled over the land. She could imagine Kaka Freidun asserting his right as eldest and haughty Khala Zarmina pushing the others aside to get a home of her own. Greed had torn the family and the land apart.\n\n\"But they were not having a good yield when I visited. I saw their daughter, your cousin, at the wedding and she told me that they believed there was some kind of curse on the soil.\"\n\nShekiba smiled. Mahnaz thought her odd. Shekiba realized but couldn't help it. She could hear her grandmother's cackling voice telling her sons that it was Shekiba who had cursed the earth and condemned their crops.\n\n\"How did things go at the wedding? Congratulations to your family,\" Shekiba said. She had no interest in hearing anything else about her family.\n\nMahnaz relaxed and broke into a smile. \"It was wonderful! Dancing and music and food! It was so lively and I had not seen my family in so long. I could not have had a better time!\"\n\n\"How nice! I wish the bride and groom a happy life.\"\n\n\"They nearly had to call off the wedding, truthfully.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Well, the bride's family had asked for a huge sum of money as her bride price, but my father had said it was unreasonable, especially since King Amanullah had outlawed the practice of bride price. The bride's father felt disrespected, so they settled on a lesser sum. I suppose I could understand though. No money at all? I mean, a bride is worth something, isn't she? I know I was!\" she laughed.\n\nShekiba smiled meekly and looked away. \"You are right. Amanullah's laws seem so foreign in a village like ours. Kabul is so different. Can you imagine if people in Qala-e-Bulbul knew about the English and German secondary schools here?\"\n\n\"You are so right, Shekiba-jan! Only some of the girls went to school in our area. Do you know that Queen Soraya will be making a speech in two days?\"\n\n\"No, I didn't.\"\n\n\"Oh, it will be amazing. I can hardly wait to hear what she has to say. Though I worry about her. Many will not welcome so many changes so quickly. Why don't you come with me? We can go and hear her speak!\"\n\nShekiba was taken aback. Queen Soraya? Shekiba had wondered about her so much, she brightened at the thought of actually seeing this revolutionary woman. But Shekiba was not accustomed to attending public events.\n\n\"Oh, I couldn't . . . I mean, I have to tend to\u2014\"\n\n\"Come, just for a day! It'll be great to see!\" she said with excitement, and then turned her attention to the men. They were so deeply engaged in conversation that they had not yet touched their tea. \"Excuse me, dear Agha Baraan!\"\n\nAasif turned around. He looked startled. \"Yes, Khanum?\"\n\n\"Could I steal your wife tomorrow?\"\n\nSteal your wife. I wonder how that sounds to him, Shekiba thought. The talk of Amanullah and Soraya reminded her of the palace. And Benafsha.\n\n\"Steal my . . .\"\n\n\"Yes, I would love to go to the speech and have been looking for someone to join me! We won't be gone long. We can take adorable Shah-jan with us too!\"\n\n\"It will be an important speech. I have no doubt that the Afghan people will be impressed with Queen Soraya the more they get to know her,\" Agha Khalil said.\n\n\"You will be there?\" Aasif asked him. Shekiba watched as her afternoon was planned for her.\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"Well, then . . .\"\n\n\"Wonderful! Hope you don't mind her escaping for a bit!\" Mahnaz said contently. Aasif tried not to let his face show his displeasure.\nCHAPTER 65\n\n\"They said around one o'clock. Shouldn't be much longer. Just look at this crowd! All these people here to see our Queen Soraya!\"\n\nShekiba held Shah's hand tightly, her eyes scanning the stage for any sign of Amanullah. She wondered what he looked like now. It had been years since she last saw him.\n\nStupid, she told herself. Look at this crowd. How could you have thought you were suited for something like this, that you could be worthy of taking that stage, of appearing before all these people!\n\nShekiba adjusted her veil and leaned over to give Shah a handful of nuts to snack on. She'd been unable to stomach much food in the past few weeks and even the woody smell of roasted almonds turned her nose, a smell she'd never before even noticed.\n\nLittle Shah was happily entertained by the many faces, the man selling vegetables from his wooden cart, the children holding their mothers' hands. He did not mind that they had been standing around for over an hour, nor did he notice the number of stares his mother's face attracted. Shekiba kept her veil draped over the left half of her face and averted her gaze when she saw curious eyes. Shah was seven years old now and wise enough to detect stares and whispers. She did not want her son to feel embarrassed by her.\n\nGulnaz and Shabnam were at home. Gulnaz was not happy that Shekiba had been invited for an outing by Agha Khalil's wife and she had only spoken a few words to Shekiba since finding out. But she contented herself with the knowledge that Aasif would be pleased she'd stayed home instead of shamelessly wandering around Kabul in a crowd of people.\n\nSoldiers lined the stage and created a perimeter around it so the crowd couldn't get too close. In the center of the stage was a podium draped in navy blue velvet with gold tassels and embroidered with two crossed swords. Shekiba looked at the soldiers and thought of Arg, the guards, the harem. It seemed like a hundred years ago that she'd walked about the palace grounds with cropped hair and men's slacks. She looked at her son, soon to be a young man, and wondered what he would have thought to see his mother dressed that way.\n\nHe wouldn't understand. Only a daughter could know what it was to cross that line, to feel the freedom of living as the opposite sex. Her fingers touched her belly briefly. She looked at Shah and knew this one was different. She could feel it.\n\nMahnaz shielded her eyes from the sun.\n\n\"Have you seen her before?\" she asked.\n\nShekiba shook her head.\n\n\"She looks like a queen. I don't know how else to describe her. You should see the clothes she wears! Straight from Europe! My husband tells me that even the children wear European clothes!\"\n\n\"Your husband works with them?\"\n\n\"Yes, he does some calligraphy work for the king and he serves as counsel to the queen when the king is away. He's going to be traveling with them soon.\"\n\n\"He's away often, isn't he?\"\n\nMahnaz nodded, her face showing her disappointment. \"He is, but at least I have my mother-in-law and his family around. I would be so lonely otherwise.\"\n\n\"How was your marriage arranged? His family is from Kabul, are they not?\"\n\n\"Yes, they are. He and his family had traveled through our village on their way to Jalalabad one year. In that time, his father and my father came to know each other and they arranged for us to be married. I had seen him only once, just for a second. It was so unexpected!\"\n\n\"And you've been living in Kabul since then?\"\n\n\"Mostly,\" she said, and leaned in to speak more discreetly. \"My husband had some differences of opinion, you could say, with some of the government officials. We went through some difficult times then. They took everything from us. Our furniture, our home, our jewelry. We moved into the countryside for a year and a half until word was sent that we could return. The children were miserable there. We were so happy to come back!\"\n\n\"That sounds awful,\" Shekiba said. But worse could have been done to you, she thought.\n\n\"It was awful. But that's how it is. When you don't agree with powerful people, be prepared to lose everything. I only hope we will not go through such an experience again.\" She sighed. \"It is hard to say, though, since what men will tolerate changes as often as the shape of the moon.\"\n\nShekiba nodded.\n\n\"There they are!\" Mahnaz spotted Amanullah and Soraya being escorted onto the stage. Soldiers were lined up ceremoniously on either side of them and generals stood at their side. They were smiling and waving to faces they recognized in a group of dignitaries just in front of the platform.\n\nA man in a suit took the podium and began to speak. He introduced himself and spoke of King Amanullah's recent trip to Europe. Afghanistan was in a period of rebirth, he declared, and would grow with the leadership of such a strong-willed and visionary monarch. His speech went on until one of the generals could take no more and whispered something into his ear that brought him to closing remarks rather abruptly.\n\n\"Our noble king Amanullah!\" he announced, and stepped away from the podium, his arms outstretched dramatically to welcome the country's leader to the stage.\n\n\"As-salaam-alaikum and thank you! I am pleased to come and speak here with you!\"\n\nShekiba's lips turned up ever so slightly in a half smile. He looked even more dignified than she remembered, his olive-brown military jacket was decorated with medals and stars and cinched at the waist with a leather belt. He took off his hat and placed it on the podium before him. His posture gave an aura of confidence, a self-assurance that seeped through the crowd. Shekiba looked at the faces around her, their eyes focused on the stage, their expressions eager.\n\nWe are in good hands, people seemed to be thinking.\n\nShekiba tried to focus on his speech but her mind wandered. She kept her eyes on Amanullah, wondering if he would remember her, the harem guard with the scarred face. She willed his kind eyes to fall upon her again. She felt a flutter in her stomach and wasn't surprised that even the smallest of spirits could be moved by Amanullah's presence.\n\nMahnaz looked over at her occasionally, nodding in agreement. Shekiba realized the king must have said something noteworthy. Shah pulled at her hand and she absentmindedly pulled raisins from her purse. He ate them one by one, bored by the speech.\n\nQueen Soraya joined him at the podium. She wore a thin head scarf, plum colored, to match her skirt suit. She wore a fitted jacket with a brooch that caught the sunlight, over a pencil skirt that ended midcalf. Her shoes were smart\u2014black Mary Janes with a modest heel.\n\nThis is his wife, the woman he spoke of as thoughtful and dedicated, strong-willed. Indeed, she does walk with her head held high. Then again, why shouldn't she? She is queen to our beloved Amanullah.\n\nSuddenly, Queen Soraya looked at her husband and pulled her head scarf off her head! Shekiba's mouth dropped open. She looked at King Amanullah and was shocked to see him smiling and clapping. Mahnaz grabbed Shekiba by the forearm and broke into a grin. A mix of gasps and applause rippled through the crowd.\n\n\"Isn't that amazing?\" she said excitedly.\n\n\"What just happened? Why did she do that?\"\n\n\"Weren't you listening? He just said that the chador is not required in Islam! The queen is doing away with her head scarf!\"\n\n\"But . . . how could she . . .\"\n\n\"It's a new day in Kabul! Aren't you glad I dragged you here?\" she said, nudging Shekiba with her elbow.\n\nAmanullah went on to say a few more words with Soraya at his side. He declared her, his wife, to be the minister of education and queen to the Afghan people. He turned the podium over to Soraya. Shekiba looked to Shah, then turned her attention back to the stage. Today's speeches were more interesting than she had anticipated.\n\nQueen Soraya spoke eloquently and with a confidence that complemented her husband's. Shekiba felt humbled and listened to her talk on the importance of independence.\n\n\"Do you think, however, that our nation from the outset needs only men to serve it? Women should also take their part as women did in the early years of our nation and Islam. From their examples we must learn that we must all contribute toward the development of our nation and that this cannot be done without being equipped with knowledge. So we should all attempt to acquire as much knowledge as possible, in order that we may render our services to society in the manner of the women of early Islam.\"\n\n\"Imagine. Just imagine, being able to speak like her to a crowd of people this size. She is a remarkable woman. Oh, the people of Qala-e-Bulbul would just faint to see something like this, wouldn't they?\" Mahnaz said with a laugh.\n\nShekiba thought of her own uncles. No doubt they would have sneered and walked out on such a speech. A woman? Telling their wives to acquire knowledge?\n\nIt was an exhilarating day. Shekiba was vaguely aware that this day would change something, though she wasn't sure what.\n\nShe's a wise woman, Shekiba thought. A woman like that would have given my father's land to me. She would have told my grandmother to send me to school instead of the fields.\n\nShekiba's lip stiffened with resolve.\n\nShe knew Queen Soraya was speaking of changes that wouldn't affect her.\n\nMy story ends here, she thought. She now had a better life than she could have imagined. Somehow she had found an escape from a much worse naseeb.\n\nBut something in Shekiba did shift. She had a glimmer of hope, a feeling that things might get better with this woman Amanullah had chosen over her. Her face flushed knowing it still felt that way to her, as ridiculous as it was.\n\nShe thought of the way she was beaten when she took the deed to Hakim-sahib. She thought of Benafsha succumbing under the weight of the stones.\n\nBut sometimes you have to act out of line, I suppose. Sometimes you have to take a chance if you want something badly enough.\n\nThings would be okay for Shah, Shekiba knew. He was a boy and his well-connected father would make sure he had every opportunity. She thanked God for that.\n\nAnd may Allah give my daughters, should I be blessed with any, a chance to do what Queen Soraya seems to believe is possible. May Allah give them courage when they are told they are out of line. And may Allah protect them when they seek something better, and give them a chance to prove they deserve more.\n\nThis life is difficult. We lose fathers, brothers, mothers, songbirds and pieces of ourselves. Whips strike the innocent, honors go to the guilty, and there is too much loneliness. I would be a fool to pray for my children to escape all of that. Ask for too much and it might actually turn out worse. But I can pray for small things, like fertile fields, a mother's love, a child's smile\u2014a life that's less bitter than sweet.\nCHAPTER 66\n\nI used all my strength to stay focused, to keep my composure. I couldn't let anyone know that I had overheard what I had. Beyond that, I didn't know what to do or who to turn to. Frankly, I didn't think I could turn to anyone.\n\nI sat beside Badriya in the following day's session, ignoring the debate on funding for a roads project when everyone knew the decision was really in the president's hands. And that he'd already made up his mind.\n\nTonight, Ms. Franklin was going to let us work more on the Internet. It was as important as learning to read and write, she said. The Internet was our gateway to the world.\n\nI could have used a gateway.\n\nWhile the debate of no consequence went on around me, a more important debate raged in my head. Should I go with Hamida and Sufia to the training center or should I stay with Badriya and the guards?\n\nMy hands were clammy and my shoulders stiff. I dreaded the session ending, knowing I would have to make a decision.\n\nWhat does it matter? I thought. He already thinks I've snuck away from the guards. How could it get any worse?\n\nBut I was afraid. Maybe he would believe me, take my word that the guards had let me go. That Badriya had said it was all right. That I did nothing inappropriate or shameful at the resource center.\n\nImpossible.\n\nWe were outside. I was looking at the three western soldiers on the opposite side of the street. They were leaning against a wall, talking with a crowd of young boys. Jahangir would have been one of them, I thought, if I'd been allowed to bring him with me. I wondered what the soldiers would do if I ran to them. They were here to help us, weren't they?\n\nWe were just past the security check when Hamida called out to me. My heart raced. What would Khala Shaima tell me to do?\n\n\"Aren't you going to come with us? Ms. Franklin's expecting you!\"\n\nI looked at Badriya. She raised her eyebrows, wondering why I thought she would care where I went. She walked toward the car, which was parked a few meters away. I saw Maroof mumble something to Hassan, who nodded and mumbled something back.\n\nFiguring I was doomed anyway, I took a leap and decided to go with Hamida. I didn't know what I expected to come of my decision.\n\n\"I'm going to . . . I'm going to go with them. I'll have her driver drop me off before they go to her apartment. Okay?\"\n\nBadriya shrugged her shoulders without bothering to turn around. I knew she didn't want to give a formal answer, an answer she might have to defend to our husband. She got in the car and they drove off, melting into Kabul's congested streets. I was relieved and petrified.\n\nWhile we walked, Hamida talked and I thought of my husband. Twice, I thought I might vomit on the street. Sufia joined us two blocks from the parliament building. The guards walked a few feet behind us while the drivers stayed with the cars. With the traffic, it would have taken longer to drive to the resource center.\n\n\"Rahima-jan, what's going on? You're awfully quiet today. Everything all right?\" Sufia asked.\n\nI never meant to share it. My story just flowed out. Like the water that once upon a time bubbled over stones in the Kabul River, I told them about my husband, Bibi Gulalai, Jahangir.\n\nWe walked slowly, not wanting to draw attention from the security guards who trailed us. This wasn't a story to share with them.\n\nI answered their next questions before they could ask them. I told them about my parents and how they'd given us sisters away, then cloaked themselves in clouds of opium. I told them how Parwin escaped her hell in a flash of flames and that with Rohila about to become a wife, Sitara would be left cowering in the corner of our home, afraid of what fate my father would choose for her. And Khala Shaima, the only family I'd kept over the years, her twisted spine was squeezing the life from her bit by bit.\n\nBut my son. That was the worst of it. I said it and then I left it alone. The sore was too raw to touch. Worse than losing the unborn.\n\nWhile I tried to control the shaking of my voice, I told them about the conversation I'd overheard. About the wife my husband wanted to take without violating the laws he suddenly wanted to follow. I didn't have to tell them what I was afraid he would do to me. They knew.\n\nThey listened, unsurprised. I was only confirming what they'd already suspected, that I was one of those stories. My story was not unheard of.\n\nI was broken and battered and didn't care anymore how much I told them or what they thought or even what Abdul Khaliq would do if he found out. I had had enough. I kept thinking of Khala Shaima's face, her soured expression, her disappointment in what had become of her nieces. And then there was Bibi Shekiba, the man-woman whose story had woven its way through my own.\n\n\"Dear God, what a mess you're in, Rahima-jan! I don't even know what I can say . . . ,\" Hamida said. We stood outside the door of the resource center. Ms. Franklin waved us in with a smile.\n\n\"There must be something . . . there has to be some way . . . ,\" Hamida said unconvincingly.\n\n\"Let's not stand out here too long,\" Sufia whispered gravely. \"We can chat about this inside. Come on, ladies.\"\n\nI let Sufia guide me with a hand on my back, thinking of something Khala Shaima had said when I shared the story of the girl from the shelter with her, how she'd escaped her husband only to be found again and beaten, punished for running away.\n\n\"Poor girl. She ran out from under a leaking roof and sat in the rain.\"\nCHAPTER 67\n\n\"I'm not feeling well at all,\" I said. I hoped I sounded believable.\n\nBadriya huffed and rested her hands on her hips dramatically. \"What is it now? You expect me to go by myself to the session? And who do you suggest should fill out the ballots that are due today?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but it's my stomach. It must have been something I ate last night. My stomach is a terrible mess,\" I said, wrapping my arms around my abdomen and leaning forward. \"I don't want to cause a disturbance sitting next to you. I just feel like I might have to run\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, that's enough already! I don't want to hear more. Some assistant you are. Useless!\" she said, throwing her hands in the air. She grabbed her handbag and stormed out. When I heard her footsteps moving away, I crept to the door and put my ear against it. I could hear her speaking to Hassan and Maroof, their heavy voices echoing in the hall.\n\n\"She's not going?\"\n\n\"No, she says she's not well. I suppose we should just let her stay here. I'm not staying with her, if that's what you are thinking. I'll hear it from the director if I miss another session.\"\n\n\"Agh. This girl's nothing but trouble,\" Maroof said.\n\n\"Just take her. I'll stay here with this one,\" Hassan offered reluctantly. \"The last thing we need now is for Abdul Khaliq to hear we left her alone in the hotel.\"\n\n\"Fine.\"\n\nI heard the metal of the chair scraping against the floor. He was going to stay at his post down the hall. My chest felt heavy with anticipation.\n\nI took a deep breath and went back to the bed, pulling my duffel bag out from under it. My hands dug through the dresses until I found what I was looking for. I thanked God I'd brought it along, even if I hadn't anticipated wearing it. I changed quickly, a small thrill running through me. I went back to Badriya's bag and rifled through it until I found the scissors she kept with her sewing supplies. To the bathroom again, where I looked at my reflection and finished what my husband had started. Snip, snip, snip. It was badly uneven but better than what Abdul Khaliq had done.\n\nI put my sandals on and considered my duffel bag for a moment. From the back, it might give me away. I decided against taking it and sat down to calm my breathing.\n\nIt took five minutes of intent listening at the door to convince myself no one was approaching, especially Hassan. No thump of his heavy foot or whistle of his raspy breath. I imagined he'd probably gone out for a smoke.\n\nMy fingers touched the knob and closed around it slowly. I turned, still keeping my ears perked.\n\nI looked out through the crack, opened the door wider when I was certain I'd seen no one. And wider yet when I worked up the nerve to walk into the hallway. I craned my neck to see where the chair usually sat.\n\nHassan's back. I took a deep breath and turned to the right, to the stairwell. I closed the door as silently as I could behind me. I moved one foot in front of the other, walking past the four doors between me and the end of the hallway. I was so focused on listening for the sound of Hassan moving that my left sandal caught on the carpeting and I stumbled, catching my balance by grabbing the doorknob of the next room.\n\nI held my breath when I heard the scraping of the metal chair legs.\n\n\"Hey!\"\n\nI froze, keeping my back to Hassan. I was sure he could see my whole body quivering even from a distance.\n\n\"Watch your feet, you klutzy kid!\" he called out.\n\nI nodded and grunted something in a voice deeper than my own but barely audible.\n\n\"Boys running around in a hotel . . . ,\" I could hear him muttering as I resumed my trek to the stairwell. With each step I waited, waited for the moment when he would realize that the boy he saw was actually a girl in Hashmat's new clothes, the pants still unhemmed.\n\nI was and then I wasn't. I was Rahima. And then I wasn't.\n\nI walked through the lobby, keeping my eyes lowered. The man from the front desk was nowhere to be seen. I moved quickly. I opened the door and sunlight tickled my eyes. I lifted my hand and blinked. When my sandals hit the dirt road I scanned the street to make sure I recognized no one and that no one recognized me. My eyes fell on a sparrow, nimbly passing between tree branches and chirping as earnestly as the birds over Jahangir's grave. Pray for me too, I thought.\n\nRahim wound in and out of the streets, heading further away from the hotel and in the opposite direction of the parliament building. Rahim, the bacha posh, listened for someone yelling behind him, listened for a sign that he'd been spotted, that he was going to be dragged back to Abdul Khaliq's compound and punished.\n\nRahim, shaking so badly that he thought his legs might collapse, needed a place to hide.\nCHAPTER 68\n\nTaxis honked. One slid past me, skimming my side as I tried to dodge traffic in a busy intersection. I cursed myself for choosing to cross here, in front of so many cars. I felt a million eyes on me, eyes that might notice something was not right about this adolescent boy. Didn't I look frightened\u2014like I was running away from something? Did they see that my chest seemed to swell where a girl's might?\n\nI had done my best to tie down my breasts with a head scarf but it was harder now than it had been a few years ago. Having Jahangir had thickened me with curves that were more difficult to disguise.\n\n\"Hey, bacha! Watch where you're going!\" a man yelled through the driver's-side window of the taxi, a cigarette between his fingers as he waved at me angrily.\n\nWithout a pause in my step, I raised an apologetic hand, silently thankful to know my disguise was working. Funny how easily I slipped back into this person, how comfortable I felt even though my nerves were on fire.\n\nMy sandals slapped against the dusty road, my legs free in the pants, a loose tunic covering my curved rear.\n\nIt had been nearly eleven o'clock when I left the hotel. That felt like a year ago, though it couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty minutes. A bus came up ahead, slowing near a crowd of people and honking an awkward tune. Maybe that was the one. I looked for signs, turning my head and suddenly feeling my legs weaken.\n\nA black SUV slowed as it approached, only half a block away.\n\nI felt exposed even in the crowded street, wondering if I'd been spotted. If I hadn't been, running now might draw attention.\n\nThe driver slowly rolled down the tinted window and I let out a soft moan of panic.\n\nBut it was a face I didn't recognize. It wasn't Abdul Khaliq's car.\n\nRegrouping quickly, I pushed my way through and reached the crowd of people clamoring to board the white and blue bus.\n\n\"Is this the bus to Wazir Akbar Khan?\"\n\nNo one turned around.\n\n\"Agha, is this the bus to Wazir Akbar Khan?\" I asked again, louder. I tried to deepen my voice, to hide my feminine tone.\n\nA man turned around, annoyed. He wore a button-down shirt over slacks and held a briefcase in his hand.\n\n\"Yes, it is! Hurry up and get on if you're coming,\" he said. He and another man tried to squeeze through the bus door at the same time, each hoping to get a square of standing space.\n\nWith my head down, I managed to slip onto the bus behind two men. I waited for the bus driver to notice and shout, but he didn't. I wiggled my way to the back of the bus, as far from the driver as possible. Looking around, there was not a single woman on the bus. I felt my face flush at being surrounded, so closely, by so many men. I kept my elbows close to my chest and cringed when the bus's movements pushed a body against mine. I craned my neck to see between the chests and arms. I hoped I would recognize my stop.\n\nThe bus will stop on a road lined with shops. Look for a beauty shop between an electronics store and a food vendor. Usually there's a man with a long beard and half an arm standing around there begging for money.\n\nIt was a long ride to Wazir Akbar Khan. Beads of sweat slid down my neck. My nerves were just starting to settle as the bus put distance between me and the hotel\u2014between me and Abdul Khaliq's guards.\n\nI was supposed to be there at twelve. I had meant to leave the hotel earlier but Badriya had taken her time that morning, putting the whole plan in jeopardy.\n\nWazir Akbar Khan was a neighborhood to the north of the city, a suburb that was home to many embassies and foreign workers. The streets were wider than they were in the part of Kabul I had seen. Two-story buildings lined the road. I tried not to look as nervous and lost as I felt.\n\nThe bus slowed. Pharmacy of Wazir Akbar Khan, read the sign on a building.\n\nThis is it, I thought, and snaked through the crowd to get off before the bus resumed its course.\n\nI recognized no one and didn't notice any suspicious stares. I turned my attention to the shops, looking for the landmarks I'd been given. One storefront had crates outside, boxes of detergent, household supplies. There was a butcher shop. There was everything except what I was looking for.\n\nI turned down another street but saw only houses. Beautiful houses that put Abdul Khaliq's estate to shame. They were new buildings with modern fa\u00e7ades that I didn't have time to take in. Minutes were ticking by and I might miss this opportunity.\n\nI worked up the nerve to ask someone, steeling my voice an octave below in disguise.\n\n\"Agha-sahib? Agha\u2014\"\n\n\"For God's sake, boy, I don't have any money to give!\" the man said, and kept on moving.\n\nI looked for someone else to ask.\n\nA woman walked by. I wanted to approach her but my tongue froze when I saw the little boy, probably three or four years old, holding her hand tightly. He pointed at a car in the street and looked up to see if his mother noticed. She nodded and said something that made him giggle with delight.\n\nJahangir, I thought, my chest tight.\n\nThe woman was gone before I recovered. I walked further down the street, blinking away tears. I stood in front of a shop window, a clock catching my eye and sending me into a panic.\n\nOne o'clock. My pulse quickened. If I was too late, this could all fall apart. I would have risked everything for nothing. What would become of me?\n\nMy eyes moved from the clock to a flyer hung on the storefront.\n\nVisit Shekiba's Beauty Shop, Sarai Shahzada. Weddings and all occasions.\n\nThat must be it! I thought. Shekiba.\n\nI closed my eyes, reenergized by the shop's name. It was as if a hand was holding mine, guiding me. I read the flyer again.\n\nSarai Shahzada. I was sure I'd seen a sign with that street name and traced my steps back. Two lefts and I was there again, concrete sidewalks and trees giving it a clean, welcoming appeal. Within minutes, I had found the beauty shop, sandwiched between an electronics shop and a store with crates of fruits and vegetables outside.\n\nShekiba's Beauty Shop.\n\nAs I had been instructed, I looked directly across from it and spotted a teahouse.\n\nI hope I'm not too late.\n\nI dodged oncoming cars again and crossed the street, trying to see through the shop's glass front. The door handle rattled in my hand. I took a deep breath and hoped I didn't look too crazed to the people inside.\n\nI spotted her immediately, her soft bangs peeking out from beneath her gray and plum head scarf. Her eyes were on the door and looking just as nervous as mine. When she recognized me, her hand flew to cover her open mouth. She stood up.\n\nI wove through the tables, the Afghans speaking English, the foreigners drinking cardamom-infused green tea.\n\n\"You made it!\" she whispered when I approached her table.\n\n\"Yes, Ms. Franklin,\" I said, and collapsed into the chair.\nCHAPTER 69\n\nNine days passed before I saw Hamida and Sufia. They had kept away, afraid that somehow they might lead someone to me. Hamida became tearful when she saw me. Sufia let out a triumphant yelp, with an energy I'd never seen her display in the parliamentary sessions.\n\nMs. Franklin and I had gone directly from the teahouse to a women's shelter she had located. It wasn't the shelter that we'd heard about. It was another one, one much further from the parliament building and on the western outskirts of the capital.\n\nThe shelter was both sad and uplifting. There were stories there, stories that made me cringe, scars that would never heal.\n\nI met a woman who lived there with her three children. When her in-laws learned of her husband's death, they accused her of killing him. About to be jailed, she decided to run rather than risk losing her two daughters and one son.\n\nAnother woman had escaped a heavy-handed husband, a husband who was having an affair with her younger sister. One night, while he snored beside her, she crept out softly and walked two days and two nights to reach a police station.\n\nAnd there was a girl. She was my age and her story made me realize that I wasn't alone. At twelve years old, she'd been married off to a man five times her age. Her family had put her in a white dress and taken her to a party. At the end of the night, they left without her. Four years later, she had run off, escaping the in-laws who treated her as a slave.\n\nI wasn't ready to share my story with them yet. Even here, in this open room with Afghan carpets and the smell of cumin, I felt my husband's reach. If he knew where to look, it would only take him a day to reach me. The thought made me so nervous I could barely eat.\n\nHamida and Sufia only came once. I missed them but I could expect nothing more, knowing the route was long and that they had obligations to their own families. Visiting a shelter could attract the wrong attention and endanger everyone involved. I would always think of them warmly and with deep gratitude, remembering how they and Ms. Franklin had formulated a plan to help me escape the naseeb that awaited me had I returned to my husband. My plan, though, didn't account for what might happen to Badriya. Hamida and Sufia had seen her once the day after my disappearance. She looked furious and suspicious, they said, but she seemed to believe their surprise to hear I was missing. I was sure Abdul Khaliq would never let her return to Kabul and I hated to think what Abdul Khaliq had done to her when she'd returned to the compound. Though she hadn't been kind to me, I wished his wrath on no one.\n\nI had time in the shelter, time to finally sit down and contemplate all that had happened. I felt embarrassed, remembering the day I'd argued with Khala Shaima, snapped at her that all the education she'd pushed me to get hadn't done me one bit of good.\n\nIt wasn't true.\n\nIt was only because I was literate that I was able to join Badriya in Kabul. It was only because I could hold a pen with purpose that I was able to be her assistant and feel comfortable joining Hamida and Sufia in the resource center. It was my few years of school that allowed me to read the beauty shop flyer in the store window, to locate the street where Ms. Franklin waited nervously to help me make my escape.\n\nI'm sorry, Khala-jan. I'm sorry I never thanked you for fighting for me, for everything you taught me, for the stories you told me, for the escape you gave me.\n\nMy only regret was that I hadn't been able to send word to Khala Shaima, to let her know that I had made it out and that I was safe. I hoped she didn't think Abdul Khaliq had killed me. I prayed she would not try to visit me at Abdul Khaliq's compound, knowing she would be met by my very angry husband. But I wanted to send her a message, somehow\u2014I had to try. I would take pen to paper and write my dear aunt a note, a few words, so that she could share in what I'd managed to do, what she'd given me the strength to do.\n\nI finally was able to convince Ms. Franklin to mail her a letter.\n\nThe letter, addressed to Khala Shaima, was from her second cousin and it talked of nothing but the smell of fresh air, the delightful sound of birds chirping, and the hope that the family could pay a visit sometime soon.\n\nI had no way of knowing if it had arrived, so I could only hope that the letter found Khala Shaima. It wasn't until many years later, a lifetime really, that I heard it had been discovered in her hand by her older sister, my khala Zeba. Khala Zeba couldn't make sense of it anyway, since she'd never gone to school or learned her letters. She was too distraught at finding her sickly sister cold and breathless to give it much thought then anyway. But two weeks later, when the rhythm of her life returned and the birds had prayed all they could over Khala Shaima's grave, she would ask her husband to read it for her and be puzzled, wondering which cousin would write to her crippled sister of things as mundane as birds and the weather.\n\nThe letter was signed Bibi Shekiba.\nAcknowledgments\n\nThank you to my parents who gave me the tools to write about a girl who deserves the world. I am yours, always. To Zoran and Zayla, you made this story important to tell\u2014I love you. Thank you to my husband, Amin, for your ideas, discussions, and faith in me. You've made my dreams come true. To my street-smart, wise-cracking brother, Fawod, my first and forever fan, thank you for your absolute confidence. Fahima, my muse, the spark that ignited this story and my first reader, how grateful I am for your support, every day! I am thankful for the legacy I've inherited, the creativity and traditions from the greats and grands in my own family, and hope to pay tribute to them through this story.\n\nA great big hug to my agent, Helen Heller, who took my draft and ran with it. Thank you for your confidence and guiding ideas through this process. A special thanks to my editor, Rachel Kahan, for taking this story on and never letting go! Your input and feedback has been invaluable and I am so glad to be with you. Much appreciation to the entire team at William Morrow for turning a draft into a real thing! No list of thanks would be complete without acknowledging the impact that teachers and coffee shops have on realizing dreams. My gratitude to Tahera Shairzay, who provided invaluable firsthand insight into the workings of the Afghan parliament and for her contribution to progress in Kabul. My appreciation to Louis and Nancy Dupree for their contributions to documenting Afghanistan's culture and history. Their works have been an invaluable resource.\n\nThis story is loosely based on historical figures in Afghanistan as well as contemporary citizens. It is a work of fiction and I have taken great liberties, but I have no doubt that more of it is factual than we would hope. A special acknowledgment to the daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, and teachers of Afghanistan, and to those individuals and groups who work so tirelessly to make that world a better place. To the daughters of Afghanistan, may the sun warm your faces as you forge your paths.\nAbout the Author\n\nNADIA HASHIMI's parents left Afghanistan in the 1970s, before the Soviet invasion. She was raised in the United States, and in 2002 she visited Afghanistan for the first time with her parents. Hashimi is a pediatrician and lives with her family in suburban Washington, D.C.\n\nVisit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.\nCredits\n\nCover design by Mumtaz Mustafa\n\nCover photograph \u00a9 by Masssoud Hossaini\nCopyright\n\nThis book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.\n\nTHE PEARL THAT BROKE ITS SHELL. Copyright \u00a9 2014 by Nadia Hashimi. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.\n\nFIRST EDITION\n\nISBN 9780062244758\n\nEPub Edition MAY 2014 ISBN 9780062244772\n\n14 15 16 17 18 OV\/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1\nAbout the Publisher\n\nAustralia\n\nHarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.\n\nLevel 13, 201 Elizabeth Street\n\nSydney, NSW 2000, Australia\n\n<http:\/\/www.harpercollins.com.au>\n\nCanada\n\nHarperCollins Canada\n\n2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor\n\nToronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada\n\n<http:\/\/www.harpercollins.ca>\n\nNew Zealand\n\nHarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited\n\nP.O. Box 1\n\nAuckland, New Zealand\n\n<http:\/\/www.harpercollins.co.nz>\n\nUnited Kingdom\n\nHarperCollins Publishers Ltd.\n\n77-85 Fulham Palace Road\n\nLondon, W6 8JB, UK\n\n<http:\/\/www.harpercollins.co.uk>\n\nUnited States\n\nHarperCollins Publishers Inc.\n\n10 East 53rd Street\n\nNew York, NY 10022\n\n<http:\/\/www.harpercollins.com>\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \nIMAGES  \n _of America_\n\nPARADISE VALLEY  \nARCHITECTURE\n\n**R ANCHO LUCERO, 1951**. This East Berneil Lane home, Starlight Ranch, was named after favorite quarter horse, \"Starlight.\" Mrs. McKnight, who designed the home, wanted an adobe residence with lush greenery and pleasant gardens. The house was intended to resemble a Mexican village, with a main house, a guesthouse, and a cottage. This photograph of the original owner Robert McKnight looks east toward Scottsdale, capturing the open, undeveloped desert. (Jamey and Linda Cohn.)\n\n**O N THE COVER:** The original structure was built from 1928 to 1930 and was known as Los Arcos but was later named Casa Hermosa, which means \"beautiful house.\" It was hand built by the local cowboy artist Alonzo \"Lon\" Megargee III. He studied architecture in Mexico and Spain, which led to this blended Pueblo and Spanish Colonial Revival\u2013style hacienda. In 1947, it became the Hermosa Inn, which served up to 17 guests. The inn closed after a fire in 1987, was renovated, and reopened in 1992. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\nIMAGES  \n _of America_\n\nPARADISE VALLEY  \nARCHITECTURE\n\nDouglas B. Sydnor\n\nCopyright \u00a9 2013 by Douglas B. Sydnor  \nISBN 978-0-7385-9659-4  \nEbook ISBN 9781439643433\n\nPublished by Arcadia Publishing  \nCharleston, South Carolina\n\nLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2012947150\n\nFor all general information, please contact Arcadia Publishing:  \nTelephone 843-853-2070  \nFax 843-853-0044  \nE-mail sales@arcadiapublishing.com  \nFor customer service and orders:  \nToll-Free 1-888-313-2665\n\nVisit us on the Internet at www.arcadiapublishing.com\n_To my fellow Arizona architects, who have delivered extraordinary architecture over the decades_.\n\n**P AUSON RESIDENCE, 1941**. Architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed this custom residence for two sisters, artists from San Francisco, California. It was located at 5859 North Thirty-first Street on what is now the Thirty-second Street alignment. This organically composed structure without air conditioning was constructed of desert masonry with natural stones cast into battered concrete walls. A fire in 1943 destroyed the home. (Janie Ellis.)\nCONTENTS\n\nTitle Page  \n---  \nCopyright Page  \nDedication  \nAcknowledgments  \nIntroduction  \n1.| Early Settlement: 1890\u20131930  \n2.| Town of Paradise Valley Incorporation and Facilities: 1949\u20132011  \n3.| Academic Pursuits: 1928\u20132008  \n4.| Desert Ranches, Resorts, Clubs, and Recreation: 1928\u20132000  \n5.| Religious Expressions: 1950\u20131990  \n6.| Domestic Enclaves: 1915\u20132012  \nBibliography\nACKNOWLEDGMENTS\n\nWe extend sincere thanks to various individuals and organizations that have provided many inspiring images and relevant facts for _Paradise Valley Architecture_ , including Dana Braccia of the Scottsdale Public Library System, Charles P. Brown, Donald J. Christensen, Jamey and Linda Cohn, Earl and Judy Eisenhower, Janie Ellis, Betsy Fahlman, Melissa Fought, Mike Gildersleeve, Barney J. Gonzales, and Dan Gruber. In addition, support came from Timothy Hursley, Ken and Norma Jones, Don Kaufman, Alison King, Neil Koppes, Jim and Molly Larkin, and Jason Drobish, Natalie Montenegrino, Beth Wickstrom, and Catherine Kauffman of the Town of Paradise Valley Historical Committee. Many thanks are also extended to Melissa Murray; Tina Litteral and Diana Smith, American Institute of Architects; Jerry Meek; Brian Ralphs; Arnold Roy, RA; Tom Silverman; Nicole Snyder; Mary Gayle Stewart; Flora M. Swanson; Dr. Mae Sue Talley; Bill Timmerman; Fred Unger; Gretchen Manker; Heidi Parmenter; Joann Tull; Agnese Udinotti; Pat VanVelser Heard; Flip Weber; and Judy Zuber.\n\nArchitects who provided invaluable professional photographs include Kenneth Allen, AIA; W. Brent Armstrong, AIA; William P. Bruder, FAIA; Brian Cassidy, AIA; Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA; John Douglas, FAIA; Lawrence Enyart, FAIA; Steven Holl, FAIA; Edward Jones, AIA; Neal Jones, AIA; Hugh Knoell, AIA; Mark Philp, AIA; Matt Sallinger, AIA; Edward B. Sawyer Jr., RA; Vernon Swaback, FAIA; and Mark Vinson, FAIA.\n\nJoan Fudala and JoAnn Handley of the Scottsdale Historical Society provided essential support to this effort, including editing and verifying facts. Deep appreciation goes to Joshua Carter, Nathanial Landreville, and my daughter Elizabeth for helping with production mechanics.\n\nIt was a true joy featuring the finest and most inspiring architecture of Paradise Valley as I have lived among it for over 50 years. There has been a rude awakening at the pace at which we are losing such fine work through demolition and insensitive renovations. This book reminds us, once again, how essential it is to create and preserve our archives, record such historically significant images, and expand our resources for future generations, so that they will appreciate our amazing, rich, and diversified architectural history.\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThose who know the town of Paradise Valley as one of the most affluent zip codes (85253) in the United States, and home to celebrities and captains of industry, find it difficult to make the mental jump back in time to when the Paradise Valley was an open desert landscape where cattle and sheep grazed during the early 1900s. Let us explore the natural forces, decisive moments, and mindset that created this desirable desert community with open space, magnificent vistas, and a quiet rural lifestyle in the middle of an urban metropolis.\n\nThe geology of the area is quite old, and includes a metamorphic type of granite rock called schist. The mountain ranges are relatively young, formed about 14 million years ago as the earth's crust was stretched in the northeast to southwest direction, elevating the mountains and lowering the basins between them. Paradise Valley is in the basin between Camelback Mountain to the south and Mummy Mountain to the north. It is therefore spatially defined by some of nature's most profound architecture\u2014mountains. Camelback Mountain continues to be quite dramatic, with a profile resembling a camel; the west end \"camel head\" has very sculptural forms, strong shadows, and a coloration that is ever-changing as the sun sets to the west.\n\nParadise Valley was originally a more remote location northeast of Phoenix, but Phoenix evolved into a large sprawling city, the sixth largest in the United States. East of the community is Scottsdale, a former farming community that now has a population of about 215,000. Scottsdale incorporated in 1951, or 10 years earlier than the Town of Paradise Valley. Phoenix and Scottsdale grew quickly with development and within close reach of Paradise Valley. With the threat of annexations and the risk of them bringing more government, more taxes, and not respecting the open desert environment, the residents debated incorporation starting in 1949; they were eventually successful in 1961. Incorporation enabled this new municipality to control its destiny, while addressing various infrastructure improvements.\n\nSince the 1940s, Paradise Valley has had a consistent commitment to respecting and maintaining the aesthetics of the lower Sonoran Desert and has evolved into a mostly private enclave within the Phoenix metropolitan area for the educated, wealthy, culturally savvy, and well-traveled.\n\n_Paradise Valley Architecture_ focuses on the primary building types found within the community. Within each type, a wide range of architectural characters are featured, from the revival styles as Spanish Colonial, Pueblo, Mission, and Tuscan to more contemporary approaches as Mid-century Ranch, Organic, International, and Post Modern. Along with the specific styles, building forms, structural expression, and materials are also described.\n\nThe architecture of Paradise Valley parallels and expresses the town's history, leadership, priorities, and a community-wide vision for a more quiet, relaxed, and desert-rural lifestyle.\n\n**C AMELBACK MOUNTAIN, C. 1940S**. The north side of Camelback Mountain is in the distance with Camelback Inn in the foreground. The view captures the open desert wilderness with minimal development throughout Paradise Valley. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n_One_\n\nEARLY SETTLEMENT:  \n1890\u20131930\n\nIn the early 1900s, cattle grazed the land that would later belong to the Town of Paradise Valley. Cattle were found east of Mummy Mountain and south to Camelback Mountain. In 1877, the US Congress passed the Desert Land Claim Act, which encouraged economic development of the arid and semiarid public lands of the western states, including the Paradise Valley area. This area was visited in the 1890s by Sam Symonds, Proper D. Parker, and Augustus C. Sheldon, three surveyors with the Rio Verde Canal Company. They were so impressed with the lush desert beauty that it was named \"the Paradise Valley.\" The company invited investors to build a canal system to irrigate the area for farming and ranches, but the canal was never completed, thus development was slow to occur.\n\nIn the 1920s, a few custom residences started to arrive, particularly in the eastern foothills of Camelback Mountain. Homes such as the 1924 Donald Kellogg residence and 1929 Estribo were followed by the 1930s Duncan MacDonald, Edward Jones, Mildred Pringle, and Henry Wick residences. Most all of them were of plastered adobe construction and wood-framed roofs, and were of a Mission, Pueblo, or Spanish Colonial Revival style.\n\nIn the 1930s, Duncan MacDonald envisioned a different dream than farming, one that was ahead of its time. \"Someday this area will be filled with beautiful homes,\" he told his children. He built a home at the northwest corner of Invergordon Road and McDonald Drive.\n\nSome early homes and schools were converted to guest lodges, including the 1930 Hermosa Lodge, 1934 El Chorro Lodge, and the 1940s Schildman Residence, which became the Desert Lodge. A series of desert guest ranches arrived in the 1940s along East Lincoln Drive and Invergordon Road. Ranch names captured the western ambiance: Diamond Lazy K, Sun 'N Sage, Casa Verde, Desert Lark, and Yellow Boot.\n\nEarly settlements in this area epitomized the relaxed rural western environment; during the coming decades, residents strived to retain this character.\n\n**A ERIAL, C. 1940S**. This view is looking north of Lincoln Drive and along Tatum Boulevard at the future site of the Paradise Valley Country Club and golf course. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**C AMELBACK MOUNTAIN**. In 1906, it was named \"Camelsback\" by the US Geological Survey. During the 1950s and 1960s, pressure was exerted to develop Camelback Mountain, including a proposed restaurant at the top of the camel's hump to be accessed by a cable car system. Community leadership rallied to purchase Camelback Mountain for $500,000, including over 1,300 individual donations, with the balance of about $233,000 allocated by the US government. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**C AMELBACK MOUNTAIN**. The north side of Camelback Mountain defines the southern edge of Paradise Valley. Development and custom residences arrived on the northern slopes. Homes had solid walls facing the more severe southern sun, while windows typically framed the distant valley views to the north. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**C AMELBACK MOUNTAIN**. The north and west sides express the geologic formation and sculptural forms, which make for a dramatic backdrop to Paradise Valley and Phoenix. The head of the mountain is Precambrian granite that is 15 billion years old, with four sedimentary rock layers from the past 25 million years. The mountain reveals the geologic history of the world, not unlike Arizona's own Grand Canyon. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**B ARRY GOLDWATER ON CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN**. Community leadership felt strongly that the upper slopes should be preserved. In November 1964, Preservation of Camelback Mountain Foundation was formed, and Barry Goldwater served as its first chairman. This followed his lengthy service as a US senator (since 1952) and an unsuccessful bid for president in 1964. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**M UMMY MOUNTAIN**. This is an aerial view of the south face and western section, which is just above the Paradise Valley Country Club golf course to the left. Note the single-family custom residences in the mountain's lower foothills. A reserve was formed in 1997 to preserve the mountain, and by 1999, four dozen properties were donated, totaling 187 acres for the reserve. Tax benefits contributed to the preservation of this scenic mountain landmark. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**M UMMY MOUNTAIN**. Judson School is in the foreground, with Mummy Mountain to the right. Earlier names for the 320-acre mountain were Windy Gulch and Horseshoe Mountain. Charlie Mieg, a longtime resident and landowner, felt such names did not have much marketing appeal. One day, while riding down the future Shea Boulevard alignment, he decided the mountain looked like an Egyptian mummy lying down, which accounts for its name. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**M ARJORIE THOMAS RANCH, C. 1909**. Marjorie Thomas, a well-known, Boston-trained artist whose paintings featured landscapes and animals, started her own art gallery at the east end of Mummy Mountain on Cheney Drive. Dr. Philip Schneider eventually purchased the area for his family home. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**F LOCK OF SHEEP**. This image captures the earlier agrarian lifestyle of the Paradise Valley and Scottsdale area. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**C ATTLE DRIVE**. Cattle drives along Scottsdale Road were commonplace in the early 1900s. They were driven annually from the north Scottsdale ranches, through downtown Scottsdale, and west to the cattle stockyards on Washington Street. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**M CDONALD DRIVE, 1951**. This view, looking west along McDonald Drive toward Camelback Mountain, conveys the quiet, rural quality of life at that time. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**C AMELBACK CEMETERY**. Hans and Mary Weaver owned a 160-acre homestead where cattle once grazed, and operated a sanatorium in town. Their daughter married Adolph Poenicke in 1915, and within three weeks, the 20-year-old Adolph died and was buried on the family property. In 1916, the Weavers deeded two acres of their property at 8300 East McDonald Drive as a cemetery. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C AMELBACK CEMETERY**. The cemetery became the final resting place for about 600 people, including many who died in the 1918 flu epidemic, Mexican-Catholics, military veterans, and members of prominent families such as Herberger, Kiser, and Powell. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C AMELBACK CEMETERY**. This carved granite headstone for Hans and Mary Weaver is located at their cemetery plot. (Author's collection.)\n_Two_\n\nTOWN OF PARADISE VALLEY  \nINCORPORATON AND  \nFACILITIES: 1949\u20132011\n\nAfter World War II, development became more active in what was then an unincorporated community in Maricopa County. Until that time, it was a rural area with a few scattered residences and an occasional commercial enterprise. The homes were smaller, but located on one to five acres. Phoenix and Scottsdale were considering annexations, including this valley, during the 1950s. Residents felt their rural lifestyle was under threat, fearing amplified commercial activity, denser zoning, and increased taxes. The Citizens Committee for the Incorporation of The Town of Paradise Valley, Arizona, circulated petitions to support incorporation beginning in 1949. This initiative was hotly debated. In April 1961, petitions were submitted to the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors and on May 24, 1961, incorporation was approved. At incorporation, the town was about 2.69 square miles and had a population of 1,200. The new 1964 Land Use Plan reflected restrictive zoning to limit commercial enterprise and blend it with the residential character. By 1969, the population was 6,460; Paradise Valley was the fasting growing city in the county.\n\nIn the 1980s, property annexations allowed the town to grow to 14 square miles and 11,000 residents. At this time, town leaders drafted the First General Plan, which reinforced their rural desert lifestyle. In 1972, the Hillside Protection Ordinance was enacted to discourage development on upper elevations while managing them on lower elevations, and in 1980, the Mummy Mountain Reserve was established to further preserve town land from development. In 1997, the Mummy Mountain Reserve Trust was created to maintain the natural landscape, wildlife, and aesthetics of the town hillsides.\n\nBy 2001, the town increased to 16.5 square miles with a population of 13,315. By this time, there were three water companies, four trash companies, and a fire service partnership with the City of Phoenix. The population appears to have peaked in 2000 at 13,664; by May 24, 2011, at the 50th anniversary, it dropped slightly to 12,280. At that time, there still remained two unincorporated Maricopa County islands within the town limits\u2014the Franciscan Renewal Center and the Clearwater Hills Subdivision.\n\n**I NCORPORATION MAP, C. 1961**. This map reflects the new boundaries of the Town of Paradise Valley. Henry Wick, the owner of Judson School, agreed to allow the 55-acre Mockingbird Lane property within the new town, which helped deliver the minimum land area required for incorporation. About this same time, citizens voted to name a few streets after birds, including Hummingbird Lane, Blue Bird Lane, Cactus Wren, and Mockingbird Lane. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**P ICNIC, C. 1960S**. This community-wide picnic was held in the vicinity of the Paradise Valley Racquet Club. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**T OWN MARSHALS**. This group photograph shows the early town marshals, who provided public safety. With fewer marshals in this smaller community, they invested in state-of-the-art communications and traffic controls as synchronization systems. In 1995, photographic radar was installed, a first in the United States. With follow-up data, it proved to lower the number of traffic accidents. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**R URAL METRO DEPARTMENT**. During the earlier decades, Rural Metro Department, a private company, provided fire service to the Town of Paradise Valley and county islands. In 1972, the town funded 13 new fire hydrants; along with others provided by developers, a more favorable fire insurance rating was received. In the late 1990s, the town developed a new fire service relationship with the City of Phoenix. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**E CHO CANYON PARK**. Echo Canyon Park is at the northwest side of Camelback Mountain and was defined by dramatic rock outcroppings. It has been used for picnics and as a staging area for hikers and rock climbers over the decades, as well as this c. 1910\u20131920 Ingleside Inn Resort Pow Wow. The park was officially formed by the Town of Paradise Valley in 1973. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**M OUNTAINTOP VIEW, 1974**. Town marshal Ronald W. Dalrymple and town manager Oscar A. Butt overlook the Town of Paradise Valley from Mummy Mountain. They were demonstrating how a camera could zoom in on potential intruders, thereby discouraging burglaries. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY TOWN HALL, 1973**. The first town council met in a guesthouse on Quail Run Road and then rented a building on Malcomb Drive. The town acquired the 6401 East Lincoln Drive property for a municipal campus, and on April 8, 1973, broke ground for the new town hall with Mayor Bob Tribken, other elected officials, dignitaries, and citizens at the ceremony. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY TOWN HALL, 1974**. Michael and Kemper Goodwin Architects of Tempe, Arizona, were hired to design the new town hall. Staff architect William P. Bruder worked on the design and later founded his own successful architectural practice. It was a 6,672-square-foot, tent-like structure with a clay tile roof, exposed rough-sawn lumber, and plastered walls. Reaction to the design included \"striking, but with subtle accents.\" The project was paid for by accumulated town funds. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**I NDIAN BEND WASH**. Northeastern Paradise Valley experienced periodic flooding. In 1949, the Berneil Ditch and Drainage Channel were constructed; later, in 1974, the ditch and channel were deepened and widened. In 1973, the town adopted the Flood Plain Regulations, which required the Indian Bend Wash be developed as a green belt, not unlike Scottsdale's flood control project. This model shows some of the Indian Bend Wash infrastructure improvements. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**T OWN OF PARADISE VALLEY MASTER PLAN, 1992**. To guide the future of the 12-acre municipal campus, a master plan was created. It showed the future police station, public services, town hall expansions, parking, vehicular and pedestrian circulation, and landscape. The architect was Jones Studio Inc. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**H ILLSIDE PROTECTION**. The desire to protect the hillsides was formalized in the 1972 Hillside Building Regulations and 2003 Hillside Guidelines. Such regulations attempted to manage building volumes, wall heights, and coloration. Protection continued in the early 1980s with 100 acres of Mummy Mountain properties donated. In addition, repairs were made to the existing hillside scars with a new applied treatment. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**B IL KEANE CARTOON, 1999**. Nationally recognized cartoonist and Paradise Valley resident Bil Keane provided this Mummy Mountain Reserve cartoon to encourage its preservation. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**D OUBLETREE RANCH ROAD MEDIAN**. 1972 brought a curvilinear roadway and landscaped median from Fifty-eighth to Sixty-second Streets, which slowed down vehicular traffic. In 1974, the first bicycle path from Scottsdale Road to Tatum Boulevard on this same street was constructed. Artist Lew Davis called his home, which was located on the current Cosanti property, Double Tree Ranch. This influenced the street name. (Author's collection.)\n\n**L INCOLN DRIVE MEDIAN**. The town completed the widening of Lincoln Drive from two to four lanes, with an integrated desert landscaped median, in 1977. Infrastructure improvement aesthetically transformed this main arterial street from Tatum Boulevard to Scottsdale Road. Lincoln Drive is named after John C. Lincoln, an industrialist from Cleveland, Ohio, who moved his family to the Phoenix area in the early 1930s. (Author's collection.)\n\n**T ATUM BOULEVARD CONSTRUCTION**. Tatum Boulevard construction is pictured south of Lincoln Drive looking toward Camelback Mountain during a street widening and median-improvement project. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**T ATUM BOULEVARD CURVE**. Tatum Boulevard (at about Mockingbird Lane) had a tightly curved section on a hillside that likely caused some serious accidents. The town reconstructed the street in 1990 with a more gradual curve and better sight lines. Tatum Boulevard is named after Russ F. Tatum, a real estate developer active in this area around the 1930s who unfortunately lost his properties during the Great Depression. (Author's collection.)\n\n**M OUNTAIN VIEW ESTATES**. This 1977 development was a major departure from the typical residential R-43 zoning with a 40-acre, single-family residential development that originally proposed 88 lots, but was legally reduced to 56. Exterior character reflected a horizontal profile, with some low-pitched roofs and shaded walls. John Rattenbury of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation was the architect; this project was one of their earliest ventures into mass-produced housing. (Authors' collection.)\n\n**P OLICE COURT**. In 1995, the town broke ground on a new Police Court building. The plastered masonry walls, steel shading devices, and entry canopies were compatible with the original Town Hall structure. The architect was DLR Group. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C HANNELIZATION OF INDIAN BEND WASH**. In December 1972, there were new federal flood plain regulations, which encouraged development of the Indian Bend Wash as a greenbelt. With such infrastructure improvements, residents became eligible for federal flood insurance, and channelization along its raised banks put properties outside a flood zone where they could become residential subdivisions. In 1983, a bridge was constructed at Doubletree Ranch Road to alleviate flooding. (Author's collection.)\n\n**V ETERANS' APPRECIATION VINTAGE CAR SHOW, 2009**. The Town of Paradise Valley mayor and council have been sponsoring the Veterans' Appreciation Vintage Car Show since 2004. It is an opportunity for residents to display and discuss their classic automobiles. The event also honors veterans and active-duty military. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**B ARRY GOLDWATER MEMORIAL**. The Barry Goldwater Memorial was constructed on 1.25 acres in 2004 at the northeast corner of Tatum Boulevard and Lincoln Drive. The memorial functions as a quiet park retreat with desert landscaping, low stone walls, seating, and interpretative markers. The landscape architect was Michael Dollin of Urban Earth Design LLC, who describes it as a \"scenic public place.\" (Author's collection.)\n\n**B ARRY GOLDWATER MEMORIAL**. The focal piece within the memorial is a cast bronze Barry Goldwater sculpture by Joe Beeler, a member of the Cowboy Artists of America. The sculpture is facing southwest (where Goldwater's original residence was located) and the dramatic western sunsets, which Senator Goldwater enjoyed. (Author's collection.)\n\n**F IRE STATION NO. 2, 2009**. Fire Station No. 2 is located at 6539 East Lincoln Drive, just east of the existing municipal campus. This 9,500-square-foot structure provides invaluable fire protection and life saving services. It is one story, with varied sculptural volumes, cantilevered shade canopies, and natural materials such as exposed masonry, metal roofing, and tinted glazing. Desert landscaping provides a pleasant and appropriate setting. The architect was LEA Architects LLC. (LEA Architects LLC.)\n\n**F IRE STATION NO. 2, 2009**. This exterior view shows the three vehicular bays with a stepped floor plan to mitigate the building's volume. In addition, glazed roll-up doors display the firefighting equipment to the street and public, and a continuous clerestory above admits daylight into the equipment area. (LEA Architects LLC.)\n\n**F IRE STATION NO. 1, 2010**. The replacement facility for the original 1974 Rural Metro Fire Station was constructed at 8444 North Tatum Boulevard. The 8,000-square-foot facility was constructed of exposed masonry walls, rusting steel pitched roofs, shade canopies, and tinted glazing. The angled roof profile is a metaphorical reference to the surrounding Phoenix Mountains. The architect was LEA Architects LLC. (LEA Architects LLC.)\n\n**U NIVERSAL SOLAR SHADOWGRAPH**. Jeff Zischke's 1992 sculpture has rusted plate steel components 15 feet high by 7.5 feet wide. The piece was commissioned by the Arizona Commission on the Arts, fabricated in Detroit, and first exhibited in Tempe. It was then on loan to the Town of Carefree followed by the Town of Paradise Valley, which purchased it in 2007. The town has a long heritage of supporting its community artists, specifically with the Town Art Jury, initiated in 1974. (Author's collection.)\n_Three_\n\nACADEMIC PURSUITS:  \n1928\u20132008\n\nThe roots of academic opportunity for Paradise Valley residents started in 1928 with the private college preparatory academy named Judson School. Since that time, a number of other private schools and two public schools have opened; most of them continue to function today.\n\nJudson School provided kindergarten through 12th grade on a 55-acre property at the east end of Mummy Mountain. The school graduated a host of well-known citizens over the years. Unfortunately, it closed in 1999 when the property was sold to Cachet Homes. Existing structures were demolished in 2000. The property was then redeveloped into a custom residential subdivision.\n\nDuring the 1950s, the Desert Art Gallery and School was offering classes by professional fine artist Lew E. Davis and his wife, sculptress Mathide Schaefer Davis. The school site was at the southeast corner of Invergordon Road and Lincoln Drive. This site eventually became the Town of Paradise Valley municipal campus in the early 1970s.\n\nScottsdale Unified School District constructed the first public school in Paradise Valley, the 1957 Kiva Elementary School. In 1974, the district constructed a second school, Cherokee Elementary School.\n\nIn 1960, Mae Sue and Franz Talley started the Talley Academy on Stanford Drive but soon encountered zoning and financial challenges. Such difficulties were overcome, and the school was renamed Phoenix Country Day School in 1961.\n\nParadise Valley Day School opened about 1960 at 6602 East Malcolm Drive. Kachina Country Day School then purchased the property in July 1983 and offered kindergarten through fourth grade classes.\n\nCamelback Desert School operated at 6050 North Invergordon Road from 1952 to 2009 and is now the private Montessori Academy that provides preschool and a charter kindergarten through middle school programs.\n\nTesseract School, a private school that is among other facilities in the Phoenix metropolitan area, was constructed at Tatum Boulevard and Doubletree Ranch Road in 1988. It serves kindergarten through fourth grade.\n\nBy the 2000s, there were 13 public and private schools in the town of Paradise Valley. Educational resources were also extended to numerous reputable preschools, managed by various religious organizations.\n\n**J UDSON SCHOOL, 1928**. This aerial view shows the original Judson School campus within the open desert and the cluster of one-story plastered adobe structures. They once stood on 55 acres of a remote desert site at North Mockingbird Lane, named after founder George A. Judson. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**J UDSON SCHOOL, 1928**. The academy served coed boarding and day students for kindergarten through 12th grade. The Wick family, and more recently Kent Wick, vice president, managed the school from 1945 until it closed in June 2000. The school was the oldest independent college preparatory school in Arizona. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**J UDSON SCHOOL**. Corrals and buildings are pictured at Judson School, which was located at the east end of Mummy Mountain. After the school closed in 2000, the land was developed as a residential community with high-end custom homes. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**J UDSON SCHOOL, C. 1963\u20131964**. This is a typical fourth grade classroom. (Beth Wickstrom.)\n\n**J UDSON SCHOOL WAGON**. Judson School often took field trips with its young students. In the early days, they could go across Paradise Valley and not see anyone because of the lack of development. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**D ESERT ART GALLERY AND SCHOOL, 1956**. During the 1950s at the southeast corner of Invergordon Road and Lincoln Drive, painter Lew E. Davis and his wife, sculptress Mathilde Schaefer Davis, taught beginning and advanced adult art classes. Susan Ferguson also taught children's art classes. The school hosted many multicultural events, including this open air Sunday school class for the newly formed Valley Presbyterian Church. The structure was eventually removed to allow for the construction of a new Paradise Valley Town Hall. (Flora M. Swanson, Valley Presbyterian Church.)\n\n**C AMELBACK DESERT SCHOOL**. This private preschool was started in 1950 by Marian Moore and Paula Nelson in Phoenix, and then in 1952 at 6050 North Invergordon Road. William Barton purchased the school in 1970 and expanded programs to include grades one through eight. The four-acre campus has evolved over the years with additional one-story structures, playgrounds, and various ball fields. Since 2009, the property has been owned by the Montessori Academy. (Author's collection.)\n\n**E ARTH HOUSE, 1992**. Paolo Soleri arrived at Taliesin West in 1953 and purchased five acres at 6433 East Doubletree Ranch Road in 1956. From 1956 to 1957, construction was underway on his Earth House, which experimented with casting concrete shells over sculpted earth. Later techniques included structures elevated with vertical columns and cooler microclimates based on an understanding of solar angles and natural winds. (Author's collection.)\n\n**K IVA ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, 1957**. Located at 6911 East McDonald Drive, Kiva Elementary School was the first public school built in Paradise Valley and operated by the Scottsdale Unified School District. It originally served kindergarten through eighth grade. Building components are prototypical in nature, arranged with long east-west classroom wings for better solar orientation, and connected by shaded breezeways. Glazing faces north for soft, diffused daylight in each classroom. The architect was David G. Haumerson. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**C HEROKEE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL**. Cherokee Elementary School is a public Scottsdale Unified School District Pre-kindergarten through fifth grade program located at 8801 North Fifty-sixth Street. Originally, it served kindergarten though eighth grade in the 1974 structures. Structures are exposed concrete wall panels with shaded arcades and a fascia of castellated steel beams. The architect was Michael and Kemper Goodwin. (Author's collection.)\n\n**T ALLEY ACADEMY, 1972**. Mae Sue and Franz Talley started a private school in 1960 at 3901 East Stanford Drive. Persevering over zoning restrictions and debts, the school survived to become the Phoenix Country Day School in 1961 and grew to a kindergarten though eighth grade school. Original structures were plastered, painted white with red clay tile roofs, and had steel-framed windows. The architect for the 1964 round Science Building was Gonzales and Ludlow. (Phoenix Country Day School.)\n\n**P HOENIX COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL, 1994**. Knoell & Quidort Architects has completed a series of additions to the 108,000-square-foot campus that grew to 40 acres. In the mid-1990s through 2008, most classrooms were replaced or renovated. Gunnar Birkerts, FAIA, of the Regional AIA Award Jury, praised the \"simple arrangement of stuccoed walls, colonnade and courtyard, and how, through minimal means, it created new public space for the school. This is a good example of regional architecture; it has a sense of dignity and sets a good precedent for the campus.\" (Knoell & Quidort Architects.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY DAY SCHOOL**. This private preschool through eighth grade school, located at 6602 East Malcomb Drive, was built on four acres around 1960 by Carl and Kacki Vinsel. The school eventually closed. Kachina Country Day School purchased the property in 1983, and the land expanded to seven acres. This school would grow from 180 students to 300, but the owners attempted to sell it in 2012. The classroom had good orientation, with north-facing windows that allowed daylight to enter. (Author's collection.)\n\n**T ESSERACT SCHOOL**. This nonprofit school was founded in 1988, and since 2001 had its lower school campus at 4800 East Doubletree Ranch Road for pre-kindergarten through fourth grade. It is a Post Modern design with a symmetrical front facade. (Author's collection.)\n_Four_\n\nDESERT RANCHES,  \nRESORTS, CLUBS, AND  \nRECREATION: 1928\u20132000\n\nAlthough the 1930s Great Depression hit local farmers and businesses severely, new guest ranches and resorts were attracting wealthy easterners to the Paradise Valley and Scottsdale area.\n\nIn 1936, Camelback Inn was jointly developed by Jack Stewart and John C. Lincoln on the southern slopes of Mummy Mountain. The Pueblo Revival architecture conveyed an inviting and relaxed desert environment for its guests.\n\nEl Chorro Lodge was a 1937 adaptation from the Judson School for Girls into a guest lodge and restaurant. This same year, the Squaw Peak Inn was built. In 1943, it became a guest ranch.\n\nAfter World War II, there was a new need for guest ranches, resorts, and tourist accommodations. Americans and foreigners had a desire for travel throughout the United States given the affordable and efficient trains, aircraft, vehicles, and improved highway system. Television and movie Westerns also added to the allure of this special place in the desert.\n\nParadise Valley started attracting visitors in the 1940s and 1950s to a series of desert guest ranches along Lincoln Drive and Invergordon Road. They included the Sun 'N Sage, Desert Lark Ranch, Flying T Ranch, and Desert Lodge. As more luxurious resorts were developed on many of these same properties, the original ranches were removed by the 1960s.\n\nThe 1950s were active with new clubs and resorts being built, such as the 1953 private Paradise Valley Country Club with an 18-hole golf course and large swimming pool. Paradise Valley Racquet Club on Camelback Mountain was built in 1957 and evolved into the 1969 John Gardiner's Tennis Ranch, and ultimately into The Sanctuary in 2001. Jim Paul developed Mountains Shadows Resort in 1958, which proved a popular destination for the next 45 years.\n\nIn 1956, _Life Magazine_ featured Paradise Valley and Scottsdale as a place for the rich and famous, contributing to its appeal and attracting more visitors and residents.\n\nThe 1960s brought the new Shangrila Resort, and in the 1970s, the 1971 Camelback Golf Club, 1975 Scottsdale Sheraton Resort, and the 1978 La Posada Resort. During this time, the town adopted the 1974 Regulations Governing Resorts and Hotels. Later, the 1980 Los Alamos Resort and 1984 Loew's Paradise Valley Resort were developed along Scottsdale Road.\n\nBy the 2000s, there were 12 resorts in the Town of Paradise Valley.\n\n**C ASA HERMOSA, 1941**. The original 1928\u20131930 Los Arcos sat on six acres at 5532 North Palo Christi Road and was later named Casa Hermosa. Local cowboy artist Alonzo \"Lon\" Megargee III built the home by hand. He was responsible for the design and construction of over half a dozen residences in Paradise Valley, Phoenix, and Sedona. This historic Spanish Colonial and Pueblo Revival styled hacienda with a one room studio became the Hermosa Inn in 1947. A fire in 1987 required its closure for several years. (Hermosa Inn.)\n\n**C ASA HERMOSA**. The interior of the original Casa Hermosa with Alonso \"Lon\" Megargee III is shown here. Walls were constructed of 42-inch-thick adobe with posts and beams of old railroad beds and bridges. Jennifer and Fred Unger bought the 6.5-acre property in 1992 and expanded the existing 17 guest rooms to 35 in 2003. Some rooms have beehive fireplaces and private patios. The original property offered a swimming pool, golf course, and horseback riding. (Hermosa Inn.)\n\n**A LONSO MEGARGEE III**. Born in 1883, Megargee came to Arizona from Philadelphia at 13 to be a cowpuncher. He toured with a wild west show, ranched in Cave Creek, and was also a poker dealer, artist, and builder. Governor Hunt commissioned Megargee to paint murals at the Arizona Capitol for $7,000. He became a prolific cowboy artist with paintings, wood-block prints, pulp magazine covers, beer advertising, and the Stetson company logo to his credit. He moved to Sedona in 1947, where he died in 1960. (Hermosa Inn.)\n\n**E L CHORRO LODGE, 1934**. The original structure sat on 11 acres at 5550 East Lincoln Drive and was home to the Bell family, later becoming the Judson School for Girls (built by John C. Lincoln), which closed after only two years. The Bells then sold to the Judsons, who in turn sold to Mark and Jan Gruber. The Grubers adapted the property into a guest ranch and restaurant in 1937, managing the lodge for 50 years. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**E L CHORRO LODGE, 1934**. Seen here is the original interior with exposed adobe brick walls, wood lintels, and local artisan features. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**E L CHORRO LODGE, 2010**. The 27,397-square-foot lodge was sold by Mark and Jan Gruber to Joe Miller and eventually to Jacque Dorrance. In 2010, it reopened after architect Candelaria Design Associates LLC designed a major remodel and expansion project. New fireplaces, solar panels, and bocce courts were provided, while saving two original _casitas_ that still stand on the front lawn. _El Chorro_ comes from Peruvian Spanish and means \"running stream.\" (Mark Boisclair Photography, Desert Star Construction.)\n\n**E L CHORRO LODGE, 2010**. The remodel was respectful of the earlier architecture, including the plastered walls, sculpted quality, and crafted detailing. The project achieved a Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) Gold Level Certification, which demonstrates that it is energy-efficient and environmentally conscious. (Mark Boisclair Photography, Desert Star Construction.)\n\n**C AMELBACK INN**. This aerial view shows a cactus-studded oasis of 125 acres for 200 guests. The 1936 seasonal resort was constructed at a time when there were no lights, telephone, or water on-site. It did feature 75 tiny casitas, a glass-enclosed swimming pool, horseback riding, and two tennis courts. The designer, Edward Loomis Bowes, settled in the area in 1920 for his wife's health. He was an engineer, furniture designer, and photographer who graduated from Washington University in St. Louis. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**C AMELBACK INN, 1936**. John C. Lincoln and Jack Stewart jointly invested to create a destination resort at 5402 East Lincoln Drive and started marketing to affluent travelers in the upper Midwest. The adobe architecture conveyed a southwestern Pueblo Revival character. A series of outdoor patios and courtyards and an inviting casual ambiance presented this desired character. The inn was annexed into the town in 1983. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**C AMELBACK INN, C. 1930S**. This view of Camelback Inn shows guests on horseback with Camelback Mountain as the backdrop. Other recreational activities included swimming, tennis, and desert picnics. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**J ACK STEWART**. The original manager of the Camelback Inn was Jack Stewart, pictured here on horseback, who was in a partnership with John C. Lincoln, president of Cleveland Electric Company. Stewart sold the venerable resort to J.W. Marriott in 1967. (Scottsdale Public Library.)\n\n**C AMELBACK INN**. Marriott expanded the property to 453 rooms and added a world-class spa in 1989. This image shows the additions that were completed later. The inn continued to use its original slogan: \"Where time stands still.\" (Verner Wulf, AIA, Phoenix Metro Chapter.)\n\n**K IAMI LODGE, 1937**. A 10-acre guest ranch was developed within a citrus grove on the west side of Scottsdale Road. The Indian style was reflected in the interior d\u00e9cor, furniture, artifacts, and fine art. Artist Charles Loloma painted murals and graphics there. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**C ASA BLANCA INN, 1944**. The 1924 Donald Kellogg residence at 5101 North Sixty-sixth Street was purchased in 1944 by George Borg of Borg Warner Company in Delavan, Wisconsin. In 1946, Borg opened the Casa Blanca Inn with 30 rooms for 80 guests, a private landing strip for small planes, stables, swimming pool, putting green, shuffleboard, and tennis. Eighteen additional rooms were added in 1948. Royal Treadway leased it from Borg in 1952 and bought it in 1961. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**H ORSE SHOW, C. 1945**. This image shows Larry Walton riding \"Colonel Wood\" at a horse show on the Tennessee Walking Horse Ranch, owned by Capt. Tom Hog, which later became Mountain Shadows East. Mummy Mountain is in the background. (Robert Markow, Beth Wickstrom.)\n\n**D IAMOND LAZY K RANCH**. In 1957, this five-acre resort was located at 7100 East Lincoln Drive and featured 26 bungalows managed by owner Karl Bailey Johnstone. The advertisement states: \"You are cordially invited to be a guest Sun-Aire at Diamond Lazy K . . . where moments make memories. Play badminton, shuffleboard court, putt your choice of two greens, swim, hike\u2014or just laze around in the knock-about togs. Do anything that pleases you, in warm sunshine mixed with exhilarating dry desert air.\" It was named Smoke Tree Resort in 1962. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C ASA VERDE GUEST LODGE**. The lodge at 6730 East McDonald Drive provided a swimming pool and sun-drenched patios, with a golf course and saddle horses nearby. Individual guesthouses included a kitchen and lodge, hosted by the Haydens. (Author's collection.)\n\n**F LYING 'T' RANCH**. The 1951 Ranch on East Lincoln Drive offered four _ranchitos_ and a swimming pool with an underwater observation window. The owner was Frank S. Tilyou; the ranch closed in the 1960s. (Author's collection.)\n\n**Y ELLOW BOOT RANCH, 1953**. This ranch was located five miles north of Scottsdale at 6726 East Doubletree Road. \"Picturesque Resort Apartments all with kitchenettes, surrounding a green oasis on the sunny desert in the heart of Paradise Valley. Quiet, away from traffic, yet only eight minutes from town. Beautiful unobstructed view, large heated pool, shuffleboard court, central lounge. A friendly place for friendly people to relax and can accommodate 30 guests.\" The resident owners were Bob and Louise Balch. (Bob Balch, Tom Silverman.)\n\n**D ESERT LODGE**. Jimmie and Mary Belle Schildman turned their own 1940s home at 6167 North Invergordon Drive into the Desert Lodge and offered guests the \"American or European Plan.\" A shuffleboard court, golf course, and heated pool were the amenities provided. In 1968, the property was purchased by the new Calvary Church of the Valley. (Associated Desert Lodges.)\n\n**K ERR CULTURAL CENTER**. Musician and philanthropist Louise Lincoln Kerr (right) hosted many events at her namesake Kerr Cultural Center. The center is located at 6110 North Scottsdale Road, where a 1943, one-story Spanish Colonial Revival\u2013style house stands. In 1959, a 210-seat studio addition was constructed; later, another addition was designed by architect Fred Fleenor. The center, now owned by Arizona State University, has served as an intimate venue for visual and performing artists over the years. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY COUNTRY CLUB, C. EARLY 1950S**. This aerial view of the 270-acre Paradise Valley Country Club shows the first phase of construction with the ranch-style homestead and the 1953 18-hole golf course designed by Lawrence Hughes. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY COUNTRY CLUB, 1953**. A second phase of construction was managed by architectural firms Edward L. Varney Associates, AIA, and Hiram Hudson Benedict. Designer Dean Rendahl of Varney's office was also responsible for the Phoenix Country Club and Moon Valley Country Club of this same era. The rendering was by architect Hiram Hudson Benedict. (Paradise Valley Country Club.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY COUNTRY CLUB, 1953**. Located at 7101 North Tatum Boulevard, this private club was initiated by investors and community leaders. The main two-story structure was constructed of natural stone, concrete block with vertical precast concrete inserts, tall glazing, and cantilevered overhangs faced with a decorative, precast concrete panel. The property was annexed into the town in 1984. (Edward L. Varney Associates, AIA.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY COUNTRY CLUB, 2004**. In 2002, the original structure was demolished to construct a new, eclectic country club for its membership designed by Swaback Partners, PLLC. Major reconstruction involved two phases of construction, completed in 2003 and 2004. (Swaback Partners, PLLC.)\n\n**S HANGRILA RESORT, C. 1960S**. This resort was quaint and small-scale, with one-story structures focused on a swimming pool and desert landscaping. It was removed later for a new, large residence. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY RACQUET CLUB, 1957**. This 53-acre development at 5600 East McDonald Drive was comprised of a clubhouse, studio cottages surrounding the clubhouse, five tennis courts, dining room, cocktail lounge, dance floor, recreation room, and a swimming pool. Hollywood investors included John Ireland, Joanne Dru, and Sydney Chaplin, Charlie Chaplin's son. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY RACQUET CLUB, C. LATE 1950S**. The design was similar to the Racquet Club of Palm Springs. Natural materials included exposed concrete block, horizontal plank siding, and recessed window glazing. The architect was Hiram Hudson Benedict, who was also active in Scottsdale and Cave Creek, Arizona, and San Diego, California, during the 1950s and 1960s. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY RACQUET CLUB**. The club served as a backdrop for this model photograph session. Note the natural stone wall details and horizontal wood plank siding above. (Associated Desert Lodges.)\n\n**J OHN GARDINER'S TENNIS RANCH, 1969**. The original Paradise Valley Racquet Club became the John Gardiner's Tennis Ranch in 1969. Investors Vic Jackson and Les Heitel constructed 41 hillside rental casitas designed by the architectural firm Benedict and Caviness. The ranch hosted many celebrity tennis tournaments and attracted tennis professionals like Pancho Seguero, Ken Rosewall, and Pancho Gonzalez. The ranch was most active from 1969 to 1992 and closed in 2000. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n\n**S ANCTUARY ON CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN, 2001**. The original John Gardiner's Tennis Ranch was renamed The Ranch on Camelback Mountain and then the Sanctuary on Camelback Mountain. The 53-acre sanctuary was redesigned and master-planned with 82 remodeled casitas, 12 home sites, a negative-edge swimming pool, spa, fitness center, and the Elements Restaurant, with its entry shown here. The architect was Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n\n**S ANCTUARY ON CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN, 2001**. Twenty-four new spa villas spill down the hillside, accessed by pleasant pedestrian walkways, and framing dramatic views of Paradise Valley beyond. The original tennis courts were used to develop these suites and the spa, fitness center, and pools. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n\n**S ANCTUARY ON CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN, 2001**. The Elements Restaurant interior saved the original glazing and exposed wood ceiling and maintained the Camelback Mountain \"Praying Monk\" and sunset views to the west. Restaurant interior designer Judith Testani worked with architect Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n\n**S ANCTUARY ON CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN, 2001**. The spa suite interior has a character that is intimate, refreshing, romantic, and contemporary, with bold accent colors and textures. This design approach helped reposition the iconic tennis resort into a spa and fitness-based experience. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n\n**M OUNTAIN SHADOWS RESORT, 1959**. Located at 5641 East Lincoln Drive, this 55-acre resort development was created by developer Jim Paul. The year-round resort was defined by 100 guest rooms initially and was surrounded by an executive 18-hole golf course designed by Arthur Jack Snyder. The architecture captured the post\u2013World War II era with sweeping guest wings, full-height glazing, and a large courtyard with an expansive swimming pool, green turf, and palm trees. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**M OUNTAIN SHADOWS RESORT, 1959**. Jim Paul sold 50 percent of the resort to Del Webb Corporation in 1961 and the remaining half in 1964. Surrounding the resort were 59 lots in two single-family subdivisions. The resort was purchased by Host Marriott Corporation in July 1981 and closed in 2004. The popular resort had a relaxed and sophisticated ambiance. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**M OUNTAIN SHADOWS RESORT, 1959**. Marriott expanded the property to 337 guest rooms and added dining options, eight lighted tennis courts, three swimming pools, a sand volleyball court, a fitness center, and meeting space for 10 to 1,000 people. The resort site was eventually annexed into the Town of Paradise Valley in 1992. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**S COTTSDALE SHERATON RESORT, 1975**. Spanish Colonial Revival-style resort at 7200 North Scottsdale Road was later renamed Scottsdale Plaza Resort. The architecture includes textured plaster walls, arched openings, broken rooflines, clay tile roofs, small-paned windows, and an oasis-like landscape. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**R ENAISSANCE COTTONWOODS RESORT, 1980**. At 6160 North Scottsdale Road, a resort opened originally as the Alamos Resort Hotel that included 223 hotel rooms and suites, 24 cabana casitas, 34 luxury villas, a spa, restaurant, and grand ballroom. Structures were made of plastered walls and had flat-arched features and stepped forms to reduce the scale. The architect was Bennie Gonzales Associates. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**L OEW'S PARADISE VALLEY RESORT, 1984**. The resort at 5401 North Scottsdale Road later became a Wyndham and Hilton Doubletree. Buildings exploit custom-formed masonry units that provide deep shadow patterns, thereby self-shading and cooling the walls in this hot climate. Shaded arcades knit together the building components and courtyards. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C AMELBACK GOLF CLUB, 2000**. The golf course at 7800 North Mockingbird Lane was initially developed for Camelback Inn guests on a 200-acre parcel. The Padre Course, with 18 holes, was designed by Red Lawrence initially, redesigned by Arthur Hills, and renamed the Resort Course. In 2007, it reverted back to its original Padre name. The original 1969 golf club structure was demolished and a new clubhouse was built in 2000. The Pueblo Revival style uses plastered walls and smaller window openings. (Author's collection.)\n\n**M ONTELUCIA RESORT AND SPA, 2010**. The former 1978 La Posada, Red Lion, and Doubletree Resort property received a major, 285,000-square-foot expansion and redevelopment that provided 293 hotel rooms, 34 luxury residences, a spa, a renovated wedding chapel, and four swimming pools. The overall plan respected the original dry washes and celebrated the character of a Spanish Andalusian village with plastered walls, accent colors, detailed iron grills, shaded arcades, and a series of courtyards. The architect was Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors. (Allen + Philp Architects\/Interiors.)\n_Five_\n\nRELIGIOUS EXPRESSIONS:  \n1950\u20131990\n\nAs the Paradise Valley area population grew in the 1950s and 1960s, a desire for religious facilities also grew. A number of congregations were founded years earlier outside the current town boundaries. They would rent movie studios, Quonset huts, credit union basements, resorts, and galleries. Some had difficulties finding space to rent given their beliefs and felt the need to construct new facilities. During this time, some larger land parcels were gifted or acquired by the different organizations, given that they were relatively affordable and could accommodate the growing congregations.\n\nWithout exception, each of the congregations found very creative architects to implement their respective visions. Barney \"Bennie\" Gonzales, FAIA, was most prolific with having been responsible for the design of the 1961 Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, 1966 Har Zion on the Desert, 1966 Scottsdale Bible Church, and 1967 Christ Church of the Ascension. Other talented architects included T.S. Montgomery for the 1961 Episcopal Parish Saint Barnabas on the Desert, who was also responsible for many other local church designs. Blaine Drake, a successful disciple of Frank Lloyd Wright, designed the 1961 First Unitarian Universalist Church of Phoenix and numerous other churches in the area. Harold Wagoner, a Philadelphia architect, designed the 1958 Valley United Presbyterian Church and was also responsible for over 500 church designs nationally.\n\nThe vast majority of such religious campuses in Paradise Valley have grown with additional programs, services, and structures over the past 50 years. The Town of Paradise Valley adopted in November 1976 a special use category for memorial gardens on religious properties.\n\nEach religious structure and outdoor space strived to express its congregation's beliefs and visions in a meaningful way. The interior lighting, finishes, furnishings, artifacts, and stained glass panels have provided contemplative retreats and inspiration over the years.\n\nBy the 2000s, the Town of Paradise Valley had 14 churches and houses of worship.\n\n**F RANCISCAN RENEWAL CENTER**. A former Echo and Kachina Lodge guest ranch was built on 20 acres that could accommodate 70 guests at 5802 East Lincoln Drive. The lodge was purchased by John B. Mills, operator of the Hotel Westward Ho, and G.C. Callerman, a Chicago food broker. They sold the lodge in 1951 to the Franciscans of St. Barbara Province, who adapted it to the Franciscan Renewal Center or Casa de Paz y Bien, which means House of Peace and Good. Friar Owen De Silva envisioned the center to be a place with spiritual appeal, where people would \"come apart into a desert place.\" (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**F RANCISCAN RENEWAL CENTER, 1952**. The main building was remodeled into the Retreat Center, and the first retreat was held January 14, 1952. A new chapel broke ground soon thereafter on June 19, 1954. In 1955, approximately five acres were acquired just west of the main property. The original 20 acres continues to be a Maricopa County island within the town. (Franciscan Renewal Center.)\n\n**F RANCISCAN RENEWAL CENTER**. This is the view north of Lincoln Drive after the Franciscan Renewal Center sign was erected on Lincoln Drive in the 1950s. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**S AINT CLARE CHAPEL, 2004**. Located at 5808 East Lincoln Drive, a chapel dedicated to Saint Clare (whose name means light) was added to the Franciscan Renewal Center. The chapel was designed for quiet meditation and expressed Franciscan ideas of connection and mystery. The architect was Colab Studio LLC. (Timmerman Photography Inc., Colab Studio LLC.)\n\n**S AINT CLARE CHAPEL, 2004**. Art and architecture utilize Arizona's abundant sunlight. Existing stained-glass panels were reused atop the outer wall as colored and patterned shadow makers. A plaster relief of St. Clare adorns the entrance to the 250-square-foot chapel. The interior is clad in solid walnut with seats carved into the walls to strengthen one's connection to the space. (Timmerman Photography Inc., Colab Studio LLC.)\n\n**V ALLEY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, 1958**. This church was established March 18, 1956, with 70 charter members and first met in the Desert Art Gallery and School. The church purchased five acres, followed by an additional five acres. Within two years it had 700 members and architect Harold E. Wagoner of Philadelphia proposed this design. In 1958, the new education spaces, office buildings, and Landes Hall (on the right) were built at 6947 East McDonald Drive. (Petley Studios, Flora M. Swanson, Valley Presbyterian Church.)\n\n**V ALLEY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, 1976**. The congregation worshipped in Landes Hall until 1966, when the 800-seat sanctuary was built. This view shows the sanctuary beyond and the \"connecting link\" under construction in 1976. The sanctuary was constructed of massive cast-in-place concrete beams for the roof structure and tall bearing walls of stone from the Prescott area. (Flora M. Swanson, Valley Presbyterian Church.)\n\n**V ALLEY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, 1983**. A round chapel with radiating concrete beams and upper stained glass panels by space artist Robert McCall was then constructed and completed in 1983. The structure was staged for a future steeple, which was built a few years later. (Flora M. Swanson, Valley Presbyterian Church.)\n\n**F IRST UNITARIAN UNIVERSALIST CHURCH OF PHOENIX, 1961**. This church was founded in 1947, with lines to the 1620 Pilgrim Church founded in Plymouth. Here, construction is well underway with curved and exposed slump block walls. Cantilevered from the walls are thin-profiled shade canopies at the entry and upper windows. The smaller windows will admit dappled light to the interior, while minimizing the heat from this severe exposure. (Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix.)\n\n**F IRST UNITARIAN UNIVERSALIST CHURCH OF PHOENIX, 1961**. In the late 1950s, this congregation acquired a nine-acre parcel at 4027 East Lincoln Drive for a new campus. They intended to commission Frank Lloyd Wright, but he passed away in 1959. Architect Blaine Drake, a disciple of Wright, was then approached and provided the project. An approximately 19,000-square-foot structure was built and included an elliptical sanctuary and a curved classroom wing focused on an outdoor courtyard. (Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix.)\n\n**B IRMINGHAM STATUARY, 2003**. This statuary is located at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix campus. The 1963 bronze sculpture plaque reads: \"That Which Might Have Been. Birmingham 1963. Symbolizing the unfulfilled maturity of the four girls killed in the church bombing in Birmingham, Alabama, September 15, 1963. Dedicated to the understanding of the beauty of individual difference. John Henry Waddell.\" This particular event marked a turning point in the 1960s Civil Rights movement and contributed to support and passage of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. (Author's collection.)\n\n**T HE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF SAINT BARNABAS ON THE DESERT, 1961**. This parish started in 1953 and met at a downtown Scottsdale Quonset hut. The church was built at 6715 North Mockingbird Lane and was designed by architect T.S. Montgomery. The exterior walls were a mortar-washed slump block and pitched roof forms. A shaded arcade connected multiple buildings on this campus. The overall scale of its various components and between the buildings is elegant and well proportioned. Fowler and Anne McCormick and Anne's son Guy Stillman were early patrons and congregation members. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**T HE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF SAINT BARNABAS ON THE DESERT, 2003**. This interior view of the renovated main sanctuary reflects sensitivity for the original ambiance despite integrating a new organ. Original indirect light sources have been maintained and continue to provide a visual depth to the contemplative space. The original interior was outfitted by artists Allen Ditson and Lee Porzio. The renovation architect was Knoell & Quidort Architects. (Dino Tonn Photography, Knoell & Quidort Architects.)\n\n**T HE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF SAINT BARNABAS ON THE DESERT, 2003**. An addition included a new music hall, library, offices, and coffee shop designed by Knoell & Quidort Architects. The addition is a contemporary interpretation of the original off-white plaster walls, while introducing natural daylight from above and into the interior spaces. (Richard Maack, Knoell & Quidort Architects.)\n\n**G LORIA DEI LUTHERAN CHURCH, 1961**. This church, located at 3539 East Stanford Drive, is constructed of slump block walls that are given a painted mortar wash. This technique creates a rubble texture that plays well in the intense southwestern light, self-shades the wall surface, and minimizes the heat gain during the hotter summer months. Bennie M. Gonzales, FAIA, was the architect. (B.J. Gonzales.)\n\n**G LORIA DEI LUTHERAN CHURCH, 1961**. The exterior window openings were created with wood-frame formwork when laying the surrounding block. The formwork was then removed, and custom stained glass panels inserted. The church provides Bible study and classes. (B.J. Gonzales.)\n\n**A SCENSION LUTHERAN CHURCH, 1963**. This church was founded in 1951, rented space initially, and then built its first church in downtown Scottsdale in 1952. Membership grew, and they purchased 10 acres at 7100 North Mockingbird Lane. The church continues to be open to community activities and as a polling place. Taliesin Associated Architects designed the church, with William Wesley Peters as the architect of record. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**A SCENSION LUTHERAN CHURCH, 1966**. The pentagon was considered a perfect geometric figure by Frank Lloyd Wright, reflecting the perfection of God. This theme is carried out in the worship center lights, altar rail, and baptismal font. The cross above the altar directs attention to the pentagon-shaped glass window above. (Ascension Lutheran Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH**. The charter Sunday was December 18, 1960, with 83 members meeting at the Cudia City Motion Picture Studio and later at the Unitarian Church and Paradise Inn. A new church was planned at 4455 East Lincoln Drive on a 15-acre site. Architect Ralph Haver, FAIA, is shown here at center with church representatives, reviewing plans for the new church with Camelback Mountain in the background. Haver Nunn and Jensen was the architect. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH**. An original rendering from an aerial view captures the proposed Paradise Valley United Methodist Church. The first phase shows the chapel and cluster of three office and classroom buildings defining a courtyard. A future phase included the sanctuary to the left. \"The church as cultural center\" was a priority for the congregation. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH, 1964**. Access to this church was from an elegant pedestrian bridge that spanned a dry wash, which would flow periodically when it rained. The bridge is steel-framed and painted with a concrete deck. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH, 1982**. A taller 1964 chapel with battered brick walls anchors itself to the wash banks and the courtyard. The leaded stained glass altar window was designed by Jim Salter and fabricated by the Glassart Studio of Scottsdale. One-story structures have low pitched roofs of wood shakes, cantilevered edges, recessed brick walls, and protected glazing. (Author's collection.)\n\n**S COTTSDALE BIBLE CHURCH, 1966**. This Church moved and its building was purchased in 1979 to become Temple Solel, a Reform Synagogue, after that congregation initially met at Camelback United Presbyterian Church. The synagogue is located at 6805 East McDonald Drive and sponsors several events during the year along with adult education classes. The architecture is very expressionistic, with the large arched window and sweeping roof line. Bennie Gonzales, FAIA, was the architect. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**H AR ZION ON THE DESERT, 1966**. The full-service conservative synagogue of the United Synagogues of America was at 5929 East Lincoln Drive and offered kindergarten through second grades and a Hebrew School for third through eighth grades. The architecture was a series of interlocking curved walls with a floating shake roof canopy above. The image is of the architect Bennie Gonzales, FAIA, with his client. The structure was demolished and a custom home was constructed on the site. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**T HE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF CHRIST CHURCH OF THE ASCENSION, 1967**. The congregation initially met at a film studio, Phoenix Country Day School, and a First Federal Savings and Loan. The 4015 East Lincoln Drive campus is 8.25 acres, provided with a warranty deed by Margaret \"Peggy\" Goldwater Trust, half of which was a gift from the Goldwater family. The first phase parish hall, temporary worship area, office, and classrooms, designed by architect Bennie Gonzales, FAIA, are pictured under construction. (Robert T. Marvin, Christ Church of the Ascension.)\n\n**T HE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF CHRIST CHURCH OF THE ASCENSION, 1975**. The main church was built in 1975, and a school for pre-kindergarten through first grade was built in 2003. The character of the main sanctuary was respectful of the earlier parish hall, using similar masses, pitched roofs, mortar-washed slump block walls, and white color. (Christ Church of the Ascension.)\n\n**F IRST SOUTHERN BAPTIST CHURCH**. The original site was the 1924 Kiami Lodge, and until the mid-1980s, one adobe building still remained. The lodge swimming pool still remains under the existing volleyball court. The church acquired the property in 1968, followed by two construction phases in 1972 and 1980, both designed by architect William A. Lockard. The final phase was the 1989 sanctuary by architect Norman Bryar and Associates Inc. and provided a pitched roof with cantilevered edges and recessed masonry walls. Lower structures are flat-roofed with wood shake mansards. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C ALVARY CHURCH OF THE VALLEY**. At 6107 North Invergordon Road, the original c. 1940s Desert Lodge became the 1968 church that offered youth activities, Bible studies, local outreach, and overseas and local missions. Structures reflect the use of bearing plastered block walls and piers that support a wood-frame trellis. Occupied spaces are deeply recessed under the roof, thereby cooling them during hotter times of the year. (Author's collection.)\n\n**A LL CHRISTIAN FAITHS, 1969**. The church at 4222 East Lincoln Drive was constructed in phases, starting with the north component and shaded arcades. They defined an exterior courtyard and then accepted the main sanctuary expansion. Exterior walls are a burnt adobe, with roof framing of heavy wood members, and stained glass work by Maureen McGuire. The first church had financial challenges and was sold to its current owners, Friends Bible Church. The architects were Dellisanti and McGrath. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C AMELBACK UNITED PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, 1983**. The church at 3535 East Lincoln Drive was founded with 216 members and has grown to 300. They have shared the facilities with other religious organizations, including the Sunrise United Presbyterian Church. In 1987, the name changed to the Palo Christi Presbyterian Church. The architecture utilizes a pair of pavilions with perimeter-shaded walkways capped with large pitched roofs of wood shakes. It provides flexibility when accessing the interior spaces, making it conducive to sharing the buildings with others. The architect was Harry Youngkin, AIA. (Author's collection.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH SANCTUARY, 1982**. The original architect's model shows a 500-seat sanctuary addition to an existing campus and how it provided a new identity to the community. Knowing that the architect took an extensive tour of Finnish architect Alvar Aalto's work at this time, some overtures to Aalto's work are unmistakable, such as the use of brick, sweeping roof form, bell tower, horizontal shaded arcade, and the spatial dynamic of rotating the interior seating within the building shell. George Christensen and Associates was the architect. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH SANCTUARY, 1983**. The view from the original pedestrian bridge to the new sanctuary addition shows an outdoor stepped amphitheater that connects the new upper plaza to the existing dry wash below. Christensen, Roberts & Jones Inc. was the architect. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**P ARADISE VALLEY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH SANCTUARY, 1983**. Exterior brick is carried into the interior of the sanctuary. Note how the lighter colors psychologically open up the volume. The clerestory above admits and reflects daylight, while focusing attention on the future stained glass art piece by Maureen McGuire. (Paradise Valley United Methodist Church.)\n\n**C AMELBACK BIBLE CHURCH**. This independent, evangelical church organized in 1962 and purchased 10 acres for a new church at 3900 East Stanford Drive. The 1,000-seat 1988 sanctuary design reflects a more contemporary interpretation, with the use of plastered block walls, green-patina copper roof and fascia, and horizontal corner windows. The architect was TMP and Associates with Maurice Allen of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. (Author's collection.)\n_Six_\n\nDOMESTIC ENCLAVES:  \n1915\u20132012\n\nStarting in the 1920s, cowboy artist Alonso \"Lon\" Megargee III designed adobe homes in Paradise Valley, such as the 1926 Casa Del Sol and the 1930 Casa Hermosa. Both are a creative blend of Pueblo and Spanish Colonial Revival styles.\n\nMany adobe structures of the 1930s and 1940s were built by several Mexican families, such as the Tomas Corrals, who came here from Mexico to work as farm hands, given the demand for cotton after 1914. In 1932, the Mexican Bernals family supervised the Edward Jones house construction on Casa Blanca Drive, with help from Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community workers.\n\nThe post\u2013World War II era brought about expansive growth with an aesthetic preference for a Ranch style character, which used low-pitched outreaching roofs, exposed concrete masonry units, and board and batten walls and tall glazing to capture views.\n\nThe 1970s were an active time for various new Paradise Valley ordinances impacting residential projects, including the 1972 Hillside Ordinance that enforced an unbroken mountain profile and a natural appearance. In June 1975, outdoor lighting restrictions limited lighting heights and shielded lights, helping to preserve nighttime views.\n\nDuring the early 1980s, new large homes started displaying an encyclopedic diversity of architectural character that was beginning to threaten the quiet desert ambiance, which had been the goal of earlier decades. \"These houses are a kind of cartoon to everyone with any knowledge of how people live with the desert and take care of their environment,\" said architect Calvin C. Straub, FAIA, in 1983. Architect Paul C. Yaeger stated at the same time, \"these houses are totally out of place. They reflect none of the ruggedness of the mountains or the simplicity and smoothness of the desert.\" Despite such justified criticisms, many local, nationally recognized, and talented architects have created inspiring residential designs in Paradise Valley over time.\n\nA new, single-family subdivision was developed at the southwest corner of Invergordon and Lincoln Drive. It proposed building a wall at the subdivision perimeter, a new concept that was much debated in the community. This guarded and gated community established a new pattern of residential development and compromised the earlier open spaces found between homes. In March 2003, Paradise Valley's General Plan noted that \"gated communities [would] be discouraged.\" By the 2000s, there were 24 gated communities and 50 organized home owners' associations.\n\n**F ARM RESIDENCE**. A 1915 one-story adobe structure sits among a citrus farm on North Sixty-eighth Street, now within the Arcadia Square no. 2 subdivision. The Pueblo Revival\u2013style, 1,818-square-foot home incorporates three patios, a two-car garage, and an L-shaped exterior stair for access to the roof. Details include arched openings with French doors, high-beamed ceilings, original decorative iron light fixtures, and curtain hardware. (Author's collection.)\n\n**D ONALD KELLOGG RESIDENCE, 1924**. Robert T. \"Bob\" Evans was the original architect of the residence at 5101 North Sixty-sixth Street. The large home was of plastered adobe construction in the Pueblo Revival style. A series of outdoor patios and courtyards were integrated; it was an effective experiment in how to live in the lower Sonoran Desert. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**L A CASITA DE MARIA**. On North Camino del Contento, three c. 1925 structures totaling 3,850 square feet were built around a courtyard. The one-story, Pueblo Revival\u2013style structures were originally part of a guest ranch. There remains a palm shrine and two Madonna bas-reliefs as testament to the spiritual character of the original builders. The buildings later underwent an award-winning restoration and became a single-family residence. (John Douglas Architects.)\n\n**F RIEDER RESIDENCE, 1991**. La Casita de Maria's courtyard became part of the living space, while mature landscaping, the well house, and a fountain were restored. A new swimming pool was carefully inserted into an existing prickly pear cactus thicket. Floors were integrally dyed red concrete, ceilings were of clear fir with raw pine pole beams, and exterior stucco was dyed brown. The architect was John Douglas, FAIA, and the landscape architect was Christy Ten Eyck, FASLA. (John Douglas Architects.)\n\n**A DOBE RESIDENCE, 1969**. This c. 1928\u20131930 residence is located on East McDonald Drive. Its 3.2 acres included a main residence, three guest casitas, a common kitchen, a coachman's house, one-car garage, breezeways, an outdoor room, and an observatory for stargazing. A cluster of structures defined an expansive courtyard with sundried bricks, wall vines, and shade trees. One-story structures reflect the Pueblo Revival style with plastered walls, small-paned windows, and wood vigas. The architect was Robert T. \"Bob\" Evans. (Bruce Berquist.)\n\n**P OWERS RESIDENCE, 1991**. This adobe residence underwent an award-winning building restoration and courtyard upgrades by architect John Douglas, FAIA, and landscape architect Christy Ten Eyck, FASLA. Structures were stabilized and repaired, and had their original color brought back. The original courtyard was completely reworked for better drainage, the swimming pool was upgraded, some trees were removed to enable entertaining, and it continued to capture the east-west breezes. The design reflects a \"real yearning to live with the desert,\" as stated by the owner and architect. (John Douglas Architects.)\n\n**C ASA DEL SOL**. Cowboy artist Alonzo \"Lon\" Megargee III designed and constructed a 3,500-square-foot adobe Spanish Colonial and Pueblo Revival\u2013style home on 15 acres in 1926 for his wife, Mildred. The one-story home, with a partial second-level artist studio and outdoor courtyard, was upgraded later by new owners Benner\/Maas, founding principals of the Scottsdale-based interior design firm. (Pat VanVelser Heard.)\n\n**C ASA DEL SOL, 1926**. The living room has a whimsical, cone-shaped fireplace topped with a Santa Claus that defined and animated the tall space. The room had an exposed wood-frame ceiling and roof structure above. (Betsy Fahlman, Pat VanVelser Heard.)\n\n**P RINGLE RESIDENCE**. Sisters Mildred and Bertha Pringle lived in this 1930s one- and two-story adobe residence on a large parcel at North Casa Blanca Drive. It was later sold to the Firestone family. It is rumored that they managed an unlicensed tuberculosis health camp at the home. The Pueblo Revival style incorporates smaller window openings and light-colored plaster walls. (Author's collection.)\n\n**D UNCAN MACDONALD**. Originally from Invergordon, Scotland, Duncan MacDonald was proud of his Scottish heritage. He worked as a skilled plasterer whose creations adorned public buildings of his time. Projects included the Palace West Theater and the Security Building in Phoenix. McDonald Drive was named after Duncan MacDonald, but the spelling of his name was changed in the process, and it was never corrected on the maps. (Scottsdale Historic Society.)\n\n**M ACDONALD RESIDENCE, C. 1930S**. This is an aerial view of a large adobe home at 6330 East McDonald Drive. Duncan MacDonald designed and constructed this adobe residence in a Spanish Colonial and Pueblo Revival style. (Earl Eisenhower, Elsa J. Rector.)\n\n**M ACDONALD RESIDENCE, C. 1930S**. It is said that the floor plan was dictated by the desired interior furniture arrangement. The home was sold to John C. Lincoln, an Ohio industrialist who brought his family to this area in the early 1930s. The Lincoln family lived in the home for many years. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**E DWARD JONES RESIDENCE, 1933**. Ken Jones and his older brother are pictured with the adobe residence under construction. Adobe bricks were made of straw and soil sun-dried just east of the home. Once the walls were completed, they would be untouched for about one year, so they could structurally settle. They were then fully plastered and painted to discourage deterioration. Wood doors were constructed from salvaged redwood from the Verde Canal pipeline. (Ken Jones.)\n\n**E DWARD JONES RESIDENCE, 2013**. This 1933 adobe two-story home is a blend of Pueblo and Spanish Colonial Revival styles. The exterior doors and windows are intimate and scaled to be appropriate for this wall-like architecture. The original roof sleeping porch wood framing still remains. Located on North Casa Blanca Drive, it was once part of 50 acres sold to the Joneses by Edward Loomis Bowes. Jones then had citrus, date palms, and alfalfa fields, and raised turkeys on the property. His wife, May Jones, designed the home along with Bowes. (Author's collection.)\n\n**H ENRY WICK RESIDENCE**. A 1939, one-story Pueblo Revival\u2013style home is located on North Casa Blanca Drive. The plan was L-shaped, with an outdoor stair, plastered walls, and metal casement windows. The residence was designed by Denver Evans, architect Robert T. \"Bob\" Evans's son. (Author's collection.)\n\n**F ENNELL RESIDENCE, 1955**. The 5,962-square-foot Mike Fennel residence is located on East Prickly Pear Lane and was designed by architect Charles Montooth of Frank Lloyd Wright Associates. The home incorporates dramatic cantilevered roof forms with patterned fascia, an arcaded entry breezeway, and a two-car carport. Materials include natural stone, exposed concrete masonry units, and tall clear glazing. (Author's collection.)\n\n**P AUSON RESIDENCE, 1941**. This custom winter residence was a natural extension of the hillside and its topography. The vertical structure explored desert masonry masses that were interlocked with shifting, wood-framed horizontal elements. Frank Lloyd Wright was the architect. (Janie Ellis.)\n\n**P AUSON RESIDENCE, 1941**. The plan included a balcony, studio, and servants' quarters. The fireplace location was debated, and an ember actually caught the draperies on fire in 1943, thereby destroying the entire residence. The house was constructed by George Ellis at a cost of $7,500. (Janie Ellis.)\n\n**P AUSON RESIDENCE, 1941**. Interior spaces extended to the exterior, and a series of outdoor terraces overlooked the views beyond. (Janie Ellis.)\n\n**P EIPER RESIDENCE, 1952**. This residence is on East Cheney Drive but has been seriously altered with additions and remodels over the years. The home, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, reflects his approach to a Usonian Automatic block system, which is when the blocks are cast on site and are therefore more affordable. (Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, AIA Phoenix Metro.)\n\n**R ANCHO LUCERO, 1951**. This East Berneil Lane residence's roof was framed with wood beams from an old sawmill near Showlow, Arizona, and _vigas_ or log beams from nearby McNary. The exterior walls were left in their natural state, but suffered damage during storms, so they were fortified with stucco. The property also had a carport, rose garden, horse corrals, a haystack, chicken house, alfalfa field, and a well. (Jamey and Linda Cohn.)\n\n**R ANCHO LUCERO, 1951**. The floor tiles were made in Nogales, Sonora. All interior adobe walls were \"liberally and repeatedly sealed with skim milk. All windows opened to unspoiled, uninhabited desert in their day.\" (Jamey and Linda Cohn.)\n\n**P RICE RESIDENCE, 1954**. Harold C. Price Sr.'s winter residence, by Frank Lloyd Wright, is located on North Tatum Boulevard. The plan has two wings in an angular relationship to each other, connected by an open loggia that captures the breeze, has a fountain, and is supported by tufa block columns that form inverted cones. The southwestern section includes the dining, living, kitchen, and guest rooms, the maids' quarters, and a carport. The east wing has five bedrooms and bathrooms. Low profile flat roofs float over four different floor levels and continuous glazing. (Author's collection.)\n\n**T HEODORE F. WASHBURN RESIDENCE, 1955**. This bachelor's residence on East Stanford Drive provided a main house, guest quarters, triple carport, and a round swimming pool. The one-story wood-frame structures have a flat roof that was influenced by a Japanese theme of high-quality simplicity. The view shows the north and west elevations. The architect was Blaine Drake; years later, it was remodeled by Alfred Newman Beadle. (Alison King.)\n\n**T HEODORE F. WASHBURN RESIDENCE, 1955**. This view shows the partial south elevation. Exterior walls included a grey Flex board with cantilevered soffits above to protect the glass. Interiors use mahogany panels, a ceiling of blonde tongue-and-groove planks, and tan concrete floors. (Alison King.)\n\n**M ADISON RESIDENCE, 1955**. Mr. and Mrs. Gray Madison's 3,357-square-foot residence was located on a 1.48-acre property at East Pepper Tree Lane and the east edge of the Paradise Valley Country Club. Madison owned a local car dealership and was a co-founder of the club. The house exhibits the Ranch style, with pitched wood shake roof and brick walls. The architect was Fredrick Weaver, and Dick Drover was the designer. (August Beinlich Photography, DWL Architects & Planners Inc.)\n\n**H OLCOMB RESIDENCE**. The Adm. Harold R. Holcomb residence was constructed in 1956 at East Lincoln Drive. Holcomb was a retired rear admiral in the Navy, was active in World War I and II, and served as a justice of the peace in Scottsdale. The residence used exposed and soldier stacked block, low-pitched roof, corner windows, a dynamic entryway with a rotated carport, and a minimalist fireplace. The original architect was Blaine Drake. (Author's collection.)\n\n**G OLDWATER RESIDENCE, 1957**. US senator Barry Goldwater's hilltop residence has a low, horizontal profile with natural stone retaining walls, deeply recessed glazing, and cantilevered pitched roof overhangs with a thin edge. The home had an appropriate character for desert living, was held tight to the natural topography, and framed dramatic views of Camelback Mountain and city lights. Within the home was a ham radio station. The architect was Paul Christian Yaeger. (Bill Sears.)\n\n**S CHAFFNER RESIDENCE, 1957**. This Mid-century and Ranch-style home is located at North Quartz Mountain Road and was a split-level plan for a bachelor and his guests. It is sited at a 30-degree angle to take advantage of the winter sun and the best views overlooking the Paradise Valley Country Club golf course. Paul Christian Yaeger was the architect. (Beth Wickstrom.)\n\n**S CHAFFNER RESIDENCE, 1957**. The John Schaffner home is constructed of adobe brick walls. It has a heavy, beamed construction with hemlock ceilings. The second level offers a panoramic view of Paradise Valley through framed glass partitions. There are a number of patios and an exterior deck that accessible from many different interior levels. The kitchen and lanai were top-lit with skylights. (Compton Photographers, Beth Wickstrom.)\n\n**K RAMLICH RESIDENCE**. The 1960 Irv and Dorothy Kramlich Residence is located on one acre at North Desert Fairways Drive. The one-story, 4,752-square-foot residence has a semicircular floor plan that focuses on Camelback Mountain to the south. Walls facing the street are solid white plaster with colored glass inserts. An indoor swimming pool was added about 1966, followed by a 1997 remodel. Alfred Newman Beadle was the architect. (Realty Executives.)\n\n**O'C ONNOR FAMILY**. Sandra Day O'Connor and her husband, John, raised their three sons at this home on East Denton Lane. The O'Connors were very active in collecting petition signatures for potential incorporation of the Town of Paradise Valley. Former justice Sandra Day O'Connor was sworn in as the first female justice of the US Supreme Court on September 25, 1981, and retired on January 31, 2006. (Town of Paradise Valley.)\n\n**O'C ONNOR RESIDENCE, 1958**. The floor plan was rectangular with an angled end for the living room, an open kitchen, and a series of bedrooms along a hallway. A minimal palette of natural materials included bearing adobe walls, redwood window framing, a wood-framed roof with wood shake shingles, and red concrete floors. The character is more organic and casual, which fits the desert environment. The architect was Scottsdale-based Don K. Taylor. (Mark Vinson, FAIA.)\n\n**O'C ONNOR RESIDENCE, 1958**. The interior ambiance carries the exterior character and natural materials consistently throughout. Note the integral-colored concrete floors, exposed adobe walls, expressive roof structure, and generous window areas for introducing daylight. (Mark Vinson, FAIA.)\n\n**O'C ONNOR RESIDENCE, 2010**. In 2010, to avoid the threat of the home being torn down, the original house was dismantled and reconstructed at College Avenue and Curry Road in Tempe. The original adobe bricks were actually made at the nearby Salt River. This construction image shows the original roof being elevated and staged for laying the original adobe brick walls underneath. The completed building is being used as the O'Connor House and Center for Civil Discourse. Janie Ellis was instrumental in dismantling and reconstructing this fine home. (Mark Vinson, FAIA.)\n\n**M CCUNE MANSION, 1962**. Walker McCune, an oil tycoon, Penzoil heir, and philanthropist, built a 40,000-square-foot estate on six acres on Sugarloaf Hill at North Paradise View Lane. Geordie Hormel owned the home later. The architecture was of commercial-grade construction with a concrete frame and precast concrete panels. Buildings were placed on an earth-filled plinth with a perimeter retaining wall. The architect was Stone, Marracini & Patterson with designer R.J. Bettencourt of San Francisco. (Scottsdale Historical Society.)\n\n**D OUGLAS DRIGGS RESIDENCE, 1962**. This residence was located at North Shadow Mountain Road and has been demolished. The home was a low-scaled exquisite jewel, connecting the interior spaces with a series of outdoor patios at differing levels and the Paradise Valley Country Club golf course. The manicured landscape was well known in this neighborhood. The architect was William F. Cody, FAIA, of Palm Springs, California. (Author's collection.)\n\n**M ANKER RESIDENCE**. Dr. Raymond Manker, a minister at the nearby Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Phoenix, had the church architect also design this 1964 home on East Pepper Tree Lane. The residence is 2,885 square feet and has five bedrooms and two bathrooms. One-story construction with an open carport includes slump block walls, steel columns, a wood-framed roof, and blue accent wall colors. The floor plan captured distant views and opened to an exterior patio. The architect was Blaine Drake. (Author's collection.)\n\n**A NDEEN RESIDENCE, 1964**. The Richard Andeen residence is located on North Hummingbird Lane. This award-winning and desert-sensitive piece provides site and building walls of exposed natural stone and a shade trellis of wood-frame members. Glazing is recessed into the thick walls, minimizing heat gain during the hot summer months. The landscape retained the original desert plantings and rock outcroppings. The architect was Straub\/Kutch. (Neil Koppes, AIA Phoenix Metro.)\n\n**W EBER BACHELOR PAD**. This East Glen Drive residence was built in 1966 and is set high on a south-facing hillside on Mummy Mountain with a one-acre property. The building form springs from the hillside, but is visually anchored by the plaster retaining wall that supports the swimming pool, which also extends into the living room. The 3,114-square-foot two-story home with three bedrooms is framed with exposed wood bent frames that shade the upper glazing. The influence of Frank Lloyd Wright's organic architecture is undeniable. The architect was Robert M. Lawton with Donald P. Woods Jr. (Author's collection.)\n\n**M CDONALD RESIDENCE, 2012**. The Mr. and Mrs. Weir McDonald residence is located on North Tatum Boulevard and is a one-bedroom home with a private theater and two-car, open carport. The 1965 home steps down the rolling site with an exposed steel-frame structure and elevates many of the functions above the site. Site improvements such as planter retaining walls and cascading steps anchor the composition to the site. The original architect was William F. Cody, FAIA. A remodel and addition was completed by LEA Architects LLC. (LEA Architects LLC.)\n\n**H EUSER HACIENDA, C. 1960S**. This east coast client was familiar with Colonial homes but wanted to build an adobe residence. The large, one-story home focuses on an exterior courtyard with a swimming pool, an outdoor fireplace, and open stairs to a roof deck. George W. Christensen and Associates was the architect; this firm went on to design over 30 custom residences in Paradise Valley during the next 40 years. (Donald J. Christensen, W. Brent Armstrong.)\n\n**H EUSER HACIENDA, C. 1960S**. The interior features an exposed, hexagonal tile floor, beehive fireplace, whitewashed walls, and an exposed wood roof structure. (Donald J. Christensen, W. Brent Armstrong.)\n\n**G ONZALES RESIDENCE**. This award-winning 1966 private custom desert residence is located at North Palo Christi Drive. The home character suggested an abstracted Pueblo approach to the forms. The architect desired a cluster of simple boxes arranged to encourage an open way of living. Exterior walls that are exposed to the interior are slump block units with a painted mortar wash. Interior floors are of burnt adobe and were given a dark brown stain to visually contrast with the walls. Bennie M. Gonzales, FAIA, was the architect. (Author's collection.)\n\n**D R. FRANK S. TOLONE RESIDENCE**. This 1967 award-winning residence is located on East Desert Jewel Drive. The home is sensitively sited with a few dry washes. A cluster of one-story components with varying pitched roofs are provided along with walls of exposed masonry. Grey-colored wood details are found at vertical sun shading panels and bridge railings. The architect was James T. Flynn, AIA. (Author's collection.)\n\n**P ETERSON RESIDENCE, 1968**. The Dr. Rex and Del Peterson residence has four bedrooms and three bathrooms on North Fifty-second Street. \"One of the purest concepts is a white house in the desert. Modular post and beam is combined with rustic pueblo massing to unite in what the architect calls the character Scandinavian Pueblo,\" according to the architect's brochure. George W. Christensen and Associates was the architect. (Neil Koppes, CCBG.)\n\n**P ETERSON RESIDENCE, 1968**. The main residence overlooks the swimming pool and Camelback Mountain to the south. (Neil Koppes, CCBG.)\n\n**P ETERSON RESIDENCE, 1968**. This interior takes advantage of multiple levels with the entry overlooking the taller living space beyond. White walls, exposed rough-sawn roof framing above, and tiled floors are appropriate for the Sonoran Desert. (Neil Koppes, CCBG.)\n\n**C OOK RESIDENCE, 1973**. This 1969 residence was at 3627 Camino sin Nombre. The two-story home used passive solar concepts. A west-facing, thick sculpted masonry wall with varied small window openings was not unlike the iconic Le Corbusier's Ronchamp Chapel found in France. The architect was Jeffrey Cook, AIA. The home has been demolished. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C ASA CRISTINA, 1977**. This residence on North Forty-sixth Street used hand-crafted, 16-inch thick adobe, hewn wood beams, gently rounded corners, and windows that do not necessarily match up with any other windows in the same facade. Artist William F. Tull, who designed the home, stated: \"Abstract shadows and shapes in my paintings are also used in my architecture.\" He preferred \"peace-quiet-everything soft and sculptured.\" The home was featured in the _Fire in the Sky_ film and in fashion publications. (Bob Ross Photos, Joann Tull.)\n\n**L ARSON RESIDENCE**. This 1974 residence was on East McDonald Drive and incorporated natural materials such as exposed masonry, natural stone, and full-height glazing. Massing provided a broken roofline with stepped forms. The plan integrates five patios and a four-car carport. The architect was John S.M. Hamilton. The home was demolished in 2012. (Mary Leonhard Photographer, AIA, Phoenix Metro.)\n\n**G ARY DRIGGS RESIDENCE, 1970**. This award-winning residence on North Shadow Mountain Road was elevated above the hillside to allow the natural landscape to be retained. The main structure is a steel column grid and features beams that are fully expressed throughout. Within the grid are taupe-colored plaster walls or full-height glazing. Alfred Newman Beadle was the architect. (Arizona State University Libraries.)\n\n**G ARY DRIGGS RESIDENCE, 1970**. The glazing is layered in the plan to provide a transparency from space to space and to frame desert views beyond. An accessory building accommodates a guest suite that is placed at grade and defines the main entry. (Arizona State University Libraries.)\n\n**B OMBECK RESIDENCE, 1971**. A residence for humorist and author Erma Bombeck and her husband, Bill, and their family is found on a raised hillside ridge with spectacular views. Ford Powell and Carson of San Antonio, Texas, was the architectural firm, and Chris Carson, FAIA, was the principal designer. The firm, founded in 1939 by architect O'Neill Ford, is well known for its regional design approach, influencing generations of Texas architects. (Author's collection.)\n\n**F LYNN RESIDENCE, 1973**. This custom residence and adjacent work studio at North Fifty-First Place was designed and built by 1971. The exterior forms are defined by an exposed black steel frame with a dark brown brick and full-height glazing infill panels. The floor plan focuses on a southern courtyard and swimming pool with a dramatic Camelback Mountain view beyond. James T. Flynn, AIA, was the architect. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C OOK RESIDENCE, 1973**. This two-story residence is located on a hillside lot on North Hillside Drive. Visitors park at the upper level open carport and then descend down into the home. The walls are of exposed masonry with brushed mortar joints capped with a wood-framed and pitched clay tile roof. Southeastern-facing windows take advantage of Mummy Mountain and Camelback Mountain views. James T. Flynn, AIA, was the architect. (Author's collection.)\n\n**R OSEWALL RESIDENCE, 1974**. The award-winning Ken Rosewall residence was built on a custom home lot at the John Gardiner's Tennis Ranch. The novel design approach for a professional tennis player placed a full-size tennis court on the roof and the main residence underneath at the lower north end. This design left more of the natural desert untouched. George Christensen, FAIA, was the architect. (Neil Koppes, CCBG.)\n\n**S HOENBERG RESIDENCE, 1975**. This 3,200-square-foot residence was designed at John Gardiner's Tennis Ranch. The structure features exposed tubular steel with the roof drainage downspouts integrated within structural columns. Infill panels are of taupe-colored plaster or tinted glazing. Interiors have spectacular, elevated views of Paradise Valley and Scottsdale. Reginald G. Sydnor, AIA, was the architect; he also designed the Ambler, Gardiner, and Sydnor residences of Paradise Valley. (Neil Koppes.)\n\n**M AHONEY RESIDENCE**. This 1977 residence located at North Cottontail Run is a horizontal composition hugging the hillside property. A linear window is shaded above by a continuous, wood-clad canopy and flanked by solid plaster walls to each side. The architect was Jones & Mah Architects Inc. (Author's collection.)\n\n**F INISTERRE DEVELOPMENT**. Paradise Valley's first walled, guarded, and gated community was established in 1978 at the southwest corner of Invergordon Drive and Lincoln Drive. This was a planning precedent, as existing open desert spaces did not extend through the development. Nelson Kubicek Architects designed the wall. (Author's collection.)\n\n**S MITH RESIDENCE, 1981**. The two-story, 6,500-square-foot Arnold Smith residence is located on East Palo Verde Drive. Clean, crisp forms and concrete walls step down the hill and frame Phoenix views. A roof canopy floats over interior spaces that extend functionally and visually to exterior terraces and patios. The architect was Knoell & Quidort Architects. (Knoell & Quidort Architects.)\n\n**P ETERSON RESIDENCE, 1981**. This hillside residence is located on East Hummingbird Lane. The home is composed of plastered cubic volumes that sit into the hill, providing an outdoor living room with a fireplace and a swimming pool level. The architect was Jack Peterson & Associates. (Author's collection.)\n\n**G OODMAN RESIDENCE, 1985**. An existing Mid-century residence on a hillside property at North Red Ledge Drive received major additions and renovation to become a three-story, 5,000-square-foot residence. The built results are quite dramatic, with the sculpted forms of solid masonry walls interlocked with carved voids and window openings. The masses sit well on the pitched desert property. The architect was Edward B. Sawyer Jr. (Edward B. Sawyer Jr.)\n\n**L EIN RESIDENCE, 1984**. This East Hummingbird Lane residence includes two stories, a 2,750-square-foot main residence, and guest quarters of 928 square-feet. The architecture exploits the use of exposed multi-fired masonry walls at the exterior and interior. The forms interlock and overlap in various sculptural configurations to frame distant views, block unwanted sun, define privacy, and expand the interior space to surrounding outdoor patios. The architect was Edward B. Sawyer Jr. (Edward B. Sawyer Jr.)\n\n**W EISS RESIDENCE, 1988**. This two-story residence is located east of the Paradise Valley Country Club golf course on a one-acre rocky hillside property. The mountainside residence \"has been designed to minimize its physical impact on the natural environment, which surrounds it, while maximizing the enjoyment of the site's spectacular city and mountain views,\" stated architect William P. Bruder, FAIA. (Will Bruder + Partners Ltd.)\n\n**W EISS RESIDENCE, 1988**. The exterior material palette is naturally aged copper, native rock quarried from the site during excavation, and weathered steel. The interior materials are resawn spruce ceilings, flagstone flooring, wool carpeting, copper, and white oak for paneling, doors, and cabinets. (Will Bruder + Partners Ltd.)\n\n**H ALAS RESIDENCE, 1985**. This one-story 2,500-square-foot residence is located at East McDonald Drive. The owner was a well-known psychologist specializing in women's issues and marital counseling. She had a professional office, but the house needed to accommodate home appointments without compromising privacy. The plan has a rounded form that directs runoff away from the structure, and a curved roof form meant to sympathize with Camelback Mountain's ancient, rounded profile. The architect was Jones Studio Inc. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**Z UBER RESIDENCE**. This 1989 hillside home on East Indian Bend has a floor plan that overlaps an upper split-face block component for private uses with a lower stucco component for more public uses. The master bedroom was perched above as the inner sanctum and control tower, while framing views of the upper pool, gallery, and Camelback Mountain. A skeletal bridge extends from the living room and functions as a gateway below as visitors approach the house. The architect was Antoine Predock Architects. (Author's collection.)\n\n**C UMMINGS RESIDENCE, 1989**. This East Nauni Valley Road residence was designed for a two-acre property and a 7,500-square-feet program. Site planning was based upon a four-foot grid and proposed an east-west plan with outreaching wings. The plan incorporated a series of three different courtyards of various scales and purposes. The architect was Sydnor Architects, PC. (Mark Boisclair Photography Inc.)\n\n**D ORRANCE RESIDENCE, C. 1992**. This hillside property overlooks the Paradise Valley Country Club golf course. The original architect states that the home is \"nestled into a larger rock outcropping, the mountain unites with its knoll. The lower level is very intimate with window wells and the deck level is reminiscent of a ship. The upper level is connected by four stairways, which add a sense of flow between levels. A long art gallery functions as the upper circulation.\" The architect was George Christensen, FAIA. (Donald J. Christensen, W. Brent Armstrong.)\n\n**D EBARTOLO RESIDENCE, 1993**. This two-story home at North Thirty-third Street is 5,600 square feet. The plan provides a major wall to the severe western exposure while the remaining open sides frame distant city and mountain views. Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA, was the owner and architect. (Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA.)\n\n**D EBARTOLO RESIDENCE, 1993**. The design strategy takes advantage of daylight throughout the interior and proposes a floating pavilion roof structure. The floor plan is primarily an open loft where interior partitions were minimized. (Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA.)\n\n**K ORNEGAY RESIDENCE, 1993**. The original 1,800-square-foot structure dates from 1955 and was designed by Edward Loomis Bowes. A major renovation and 3,400-square-foot additions to this hillside house integrated it with the site. With adjacent homes arriving over the years, a new plan provided privacy and controlled views. Exposed concrete block, plastered ceilings, scored concrete floors, wood cabinetry, and steel windows were provided. The architect was John Douglas, FAIA. (John Douglas Architects.)\n\n**T OWNSEND RESIDENCE, 1997**. This art collector's residence is located on one acre at East Hummingbird Lane and was a major addition and renovation of an existing structure. The two-story, 4,800-square-foot house is an eyebrow floating over the natural topography, while focusing on the northeasterly view of the McDowell Mountains. The house responds to the owner's desire for a place of quiet reflection. The architect was Will Bruder Architect Ltd. (Will Bruder Architect Ltd.)\n\n**G RUBER RESIDENCE, 1998**. This residence is on a one-acre hillside property at North 58th Place. The 4,000-square-foot floor plan is stretched in an east-west direction with a solid western wall and enclosed garage to the east. The midsection of the floor plan opens to a southern swimming pool while the north provides full-height glazing to frame the valley views below. The structure is exposed tubular steel with plastered wall panels, full-height glazing at more public spaces, and smaller window openings at the private zones. Rich Fairbourne, RA, of The Construction Zone completed the construction after the architect's passing. The architect was Alfred Newman Beadle. (Dan Gruber.)\n\n**W ITHYCOMBE RESIDENCE, C. 1996**. \"The Shangrila Resort gave way to four acres of land, which became a family resort. All bedrooms are located on the balconied second level providing maximum views of Camelback Mountain,\" according to the architect George W. Christensen, FAIA. (Donald J. Christensen, W. Brent Armstrong.)\n\n**D ORRANCE RESIDENCE, 1999**. This aerial view is of the sprawling residence on North Cameldale Way. The residence's scale is broken up with one and two-story components, a shifting plan, shaded overhangs, and various-size window openings. The architects were George W. Christensen, FAIA, and Erik Peterson. (Dino Tonn Photography.)\n\n**S CHUCHTER RESIDENCE, 1999**. The architect notes the \"long and thin in plan, two-story living room in the middle allows the bedrooms to be on one side and family living on the other. Rather than expensive details, simplicity and proportions were used as the main elements.\" The architect was George W. Christensen, FAIA. (Donald J. Christensen, W. Brent Armstrong.)\n\n**U DINOTTI STUDIO**. Adjacent to a c. 1928\u20131930 Robert Evans adobe residence on East McDonald Drive, this 2,500-square-foot, two-story daylit artist's studio, art display, and guest quarters was built in 1999. The owner describes the character as a Contemporary Adobe, in which the walls are abstracted planes, glazing faces a defined patio, and a tall weathered wood door allows large canvases to enter the studio along with people. The architect was John Douglas Architects. (Author's collection.)\n\n**U DINOTTI MUSEUM OF FIGURATIVE ART**. A later phase in 2006 included a 1,900-square-foot subterranean gallery of cast-in-place concrete walls, exposed steel trusses, and metal decking. It was \"placed underground as not to interfere with the view of Camelback Mountain\u2014a sacred mountain\" from the adjacent studio, according to Agnese Udinotti. The gallery is entered from a sunken sculpture courtyard. A rusted, steel-clad upper-level gift shop with a roof deck for views is located above. The architect was The Construction Zone. (Author's collection.)\n\n**M ORGAN RESIDENCE, 2001**. This hillside room on East Moonlight Way restored a previously damaged site. An existing retaining wall was preserved and extended to anchor the guesthouse and a new driveway. The main house is disciplined with a clear structural logic, while the guesthouse is free and curvilinear. The composition creates a variety of outdoor experiences and captures dramatic views. The architect was Knoell & Quidort Architects. (James L. Christy of Jim Christy Studio.)\n\n**P LANAR RESIDENCE, 2002**. This 3,200-square-foot home provides for a large contemporary art collection that includes pieces by Bruce Naiman, Robert Ryman, Jeff Koons, and Jannis Kounellis. The structure is composed of concrete tilt-up panels that define an exterior courtyard. The architect was New York\u2013based Steven Holl Architects. (Bill Timmerman.)\n\n**P LANAR RESIDENCE, 2002**. An exterior ramp positioned within a courtyard provides access through the roof structure to a view deck. (Bill Timmerman.)\n\n**P LANAR RESIDENCE, 2002**. This interior view shows the open plan with introduction of daylight from various sources, minimizing the interior glare from a single source. (Bill Timmerman.)\n\n**D EBARTOLO RESIDENCE, 2005**. Miramonte House 69 is on East Lincoln Drive and is a 3,000-square-foot custom home. The plan exploits the traditional notion of a courtyard in the desert and opens it to the sky above. The structure is exposed masonry with full-height glazing and natural stone floors. The architect and owner is Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA. (Jack DeBartolo Jr., FAIA.)\n\n**F ERRIS RESIDENCE, 2006**. This 5,000-square-foot, two-story residence was designed for a one-acre property on Camelback Manor Drive. The project started as a guest cottage in the 1940s and led to a series of renovations and additions from 1987 to 2006. The home was designed to be virtually invisible in its natural setting as the exterior colors mimic the shadows seen in the dense undergrowth. The architect was John Douglas Architects. (John Douglas Architects.)\n\n**H OUSE OF 5 DREAMS, 2004**. This three-story, 30,000-square-foot residence is located on East Stanford Drive on approximately three acres. The private penthouse residence hovers 14 feet above grade. A glass roof and floor inserts scatter circular light around their undulating translucent \"flower\" space. Roof and floor planes frame panoramic views of the city skyline and desert mountains. The architect was Jones Studio Inc. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**H OUSE OF 5 DREAMS, 2004**. This interior view is of a private museum for the display, storage, and protection of Pre-Columbian art. The below-grade space is defined by four-foot-thick, rammed earth walls at the perimeter and an exposed, clear-spanning steel roof structure above. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**H OUSE OF 5 DREAMS, 2004**. The interior conveys an extremely sophisticated, elegant, and minimalistic ambiance. Transparency and translucency is explored throughout. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**W ILLIAMS RESIDENCE, 2007**. This 6,206-square-foot East Stanford Drive residence includes three bedrooms and six bathrooms. This two-story approach places the main living, dining, kitchen, and outdoor dining at the upper level as a \"reversed living room\" and the private spaces, such as bedrooms, on the first level. The home was conceived as a \"thick-mass casting\" and has white cast 20-inch-thick concrete walls. The two-story volumes define an entry courtyard. Colors include subtle grays, silvers, and green casts of the desert landscape. The architect was Marwan Al-Sayed Architects Ltd. (Author's collection.)\n\n**L ACEY RESIDENCE, 2012**. A three-building cluster, with a main house, garage, and guesthouse, is found on East Stella Lane. The client desired a retreat and a home and it was his implied program for a residence to represent progressive contemporary thinking ground in the fundamentals of \"mind and shadow.\" A courtyard was formed in this hacienda diagram. Rammed earthen walls were used given their resistance to climatic forces, insulating superiority, structural capability, and inherent natural beauty. Wood was used intentionally, with weathering in mind. The architect was Jones Studio Inc. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**L ACEY RESIDENCE, 2012**. The interior is psychologically expanded and connects with the outdoors with an open plan, full height glazing, desert landscaping close by, and a framed Camelback Mountain view. (Jones Studio Inc.)\n\n**J ARSON RESIDENCE, 2009**. This two-story residence is located on North Charles Drive. The home is for two real estate professionals and their two sons. A mysterious, refined dark object in its rugged natural landscape, the house provides a place of quiet reflection. The entry, office, and bedrooms are on the upper level with living and dining rooms; a media music chamber and potter's studio are tucked beneath. The architect was Will Bruder + Partners Ltd. (Will Bruder + Partners Ltd.)\n\n**J ARSON RESIDENCE, 2009**. This residence interior utilizes natural cork and concrete floors and wall planes of translucent glass. Cabinets of cherry and stainless steel articulate the interiors. (Will Bruder + Partners Ltd.)\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\nBarry Goldwater Memorial. Town of Paradise Valley, February 14, 2004.\n\nBeadle, Alfred Newman. Bernard Michael Boyle, ed. and Diane M. Upchurch, associated ed. _Constructions: Buildings in Arizona_. Historic Publications No. 3, Tempe, AZ: School of Architecture, Arizona State University, 1993.\n\nCarlson, Fran. \"Spell It MacDonald Please.\" _Scottsdale Scene_. March 1984: 85\u201386.\n\nDriggs, Gary. _Camelback: Sacred Mountain of Phoenix_. Tempe, AZ: Arizona Historical Foundation, Arizona State University, 1998.\n\nFudala, Joan. Images of America: _Scottsdale_. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2007.\n\n_A Guide to the Architecture of Metro Phoenix_. Central Arizona Chapter, American Institute of Architects. Phoenix, AZ: 1983.\n\nMarill, Michele C. _Phoenix Country Day School: Voices in the Desert_. Bookhouse Group Inc.\n\n_Preserving the Desert Lifestyle: The 25th Anniversary of the Town of Paradise Valley_. Scottsdale, AZ: The Parish Agency, 1987\n\nMiles, Candice St. Jacques. \"Pandemonium Found: Architects Comment on Paradise Valley's Lost Style.\" _Arizona Living_. Volume 14, Number 5. May 1983: 16\u201323.\n\nO'Meara, Rosie. \"Figuring The Angles.\" _The Arizona Republic Sun Living_. Section 5. June 15, 1958.\n\n\"Ranches, Lodges, Inns, Hotels, Resorts in New Accommodations Guide.\" _Scottsdale and Paradise Valley News_. Scottsdale Chamber of Commerce, Volume 1, Number 2. 1956\u20131957.\n\nStevenson, Charles S. _We Met at Camelback! The Story of Jack and Louise Stewart at Their Camelback Inn_. Arizona Desert Publishing Company, 1968.\n\n_Town of Paradise Valley 40th Anniversary_. Historical Advisory Committee. Photography: Kathryn Gasser. Payout: Kathryn P. Yoder. Town of Paradise Valley, 2011.\nDISCOVER THOUSANDS OF LOCAL HISTORY BOOKS  \nFEATURING MILLIONS OF VINTAGE IMAGES\n\nArcadia Publishing, the leading local history publisher in the United States, is committed to making history accessible and meaningful through publishing books that celebrate and preserve the heritage of America's people and places.\n\nFind more books like this at\n\n**www.arcadiapublishing.com**\n\nSearch for your hometown history, your old stomping grounds, and even your favorite sports team.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \nINSTANT   \nRECALL\n_\" **Many complain of their memory,  \nfew of their judgment.**\"_\n\nBenjamin Franklin (1706\u201390)\nMichael Tipper\n\n**INSTANT  \nRECALL**\n\nTips and Techniques   \nto Master Your Memory\n\n**CONTENTS**\n\nForeword by Dominic O'Brien\n\nIntroduction\n\n**1 WARM-UPS**\n\nWhy do we forget?\n\nIs it my age?\n\nYour mental filing system\n\nYour brain and your memory\n\nImagination, association and recall\n\nBeing certain of success\n\n**2 GENTLE STRETCHES**\n\nManaging stress for a better memory\n\nExercise to improve your memory\n\nA better diet, a better memory\n\nMemory joggers\n\nWhere did I leave...?\n\nThat reminds me...\n\n**3 GREAT TECHNIQUES**\n\nRemembering names \u2013 the social method\n\nRemembering facts \u2013 the magic of mnemonics\n\nRemembering spellings\n\nAlways remember your PIN\n\nRemembering directions\n\nRemembering errands and simple lists\n\nI must remember to...\n\nShopping with the alphabet\n\nRemembering what you've heard\n\nRetrieving the past\n\n**INTERLUDE: THE AMAZING WORLD OF MEMORY**\n\n**4 WINNING WORKOUTS**\n\nRemembering names and faces \u2013 the mnemonic method\n\nRemembering longer numbers\n\nThe Journey Technique\n\nRemembering dates and appointments\n\nLearning a new skill\n\nLearning foreign vocabulary\n\nRemembering speeches and jokes\n\nMind Maps\u00ae\n\nRemembering what you've read\n\n**5 CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS**\n\nThe Major System\n\nLearning from a champion\n\nRemembering a deck of cards\n\nLong lists of specialized items\n\nFurther reading\n\nContact the author\n\nAuthor's Acknowledgments\nDAD, I'M DEDICATING THIS TO YOU.\n\n## FOREWORD\n\nThe saying, \"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach,\" certainly does not apply to Michael Tipper. Not only did Michael prove a formidable opponent to me at The World Memory Championships, he is also an expert trainer in Accelerated Learning principles.\n\nIn this enlightening book, a whole range of sound, tried-and-tested memory techniques is comprehensively explained by this master of memory. In fact, Michael is more than a master, as he was awarded the coveted title of Grand Master of Memory as well as gaining the Silver Medal at the World Memory Championships.\n\nMichael trained his memory to compete at worldclass level for one very good reason \u2013 to demonstrate that anyone can harness simple concepts to dramatically improve their mental functioning and to achieve success in their field, a sentiment I share with him.\n\nNot only did Michael do this convincingly, but his real talent lies in explaining the most effective ways of using mind techniques for practical benefit. Over 65,000 people have experienced his dynamic presentations, and over half a million children have benefited from his educational programmes. I am therefore delighted to recommend this book to anyone who wants to improve their memory \u2013 whether in the home, in the workplace or at school.\n\n**Dominic O'Brien**\n\nEight-Times World Memory Champion\n\n## INTRODUCTION\n\nMany people think that they have a bad memory and, if you've picked up this book, I'm guessing that you do, too. I know exactly how you feel, because some years ago I thought exactly the same and, just as you are now, I began searching for answers to solve what I thought was my \"problem\".\n\nAt the time, I was just 16 years old and had joined the Royal Navy as a naval apprentice, eager to learn my new trade. Although I'd done reasonably well at school, I soon discovered that the Navy was a very different learning environment from the classroom, and I began to struggle, especially with having to remember so much new information so quickly. I naturally assumed my memory was at fault and sought ways to improve it. I soon discovered, though, that there was nothing wrong with my memory: it was just that I didn't know how to use it.\n\nI found a memory course advertised in a newspaper, very quickly mastered some simple techniques, and began passing my exams with ease. With my new skills, I quickly impressed my superiors and was selected for officer training. I then went on to complete a degree in engineering and subsequently joined the Royal Navy's elite Submarine Service.\n\nMy later naval training tested my memory and learning skills even further, and I regularly came top of most of the courses I attended, even when my fellow students were more talented and able than myself. The only difference between us was that I had equipped myself with better learning strategies.\n\nEventually, I found myself telling more and more of my colleagues and friends about how to improve their memory and learning skills, and discovered a passion and a talent for sharing these ideas and helping people develop. At about the same time, I entered the World Memory Championships; at my second attempt I won the Silver Medal and became a Grand Master of Memory.\n\nMy success led to a professional speaking career, and over the last few years I've personally worked with over 65,000 people all over the world and have developed programmes that have been taught to over half a million people.\n\nFrom my own experience and from all the work I've done with countless people over the years, I know that you can improve your memory by understanding how it works and by discovering some basic ideas that anyone can apply. This book has captured all of the most powerful strategies I've used, and helped others use to great effect to get more from their memory and improve their recall.\n\nDecide for yourself whether you need this book by reading the statements opposite. Simply answer \"yes\", \"no\" or \"sometimes\". If you answer \"yes\" or \"sometimes\" to five or more of the statements, this book will definitely help you. Even though you might think you have a problem with your memory, I'm delighted to tell you that you probably don't. The only thing that's wrong is that you don't know how to use it because I doubt whether anyone ever taught you.\n\nThis book will take you step by step through some simple techniques and strategies (the \"how\") that will not only improve your memory, but also your levels of concentration and mental agility.\n\n### DO THESE STATEMENTS APPLY TO YOU?\n\n\u2022 I have difficulty remembering the names of people I've just met.\n\n\u2022 I have difficulty remembering the names of people I met longer than a few weeks ago.\n\n\u2022 I often walk into a room to get something and can't remember what it is.\n\n\u2022 I often forget where I've left my keys\/purse\/glasses.\n\n\u2022 I have on occasion parked the car and been unable to find it.\n\n\u2022 I regularly miss important appointments because I've forgotten about them.\n\n\u2022 I'm well known for missing friends' and relatives' birthdays and anniversaries.\n\n\u2022 I have to write down the PIN number for my ATM card.\n\n\u2022 If I lost my phone and had to call the service provider, I'd have no idea what number to ring.\n\n\u2022 I always avoid standing up and talking to groups of people because I know I'm going to forget what I have to say.\n\n\u2022 I spend hours reading all sorts of material and can hardly remember anything about what I've read.\n\n\u2022 I think that, as I'm getting older, my memory is getting worse.\n\n\u2022 I find myself saying things like \"I have a terrible memory\" or \"I always forget.\"\n\n\u2022 I almost expect to forget something that I was supposed to remember.\n\n\u2022 I'd like to learn something new but don't think my memory is up to it.\n\n# 1   \nWARM-UPS\n\nYou'll develop extremely powerful recall when you follow the simple techniques in this book. However, before you embark on them, it will help if you understand some of the reasons why your memory might appear to you to be unsatisfactory, together with some of the basics that will form the foundation of your memory improvement skills.\n\nThis chapter will look at why people like you forget, showing you that this is not necessarily because you're getting older. I'll tell you a little bit about the brain and how you file away and recall your memories, as well as about the key principles of a strong memory. I'll also give you a five-step plan that, if followed, will guarantee your success in improving your memory.\n\n## WHY DO WE FORGET?\n\nBefore we look at what you can do to enhance your memory, it's useful to realize why we forget. The factors that affect our ability to recall are related to the information we're receiving, the mental and physical state we're in both at the time and afterwards, and some of the processes that naturally occur in the brain.\n\n### COMMON REASONS FOR FORGETTING\n\nThere are various causes of forgetfulness, which can affect us all at different times:\n\n\u2022 Not interested \u2013 if you're not interested in something, it is unlikely that you will pay any attention to it.   \nAs a result, you won't be able to understand, learn about or remember it.\n\n\u2022 Not concentrating \u2013 this is linked to not being interested. If something doesn't capture your attention, you won't concentrate on it. If you're not concentrating and are thinking about something else, you won't take the new information in, however crucial it might be to remember it.\n\n\u2022 Too stressed \u2013 when you're stressed you're in the worst possible state to use your memory effectively. It's either hard to learn things or difficult to recall them.\n\n\u2022 Too much information \u2013 if you're faced with a barrage of information, it's easy to become overwhelmed (and therefore stressed), making it hard to learn and remember.\n\n\u2022 Poorly organized information \u2013 it's much harder to remember random bits of data than it is to recall information that has been logically organized.\n\n\u2022 Weak links \u2013 as we'll see later, the brain remembers things by association. If the links between related pieces of information are weak (for example, between a name and a face), recall will be difficult. If you don't use the information you've learnt, it won't integrate with your existing knowledge, which will also result in weak links and poor recall.\n\n\u2022 Too long ago \u2013 if a long period of time has elapsed between encountering something and having to recall it, the memory of it will be much weaker.\n\n\u2022 Interference \u2013 with so much information coming to your mind, there's a strong possibility that the new data will interfere with your existing knowledge and that the new information in turn will be interfered with by newer data as that arrives, which will adversely affect your recall.\n\nFortunately, by making simple changes to the way we think, we can overcome the common causes of forgetfulness and vastly improve our memory capacity.\n\n_\" Pleasure is the flower that passes;  \nremembrance, the lasting perfume. **\"**_\n\nJean de Boufflers (1738\u20131815)\n\n## IS IT MY AGE?\n\nAs people get older, many start to experience challenges with their memory and naturally assume the decline in their mental performance is due to their age. However, unless you're suffering from a disease or illness, your memory doesn't necessarily deteriorate with time.\n\n### YOUR MEMORY DOESN'T HAVE TO DECLINE\n\nStudies with people over 60 have shown little or no deterioration in memory performance \u2013 only a slightly slower reaction time. The apparent decline that so many people expect to happen is often caused by a combination of the following factors:\n\n\u2022 Older people don't use their memory as much as they used to.\n\n\u2022 Their brain isn't getting as much oxygen as it did when they were younger, because they're probably getting less exercise.\n\n\u2022 They've generated a belief that they have a declining memory because of forgetting one or two things. They strengthen this belief by telling themselves and others that they have a poor memory.\n\n\u2022 By being less in the present, they often miss things and then blame their memory because they can't remember, whereas in fact it's their concentration that's at fault.\n\nAll these factors can be reversed by making some lifestyle changes as well as adapting the way you think, so that it becomes possible to have a good memory however old you are.\n\n## YOUR MENTAL FILING SYSTEM\n\nIf your memory isn't performing as well as you would like it to, you may not be organizing information in a way that enables you to recall it easily. It's simply a question of tuning your already powerful memory retrieval system.\n\n### YOU THINK LIKE A VIRTUAL FILING CABINET\n\nImagine your memory is a huge virtual filing cabinet. For example, at a business meeting you're introduced to someone called David Jones. You store his face and name in a mental file marked **\"met David Jones at business meeting\"**.\n\nIn future when you see a face you recognize, you go to your mental filing system to the file where that face is stored. This file tells you the face belongs to someone called David Jones.\n\nSEE FACE > MENTAL FILE > RETRIEVE NAME\n\nOr you may hear the name David Jones and in your mental filing system the file with that name on it shows you a picture of him.\n\nHEAR NAME > MENTAL FILE > RETRIEVE FACE\n\nHILLARY CLINTON\n\n### EXERCISE 1\n\nRead the two words at the top of this page, noting exactly what you think and how long it takes to formulate your thoughts.\n\nMost people who do this exercise instantly see a picture of Hillary Clinton in their mind's eye. It might, perhaps, be an image of her face from one of her many television appearances or from a video you've watched online of her giving a speech. Or you may bring to mind a photograph of her with her husband on the cover of a glossy magazine.\n\nThe exact image that first comes to mind will depend on your own personal associations with Hillary Clinton. It doesn't matter what picture you see, because, whichever one you're most familiar with, this exercise demonstrates how powerful your mental retrieval system is.\n\nIn literally an instant you were able to go straight to an image of Hillary Clinton and retrieve it from your memory. Instantaneously you found it from among the many millions and millions of unique images that you've stored in your brain. That's an incredible feat of recall and one you should be proud of.\n\n### EXERCISE 2\n\nNow try a variation on this exercise by listening to the news on the radio, and noticing just how quickly pictures come into your mind of the people, topics or places that the newsreader is talking about. Once again, the speed at which you'll find you can evoke vivid, appropriate images should reassure you of just how strong your powers of memory already are.\n\n### EXERCISE 3\n\nRepeat Exercise 1 with a friend. Compare your images and notice how unique your pictures and associations are.\n\n### THE POWER OF ASSOCIATION\n\nThe process by which you can conjure up images of Hillary Clinton, and other people and topics in the news, is known as association. And it's this process that enables you to go to your mental filing cabinet to find and swiftly retrieve the name or face of David Jones, or whoever you've been introduced to.\n\nThe mind organizes associations in a combination of two ways. First, it organizes them as a chain so that one thing will remind us of another, which then prompts us to think of something else, and this in turn triggers a further memory, and so it continues. Second, it groups them as a series of hooks \u2013 one concept will have a series of associations that are all directly linked to the original idea.\n\n_\" Everyone has a photographic memory.  \nSome just don't have any film. **\"**_\n\nAnonymous\n\nBy understanding this, you can harness your mind more effectively to create powerful associations that will help you remember and recall far more than you can at present. And you will find that your ability to instantly summon up your associations is staggering.\n\n## YOUR BRAIN AND YOUR MEMORY\n\nYour brain is the control centre of everything that happens in your body. Every second there are thousands of chemical and electrical reactions taking place in the grey matter between your ears. When you understand how your brain functions a little better, you'll be able to use it more effectively to improve your memory.\n\n### THE BUILDING BLOCKS\n\nThe brain is made up of billions of cells, which are called neurons, and each of these is capable of connecting with thousands of other neurons. The complexity and sheer scale of the number of these connections give the brain its near-infinite potential. Every thought you've experienced, every sensation you've felt and every memory you've ever had is a connection between two or more of these neurons.\n\n### THE BIGGER PIECES\n\nTo explain the functioning of such a complex and interconnected mechanism as the brain is impossible in a few words. However, there are a few \"big pieces\" that you should be aware of when you are considering your memory.\n\nThe **amygdala** tags incoming information with emotional value. The more emotionally charged an experience, the more likely it is to be remembered.\n\nThe **hippocampus** is responsible for the transference of short-term memories into the long term. It's also the part of the brain that \"lights up\" when we think about something or somewhere we know well (something we'll take advantage of later in this book).\n\nThe **cortex** is sometimes known as the thinking part of the brain, because it is where conscious thought processes take place. It consists of two halves, and research done over 50 years ago identified different functions for each half. The distinction was thought to be:\n\n**LEFT SIDE** | **RIGHT SIDE**  \n---|---  \nLists, Lines, Logic, Words, Number, Order | Rhythm, Colour, Spatial   \nawareness, Pictures,   \nDaydreaming, Imagination\n\nIt's now known that the relationship between the two halves of the brain is much more complex, and the current theory is that the left brain processes in a more serial manner and the right brain in a more parallel manner. Or, to put it another way, research has demonstrated that the left brain focuses on the detail, whereas the right brain sees the bigger picture.\n\nTraditional ways of learning and remembering have focused on the activities associated with the left brain functions. What's now certain is that the more you use both sides of the brain, the more effective your thinking will be and the better your memory.\n\n### DIFFERENT FREQUENCIES\n\nAt different levels of consciousness ranging from the wide awake state to that of deep sleep, the brain exhibits electrical activity at different frequencies.\n\nThe beta (\u03b2) frequencies are the highest, and dominate when we're wide awake. The alpha frequencies (\u03b1) become more prevalent at the relaxed but alert state. As we drift into a deeper meditative state on the way to falling asleep, we encounter more theta (\u03b8) waves, and finally, once we're in a deep sleep, the delta (\u03b4) frequencies take over.\n\nLearning is most effective in the alpha state when we're calm and relaxed. Fortunately, we're able to access this state using meditation and relaxation techniques as a way of enhancing memory.\n\n### WHAT AFFECTS YOUR BRAIN WILL AFFECT YOUR MEMORY\n\nAs a delicate and finely tuned instrument, your brain will be affected by a variety of factors that are within your control. Excess caffeine, nicotine and alcohol upset the delicate chemical balance within the brain, which undoubtedly impairs its performance. What you eat also has an effect, and a healthy balanced diet will help in improving your mental performance. Eating specific memory-enhancing foods can also be beneficial, particularly those, such as citrus and berry fruits and leafy green vegetables, that are rich in antioxidants (see p.48).\n\n_\" Memory ... is the diary that we all carry  \nabout with us. **\"**_\n\nOscar Wilde (1854\u20131900)\n\n### OXYGEN AND THE BRAIN\n\nWithout sufficient oxygen, your brain (and then you) will die. The importance of oxygen is clear when you consider that the brain might be only two percent of the body's weight but that it consumes over 25 percent of its oxygen intake. The more efficient your ability to breathe well, the more oxygen will get to your brain, which is one of the reasons that exercise is so important, as we'll see later.\n\n### THE IMPORTANCE OF SLEEP\n\nSleep is not only vital to the healthy functioning of your brain, but also crucial for learning and memory. Numerous studies have shown that people remember more effectively if they have a good night's sleep after learning. It's believed that during sleep the brain revisits its recent experiences to reinforce them and etch them into the memory. Contrary to popular belief, new learning doesn't take place while we're asleep, only the integration of information already learnt.\n\n## IMAGINATION, ASSOCIATION AND RECALL\n\nYour brain is like an amazing computer that sadly doesn't come with a user manual. You began learning how to use it by trial and error and slowly developed the thinking skills you now have. There are ways in which you can build on those and use your mind to improve your ability to remember.\n\n### ACHIEVE MORE BY DOING LESS!\n\nIt's a common misconception that the harder and longer you work at learning something, the more likely you are to be able to remember it. Fortunately, this isn't true because our minds don't naturally work like that. When you're engaged in a learning task, you're more likely to recall information from the beginning and end of the session, with a dip in your memory of the topics from the middle.\n\nThis is called the Primacy and Recency Effect. The longer the period of time you work, the bigger the dip and the less you'll recall. The secret is to take more breaks so you have more primacy and recency \"high points\" of recall. A good rule of thumb is to work for between 20 and 50 minutes and then take a five- to 10-minute break. Not only will you remember more, but you'll stay fresh and alert for longer.\n\n### THE SECRET OF HAVING A POWERFUL MEMORY\n\nThere are three simple stages for developing your memory to its full potential. Here's the secret of being able to remember absolutely anything you want to for as long as you want to:\n\n### HOW TO USE YOUR IMAGINATION\n\nThink about the last time you walked down a street full of people. Is there anyone who particularly stood out? You might have walked past hundreds of people, yet can't remember any of them. However, if a seven-foot-tall woman wearing a bright yellow coat, red hat with bright blue feathers and black leather boots, had ridden past on a pink elephant, singing the national anthem, do you think you might have remembered her? Of course you would, because that image would have stood out from all the other people you saw.\n\nOf course, not everything in our lives is as unique and as outstanding, but with the power of our imaginations we can make anything as memorable as we want by applying a few simple principles. Here are just a few ways to add some \"memory spice\":\n\n\u2022 Think in pictures and symbols even for dry and boring subjects.\n\n\u2022 Use lots of vibrant and striking colours.\n\n\u2022 Exaggerate by making small things large.\n\n\u2022 Distort by making large things small.\n\n\u2022 Create pictures with lots of movement.\n\n\u2022 Use and engage all your senses.\n\n\u2022 Be as outrageous as you can by making the images crude and shocking.\n\n\u2022 Use bizarre and unusual associations.\n\n\u2022 Make things as funny as possible \u2013 a touch of humour can make them particularly memorable.\n\n_**\"** Imagination is more powerful   \nthan knowledge. **\"**_\n\nAlbert Einstein (1879\u20131955)\n\nThe easiest way to describe this process in one sentence is for you to start thinking like a Tom and Jerry cartoon! Don't worry, you don't have to be a budding animator \u2013 just give your imagination free rein. You may be surprised at what you come up with.\n\n### ASSOCIATION \u2013 THE KEY TO EFFECTIVE RECALL\n\nWe saw earlier that the brain is an associative mechanism in that it organizes its memories by association. There are two ways in which it does so. The first is by using a sequence or chain of associations \u2013 one thing will trigger another, which itself will prompt a third thing, and so on. For example:\n\nTREE > PARK > WALK > FEET > SHOES > LACES\n\nThe other way is by a collection of associations or hooks. One idea or concept will have a series of related words linked to it, as in the beach example below.\n\nBy creating strong chains between items you want to remember and by using multiple hooks, you'll be able to recall things much more effectively, especially if you enhance those links by using your imagination in the way that I've described above.\n\n### ORGANIZING YOUR ASSOCIATIONS\n\nHaving a series of strong associations will serve you well, only if you're able to consciously access them by choice whenever you want to. You now need to organize your powerful filing system of a memory so that it's easy to find any file. The way to do that is to give each file a label. I'll be showing you various labelling methods based on visual techniques.\n\nAs we've seen with the Hillary Clinton exercise on page 22, we tend to think in pictures rather than words or numbers. (Although we've been conditioned over two millennia to think in words, our natural inclination, dating back to the era before written language, is to think in pictures, feelings or sensations.)\n\n### REMEMBER FOR LONGER\n\nMany people complain that they can't recall things from the recent past, and they believe this results from a poor memory. What they don't know is that it's normal for this to happen because, within one to two days of encountering new information, you're likely to remember only about 20 percent of it. The reason for this drop-off is the overlaying of similar or related information, which makes it harder to distinguish one memory from another, which in turn reduces the ability to recall. This is known as the confusion factor. Rather than arising from a poor memory, the inability to remember the new information is the result of not having a proper and effective process to condition the recall so that you'll always be able to recapture it.\n\n### REHEARSE THE RECALL\n\nIf you really want to remember something important, you need to practise recalling it from memory after 10 minutes, a day, a week, a month, three months and six months. After that it will be in your long-term memory and you'll always be able to recall it because you'll have conditioned it into your mind.\n\n### BREAK IT DOWN INTO LITTLE PIECES\n\nThink of the children's joke, \"How do you eat an elephant?,\" to which the answer is, \"One bite at a time.\" The same principle applies when dealing with things that you have to remember. Breaking things down into smaller, more manageable chunks makes remembering them much easier.\n\nIn this book I'll give you specific and powerful ways to use imagination, association and recall to organize your mental files so you can access them easily and recall what you've memorized.\n\n**GUIDING PRINCIPLES**\n\n**Here are the general principles that will apply to everything you'll learn about improving your memory in the rest of the book.**\n\nWork for 20\u201350 minutes and take five- to 10-minute breaks.\n\nUse your imagination to create strong, memorable images that   \nstand out in your mind.\n\nCreate powerful associations using hooks and chains.\n\nOrganize your associations by using one of the many mental filing   \nsystems that you'll learn about in this book.\n\nRegularly rehearse recalling what you've learned to ensure   \nlong-term recall.\n\nBreak things down into smaller, more manageable chunks.\n\n_\"I've a grand memory for forgetting. **\"**_\n\nRobert Louis Stevenson (1850\u201394)\n\n## BEING CERTAIN OF SUCCESS\n\nIf you look at people who've achieved anything of note in any area of their lives, there are some common things they'll have done to ensure success. Whether you want to climb the highest mountain, find a new job or improve your memory, you're more likely to reach your goal if you have the mindset of a successful person.\n\n### FIVE STEPS TO SUCCESS   \nStep 1 \u2013 Have a goal\n\nThis is the most important step, because if you don't have a clearly defined target you'll never know if you've hit it. Your goal needs to be easy to understand, measurable, have a deadline and be **written down**. Writing it down is essential because it's the first step as your goal translates from a fleeting idea inside your mind into reality. Here are two examples of written goals:\n\n\u2022 I want to improve my memory.\n\n\u2022 I want to be able to remember straightaway the first and last names of 15 new people who I meet at business or social gatherings over the next month, and then be able to recall their names if I meet them again in the future.\n\nThe first example is vague and it has no clear definition of success or when it might be achieved. The second example is much better because the goal is very clearly defined and there's a specific time-frame.\n\n#### Step 2 \u2013 Have a plan\n\nHaving set your goal, you now need to make a plan that will enable you to achieve it. The simplest approach is to first make a list of everything that you need to do to achieve the goal, and then organize that list into numbered stages.\n\nIf we take the example of the goal from Step 1 of wanting to remember names straightaway, the start of your plan might look something like this:\n\n\u2022 Read section on remembering names.\n\n\u2022 Practise to myself.\n\n\u2022 Teach my family the method for remembering names so that I know I understand it.\n\n\u2022 Practise on my friends.\n\n\u2022 Try out the system with one new person at my next meeting.\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Believe you can do it\n\nNot believing you can do something will seriously affect your ability to do it, but fortunately there are two straightforward ways to give your mind the \"proof \" that you can.\n\nThe first is to use self talk (this is also known as affirmations), which simply involves making positive statements about yourself and your abilities. It is common for most people to say negative things about themselves, such as:\n\n\"I have a poor memory.\"   \nor\n\n\"I can't remember that.\"   \nor\n\n\"That's too difficult to learn.\"\n\nThese sorts of statements help to reinforce the belief that you have a poor memory. So, instead, to help you improve your memory, you need to say things like:\n\n\"I have a fabulous memory.\"   \nand\n\n\"I always remember the names of everyone I meet.\"   \nand\n\n\"Learning and remembering new information is easy and fun for me.\"\n\nThe more you repeat these statements, the greater your belief in your powers of memory will become.\n\nA second powerful way to help you with your belief levels is to use your imagination to create little movies in your mind of what it will be like when you're successfully using your great memory. See, hear and feel \"perfect memory situations\" in great detail and really imagine yourself having the memory ability you desire. Used by the world's top athletes to focus before the big game, this process of imagining a successful outcome is known as \"mental rehearsal\".\n\n#### Step 4 \u2013 Take action\n\nNow put your plan into action using the stages described in Step 2. Keep going until everything on your list is complete and you've achieved your goal. As you work your way through your plan, check to make sure that your actions are taking you closer to your goal. If not, it's OK to refine and re-write the plan so that it gets you to your desired outcome more quickly. The key to Step 4 is to keep taking action until the goal is achieved.\n\n#### Step 5 \u2013 Keep a positive attitude\n\nLife has a habit of throwing things in the way as we progress toward our goals, but we're lucky enough to be able to choose how we respond. Letting negative emotions develop when things don't go our way causes stress, which adversely affects how we feel. In terms of developing a good memory, negative emotions are a major barrier to overcome. Keeping a positive outlook on life and reacting to events and circumstances in a positive way won't make problems go away, but they'll furnish you with a more resourceful state of mind to deal with them (and it's a lot more fun too!).\n\nTo get you started in applying these five simple steps, here are a few exercises:\n\n\u2022 Think about all the goals that you have for your memory and write them down so that you know exactly what you want for each one and when you want to achieve it by.\n\n\u2022 Choose the most important of your goals and create a plan for achieving it.\n\n\u2022 Write down on a card five positive affirmations about attaining this goal, and repeat them to yourself at every opportunity.\n\n\u2022 Visualize achieving your goal, using your imagination and all your senses to do so \u2013 see it as though it has already happened.\n\n\u2022 Start working toward your goal by beginning with the first item on your list of things to do.\n\n# 2   \nGENTLE STRETCHES\n\nBefore we start delving into memory improvement techniques, there are, first of all, some straightforward things that you can do in terms of lifestyle that will have a significant effect on your powers of memorization and recall.\n\nThis chapter will look at the number one lifestyle challenge to having a correctly functioning memory \u2013 the stress factor \u2013 and what you can do to overcome it. It will also look at ways to boost your memory faculties through exercise and simple, commonsense changes to your diet, including a guide to memoryenhancing foods. In addition, I'll show you some practical steps you can take immediately to help you recall some of the things that you need to.\n\n## MANAGING STRESS FOR A BETTER MEMORY\n\nStress affects the way we think and, in particular, the performance of memory. By minimizing the effects of stress, you can create a much better physical and mental environment for your memory, enabling it to perform at its best.\n\n### HOW STRESS AFFECTS MEMORY\n\nAs we evolved as human beings, our bodies created an effective protection and survival device that was designed to keep us alive when threatened \u2013 it is called the fight or flight mechanism.\n\nWhen faced with a potential danger, we could either tackle it (fight) or run away from it (flight). Whichever choice we made, we needed to breathe faster, produce more adrenaline, tense our muscles and shut down bodily systems that we didn't need.\n\nToday we are fortunate in that we rarely have to fight or flee. However, we're still bombarded with many things in our personal and professional lives that can be perceived as a threat, and our bodies still respond in the same way, which creates stress.\n\nStress affects memory in two ways. First, it shuts down part of the brain that is responsible for longterm memory, which is why we find it difficult to recall information when we are under pressure. Second, if the stress chemicals produced in the brain remain there for longer periods, they create a toxic bath that destroys brain cells, especially those that are involved in memory.\n\n**LEARN TO RELAX**\n\n**In order to manage stress and help improve your memory,  \nyou need to learn to relax. Try some of these exercises to   \nsee which work best for you. Do them somewhere quiet   \nwhere you won't be disturbed.**\n\nPhysically tense and then consciously relax every muscle in turn,   \nstarting from your head and working down to your toes.\n\nUsing your imagination, picture yourself in a peaceful place, such   \nas on a deserted tropical beach or in a secluded meadow, and then   \nimagine the stress and tension draining away from your body.\n\nSlow your breathing down and count the number of breaths you take   \nin one minute; aim to approximately halve that number for the next   \nminute. Repeat until your breathing rate is slow and deep.\n\nPractise breath meditation by first physically relaxing every muscle   \nin your body and then focusing on nothing else apart from   \ncounting your breaths.\n\n_\" To the mind that is still, the whole universe  \nsurrenders. **\"**_\n\nLao Tzu (6th century BC)\n\n## EXERCISE TO IMPROVE YOUR MEMORY\n\nA healthy body helps to create a healthy mind, and a good exercise session will not only clear your head but also make you feel better. Exercise also helps to improve memory performance and should be an important part of your memory improvement plan.\n\n### EXERCISE HELPS COMBAT STRESS\n\nRegular exercise can overcome the effects of stress in two key ways. First, it provides an outlet for the build-up in the brain of potentially harmful fight or flight chemicals, which can lead to stress. Second, it conditions both the body and the mind to be less susceptible to fatigue and thereby enables them to handle stress more effectively.\n\n### DO THE RIGHT EXERCISE\n\nThe right kind of exercise to combat stress and improve your memory is aerobic \u2013 exercise in which your heart rate is 70\u201385 percent of your maximum (your doctor can advise you on what these rates should be). Exercise at this interim rate for 30 minutes, with a 10-minute warm-up and warm-down, for at least three times per week, and preferably five times, in order to obtain the maximum benefit.\n\n**IT REALLY WORKS!**   \nRecent research into the effects of exercise on ageing has shown that exercise boosts mental performance generally and, in particular, improves memory. Additional research into the effects of exercise on academic performance demonstrated that over 80 percent of high-achieving students exercised at least three times per week and that the failure rate of physically fit students was half that of those who were unfit.\n\nBrisk walking is a good form of aerobic exercise \u2013 try fitting this in whenever you can, such as going for a fast-paced 30-minute walk in your lunch hour at work. Other ideal aerobic activities are jogging, swimming, cycling and dancing.\n\n### WHY DOES AEROBIC EXERCISE IMPROVE MEMORY?\n\nAerobic exercise is beneficial for the heart, blood vessels and lungs, with the added bonus of helping to improve memory. It generates an increase in the body's need for oxygen \u2013 as a result, the heart and lungs have to work a little harder than normal.\n\nHeavier breathing during aerobic exercise draws more oxygen into the body, resulting in a faster heart rate. This faster rate pumps the oxygen-enriched blood around the circulatory system.\n\nTwenty to 40 percent of this blood flows to the brain and, as the brain thrives on oxygen, it will perform better because of the increased flow.\n\n### START GENTLY\n\nBefore you begin an exercise programme, ask your doctor for advice on the most suitable form of exercise for your physical condition and for the all-clear to start. Begin gently \u2013 don't rush it. Gradually build up to exercising three times a week for 30 minutes.\n\nTry doing different forms of exercise to discover the one or ones you enjoy the most \u2013 you're more likely to stick at them. It also helps to find an exercise buddy to keep you company and, even more critically, keep you motivated.\n\n## A BETTER DIET, A BETTER MEMORY\n\nMental performance and, in particular, memory are affected by what we consume. Consequently, if you choose the right food, you can improve your memory.\n\n### A GOOD FOOD FOUNDATION\n\nThe foundation for a memory-improving eating plan is a diet that's balanced and healthy \u2013 low in fat, salt and sugar, and high in fibre. It should also contain at least five portions of fresh fruit and vegetables a day. A useful rule is to see how \"alive and fresh\" your food looks.\n\nIt's also important to keep the body hydrated. This is because the brain is nearly 80 percent water and if that water level drops through dehydration, the brain's performance will deteriorate.\n\n### DEVELOPING A BETTER DIET\n\nTo ensure an optimum diet to support your memoryimprovement programme, here's what I advise:\n\n\u2022 Keep a food journal for a week to monitor what you eat and drink.\n\n\u2022 Consult your doctor or a qualified nutritionist for advice on how to adjust your diet to make it healthier, if necessary.\n\n\u2022 Eat lots of water-rich foods such as salads and fruits, and drink at least eight glasses of water \u2013 three to four pints \u2013 a day.\n\n\u2022 Eat regularly and maintain your energy levels with \"slow-burning\" energy foods such as wholewheat bread and pasta, brown rice, wholegrain breakfast cereals and porridge oats.\n\n\u2022 Reduce your intake of salt and sugars, which can be very high in convenience and \"junk\" food \u2013 check the labels carefully.\n\n### MEMORY-ENHANCING FOODS\n\nThere are also specific foods that enhance memory, notably antioxidants, B vitamins and Omega-3 fatty acids.\n\n### MEMORY-BOOSTING SUPPLEMENTS\n\n_Ginkgo biloba_ has traditionally been used by Chinese herbalists for a variety of remedies. Scientific studies have shown that extracts stimulate circulation in the brain, which improves short-term memory.\n\n**ANTIOXIDANTS** | **B VITAMINS** | **OMEGA-3 FATTY ACIDS**  \n---|---|---  \nAlfalfa sprouts   \nBerry fruits   \nBroccoli   \nCitrus fruits   \nCranberries   \nGrapes   \nKale   \nMango and papaya   \nSpinach   \nTomatoes | Dairy   \nproducts   \nLean   \nmeat and   \npoultry   \nLegumes   \nNuts and   \nseeds   \nWheat germ | Herring   \nMackerel   \nSalmon   \nSardines   \nTrout   \nTuna   \n(fresh has a   \nhigher concentration   \nthan canned)\n\nGinseng helps to neutralize the negative effects of free radicals and excess toxic chemicals in the brain caused by stress.\n\n## MEMORY JOGGERS\n\nAs you read this book, you'll be able to develop an extremely strong memory and instant recall just by using the power of your mind. However, while you gradually build up your natural memory powers, you shouldn't overlook some simple \"artificial\" methods that will help you remember a wide spectrum of information.\n\n### ARTIFICIAL STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS\n\nThere are a number of practical ways to store information so you can retrieve it whenever you want to, as well as ways to prompt you to remember to do something at exactly the right time. Here are some suggestions.\n\n\u2022 Programme your phone \u2013 set the alarm to remind you of an important appointment or something that you have to do at a specific time.\n\n\u2022 Use the refrigerator as a reminder board \u2013 write down your list of things to do in large writing on a big piece of paper and stick it on the refrigerator where you'll always see it.\n\n\u2022 Keep a journal \u2013 reflect on your day by recording in a journal all the significant things that have happened to you and, in particular, how you feel about them. Remember the journal is private, so you can record your thoughts and feelings honestly. Reading the journal in a few months' or years' time will assist you in recalling your past and trigger a whole range of associated memories.\n\n\u2022 Use your calendar \u2013 make a note on your calendar of important dates such as birthdays and anniversaries and when to buy cards and presents.\n\n\u2022 Display reminders on your computer \u2013 if you use your computer every day, write reminders of things that you have to do on pieces of paper and stick them over your screen so that you'll see them when you log on, or use the reminder software on your computer.\n\n_**\"** The palest ink is better than the   \nbest memory. **\"**_\n\nChinese proverb\n\n\u2022 Bribe your children \u2013 if you have young children, prime them to remind you to do something by offering them a little incentive such as ice cream or an extra allowance if they remind you at the right time.\n\nYou might think that using these methods is cheating because you're not relying on your natural memory. However, your ability to remember something increases dramatically when you bring that information into the external real world from out of your internal thinking world. When you write something down or type it into an electronic device, you'll see it, feel it and possibly hear it (if you say what it is out loud). All of this will make the information much more memorable.\n\nTry using some of the suggestions I've given you to help in your memory recall. Or see if you can think of other devices or methods that you could use to help you remember.\n\n## WHERE DID I LEAVE...?\n\nMany people, particularly as they get older, start thinking their memory is getting worse because they keep losing their keys, misplacing their purse or even forgetting where they parked the car! They assume a failing memory is responsible for these lapses, but in fact this usually isn't so. A simple technique will ensure you'll never forget where you left your car and never misplace your keys or purse again.\n\n### YOUR CONSCIOUS AND SUBCONSCIOUS MIND\n\nIn the most basic terms, we think on two different levels \u2013 consciously and subconsciously.\n\nYour conscious mind is focused at the moment on reading these words on this page. This part of your mind is where you do your conscious thinking as you engage with the world and what's happening around you.\n\nThe subconscious deals with everything else not looked after by your conscious mind, and is much larger. For example, your subconscious mind is currently processing the physical sensations being experienced by your left foot, which you weren't aware of until I drew your attention to them.\n\nYour subconscious mind is so powerful that it can allow you to act on \"auto-pilot\" so you don't even have to think about what you're doing, particularly if it's something you do often, such as taking off your glasses or putting down your house or car keys.\n\n### WHY YOU \"FORGET\" WHERE YOU PUT YOUR KEYS\n\nThe reason you misplace items (which you then blame your memory for) is simple. You weren't consciously thinking about them when you put them down, because you were operating on \"auto-pilot\". You weren't concentrating on what you were doing \u2013 in effect, \"you\" were never \"there\", which is why you can't consciously remember where you put your keys. Your subconscious will know where they are. However, since we engage with the world through our conscious mind, the keys are as good as lost. This will inevitably happen more often the older you get, not because your memory is getting worse, but because you will have more memories and associations. As a result, your conscious mind is going to be distracted more often, making it harder to concentrate on what you're doing, especially on mundane activities.\n\n### THE SOLUTION IS SIMPLE\n\nIn order to be able to remember where you leave something like your purse or keys or even your car, you need to bring its location into your conscious awareness. The easiest way to do this is to say out loud what it is you're putting down or leaving and where you're putting it. For example, \"I'm putting my keys on top of the microwave,\" or \"I'm leaving my car on the seventh floor in bay A\" \u2013 you can say this before you get out of the car to avoid funny looks from other motorists!\n\nPractise describing out loud to yourself where you leave things \u2013 whether around the house or when you're out and about \u2013 until it becomes a habit.\n\n## THAT REMINDS ME...\n\nIf you ever plan to mention something important to a friend or colleague, or maybe do a particular task in the office, and you forget, it can be really frustrating. What you need is a foolproof way to remind you of exactly what to do when you need to do it.\n\n### WHY WE FORGET TO DO SOMETHING\n\nThere are three main reasons why we sometimes don't remember to do things at the appropriate time:\n\n\u2022 When it occurs to us that we need to take some future action, the idea fleetingly passes through our conscious mind and we don't think about it long enough for it to consciously \"reappear\" at the right time or place.\n\n\u2022 Such a lapse in memory occurs mainly when we're doing something habitual or regular (such as spending time with colleagues or friends or going to the office) \u2013 we switch to \"automatic\" and the new idea doesn't have a chance to embed itself in our mind.\n\n\u2022 We haven't created a strong enough prompting mechanism to remind us of the idea at exactly the right time.\n\nWouldn't it be great if the solution to the problem was a massive billboard with flashing lights and loud music that magically appeared at just the right moment, with a reminder written on it in huge letters? Although we may not be able to make a real billboard to do that, we can create the mental equivalent. First, though, it's important to understand about anchors and triggers.\n\n### TRIGGERS, ANCHORS AND THE SALIVATING DOGS\n\nIn a famous experiment carried out by Russian scientist Ivan Pavlov at the beginning of the last century, dogs were conditioned to associate the ringing of a bell with being fed. When dogs are about to be given food they salivate as the food is presented to them. What Pavlov discovered was that he could get the dogs to salivate without food, just by ringing the bell. Firmly **anchored** in the dogs' minds was the link between the food and the bell (achieved by conditioning). Once the bell was sounded, it **triggered** the salivation response even when there was no food.\n\nTriggers and anchors work in humans, too, because over the years we've become conditioned to respond in certain ways to certain triggers. For example, if you're driving and you see a red stop light, you'll automatically brake. If you're introduced to someone new at a social or business meeting and they offer their hand to shake yours, you'll automatically reach out to take their hand without even giving it a second thought.\n\n### APPLYING THE KNOWLEDGE\n\nSo, how can you apply this knowledge to ensure you always remember to do something at a particular time or place? It's quite straightforward \u2013 you simply create a visual reminder, which is anchored in your memory and automatically triggered by the specific event or place.\n\n**TRIGGER** | **ANCHORED BEHAVIOUR**  \n---|---  \nRed light | Stop the car  \nOffer of a handshake | Shake hands\n\n### CREATING POWERFUL AUTOMATIC REMINDERS\n\nLet's imagine you're going away on a trip and that the next time you catch up with your friend John you have to ask him if he'll take you to the airport in a couple of weeks' time. To do this, all you have to do is to follow the REMIND process:\n\n**R** eview in your mind what you have to do and imagine yourself doing it when you have to do it. Visualizing the action in this way will condition you to expect success. So, in this example, you'll envisage yourself asking John to take you to the airport when you see him next.\n\n**E** xaggerate a picture of your trigger event (seeing John) and combine this with something related to what you have to do. You might see your friend sitting astride an airplane that was moving as if it were a mechanical bull. The more unusual and bizarre the image, the better. This is your anchored response.\n\n**M** aximize the recall power of the image by using all your senses and the principles of effective memory visualization on pp.29\u201331.\n\n**I** nstall the link firmly between your anchored response and the trigger by repeating the association in your mind a number of times so that every time you think of John, the picture of him sitting astride the airplane springs to mind.\n\n**N** ote whether the trigger will work or not, by thinking of something else and then go back to thinking about John. If the first thing you think of is him and the airplane, then you know that the trigger's working. If it's not working, practise reinforcing it until it does, or find a stronger trigger.\n\n**D** eepen the power of this process by affirming to yourself that it will work and that you'll remember by trusting your subconscious mind to remind you when you encounter your trigger (John).\n\nWhat will happen when you next meet John is that seeing him will automatically trigger the picture of him sitting astride the airplane, which will remind you to ask him to take you to the airport. You've created your own mental billboard!\n\n### TRY THIS OUT\n\n\u2022 To strengthen your understanding of this process, think of someone you know who'll benefit from this book and create a reminder to tell them about what you've learnt from it.\n\n\u2022 Try out the REMIND process with something that you have to do at work or a task that needs to be done around the house.\n\n\u2022 To convince yourself how powerful and long-lasting firmly anchored triggers can be, play some music from your teenage years and notice what memories come flooding back.\n\n# 3   \nGREAT TECHNIQUES\n\nYou're now going to discover a range of basic, easy-to-follow strategies for memorizing and recalling a variety of things from directions to spellings.\n\nIf you've ever forgotten someone's name within two minutes of meeting them, there's a good reason for it and this chapter will tell you what that is and how to deal with it. You'll also discover how to remember your PIN for your credit and debit cards, and how to lock away, so you never forget them, those flashes of inspiration that seem to come at the most inopportune moments. You'll find out how to do your regular food shopping without a list and still remember to buy everything that you need. And you'll learn foolproof methods for remembering directions as well as for spelling troublesome words correctly.\n\n## REMEMBERING NAMES \u2013 THE SOCIAL METHOD\n\nOne of the biggest memory-related problems many people have is a difficulty in remembering names, which often leads them to think that they must have a poor memory. However, in most cases their memory is, in fact, fine and the problem is just a matter of them having an ineffective process for handling the names of new people they meet.\n\n### WHY IS REMEMBERING NAMES SUCH A PROBLEM?\n\nIf I asked you to recall something you'd never been told, you'd think I was crazy. How can you possibly be expected to retrieve something from your memory that isn't there?\n\nWell, as silly as it may seem, this is the main reason why people have such a problem with remembering names \u2013 it is because they never actually registered the names in the first place!\n\nFor many, encountering new people at business or social functions is a stressful affair. With the pressures of wanting to create a good impression, the potential for rejection, the mental rehearsal of what you're going to say, the encounters with several people one after the other in quick succession and the myriad of other things swirling around your mind, someone else's name can hardly get through all that internal mental \"noise\" to stick in your memory.\n\n### THE SECRET OF REMEMBERING\n\nWhat you need to dramatically improve your ability to remember people's names is a way to control the introductions so that you definitely take in the names and remember them immediately. The following process can be used in social or business situations.\n\n### REMEMBERING NAMES STEP BY STEP\n\nStep 1 \u2013 Have your senses ready\n\nWhen you're faced with meeting new people, you're going to learn something about someone, so you'll need to be ready to see the person's face and hear their name.\n\n#### Step 2 \u2013 Shake hands\n\nAddress the person by shaking their hand and saying hello. By initiating the contact in this way, you control the process and are more likely to remember the name.\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Name yourself slowly and clearly\n\nThis will help the person you're meeting to register your name, but it will also mean they're likely to copy you and tell you their name in the same fashion, making it easier for you to hear and understand.\n\n#### Step 4 \u2013 Concentrate\n\nDo pay attention and concentrate when the person tells you their name by looking at their face and listening to what they say.\n\n#### Step 5 \u2013 Say their name back\n\nBy doing this immediately, you definitely fix the name in your conscious awareness where it will be easier to remember in the future.\n\n#### Step 6 \u2013 Have you got it right?\n\nCheck with the person that you've pronounced the name correctly, and even check the spelling, if necessary, to clarify it. This way, you're starting a subtle process of repetition that will firmly engrave the name in your memory.\n\n#### Step 7 \u2013 Ask about the name\n\nBy doing this, especially if it's an unusual name, you're continuing the process of repetition that will help you remember it, but you're also showing an interest in the person. This will create more of an emotional connection that will assist you in remembering them.\n\n#### Step 8 \u2013 Keep the name in mind\n\nMentally review the name at every opportunity you get. Look around the room at the people you've met and silently name them to make sure you have their names in your memory.\n\n#### Step 9 \u2013 Use the name\n\nEmploy the name at every appropriate opportunity, especially when you're talking to someone. For example,\n\n\"Janet, what do you think about this?,\" \"That's a very interesting point, Michael,\" \"John, would you please pass me that glass?\"\n\n#### Step 10 \u2013 Exchange business cards\n\nSay goodbye at the end of the function and exchange business cards if appropriate. Not only will this be a final repetition of the name, but when you receive the business card you'll see the name written down and this will help you remember it.\n\nWithout using this process, most introductions that happen between two people meeting for the first time are a one- to two-second rapid exchange of handshakes and barely registered names. And if you have to meet more than three or four people this way, it will be extremely difficult to remember their names at all.\n\n### KEEP PRACTISING\n\nWith practice, the introduction part of this process will take 15\u201320 seconds for each person that you meet. This will give you enough time to capture the name, repeat it a few times and develop a stronger connection with the person, which will definitely help you to remember them and their name.\n\nAs you go through the coming week, notice just how many people's names you already know. This will show you that you already have the ability to remember names.\n\nAlso, monitor how many people you're introduced to in a week and notice how well you can remember their names following your old method.\n\nBefore you begin using the 10-step introduction process, practise it with friends or family members until you're comfortable with it and then use it the next time you meet someone for the first time. If you want to become really good at remembering names, you can increase the number of people you try out the process on by one more each time you use it.\n\n## REMEMBERING FACTS \u2013 THE MAGIC OF MNEMONICS\n\nWhen you encounter a common fact, it's possible that someone has already created a simple and often clever way to remember it. Known as a mnemonic (pronounced **nem** \u2013 **on** \u2013 **ic** ), such a device uses words as a memory prompt. Many mnemonics have been passed down through generations.\n\n### THE FIRST-LETTER METHOD\n\nThe most commonly used method for remembering information, especially when there's a set sequence to the data, is to take the first letter of each word you need to know. If you have difficulty remembering the colours of a rainbow, try this time-honoured device to help you recall them, based on the first letter of each colour:   \n**R** ed **O** range **Y** ellow **G** reen **B** lue **I** ndigo **V** iolet.\n\nIf we take the first letter of each colour, we get:   \n**R O Y G B I V**\n\nMany people remember the colours just by recalling   \n\" **ROY G BIV** \", while others make up a sentence such as:\n\n**R** ichard **O** f **Y** ork **G** ave **B** attle **I** n **V** ain.\n\nWhether you prefer the acronym or the sentence, you'll have a fail-safe way to remember the order of the colours.\n\nAnother long-established mnemonic, learned by budding mathematicians, is an easy way to remember a mathematical relationship: the trigonometric ratios of sine, cosine and tangent in a right-angled triangle in relation to the length of the hypotenuse and that of the sides adjacent to and opposite the angle in question.\n\n**S** ine = **O** pposite\/ **H** ypotenuse   \n**C** osine = **A** djacent\/ **H** ypotenuse   \n**T** angent = **O** pposite\/ **A** djacent\n\nTo remember this mathematicians either use:   \n**SOH CAH TOA** or a sentence such as:\n\n**S** ome **O** ld **H** ag **C** aught **A** **H** are **T** rying **O** ut **A** rtichokes.\n\nMillions of children learned the names of the planets in our solar system, from nearest to farthest from the sun \u2013 Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus,\n\n**A MISCELLANY OF MNEMONICS**\n\n**Sometimes there are different ways to remember the same thing.  \nFor example, mariners need to know that port is left and starboard   \nis right. Here are three options.**\n\nNotice there are four letters in the word PORT and the word LEFT.\n\nor\n\nThink of the sentence, \"There's no PORT LEFT in the bottle because   \nthe sailors have drunk it all!\"\n\nor\n\nNote the order in the alphabet of the initial letters of the words:   \n**P** ort comes before **S** tarboard just as **L** eft comes before **R** ight.\n\nFrom the sea to caves... In caves you'll see rock formations that   \nhang down from the ceiling and reach up from the ground.   \nThese are called stalactites and stalagmites but how can you   \nremember which is which?\n\nSTALA **G** MITE = **G** ROUND STALA **C** TITE = **C** EILING\n\nor\n\nStala **g** mites rise from the **g** round and stala **c** tites drop from the **c** eiling.\n\n_**\"** He who is not very strong in memory should   \nnot meddle with lying. **\"**_\n\nMichel de Montaigne (1533\u201392)\n\nNeptune, and the former planet Pluto \u2013 based on a mnemonic that uses the first letter of each of the planets:\n\n**M** y **V** ery **E** asy **M** ethod **J** ust **S** peeds **U** p **N** aming **P** lanets.\n\nAnother common mnemonic that uses first letters is **HOMES** , which acts as a reminder of the names of the Great Lakes:\n\n**H** uron **O** ntario **M** ichigan **E** rie **S** uperior.\n\n### RHYMES AND WORDPLAY\n\nPoems and rhymes can also help to recollect useful facts. One of the oldest examples is used to remember the year when Christopher Columbus landed in America:\n\n\"Columbus Sailed The Ocean Blue   \nIn Fourteen Hundred And Ninety Two.\"\n\nUsing wordplay helps, too. Daylight Saving Time changes confuse many who do not know whether to put their clocks forward or back. Here's how to remember which it is:\n\nSpring Forward, Fall Back\n\n### CREATING YOUR OWN MNEMONICS\n\nWhen you're faced with new and maybe rather obscure facts, you may have to create your own mnemonics. Although the first-letter method is versatile, not everything can be broken down in this way, so try this next technique.\n\n### ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS\n\nAsking the right questions is a powerful tool to direct our thinking in a positive and productive way. The questions on the opposite page are designed to stimulate your memory to create some powerful mnemonics. When you have to learn a new fact, quickly run through the questions \u2013 they'll generate lots of ideas to help you remember the information.\n\n### CHECK YOUR RECALL\n\nOnce you've come up with your mnemonic for whatever facts you're trying to remember, it's a good memory principle to check that you're able to recall what you've learnt by putting the information aside for a short time. Go and do something else to occupy your mind for 20 minutes, then come back to the information and prove to yourself that you really do know it. If there are any shortcomings in your recall and you find it difficult to recollect everything, work on the mnemonic to make it stronger, then test your recall again.\n\n**\"** _When I was younger I could remember  \nanything, whether it had happened or not. **\"**_\n\nMark Twain (1835\u20131910)\n\n**QUESTIONS TO ASK**\n\n**First impressions**\n\nIs there anything obvious about this new fact?\n\nWhat does this remind me of?\n\nDoes this look or sound like anything else more familiar?\n\nAre there any patterns in the words?\n\nWhat are the key words to summarize the main points?\n\n**Manipulate the fact**\n\nCan I break this down into manageable chunks?\n\nCan I make this outrageous or bizarre?\n\nCan I exaggerate this?\n\nCan I make this colourful or funny?\n\nCan I draw a picture to represent this?\n\nCan I abbreviate any of the words?\n\nCan I make a word from the letters of any words?\n\nCan I make this rhyme with something?\n\nCan I make up a poem or limerick?\n\n**Use comparisons**\n\nHow is this different from other, related facts?\n\nHow is this the same as other, related facts?\n\n**Use your different learning styles**\n\nHow can I make this **look** like something easy to remember?\n\nHow can I create a **sound** from this?\n\nHow can I create an **action** from this?\n\n### THINKING CREATIVELY\n\nThe beauty of trying to devise your own mnemonic is that, just by thinking about and around the information you're trying to remember in a creative way, you'll embed the facts more deeply in your memory, and therefore be more likely to retain them, even if you don't come up with an obvious mnemonic.\n\n### NOW IT'S YOUR TURN\n\nTry creating your own mnemonic for the following fact \u2013 the size order from the largest to the smallest of the planets, which is: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Earth, Venus, Mars, Mercury.\n\n## REMEMBERING SPELLINGS\n\nSpelling in English can be a challenge, because many words are not spelled in the same way that they are spoken. Often there are a number of ways to write the same sound.\n\nThis can be confusing both to people learning English and to native speakers, but there are some tricks that can help you remember the correct way to spell words that are commonly misspelled.\n\n### USE YOUR EYES\n\nIf someone's poor at spelling, it doesn't necessarily mean they're not as intelligent as someone who's good at spelling. It's likely that they just have a poor process for recalling the order of the letters. Most poor spellers \"say\" the word to themselves and then spell it phonetically by interpreting the sounds into letters.\n\nWhen good spellers spell a word, they \"see\" the word in their mind's eye and copy what they \"see\". Because many words are not spelled as they sound, this process is more successful than trying to spell what is heard.\n\n### HOW TO REMEMBER AWKWARD SPELLINGS\n\nAnother way to spell words that habitually cause you a problem is to focus on the part of the word that you have difficulty with and to think up either a phrase or an image that you can link to the word to reinforce the correct way to spell it. Here are some examples:\n\nSeparate or Seperate? | There's **a rat** in sep **arat** e  \n---|---  \nNecessary, Neccessary or Neccesary? | Necessary has one \"C\" and two \"Ss\" because it's necessary that a man's shirt has one Collar and two Sleeves  \nStationary or Stationery? | Envelope is an example of stationery and it begins with an \" **e** \"  \nEmbarrass or Embarass? | When we emba **rr** ass someone they go **r** eally **r** ed\n\nAnd for young children who are learning new words for the first time, the following statements are fun and easy to remember :\n\nBecause | **B** ig **e** lephants **c** an **a** lways **u** nderstand **s** mall **e** lephants  \n---|---  \nWednesday | **We** **d** o **n** ot **e** at **s** weets **day**\n\nThese are just some of the more common and popular examples of how to remember spellings. The best ones, though, are those that you make up yourself as they are most likely to register in your mind. Try finding your own ways to help you remember these commonly misspelled words:\n\n**Fahrenheit** (it shouldn't be Farenheit), **Desiccated** (not Dessicated), **Supersede** (not Supercede).\n\nWhen you're trying to spell a word, visualize it and then write it out rather than just saying it to yourself.\n\n## ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR PIN\n\nPersonal identification numbers protect your credit and debit cards from misuse, but often keep them so secure that even you can't use them because you've forgotten the PIN! What you need is a way to memorize numbers that's easy to use, works every time and still maintains the security of all your cards.\n\n### CHOOSE A GOOD NUMBER\n\nThe beauty of this first simple method is that you're allowed to choose whatever number you want for your PIN. It makes sense not to select an obvious combination like 1234, 1111 or 2222.\n\nThe best number to choose is one that's unique and personal to you, yet not too obvious. For example, you could choose the date of your mother's birthday, the year your eldest child was born, the year your favourite team last won the Super Bowl or World Series, or any other four-digit number that has a particular meaning or an association for you.\n\nBelow are two things that you can do to remember your PIN when you need it. Try them and see which method suits you better.\n\n\u2022 Create a vivid image that links the significant number you've chosen and your card. If you've chosen your mother's birthday for your Amex number, then imagine your mother using that card while wearing a party hat and carrying a birthday cake with lots of candles on it. When you get the card out, you'll think of your mother using it on her birthday and will then recall the PIN.\n\n\u2022 Carry with your card a cryptic note, like \"Buy Mom's birthday present with Amex.\" When you get that card out, just look at this piece of paper and you'll know the PIN \u2013 but the clue will be meaningless to anyone else. Of course, you can adapt this system to use for any short number, such as debit cards, door security numbers or combination locks.\n\n### USE YOUR CREDIT CARD NUMBER\n\nAnother foolproof method of remembering your PIN is to choose one based on the credit card number itself. For example, suppose your card number was:\n\n4929 4263 7812 3611\n\nIt would be unwise to pick one of these four digit groups or any easy-to-guess combination, but you could use it as a basis for your PIN. For instance, take the first number of each group and add 1 to it, to give you 5584. Whatever method you use, you'll have a unique PIN that you'll be able to recall simply by looking at your card.\n\n### MIX AND MATCH\n\nIf you have one card and one PIN to remember, choose the method you like best and use that. If you have more than one card, pick a unique PIN for each and commit each number to memory using a different technique.\n\n## REMEMBERING DIRECTIONS\n\nGetting hopelessly lost is something we'd all like to avoid, and asking for directions is a good way to prevent this from happening. However, having stopped to ask the way, many of us still end up in the middle of nowhere because we forgot the instructions we were given. Remembering directions can be straightforward with a simple system and a little understanding of how we think.\n\n### THINKING AND COMMUNICATING IN DIFFERENT WAYS\n\nOf our five senses, what we see (visual), hear (auditory) and feel or do (kinesthetic) have the most impact on the way that we communicate and learn. You and every person that you meet will use these senses, but not in equal measure because, of the three, there'll be a personal preference. It is that preference (or learning style) which will dictate the most effective format for you to learn something.\n\nWhen it comes to receiving directions, a visually biased learner will prefer to look at a map or see the instructions written down. Those who have an auditory preference will happily listen to someone describe the route, while people with a strong kinesthetic bias would rather be taken and shown the way.\n\nThe challenge comes when someone using one type of learning style attempts to help someone from another learning style \u2013 for example, when someone who prefers to see a map or written instructions is given directions orally. While they'll understand what's being said, they're less likely to take it in, and consequently they'll find it more difficult to remember the directions.\n\nThink about your own ideal learning style. When you know what this is, you will find that it becomes easier to follow and remember directions if they're given in your preferred format.\n\nHowever, when stopping to ask the way in a strange place, we don't always have the luxury of being able to obtain directions in our preferred learning style, so what we need is an effective process to remember the spoken directions we are given.\n\n### THE PROBLEM WHEN ASKING FOR HELP\n\nUnfortunately, there are a number of factors that tend to work against us when we're receiving oral directions from someone else:\n\n\u2022 Too much unfamiliar information given too quickly for us to understand and remember.\n\n\u2022 Men usually want to know the waypoints of the journey \u2013 for example, crossroads, road junctions and stoplights \u2013 and what to do at each one. Women, on the other hand, generally feel it's also important to describe every major landmark or notable feature along the way, such as a church, cinema or school. A man will often be confused and frustrated by a woman giving him directions, and vice versa.\n\n\u2022 Asking for directions can be a stressful experience, especially if you're already lost and feel uncomfortable asking strangers for help. And your memory won't be functioning at its best if you're feeling stressed.\n\n### YOUR PERSONALIZED DIRECTION FILING SYSTEM\n\nInstructions on how to get anywhere consist almost entirely of directions (left, right, straight on) and waypoints and landmarks along the way. As a journey breaks down neatly into stages, the trick is to prepare memory pegs for each separate instruction. And because directions are about moving around, it's appropriate to use your body as locations for these pegs.\n\nMost simple directions will rarely exceed seven stages, so you might use an ear, shoulder, elbow, wrist, hand, hip and thigh as suitable locations. Should you need them, you could continue using locations down to your feet and back up the other side of your body for more complex instructions. Precisely how to use these pegs\n\nis described below.\n\nNext, create memorable images for left and right \u2013 perhaps a glowing golden **L** ion with a massive mane for **L** eft and a giant long-eared, bright pink **R** abbit for **R** ight. Practise conjuring up these images so that the association of lion with left and rabbit with right (or whatever you've chosen) becomes instantaneous.\n\n### ASKING FOR DIRECTIONS \u2013 STEP BY STEP\n\nThe following process will help you absorb and remember directions so that you won't get lost.\n\n\u2022 When you stop and ask someone for directions, always ask them for the \"easiest\" route. By doing this, you're subtly guiding the person you're asking into giving you clear, straightforward directions that you're more likely to be able to follow.\n\n\u2022 As the person describes the route, listen for just the waypoints and memorize them by placing bizarre images of them on the pegs of your body filing system in order.\n\n\u2022 Repeat the waypoints back to the person, but this time ask them what you should do at each one. So, if you have to turn left, incorporate a lion into your waypoint image, and so on.\n\n\u2022 Repeat the entire route back to make sure you've got it right, but this time ask what notable features you might expect to see along the way. Add those features to the images that you've conjured up for each stage of the journey.\n\nBy doing it this way you'll go through the directions three times, each time layering on a little more detail and checking that you've got it right. The other advantage of this system is that it will also give you the time you need to memorize the instructions properly.\n\n### RECALLING THE DIRECTIONS\n\nTo recall the journey, think about the pictures you've placed on each part of your body in turn. So, for example, if you think of your shoulder and on it you \"see\" an image of a crossroads being jumped on by a huge pink rabbit holding a burger, you'll know that when you reach the crossroads you'll have to turn right and on your way there you'll pass a fast-food outlet. This process is much more laborious to describe than to implement so just try it out and see. It's good fun and, as with so many memory aids, it will soon become second nature with practice.\n\n## REMEMBERING ERRANDS AND SIMPLE LISTS\n\nBy writing down a list of errands on a sheet of paper, you're neglecting to keep your memory in good shape, and if you lost your list you'd probably miss doing something that could be important. What you need is an easy, fun method to remember the list \u2013 as a bonus this will help you keep your memory in excellent condition.\n\n### THE MAGICAL POWER OF STORIES\n\nLong before computers and audio recording devices were invented, and even before paper and pen, stories were used to pass down the folklore and history of societies and cultures for generations, often spanning hundreds if not thousands of years.\n\nAs a device for remembering, stories are extremely powerful because they bring information alive in a way that's easy to recall. A good tale is engaging, interesting and enjoyable, has a flow and a sequence with many highlights, and evokes a strong emotional response \u2013 all of which make it memorable.\n\n### HOW TO CREATE A GOOD STORY\n\nHere's the secret of creating a story to help you remember errands:\n\n\u2022 Be clear about exactly what it is that you are trying to remember.\n\n\u2022 Apply the techniques for using your imagination on pages 29\u2013 to create outstanding mental images of each item on your list.\n\n\u2022 Create strong and powerful links between each image in an amusing, interesting and even bizarre story, making sure that you exaggerate and embellish, and use all your senses.\n\n\u2022 Mentally review your story a couple of times to ensure that you've got the flow and can recall the items on the list.\n\nImagine you have to remember to do the following:\n\n\u2022 Feed the cat next door.\n\n\u2022 Buy a newspaper.\n\n\u2022 Get the exhaust changed on the car.\n\n\u2022 Take back your library books.\n\n\u2022 Make an appointment with the dentist.\n\nThe first thing to do is to create a starting image that you'll always use for your current errand list. For example, let's take the image of a notepad and pen (which is what you'd probably use anyway to write down your list if you weren't trying to memorize it).\n\n### THE TALE OF A CAT\n\nBased on the methods described above, here's an example of what the story might be.\n\nImagine a huge **notepad** with a bright red cover magically floating in the air. Above it is a large royal blue fountain pen that's busy scribbling away. All of a sudden the pages of the notepad begin flicking over quickly as though there's a powerful rush of wind. As they do so you hear a loud screeching \"meeeeeooooooooow\" as the **next door cat** comes flying out between the pages and lands head first in a yellow bowl of cat food that's sent flying in all directions. The cat looks up indignantly, its head covered in cat food. It winks at you and then from underneath its paw it produces a copy of today's **newspaper** , sits up, crosses its legs like a human being, puts on a large pair of glasses and begins reading the paper. As soon as it's finished reading, the cat takes the newspaper and begins to stuff it into the **exhaust** pipe of your car. You get in your car and start the engine, but all of a sudden your car backfires with a huge bang that sends the rolled-up newspaper flying into the air through the window of the **library**. It smashes into a huge bookshelf, sending it crashing to the floor with books spinning off in all directions. People try to run out of the library to get away from the mess, but first they have to have their teeth checked by a very tall **dentist** wearing a purple gown and with a flashlight strapped to her head.\n\nNow review the story in your mind a couple of times, leave it a few minutes and then see what you can recall. To remember your errands, think of the notepad and pen, which should trigger the rest of the story, and from that you'll be able to recollect exactly the list of tasks you need to do.\n\nOnce you're comfortable with this method, you can try using it whenever you have to remember a short list of things to do.\n\n### PRACTISING THE METHOD\n\nGet your \"memory muscles\" in shape by trying the following exercises.\n\n### EXERCISE 1\n\nSpend a few minutes creating a story to link and remember the following list of random items:\n\nBottle of mineral water\n\nSmall dog\n\nDiamond necklace\n\nFountain pen\n\nBicycle\n\nPut this book aside for 10 minutes, then write down the list of words. Check your answers against the list above.\n\n### EXERCISE 2\n\nNow create a story to remember this errand list:\n\n\u2022 Go to the post office to send a parcel to your friend.\n\n\u2022 Drop your best suit off at the cleaners.\n\n\u2022 Go to the store to buy some milk.\n\n\u2022 Stop at the nearest ATM to get some cash.\n\n\u2022 Pick up your shoes from the shoe repair store.\n\nPut this book aside for 20 minutes, then test your recall by writing the list down with the aid of the story. Then check your answers.\n\n## I MUST REMEMBER TO...\n\nSudden flashes of inspiration often come to us when we can't write them down \u2013 for example, when driving or in the shower. They seem blindingly obvious, but when we try to recall them, our memory is blank. With the help of this technique you'll never forget your brilliant ideas:\n\n### YOUR FIRST MEMORY FILING SYSTEM\n\nWe're going to create the mental equivalent of a piece of paper and pen that you'll always have with you. So, whenever one of these ideas comes to mind or if you suddenly realize there's something you must do at a later date, you can make a note of it for easy recall.\n\nOn page 21 we talked about your memory working like a mental filing cabinet. You're now going to create a series of mental files for remembering your flashes of inspiration. This is the first of many memory filing systems you'll use as you develop a powerful memory with the help of this book.\n\n### THE NUMBER RHYME SYSTEM\n\nThe easiest way to organize a filing system is to number the files. Our first system will, therefore, consist of 10 files that are numbered from 1\u201310, but, as we find it easier to think in pictures rather than numbers, we now have to turn each of those file numbers into images.\n\nThe system is called the Number Rhyme System because we find pictures of objects that rhyme with the sound of each number. Here are the images that are most commonly used. However, if a picture doesn't work well for you, feel free to replace it with one of your own that does.\n\n### CREATING POWERFUL IMAGES\n\nThe secret of making this system work for you is to create strong and powerful images for each of these \"peg\" words by spicing them up using the suggestions on pages 29\u2013. For example, for the number 2 we use the picture of a shoe. If you see one of your own shoes, it won't be as memorable as seeing a six-foot-tall stilettoheel shoe made of shiny red patent leather. The picture must be so real and memorable that you can even \"smell\" the new leather.\n\nTake a few minutes to create strong memorable images for each of the pictures \u2013 really go to town and embellish them. When you've done that, go and do something else for 20 minutes and then come back, write down the numbers from 1\u201310 on a piece of paper, and see how many of your Number Rhyme System images you can recall. What you're aiming for is to get to the stage where, as soon as you think of the rhyming word for each number, you automatically think of the corresponding picture.\n\n### HOW TO USE THIS SYSTEM\n\nYour first memory filing system is ready to use whenever you're unable to write things down. Imagine you're in the shower and you have a sudden flash of inspiration about a problem. Create a spiced-up, memorable image of your idea using your imagination, and then link that image to a Number Rhyme System file.\n\n1 | Sun | Book | Imagine a massive fiery sun melting the pages of a green book.  \n---|---|---|---  \n2 | Shoe | Table | See a large ladies' shoe firmly embedded in a wooden table.  \n3 | Tree | Giraffe | Picture hundreds of giraffes eating the leaves of trees in a huge forest.  \n4 | Door | T-shirt | Visualize a T-shirt strolling up to the door (as though worn by the Invisible Man) and slamming it shut.  \n5 | Hive | Apple pie | See a swarm of bees flying out of a hive and landing on an apple pie, which they devour, licking their lips.  \n6 | Sticks | Mouse mat | Imagine a pile of sharp sticks and each one is piercing a colourful mouse mat.  \n7 | Heaven | Telephone | Hear the loud ringing of a large telephone and watch carefully as a beautiful angel dressed in white floats past and picks up the receiver to answer the call.  \n8 | Gate | Wallet | Listen to the creaking of an old rusty gate as it opens. And see hanging on the gate a large leather wallet with dollar bills falling out as the gate swings open.  \n9 | Wine | DVD player | Imagine the red wine from your glass is dripping onto the open disk tray of your DVD player, much to your concern.  \n10 | Hen | Asparagus | See a fat hen with a huge green asparagus tip under each wing and one in its beak.\n\nFor example, if your idea is to try a different tool on a particularly difficult job, visualize that tool being heated by the sun (the first of the peg-word images) until it's too hot to hold.\n\nOnce you've mentally grabbed hold of the idea by creating a mental picture and linking it to a file in your memory, you won't lose that idea. To remind yourself of it, think of your Number Rhyme images and see what comes to mind.\n\n### YOU CAN REMEMBER OTHER STUFF TOO!\n\nYou don't just have to use the Number Rhyme System for capturing ideas. You can use it for any list or sequence of items, even my (deliberately) random list of words in the box opposite: book, table, giraffe, T-shirt, apple pie, mouse mat, telephone, wallet, DVD player, asparagus.\n\nThe more you can embellish the associations by using the principles of effective visualization and therefore really \"see\" the pictures you create, the better. Come back to the book in 10 minutes and check how many of the words you can remember by thinking of your Number Rhyme image for each number and seeing what pictures come to mind.\n\n## SHOPPING WITH THE ALPHABET\n\nUsing a written list to remember what groceries you need not only causes a problem if you lose it, but also means you're letting your \"memory muscle\" go flabby. By creating a foolproof memory filing system just for your shopping, you need never have to search for pen and paper again, and you'll increase both your mental agility and your powers of concentration.\n\n### DO YOU NEED A TECHNIQUE FOR YOUR SHOPPING LIST?\n\nLook at this list for two minutes, put the book to one side and see how many items you can recall.\n\nToothpaste | Cheese | Tomatoes | Steak  \n---|---|---|---  \nBananas | Pitta bread | Salmon | Burger buns  \nTuna | Strawberries | Yogurt | Toilet paper  \nCabbage | Burgers | Carrots | Rice  \nPears | Shampoo | Broccoli | Soap  \nMilk | Loaf of bread | Pasta |   \nCream | Bagels | Deodorant |\n\nAlthough you were probably able to recall some of the items, I'd be surprised if you could recall them all \u2013 10 items is a creditable first-time score. However, before I give you a technique to memorize your list, there's a straightforward step that you can take first to increase your powers of recall.\n\n### THE FIRST STEP \u2013 ORGANIZING YOUR LIST\n\nTake a piece of paper and organize this same list into five different categories. You decide on the categories based on what's on the list. When you've done that, go and do something different for 10 minutes and then see how many items you can recall.\n\nYou were probably able to remember more from the list by organizing it than you were if you just tried to remember it in the random order in which it was originally written. Organizing data in this way is called \"chunking\" and relies on our memory's aptitude for remembering things that are linked together in some way.\n\nAnother principle at work here is that, by grouping the different things from your list into the categories that you choose, you think about the list on a deeper level than if you had merely read it through. As a result, you're more likely to remember what's on the list because you've invested more mental energy in it.\n\nSee the chart overleaf for how I would have organized the list.\n\nNow we have to find a way to completely and accurately remember this list.\n\n**HOUSEHOLD ITEMS** | Shampoo, Soap, Toothpaste, Deodorant, Toilet paper  \n---|---  \n**BAKERY** | Loaf of bread, Pitta bread, Bagels, Burger buns, Pasta, Rice  \n**FRUIT AND VEGETABLES** | Pears, Bananas, Strawberries, Broccoli, Cabbage, Carrots, Tomatoes  \n**MEAT AND FISH** | Steak, Burgers, Tuna, Salmon  \n**DAIRY** | Milk, Cheese, Cream, Yogurt\n\n### THE ALPHABET MEMORY FILING SYSTEM\n\nIn the previous section I introduced the Number Rhymes for your first memory filing system. You could use this for remembering your shopping list, but you'd be limited to just 10 items.\n\nIn the same way that you'd use different pieces of paper for different lists, we're going to use different memory systems for different applications. In this instance, I'm going to show you how to organize your memory files using the alphabet, which gives you 26 hooks to help you remember.\n\nThe secret to the success of this system is that, as soon as you think of a letter of the alphabet, an image should immediately spring to mind.\n\nSome letters will naturally lend themselves to a particular image, while other letters will require a little more thought. Here are the images I use.\n\n**A** crobat | **H** orse | **O** rangutan | **V** ase  \n---|---|---|---  \n**B** ee | **I** mpala | **P** anda | **W** indow  \n**C** at | **J** ester | **Q** ueen | **X** -ray machine  \n**D** og | **K** ettle | **R** ose | **Y** ak  \n**E** agle | **L** asso | **S** nake | **Z** ulu warrior  \n**F** rog | **M** ouse | **T** arantula |   \n**G** uitar | **N** et | **U** niform |\n\nSome of these words and their images may not work for you, so feel free to change them for ones that do \u2013 Google's image-search facility on the internet will help you find pictures for each of the words that you choose. Here's a simple way to fix them firmly in your mind.\n\nTake 26 pieces of thin cardboard (about playing card size) and on one side write the letter as large as you can and on the other write the name of your chosen image. Shuffle the cards and then, with the letters facing you, go through the cards in turn, seeing how quickly you can bring the associated image to mind. Do this until it takes less than a second for each card.\n\n### USING THE ALPHABET SYSTEM\n\nYou can now use your Alphabet System to memorize your organized list. Here's how you might start with the first three items:\n\n**A** crobat | Shampoo | Picture your acrobat balancing on a pyramid of shampoo bottles.  \n---|---|---  \n**B** ee  | Soap | See a bee flying onto a flower and rubbing it with scented soap to give it fragrance.  \n**C** at | Toothpaste | Imagine a cat cleaning its teeth.\n\nWork through the entire list by category, creating strong associations between each item and the next letter. Don't try to conveniently match up images and items, such as Carrots with Horse.\n\nThis system works by running through your image alphabet and recalling what you've pegged there, so the more outlandish the association between the item and the letter, the better.\n\n## REMEMBERING WHAT YOU'VE HEARD\n\nIf you've ever found yourself struggling to recall something you've heard in a conversation, it's natural to assume your memory is at fault. However, it's likely that you either didn't hear the information properly in the first place or you don't have a good strategy for remembering it.\n\n### WHY YOU SOMETIMES FORGET\n\nThere are a number of reasons why you may have trouble recollecting what you've been told:\n\n\u2022 If you're not concentrating enough on what you're listening to, your mind starts to wander, and so, although you might be looking at the person who's speaking to you, your conscious mind doesn't hear what's being said and will have no recall of it.\n\n\u2022 If your preferred method of learning is more visual or kinesthetic, you're likely to find recalling what you've heard more difficult.\n\n\u2022 If what you're being told is complicated or difficult, you might become overwhelmed and lose track, which will make it difficult to understand and remember the information.\n\n### PRACTICAL WAYS TO ENHANCE YOUR RECALL\n\nIf you want to remember more of what you've heard, try one or more of the following tactics:\n\n\u2022 Use the Rapid Repeat method \u2013 simply repeat in your mind what's being said as you hear it. This will enable you to focus your attention more keenly on what you're hearing and prevent your mind from wandering off.\n\n\u2022 At regular intervals in a conversation, repeat back to the speaker a summary of what you've heard so you can keep track of what's been said.\n\n\u2022 Ask questions often if you don't understand what you're being told, or get the person to explain the information in a different way.\n\n\u2022 If possible, take notes that identify key words or phrases.\n\n### IDENTIFYING KEY POINTS\n\nDeveloping the skill of identifying key points is critical if you want to remember what you're listening to. A good way to practise is to listen to the radio, especially dramas, and identify the points as they emerge. You'll find with practice that you can summarize much of what's said just by picking out these \"high points\" of interest.\n\n### USING MEMORY TECHNIQUES\n\nOnce you're able to summarize information in this way, you can use one of the memory filing systems to record the key points of anything that you hear. I suggest that you create a couple of 20-stage journeys (see pp.114\u20138) that you use specifically for taking mental notes during a conversation. Then, as you identify a key point, create a powerful image of that point and link it to one of your locations. You'll find that, if you memorize 20 key points from a conversation, other details that you haven't necessarily memorized will spring to mind, thanks to the power of natural association and connection.\n\n## RETRIEVING THE PAST\n\nMost people like to reminisce, but retrieving the past isn't easy if there are gaps in your recall. However, you can recover many of your memories by understanding how to trigger and build on them. The trick is to start with something that you can recall and then build up the detail around it until you've recreated the entire memory.\n\n### FIND A STARTING POINT\n\nImagine that each of your memories is stored behind a different locked door. Sometimes these doors are quite easy to open but often they remain locked and the memory stays hidden behind them. However, all you need to unlock a door to gain access to your hidden memory is the right key which, in memory terms, is something related to or associated with what you're trying to remember.\n\nA great way to find the key and start the recall is to gather any items you have from the time you're trying to remember. These may be photographs, old diaries, clothes, toys or any other memorabilia from that period. Examine them closely and see what sensations come to mind.\n\nIn particular, when looking at photographs, observe the detail around the subject of the picture to see what else you can recall. It's also useful to listen to music from that era or look at contemporary books and newspapers to help generate related memories. If the thing you're looking at is not the actual key, it might trigger something else that will unlock your memory.\n\n### ASK YOURSELF QUESTIONS\n\nIf you don't have any memorabilia to stimulate your recall, sit quietly, close your eyes, relax and take yourself back to that time in your imagination, focusing on something you can recollect about what you're trying to retrieve. Your aim is to re-experience the event as fully as possible. Ask yourself these questions to help stimulate your sensory and emotional memories:\n\n\u2022 What did I see?\n\n\u2022 What did I hear?\n\n\u2022 What did I smell?\n\n\u2022 What did I touch?\n\n\u2022 What did I taste?\n\n\u2022 What did I feel?\n\n### UNLOCKING THE MEMORIES\n\nWhichever method you use, you'll find that, as one tiny piece of detail springs to mind, it will spark off the recall of another, related detail, which will prompt yet another. These keys will unlock your memories of the event or place, and the memories will come flooding back.\n\n_**\"** The senses of smell and taste, weaker but   \nmore enduring ... continue for a long time,   \nlike souls, to remember. **\"**_\n\nMarcel Proust (1871\u20131922)\n\n## INTERLUDE\n\n### THE AMAZING WORLD OF MEMORY\n\nIf you've worked your way through the exercises so far in this book, your memory will already be developing to a greater extent than most people could possibly imagine. This section allows you to take a breather from your efforts and enjoy some interesting tidbits about the world of memory achievement.\n\n### FAMOUS MEMORY MEN\n\nPeople have long been fascinated by impressive memory feats, and over the years many expert practitioners of memory have become household names to their generation. At the beginning of the last century many famous magicians like Harry Houdini wowed their audiences with stunning feats of recall, but it was only when people like Harry Lorayne in the US and Leslie Welch in the UK started performing dedicated memory shows in the 1950s that memorization and recall skills really came to prominence.\n\nOne of Harry Lorayne's favourite demonstrations was to recall the names of his audience. Over his career it's reputed that he memorized the names of over a million people. The stars of the memory world include Kevin Trudeau and eight-times World Memory Championship winner Dominic O'Brien, who, among other feats, has memorized all the answers to Trivial Pursuit!\n\nMost of these \"memory stars\" have trained their memory using techniques and ideas that are centuries old, but there are also some famous \"savants\" \u2013 people with an extraordinary natural memory. One such individual is Kim Peek. Born in 1951, Kim began reading books when he was just 18 months old and could accurately read and memorize over 12,000. He read a page in eight to ten seconds, by which time it was stored on his \"mental hard drive\" for recall at any point in the future. Kim's memory ability was all the more astonishing as he had a low IQ and an inability to button his clothes or deal with the chores of everyday life. Brain scans detected structural abnormalities in his brain, but not enough was understood about the full impact on his memory. Sadly, Kim died in 2009 at the age of 58.\n\n### THE WORLD MEMORY CHAMPIONSHIPS\n\nIn the 1990s a group of dedicated mnemonists led by Tony Buzan, one of the world's leading authorities on memory improvement, set up a competition to see who had the best memory. From humble beginnings this competition has grown to a truly international event, attracting competitors and extensive media interest from all over the world. In addition, many countries now hold their own national and regional championships, as the acceptance of memory as a sport continues to grow. The competition is like a decathlon for the brain because it's spread over 10 events that are a combination of speed and endurance, where challengers for the title must memorize decks of randomly ordered cards, numbers, names, lists and a poem.\n\n### WORLD RECORDS\n\nThe world championships have delivered an amazing series of records that continue to be broken year after year. Here are just some of the staggering feats:\n\n\u2022 Order of playing cards in one shuffled deck \u2013 31.16 seconds.\n\n\u2022 Number of shuffled decks of cards in one hour \u2013 27 (that's 1,404 individual playing cards).\n\n\u2022 Number of random digits in five minutes \u2013 333.\n\n\u2022 Number of random digits in one hour \u2013 1,949.\n\nNot all world records are set at the world championships. For example, the mathematical number pi (3.14159 etc) has fascinated people for centuries. It's an infinite decimal number that never repeats in a pattern and is the \"Mount Everest\" of memory achievement. The world record for this was set by Akira Haraguchi, a Japanese mental health counsellor, who managed to memorize and then recite the number's first 83,431 decimal places.\n\n### MEMORIZING REALLY IS GOOD FOR YOUR BRAIN\n\nSome of these world records may sound a little beyond your abilities at the moment, but don't be deterred. With the techniques you'll learn from this book, together with a little practice, you too could manage similar feats. But even if you're not interested in pursuing a career as a professional mnemonist, your brain will be getting a good workout if you apply the ideas and techniques that you've learnt here.\n\nIn 2002 I participated in a study carried out by the Institute of Neurology in London where they scanned the brains of memory experts, who used the techniques I've covered in this book, as they memorized. Not only did the experts outperform the control group, but also it was found that more of their brain was being engaged, in particular the hippocampus, the part that's responsible for transferring short-term memories into the long term. It's also the part that \"lights up\" when we think about something that we know well. All this shows that memorizing really is a good form of mental exercise!\n\n# 4   \nWINNING WORKOUTS\n\nNow that you have some basic ideas under your belt and have seen how easy it is to dramatically improve what you can remember, it's time to build on these foundations to improve your memory further.\n\nThis chapter still uses the principles you've already become familiar with but it introduces some new and versatile techniques.\n\nHere, among other topics, you'll encounter ways to remember a speech and not \"dry up\", as well as strategies for remembering what you've read \u2013 whether it's a newspaper article or a novel. You'll discover the trick of learning foreign vocabulary for easy recall, and of never forgetting another important date or appointment. You'll also be introduced to the most powerful of all known memory systems, which you'll be able to use right away to do some impressive memory feats.\n\n## REMEMBERING NAMES AND FACES \u2013 THE MNEMONIC METHOD\n\nAs well as the Social Method for remembering people's names, which I explained in the previous chapter, there's another technique that can be used in conjunction with it. Called the Mnemonic Method, this second technique employs memory principles to spice up a name and link it to a face, and vice versa, to make both unforgettable. It links in with Step 8 of the Social Method on page 62.\n\n### YOU LOOK LIKE...\n\nOne of the principles of memory is that we find it easier to remember things that are related or linked in some way to what we already know. How can we apply this when we initially meet someone?\n\nFirst, find something in the person's appearance that instantly reminds you of something or someone you know. If nothing springs to mind, you'll have to exercise your imagination!\n\nPerhaps using a degree of creativity, try asking yourself some questions, such as does this person:\n\n\u2022 Look like anyone I already know?\n\n\u2022 Look like someone famous?\n\n\u2022 Look like a typical XYZ (eg a policeman, singer or a lawyer, perhaps)?\n\n\u2022 Have any prominent features that make him or her instantly recognizable?\n\n\u2022 Have any features I can exaggerate or caricature?\n\n### REINFORCING THE LINK\n\nOnce you've found a memorable image, reinforce the link by looking at the person and thinking simultaneously of the association. If you do this whenever you see that person again, your image link should automatically leap into your mind as a mental memory file. Practise finding strong image links by watching the news.\n\nLet's assume you've met someone who instantly reminds you of the actress Jennifer Aniston (Rachel from _Friends_ ). Every time you see this person, your mind will be triggered to think of Jennifer Aniston, the associated image firmly anchored in your memory.\n\nSEE PERSON > THINK OF JENNIFER ANISTON\n\n### REMEMBERING THE NAME\n\nNext, you need to create hooks and associations to help you recall the person's name. The best way to do this is to convert the name into a picture and link it to the memory file of their face. Let's say that the person you've met is called Penelope Sanchez. To turn this name into a picture, you need to break it down into first and second names.\n\n#### Step 1 \u2013 Visualize the first name\n\nAsk yourself these questions \u2013 you may not have answers to them all. Just focus on the ones that have striking and instantaneous answers.\n\n\u2022 Is there someone I know called \"Penelope\"?\n\n\u2022 Is there someone famous called \"Penelope\"? (For example, the actress Pen\u00e9lope Cruz.)\n\n\u2022 Does \"Penelope\" instantly trigger a picture?\n\n\u2022 Does \"Penelope\" have a meaning that I can turn into a picture?\n\n\u2022 Can I break \"Penelope\" down into parts that I can turn into pictures? (Imagine a pen, eloping with its partner.)\n\nI'll assume the image of Pen\u00e9lope Cruz is the strongest for you, so you now need to create a \"memory-spiced\" picture linking Jennifer Aniston (the person Penelope Sanchez reminds you of) to Pen\u00e9lope Cruz.\n\n#### Step 2 \u2013 Visualize the second name\n\nAsk yourself the same questions about the surname.\n\n\u2022 Is there someone I know called \"Sanchez\"?\n\n\u2022 Is there someone famous called \"Sanchez\"?\n\n\u2022 Does \"Sanchez\" instantly trigger a picture?\n\n\u2022 Does \"Sanchez\" have a meaning that I can turn into a picture?\n\n\u2022 Can I break \"Sanchez\" down into different parts that I can turn into pictures? (Imagine chairs made of sand \u2013 \"Sand Chairs\" = Sanchez.)\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Link the first- and second-name images\n\nLet's take the image of \"Sand Chairs\" for the surname. You now need to create another strong and exaggerated link between your image of Pen\u00e9lope Cruz and chairs made of sand.\n\nYour imagery might be something like this: you see the person you've just met and instantly she reminds you of Jennifer Aniston, which prompts you to think of Pen\u00e9lope Cruz standing on her shoulders. With a loud fanfare, Pen\u00e9lope jumps in the air doing a double somersault and lands on a large red chair that immediately turns to sand.\n\nTry out this technique with a few names until you've got the hang of it.\n\n### LINKING NAMES TO FACES\n\nObservation is a key skill in memorizing, and another way to remember names is to link them to particular features of a person's face or physique, as in the two examples on the following page.\n\n## REMEMBERING LONGER NUMBERS\n\nUnfortunately, not all numbers are as short as a fourdigit PIN for credit and debit cards. Longer numbers such as telephone numbers, membership numbers or bank account numbers can be particularly difficult to commit to memory and to recall. This section shows you ways to remember them whenever you need to.\n\n### WHY ARE LONGER NUMBERS SUCH A PROBLEM?\n\nLots of people have problems with numbers, so if you do, you're not alone. Some people just don't like them, often as a result of a bad experience in math lessons at school. Another reason is that the brain prefers to think in ideas, concepts and pictures \u2013 and although numbers can form part of those, on their own they can be easily confused because they are so similar. People also have trouble with numbers in their raw numerical form because, as psychologists have discovered, the average person has a limited digit span \u2013 they can hold only five to 12 digits in their short-term working memory. The problem is compounded by the fact that their working memory has a limited time span \u2013 just long enough to receive a phone number and use it, after which the number fades swiftly away.\n\nWe'll look here at some simple but effective ways of memorizing longer numbers for a greater length of time, and later on I'll also show you some more sophisticated and complex techniques.\n\n### BREAK IT DOWN\n\nOn page 33 I explained that a principle of effective memory is to break things down, and this same principle applies to remembering longer numbers.\n\nA ten-digit number such as 9074365218 might be a little overwhelming. However, if you break it down as shown below, the number suddenly becomes less daunting and more manageable:\n\n907 436 5218\n\nMost people naturally pause between groups of digits when giving out their phone number, making the number much easier to deal with.\n\nNow that you've broken the number down, there are various techniques you can use to turn the groups of digits into words and pictures to make them more memorable.\n\n### YOU'VE SEEN THIS IN ADVERTISING\n\nI'm sure you've seen advertisements for companies where the telephone number is a mixture of words and numbers. A furniture store owner might implore you to call him on 1-800-9TABLES. This is easier to remember than 1-800-9822537 because \"TABLES\" has a meaning that you can visualize in your imagination. This word is derived from the telephone keypad, which allocates letters to numbers.\n\n### THE TELEPHONE KEYPAD\n\nUsing the keypad approach you can turn a number like   \n2446532668 into:\n\n244 653 2668\n\nBIG OLD BOOT\n\nWhat words could you make out of the following number groups?\n\n3475 344 8776 9882 4726 538 264\n\nThe only snag with this system is that sometimes the numbers don't give convenient letter groupings to make meaningful words. For example, 6218435792 gives the decidedly unmemorable \"ma 1 vid kryb,\" among other equally meaningless variations. Also, there's no letter allocated to the numbers 1 or 0, so for any number that contains these digits, you'll have to use one of the following techniques.\n\n### NUMBERS = LETTERS\n\nIf the telephone pad system doesn't yield helpful words or images, you can use the Numbers = Letters System. Replace each number by a word that has the corresponding number of letters \u2013 eg 1633 becomes:\n\nA Ginger Tom Cat or A Larger Red Rat\n\nThe beauty of this system is that you can start to choose words that are appropriate for the number of the person or service it belongs to. If, for example, part of the phone number for your hairdresser had the digits 4146, you could make up the phrase, \"Only a Trim Please\".\n\nUsing this method, make up your own memorable collection of words for the following sections of telephone numbers:\n\n\u2022 3396 \u2013 Doctor\n\n\u2022 7219 \u2013 Cinema\n\n\u2022 2754 \u2013 Plumber\n\n\u2022 1335 \u2013 School\n\n\u2022 2856 \u2013 Auto-body repair shop\n\n### THE NUMBER SHAPE SYSTEM\n\nIn chapter 3 I explained how to create a memory system using words that rhyme with the numbers from 1 to 10. Now I'm going to show you a system based on images of objects that look like the shape of those numbers. This system also includes an image for zero.\n\nLearn the images (opposite) in the same way that you learned those for the Number Rhyme System (see pp.84\u2013). Embellish them so you can readily visualize them. Set them aside for 20 minutes and do something else. Then test your recall by writing down the numbers and their corresponding images, and see how many come to mind easily. Keep practising until the association and recall are automatic.\n\nOnce the associations are firmly embedded in your mind, you can use them to memorize any number, however long, linking each image in a vivid scenario.\n\nFor example, the number 8167 could be represented by a giant, carrot-nosed snowman (8) taking a bright blue baseball bat (1) and whacking an elephant (6) on the backside who then scurries up to the top of a garish pink streetlight (7).\n\nTry using this system to make up some images for the following numbers: 287, 435, 9815, 03461.\n\n### PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER\n\nNow you have three different methods for turning numbers into something more memorable, so when you're faced with a telephone number like 7652910843 for your doctor, just break it down and apply one or more of these techniques to remember the number. Try this with the number above yourself.\n\n## THE JOURNEY TECHNIQUE\n\nThe oldest of all memory storage devices, the Journey Technique is also the most versatile, with numerous applications. In my opinion, it's the most powerful mental filing technique, too, as well as being easy to use.\n\n### HISTORY OF THE TECHNIQUE\n\nIn two of the defining civilizations of the Western world, that of the Romans and that of the Ancient Greeks, being a great orator was a sign of political power and influence. Having the ability to recite long passages from memory was an admired, even revered skill, the secret of which was the speaker's reliance on the Journey Technique.\n\nIn modern times the technique is still being used, and if ever you see anyone on television performing an impressive memory feat, it's highly likely they're using this method. In the World Memory Championships, the top competitors over the last few years have certainly used it \u2013 I did!\n\n### SO WHAT IS THIS AMAZING TECHNIQUE?\n\nThe principle of the Journey Technique is simple, and the reason the system is so powerful and easy to use is because it's based on places you're already familiar with. You create a mental filing system by taking somewhere you know well and picking various points on a journey around\/through\/in it. You then use those points as files or pegs on which to place what you have to remember, making sure you use strong links and lots of \"memory spice\". When you want to recall the information, you revisit your journey in your mind's eye and, if your associations are strong enough, as you pass each of your points you'll be reminded of what you put there.\n\nYou'll hear this system called the \"Roman Room\" system because the Romans tended to use a separate room for each location. It's also called the \"Greek Loci\" system because the Ancient Greeks preferred to use one room with various points (or loci) around the room on which to hang their associations.\n\nIt doesn't matter which way you do this as long as you can go to specific points or locations in the same sequence on a journey around an environment you can visualize in your mind's eye.\n\n### DESIGNING YOUR JOURNEY\n\nThe first step is to decide on a location for your first mental journey. I suggest you start with where you live and pick your favourite room. It's a good idea to physically go to the room when you're doing this, because that will create a more powerful journey than if you simply envisage it, but you can still achieve impressive results if you just think of somewhere you've been and know well.\n\nThe next step is to identify in the room a starting point for your journey. Pick something that's a defining feature: for example, in the living room it might be the bookcase; in the kitchen it might be the refrigerator. Once you've chosen your starting point, mentally walk around the room and identify nine more significant objects (the more permanent they are, the better) in sequence.\n\nIf you were using your living room, you might have chosen the following items or waypoints from around your room:\n\n1 Bookcase 2 Painting 3 Floor lamp 4 Window 5 Door 6 Dog bed   \n7 Chair 8 Small table 9 Sofa 10 Television\n\nYou now need to \"condition\" your journey in your mind, so it's firmly embedded. Close your eyes and mentally re-trace your route both forward and backward several times and see each waypoint as clearly as you can. This is a crucial step. Otherwise, a weak memory of your journey will result in poor recall.\n\n### USING THE JOURNEY TECHNIQUE\n\nYou can use this device to remember virtually any information simply by applying the principles we talked about in Chapter 1, notably the powers of imagination and association. The trick is to evoke a strong image for each item that you want to remember and then link it in a vivid scenario to a stage on your journey. It's a good idea to have different journeys for different purposes \u2013 there's no limit to the number that you can create and use.\n\nTry out the Journey Technique by picking a room in your house and designing a 10-stage journey. Then memorize the first 10 elements of the periodic table:\n\n**SCIENTISTS HAVE PROVED IT WORKS!**\n\nI get very excited telling people about this particular technique because I know it works as a result of the amazing things I've been able to do with it. But don't just take my word for it. Medical researchers have proved it works, too, by scanning the brains of people who were using the technique and a control group who weren't. The researchers discovered that memory performance was better in the first group than in the second and that using the Journey Technique stimulated more of the hippocampus (an important part of the brain when it comes to memory) and the right side of the brain. I know this to be true because I was one of the subjects of this groundbreaking research.\n\n\u2022 Hydrogen | \u2022 Boron | \u2022 Fluorine  \n---|---|---  \n\u2022 Helium | \u2022 Carbon | \u2022 Neon  \n\u2022 Lithium | \u2022 Nitrogen |   \n\u2022 Beryllium | \u2022 Oxygen |\n\nWhile this may seem a bit daunting, think creatively about each of the words. What do they sound like or remind you of? For example, Beryllium = berry, Helium = heel, and so on.\n\n## REMEMBERING DATES AND APPOINTMENTS\n\nHave you ever had to endure the embarrassment of forgetting the birthday or anniversary of a close friend or family member? Or missed an important appointment because it had completely slipped your mind? If so, by building on much of what I've shown you so far, this section will really help you.\n\n### REMEMBERING BIRTHDAYS AND ANNIVERSARIES\n\nOn page 49 I suggested you record important dates on your calendar. However, what would happen if you lost your calendar or temporarily mislaid it? Having all those important dates firmly installed in your memory so you can recall them easily would be really helpful.\n\nThis is the process for remembering important dates:\n\nAs usual, you'll rely on a chain of strong associations that employ powerful visual imagery representative of the information that you've memorized.\n\n### CREATING PICTURES FOR THE MONTH\n\nThe simplest way to remember the months is to think of images that instantly remind you of each one. For example, when I think of December, I'm instantly reminded of Christmas and I see a jolly man in a red suit with a white beard. August is another easy one for me because it's vacation time and I picture my large colourful beach towel spread out on the sand. Here are the images I use, and if they work for you, by all means feel free to use them, but I suggest you try to come up with your own unique images because they'll be even more powerful for you:\n\nJanuary | A powerfully built American football quarterback \u2013 the Super Bowl takes place in January  \n---|---  \nFebruary | A heart-shaped box of chocolates \u2013 Valentine's Day  \nMarch | A troop of soldiers marching  \nApril | A large colourful umbrella \u2013 April showers  \nMay | A tall May pole on a village green  \nJune | A tank (the Normandy landings took place in June)  \nJuly | A billowing American Flag, because of Independence Day  \nAugust | A colourful beach towel  \nSeptember | A student carrying lots of books going back to school after the summer vacation  \nOctober | An animated skeleton from Halloween  \nNovember | A plump Thanksgiving turkey with cranberry sauce on the side  \nDecember | Santa Claus\n\n### CREATING AN IMAGE FOR THE DAY\n\nNext, create pictures you can use to represent the day part of the date. For 1\u201310 of the month, I suggest you use the Number Shape System (see pp.112\u2013) to conjure up images; for the rest of the days of the month, combine that method with the Number Rhyme System (see pp.84\u2013), as in the examples below.\n\nIn a two-digit number the Number Rhyme image represents the first digit and the Number Shape the second. Every date in the range 11\u201319 will always include a sun in the picture, every date between 20 and 29 will have a shoe, and 30 to 31 will have a tree, as in the examples below. (NS = Number Shape; NR = Number Rhyme)\n\n2 | Swan (NS)  \n---|---  \n8 | Snowman (NS)  \n13 | Sun (NR) shining on a pair of handcuffs (NS)  \n17 | Sun (NR) shining down from a streetlight (NS)  \n25 | Shoe (NR) being lifted by a hook (NS)  \n26 | Shoe (NR) being worn by an elephant (NS)  \n31 | Tree (NR) sprouting lots of baseball bats (NS)\n\nTry this method out for yourself. Write down the numbers from 1 to 31 and create your own image for each number using the Number Rhyme and Number Shape systems. Then test yourself to see how easily you are able to recall the images. Keep practising until the associations are firmly embedded in your mind and you can recollect them instantly.\n\n### USING THIS SYSTEM\n\nNow that you've done the groundwork, the rest is easy. Suppose you wanted to remember that your friend Julie's birthday was December 27, here's what you would create in your imagination:\n\nYou might, for example, see your friend Julie blowing out two huge green and red candles on a yellow birthday cake and, as each candle is extinguished, it's grabbed by a rotund Santa Claus who shouts out \"Ho! Ho! Ho!\" The candles then magically turn into blue stilettos with streetlights for heels, and Santa Claus proceeds to put them on.\n\nWhenever you think of your friend, you'll see this unusual picture \u2013 simply translate it back into the month and day. Have a go at devising your own visual scenarios for remembering the birthdays and anniversaries of friends and relatives.\n\n### REMEMBERING APPOINTMENTS\n\nA fail-safe way to remember appointments is to create a 31-stage journey that you use as your monthly \"planner\". For example, if you have an appointment at the dentist on the 16th of the month, link an image related to the dentist (a large pair of false teeth being cleaned by a sixfoot toothbrush) to the 16th location of your journey.\n\n## LEARNING A NEW SKILL\n\nHaving a good memory isn't just limited to being able to recall facts and figures. It also plays a key part in learning and developing new physical and mental skills. When you're dealing with information, you can quickly get to the stage where you realize you either know it or you don't. Skill development is a more evolutionary process, which can be enhanced with a little inside knowledge.\n\n### HOW YOUR SKILLS EVOLVE\n\nWhen you're learning a new skill, you go through a series of distinct phases in relation to your ability to perform that skill and the degree that you have to think about it as you do so. There are four key stages that you'll encounter in the acquisition of any new skill \u2013 from basics such as learning to cook or drive a car to learning to play a musical instrument or becoming a proficient first aider.\n\n\u2022 **Unconsciously incompetent** \u2013 at this stage you're not aware that you don't know how to do something until it's pointed out to you, or you try something that you think you can do but can't. For example, as a child you probably weren't aware that you didn't know how to drive a car.\n\n\u2022 **Consciously incompetent** \u2013 once you realize that you can't do something or aren't very good at it, you're consciously aware of your incompetence. At this point you (or maybe someone else) will decide that you need to develop this particular skill. You hit this stage when you drove for the first time and realized that, although your parents may have made it look easy, driving is, in fact, a complex operation involving a multitude of co-ordinated actions and thought processes.\n\n\u2022 **Consciously competent** \u2013 after a period of training and development, you're able to perform a task or activity but you still have to think about it. Remember when you were learning to drive a car \u2013 once you'd understood what the pedals and gear stick were for, you still had to think about how to use them to start with, particularly how to engage the different gears.\n\n\u2022 **Unconsciously competent** \u2013 your skill becomes automatic so you don't have to think about it. If you've been able to drive for a while, you can probably hold conversations, listen to the radio, keep track of the other cars around you, and still do all that stuff with the steering wheel, pedals and gears that used to seem so difficult, without even thinking about it.\n\n### MAKING THE TRANSITION\n\nOnce you've reached conscious competence, it's just a matter of practice and repetition for the skill to become automatic and unconscious. However, making the leap between consciously incompetent and consciously competent, when you actually develop and acquire the skill, is the most important step, and it's at this point that many people falter and give up. The transition can be made much easier, though, by following a few of the simple techniques I've already explained in this book.\n\n#### ENHANCING YOUR SKILL DEVELOPMENT Be confident of success\n\nOne of the key sections of this book is \"Being certain of success\" (see pp.35\u2013) and everything I've outlined there will enhance your ability to develop any skill you choose. Here are the main points again just to remind you:\n\n\u2022 Have a goal.\n\n\u2022 Have a plan.\n\n\u2022 Believe you can do it.\n\n\u2022 Take action.\n\n\u2022 Be positive.\n\n### REHEARSE THE SKILL IN YOUR MIND\n\nI've been encouraging you to use visualization techniques to create images in your mind's eye that are easy to remember. Visualization can also play an important part in skill development because the mind is unable to distinguish between a real and a vividly imagined event. If I started describing a succulent juicy lemon to you in great detail with its tangy citrus taste and bright yellow skin, the chances are you would begin salivating even though the lemon exists only in your mind. The reason you'd do so is because the body responds to the signals the mind gives it, even if the mental stimulus is imaginary.\n\nWhen you're learning a new skill, it's important to rehearse it in your imagination, because research has demonstrated that a thorough mental rehearsal boosts the skill acquisition process and is almost as good as real practice.\n\n### VISUALIZE AND STORE THE INSTRUCTIONS\n\nOften, not being able to remember instructions on how to develop a new skill will hamper progress and cause frustration, making it easier to yield to the temptation to give up. The answer is to use a mental filing system in which to store these instructions \u2013 this will give you instant access to them whenever you need them. I suggest you use the Journey Technique (see pp.114\u20138), and that you create a mental journey related to whatever skill you're learning.\n\nFor example, use the golf clubhouse as the setting for your journey if the skill you're trying to learn is an improved golf swing, or maybe a tennis club setting if you're seeking to develop your serve or backhand. Then simply place an image for each instruction at successive locations or waypoints on your journey. Whenever you need to refer to the instructions, mentally walk your journey to recall each one in turn. These instructions are only a temporary \"crutch\" to help you until the skill becomes automatic. Once you've become unconsciously competent, you won't need to refer to them any more.\n\n**FAILURE ISN'T FINAL**\n\nProbably the biggest factor affecting people's development as they embark on learning a new skill is the fear of failure. Getting something wrong is felt to be such a terrible thing that many people \"freeze up\" when trying something new (or maybe they don't even try it at all). What they don't realize is that failure is part of the learning process. Think back to when you last got something wrong or you failed. Did you learn a lot from the experience? If you want to double your rate of learning, you need to double your failure rate.\n\n## LEARNING FOREIGN VOCABULARY\n\nInternational travel is much easier than it used to be, which means more of us are venturing abroad. To really experience and enjoy the countries and cultures we visit, it helps enormously to speak even a few words of the local language.\n\n### YOU DON'T NEED TO BE FLUENT TO GET BY\n\nI find that many people who consider learning a new language are put off by the idea that they need to be fluent. Fluency in another language can be achieved, but it's not necessary in order to understand and be understood when communicating in another tongue. Studies have shown that even though languages have many thousands of words, most native speakers use a working vocabulary of only a few hundred.\n\n### LEARNING FOREIGN WORDS \u2013 STEP BY STEP\n\nThe process for learning foreign words is this:\n\n\u2022 Take the word you want to learn in your new language.\n\n\u2022 See if the word reminds you of something or be creative and find an association \u2013 the association doesn't have to have anything to do with what the word means at this stage.\n\n\u2022 Take what the word reminds you of and link that to the meaning of the original word.\n\n\u2022 \"Condition\" the association, practising it a couple of times to strengthen it in your memory.\n\nThis is how I'd go about remembering the meaning of a common German word.\n\n\u2022 I'd focus on the target word \"Zimmer\" (pronounced \"tsimmer\"), which in German means \"room\".\n\n\u2022 \"Zimmer\" sounds like \"simmer\" so in this instance I see a simmering pan.\n\n\u2022 I'd now create a crazy picture linking a simmering pan to a room (I'd use a house and visualize a pan in every room).\n\n\u2022 I'd then condition the association chain from \"Zimmer\" > Simmering pan > Room.\n\nNow when I hear the word \"Zimmer\" in German I immediately think of a simmering pan, which instantly brings to mind the bizarre picture involving one in every room of a house.\n\n### DEVELOPING A WORKING VOCABULARY\n\nOnce you get the hang of this method, you'll find that in about 10 minutes you'll be able to memorize at least 10 words so that they stick in your long-term memory. Over the space of three or four weeks you will be able to develop a working vocabulary of any language you choose.\n\nInitially, when you start using the language, you'll need to go through the process of thinking of your trigger words and the bizarre images to remind you of the translation, but very quickly, with continued use, you won't need to, because the words will have become part of your vocabulary in that language and you'll \"just know\" what they mean and be able to summon them up at will.\n\n## REMEMBERING SPEECHES AND JOKES\n\nPublic speaking is claimed to be people's number one fear. If you have to give a speech and you're not used to public speaking, it can be quite a daunting prospect.\n\nA major contributor to the fear factor is the dread of drying up in front of an audience and forgetting what to say.\n\n### WHY DO WE FORGET WHAT WE HAVE TO SAY?\n\nIf you recall from the earlier section on stress, when faced with a threat or perceived threat, we go into a fight or flight response. The body shuts down what it doesn't need to run away or tackle the threat, and that includes part of the brain responsible for long-term memory. Talking to a group of people can cause the fight or flight mechanism to kick in if you're not sufficiently prepared, and the result can be quite embarrassing as you struggle to remember what you have to say.\n\n### WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP REMEMBER YOUR SPEECH\n\nThe secret of being a successful public speaker, even if you're going to give a one-time speech at your daughter's wedding, is quite simple:\n\nKnow what you want to say and practise saying it.\n\nThe crafting, organization and delivery of a good speech are outside the scope of this book, so for our purposes I'll assume that you already have your speech prepared. However, you'll find the process of putting it together will give you an important level of familiarity with what you want to say, which will help your recall.\n\n#### Step 1 \u2013 Break your speech down into sections\n\nIf you have a five-page speech to deliver, it's much easier if you break it down into 10 logical half-page sections. Spend a little time identifying the purpose of each part and give each a unique, but a logically appropriate name.\n\n#### Step 2 \u2013 Identify your main key words for each section\n\nUnder each of your headings choose key words that will trigger what you want to say in each section. For a halfpage of writing you probably won't need more than three or four key words \u2013 you're looking for one for each idea or theme.\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Practise delivering each section\n\nNow that you have your sections and have identified a handful of key words for each, the next step is to practise delivering the sections, one at a time:\n\n\u2022 Read the section out loud so you get used to its rhythm, pace and message.\n\n\u2022 Take the first key word and from memory recite the passage that it summarizes, focusing on the meaning rather than concentrating on repeating the passage verbatim.\n\n\u2022 Check to see how accurately you recited what you've written. At this stage, expect to be able to recall only a small amount.\n\n\u2022 Repeat the process for a maximum of three times until you're happy that you can recite what you need to for this key word, and then move on.\n\n\u2022 Do the same with the rest of the key words.\n\n\u2022 Once you've done this with all the key words for that section, try delivering the entire section just by looking at the key words. Do this three times only.\n\n\u2022 Repeat the process for each section.\n\nMost people will start with the first section and work their way to the end, but I've found I obtain my best results if I work backward from the last section to the first or do the sections in random order.\n\n#### Step 4 \u2013 Practise delivering the whole speech\n\nUsing your list of section headings and key words as a guide, practise reciting your speech in its entirety, checking after each time against the full written version and making any necessary corrections. A good tip is to record your speech as you deliver it and then listen to it to identify where you can make improvements.\n\n#### Step 5 \u2013 Memorize your speech\n\nYou'll find that by following the process of repeated recall, your memory of what you need to say will be pretty good as it will be triggered by the key words in each section. Now all you need to do is to memorize the section names and the key words associated with each.\n\nIf you have 10 sections, I suggest you use a 10-stage journey (see the Journey Technique, pp.114\u20138) to remember their names. It helps to use an appropriate journey for the message (for example, a church for a wedding speech), but it's not essential. Conjure up a memorable image for each section title at each stage along the way.\n\nNow memorize the key words for each section by linking them in a bizarre story and associating them with the image you've chosen for the section title. So when you walk around your mental journey, at each location you'll see an image for a section linked in a story to the key words associated with that section.\n\n#### Step 6 \u2013 Practise your speech from memory\n\nWork on your delivery by rehearsing your speech using your images as triggers. With enough practice you'll say what you need to without relying on your images \u2013 but they'll always be there if you need them.\n\n### THE ART OF REMEMBERING JOKES\n\nIf you've ever tried to tell a joke and forgotten the punch line, here's a simple way to remember it. You'll need a mental filing system in which to store your jokes \u2013 again, my own preference is the ever-versatile Journey Technique. Your first step is to develop a journey on which to place your jokes.\n\nNext, create vivid images for the different parts of each joke and for the punch line and link them in a story to the stages of your journey. Practise recalling the images so they spring to mind effortlessly, then practise delivering the joke until you can do so confidently.\n\n## MIND MAPS\u00ae\n\nFor thousands of years the written word has been an effective mechanism for organizing, capturing and sharing ideas and thoughts. However, research into how the brain functions has identified that the tradition of organizing words in a linear manner on paper may not be the best way to employ our cognitive abilities. There are other more powerful ways to organize our thoughts, and, in my opinion, the Mind Map\u00ae is the most effective.\n\n### WHAT ARE MIND MAPS\u00ae?\n\nMind Maps\u00ae present a diagrammatic overview of a topic, making it easy for the brain to assimilate the information. They were invented by British psychologist and thinking expert Tony Buzan in the early 1970s after his extensive research into memory and the most effective ways of organizing thoughts on paper for recall, problem solving and creativity.\n\nThey engage both sides of the brain simultaneously \u2013 the left, analytical part and the right, imaginative, intuitive side.\n\nNow used by millions of people around the world, the Mind Map\u00ae has been described as the ultimate thinking tool and is simple to use and easy to learn. The example opposite shows a basic Mind Map\u00ae incorporating the key features:\n\n\u2022 A central image that represents the topic of the Mind Map\u00ae.\n\n\u2022 A radiating structure of main key word branches that identify the themes of the topic.\n\n\u2022 Smaller key word sub-branches that represent the detail of each theme.\n\nA good Mind Map\u00ae will use the following:\n\n\u2022 Many different colours to stimulate the right brain and to distinguish between themes and topics.\n\n\u2022 Carefully chosen key words, preferably single and written clearly. Each one should sit neatly on a branch of corresponding size.\n\n\u2022 As many images as possible (because pictures are the language of our thinking). Some sub-branches could simply have a picture against them and no words.\n\n\u2022 Arrows showing associations between key words and their related images.\n\nIt's critical that the length of the branches matches the length of the words, because, when you come to recreate a Mind Map\u00ae from memory, one of the key features that you'll recall is size. For example, if you remember a long branch radiating off from the right, your mind will automatically look for a long word to go with it.\n\n### ADVANTAGES OF A MIND MAP\u00ae\n\nIf you need to remember information, especially over the long term, a Mind Map\u00ae is a powerful memory device. It's also an extremely effective tool for organizing your thoughts on paper \u2013 whether to plan out a report or record what you've read or heard.\n\nIn fact, you'll find that you'll get far more out of these processes and improve your recall if you use a Mind Map\u00ae rather than writing things down, for the following reasons:\n\n\u2022 You'll be using more of your brain and therefore bringing more of your powerful abilities to the task.\n\n\u2022 It takes much less time to create a Mind Map\u00ae than to write in longhand, and it's more enjoyable and engaging.\n\n\u2022 The process of Mind Mapping\u00ae requires you to think about a topic in a more focused way than simply writing about it, thereby developing your cognitive abilities.\n\n\u2022 It's much easier to edit and review information in Mind Map\u00ae form than longhand.\n\n**HOW TO DRAW YOUR OWN MIND MAP \u00ae**\n\n**Creating a Mind Map \u00ae is a straightforward process. To start off, try this exercise based on a familiar topic \u2013 yourself!**\n\nTake a sheet of paper and turn it so that it's landscape format   \n(longer side along the bottom).\n\nUsing at least three coloured pencils, draw an image of yourself in the middle of the page. Don't worry, you don't need to be good at drawing. You're not trying to achieve an exact likeness: the image is simply there as a starting point.\n\nThink about all the important areas of your life and draw main branches from your central image to represent each one. Use a different colour of pencil for each branch. For example, you might have branches for your family, hobbies, work, friends, home and vacations \u2013 whatever's important to you. Write down key words or draw pictures for each main branch.\n\nDraw smaller branches coming out from each main branch to add some detail about each topic area. Label each one with a key word and\/or draw an appropriate image.\n\n## REMEMBERING WHAT YOU'VE READ\n\nAmong the most common experiences that make people think they have a bad memory, as well as forgetting names, is forgetting what they've read. It's a natural assumption to make, but one that's usually completely wrong.\n\n### WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER EVERYTHING I'VE READ?\n\nWhenever I ask people to break down what they expect to happen when they read, I usually receive an answer like this:\n\n#### Stage 1\n\n\"I expect to **see** characters on the page and **recognize** them as letters that form words that I'm then able to **read** and **understand**.\"\n\n#### Stage 2\n\n\"I expect to be able to **remember** what I've read so I can **recall** it at a later date either to **use** myself or to **communicate** to someone else.\"\n\nThis is a completely reasonable set of expectations when you consider what you **want** from your reading, but it's totally unreasonable when you look at what you're **doing** when you read.\n\nMost people have only ever been taught Stage 1 (the reading bit), which is all they do, and don't bother doing anything to ensure that Stage 2 (the remembering bit) happens. So your expectations for the result you want are over-ambitious and exceed what you're doing to achieve that result. In order to remember more of what you've read, you have to actively do something with that information to ensure you **memorize** it.\n\nAnother reason why you sometimes can't recall what you've read is because you're distracted \u2013 your mind begins to wander and starts to think about other things even as your eyes are still reading the words. Because you're not concentrating properly on what you're reading, you're not consciously taking it in, and consequently you won't be able to recall it. This is why you often get to the bottom of the page of a book and can't remember anything.\n\n### BECOME A BETTER READER\n\nThe first thing I recommend you do is to become a more efficient reader. Going to school and learning to read is a wonderful thing but, unfortunately, the way most people have been taught to read sets up a series of poor habits that limit the speed we read at and creates an inefficient reading process. Here are a few ideas to help you to become a better reader:\n\n\u2022 Use a pencil (or your finger) as a guide as you read to stop your eyes jumping around the page (back-skipping to re-read words is unnecessary and slows you down).\n\n\u2022 Rather than reading individual words, read in groups or clusters of words to take in meaningful chunks.\n\n\u2022 Practise reading faster so that your mind doesn't have the opportunity to wander off and think of something else because it's so absorbed in your reading.\n\n### HELPFUL READING STRATEGIES\n\nAs well as improving your reading technique, you can also employ reading strategies for fiction and non-fiction that will enhance your recall by helping you become more engaged in the material.\n\n\u2022 With non-fiction, quickly skim what you're about to read and preview it to identify where the \"best bits\" are so you can focus on them.\n\n\u2022 Set yourself goals for what you want to glean in order to focus your attention.\n\n\u2022 When you read, mark out key words and sentences with a pencil or highlighter pen.\n\n\u2022 Take notes as you read to include your questions, observations and opinions.\n\n\u2022 After you've finished reading, quickly scan through the material again to review what you've read.\n\n**CAN I REMEMBER EVERYTHING?**\n\nThe subconscious is extremely powerful, and there are those who believe that everything we've ever encountered in our entire lives is stored in the memory. However, it appears that most of these memories are accessible only via hypnosis (and even then there's doubt about whether memories accessed by this technique are, in fact, true memories). So, rather than attempting the impossible and trying to acquire the ability to recall absolutely everything that you read, you should aim instead to focus solely on what's important for you to remember.\n\n\u2022 Finally, summarize what you've read in your mind to embed the information.\n\n### BOOSTING YOUR RECALL\n\nJust by becoming a better reader and using the strategies I've explained above, you'll find that you'll naturally be able to remember more of what you read. However, even with this improvement, you'll still need to memorize and condition the knowledge so that you can always recall it. Here are some ways to do so using techniques I've already told you about:\n\n\u2022 Use a Mind Map\u00ae (see pp.134\u20138) to take notes as you're reading. You'll find that the process of using this powerful tool will focus your attention and encourage you to think more deeply about your reading material, ensuring that you're more engaged in it. You'll also have a memorable record of the things that you've read.\n\n\u2022 Review your Mind Maps\u00ae regularly \u2013 after 10 minutes, a day, a week, a month, three months and six months to ensure the knowledge transfers to your long-term memory. At each review try to draw the maps from memory before checking with the originals.\n\n\u2022 Take the key points from what you've read and use either the Story Technique (see pp.79\u2013) or the Journey Technique (see pp.114\u20138) to memorize them.\n\n_**\"** It is certain that memory contains not only   \nphilosophy, but all the arts and all that   \nappertains to the use of life. **\"**_\n\nMarcus Tullius Cicero (106\u201343BC)\n\n# 5   \nCHAMPIONSHIP POINTS\n\nWith the skills you've developed by working your way through the proven techniques in this book, you're on the verge of being able to do jaw-dropping things with your memory. When you see those people on television performing amazing feats, such as remembering ridiculously long strings of numbers or multiple decks of shuffled playing cards, every one of them has been at the same stage in their memory development as you're at now.\n\nYou, too, have the ability to perform similar feats, and this chapter will show you some of the tricks of the trade used by memory experts who do these sorts of stunts. You'll be surprised how easy they really are.\n\nWho knows, we might see you, after a bit of practice, on television or maybe doing exceptionally well in the World Memory Championships. (Don't laugh, because that's exactly what happened to me!)\n\n## THE MAJOR SYSTEM\n\nDating back to the 17th century, the Major System is a phonetic memory technique that can be used as a mental filing system or to remember numbers, dates and lists.\n\n### HOW IT WORKS\n\nNumbers are coded to consonant sounds from which you can make words and then memorable images.\n\n### HOW TO APPLY THE SYSTEM\n\nThe Major System is straightforward to implement. All you have to do is to follow the three simple steps outlined below and on the pages that follow.\n\n#### Step 1 \u2013 Allocate consonant sounds\n\nTake the number you want to remember and then simply allocate the appropriate consonant sound to each digit. For example 18374 would have the following sounds:\n\n#### **Step 2 \u2013 Make up a word**\n\nPick a combination of the letters in the order of the numbers and add in vowels or the silent consonants \"h\", \"w\" and \"y\" to make a word or sequence of words. Remember, it's the sound of the consonants that's important. For example, 18374 could become the words:\n\nToffee Maker \u2013 t( **1** ) f( **8** ) m( **3** ) k( **7** ) r( **4** )\n\nWhen you translate the numbers into words, you'll find that there's a range of possibilities. However, when you work back from the words to the numbers, there's only one combination of digits that \"Toffee Maker\" (or any of the other possible words or phrases) can be.\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Embed the words in your memory\n\nTo fix the words (and therefore the number) in your mind, create an extravagant and unusual image to go with them. So if the number 18374 was the access code to your office building, simply conjure up a bizarre picture, which somehow associates the building with a toffee maker.\n\n### CREATE YOUR OWN NUMBER IMAGES\n\nNow, with a bit of creativity, you can develop a filing system with a unique image for all the numbers from 1 to 100, or even beyond! Work on a few numbers at a time and commit them and their associated words and images to memory by practising the recall. You'll then have your own peg system for remembering long lists of items.\n\n**BEETHOVEN'S BIRTH DATE**\n\nHow many times have you tried to remember historical dates or the dates of famous people but failed? The Major System is the perfect way to remember them.\n\nLet's choose the number 1770, allocating the following letters 1 = d, the first 7 = g, the second 7 = k and 0 = s, which gives the words \"Dog Kiss\".\n\nI'd then make a vivid image of a dog rushing up to someone and giving them a big sloppy wet kiss. But what use can that be? Well, if I tell you that Beethoven was born in 1770 and you take the image of Beethoven and link it with a dog giving him a big kiss, you've just used the technique to memorize the year of his birth.\n\nYou could have chosen the words \"Tea Cakes\" or \"Duck Case\". It really doesn't matter as long as the code is adhered to.\n\n## LEARNING FROM A CHAMPION\n\nLike many of my colleagues who have carved out a career as a professional memory expert, I was inspired by eight-times World Memory Champion Dominic O'Brien. As well as being an impressive mnemonist, Dominic also invented his own memory system now used by thousands of people around the world.\n\n### THE DOMINIC SYSTEM\n\nA simple but amazingly powerful concept, the Dominic System will allow you to remember any number of any length quickly and easily. It's based on assigning letters to numbers and then personalizing them by linking them to someone you know well \u2013 a family member or a friend. You could also use a well-known figure or celebrity. All you have to do is follow these four straightforward steps.\n\n#### Step 1 \u2013 Assign the letters to the digits 0\u20139:\n\nGenerally, \"S\" is used for 6 as the word \"six\" has a strong \"s\" sound, and \"N\" represents 9 as it's easier to use than the ninth letter of the alphabet, which is \"I\".\n\n#### Step 2 \u2013 Create letter pairs\n\nFor the numbers 00 to 99, create letter pairs. Write them down on a sheet of paper. For example, 23 will have the letter pair BC and 10 will have the letter pair AO.\n\n#### Step 3 \u2013 Think of a famous person\n\nFor each letter pair, find someone you know really well or think of a famous person with the same initials. For example, CD (34) could be Charles Dickens.\n\n#### Step 4 \u2013 Pick a related object\n\nFor each person on the list identify an object that's related to them or that's typical of them in some way.\n\nHere are some examples I use:\n\n### HOW TO USE THE SYSTEM\n\nFirst, take the number you have to memorize and break it down into four-digit chunks. For example, 48379651 would become 4837 9651. To remember the number 4837, take the person represented by the first digit pair (48) and link them to the object of the second digit pair (37). In my example I see Damon Hill dressed in his yellow racing overalls wielding an enormous, bright green, metal baseball bat.\n\nNext choose a journey that you've created using the Journey Technique (seepp.114\u20138) to fix your number and its associated image in position. Repeat this for the second group of four digits.\n\nTo recall the number, mentally walk along your journey route and visualize the images that you've created at each location. Translate the images back into the number. For example, when I see the image of Damon Hill and the baseball bat, all I do is translate it back to the number 4837. If I had to remember the number 3748 (same digit pairs but in reverse order), I would have created a picture of my friend Craig driving a Formula 1 racing car.\n\n### DEALING WITH ODD NUMBERS\n\nNot all numbers break down conveniently into fourdigit chunks \u2013 you may be left with one, two or three digits. To memorize these extra digits, you can use a combination of systems.\n\n**One remaining digit:** Choose the corresponding image from the Number Rhyme or Number Shape System (see pp.84\u2013 and \u2013).\n\n**Two remaining digits:** Envisage the person represented by that number in the Dominic System.\n\n**Three remaining digits:** Envisage the person represented in the Dominic System by the first two digits interacting with either a Number Rhyme or Number Shape image for the third digit.\n\n## REMEMBERING A DECK OF CARDS\n\nOne of the most impressive feats of memory is being able to recall the order of a shuffled deck of playing cards having only briefly seen each card once. With a little practice you too will be able to do this either to impress your friends or become a winning player at the card table.\n\n### HAVE SOMEWHERE TO STORE YOUR CARD IMAGES\n\nTo start with you need a mental filing system in which to organize all 52 cards so you can recall them. I suggest you use the Journey Technique (see pp.114\u20138) because it's the most flexible and, to my mind, the most powerful system. Create a journey that has 26 stages so that when you memorize the cards you can link two cards to each location. I find that it helps to have three or four of these journeys so I can follow a fresh journey each time and avoid confusion.\n\n### CREATE UNIQUE IMAGES FOR EACH CARD\n\nYou now need to create a unique image for each card. You could start from scratch and design new images, but to save time and effort, I'd advise you to \"borrow\" some of the images that you've already assigned to numbers in either the Major System (see pp.146\u2013) or the Dominic System (see pp.149\u2013) \u2013 you can use whichever system you prefer. It's safe to do this as it's extremely unlikely that you'll have to remember numbers AND cards at the same time (I can say this from experience as I have never had to!).\n\n### ASSIGN A NUMBER TO EACH CARD\n\nThe first step in creating the images you need is to give each card its own number, based on its suit.\n\nFor example, for clubs I use the numbers 10\u201322: (A = Ace, J = Jack, Q = Queen, K = King)\n\nFor diamonds (30\u201342), the numbering would work like this:\n\nI'd then do the same for Hearts (50\u201362) and Spades (70\u201382). Now link your Major or Dominic System image for the number 11 with the ace of clubs, the number 12 image with the two of clubs and so on. Then, when you're recalling the cards and you see your picture for the number 11, you know it represents the ace of clubs.\n\n### PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT\n\nPractise converting each card to a number and visualizing the associated image. Then, link the images for pairs of cards together. (You're using a 26-stage journey so you'll need to double up images.) Finally, practise linking the doubled-up images to each location.\n\n## LONG LISTS OF SPECIALIZED ITEMS\n\nIf you want to do better at a local quiz night, you can develop an encyclopedic knowledge of any topic using the techniques I've shown you in this book. Here are some examples of the question areas that may come up:\n\nKings and queens | Capital cities  \n---|---  \nLongest rivers | Roman emperors  \nUS states and their capitals | UK prime ministers  \nGolf \u2013 US Masters winners | Constellations  \nUS presidents | Currencies  \nElements of the periodic table | Nobel Peace Prize winners\n\n### THE FIRST STEP\n\nThe most important step when preparing yourself to remember a long list of specialized items is to make sure that the information is correct in the first place. It's no good having perfect recall of an incredible list of facts if some of them are wrong.\n\nOnce you've checked that the information is correct, there are two main techniques you can use to memorize and recall it.\n\n### USE THE JOURNEY TECHNIQUE\n\nThe Journey Technique (see pp.114\u20138) is ideal for remembering information that is sequential or daterelated. For example, if you were a soccer fanatic and wanted to remember the World Cup winners since 1930, all you would need to do is to create a journey with 20 locations. This would give you enough locations to memorize the sequence of winners and a couple of spare slots for the next championships.\n\nThe next step is to place an image of the winner at each location in order. For example, at the 12th location (the 1982 winner) you could place an image of the Colosseum in Rome (Italy won the World Cup that year), making it as vivid, bizarre or unusual as possible. Then, by walking the journey in your mind and recalling the image that you've pegged at each location, you'll have a fail-safe method of remembering all the winners in order from 1930.\n\n### USE ASSOCIATION\n\nSometimes information doesn't need to be memorized in order and all you need to be able to do is link one thing to another \u2013 such as capital cities or the different currencies used in different countries. For example, to remember that the currency of Thailand is the baht, you need to link an image that represents Thailand to one that represents the currency.\n\nI picture hundreds of neck ties (Thai-) parachuting into a field (-land) and attacking each other with baseball bats (baht). Repeat this process for each currency you want to remember and experiment with the same technique for memorizing capital cities. Endless variations on such ideas are possible.\n\n## FURTHER READING\n\n**Tipper, Michael** _The 77 Habits of Highly Effective_ _Students_ , available from www.michaeltipper.com\n\n**Tipper, Michael** _The Secrets of Successful Students \u2013_ _Super Speed Study Skills_ , available from www.michaeltipper.com\n\n**Buzan, Tony** _Brilliant Memory: Unlock the Power of_ _Your Mind_ (Buzan Bites series), BBC Active 2006\n\n**O'Brien, Dominic** _How to Develop a Brilliant Memory_ _Week by Week_ , Duncan Baird Publishers 2006\n\n## CONTACT THE AUTHOR\n\nIf you'd like to find out more about how you can benefit from a better memory, sharper concentration and greater mental agility, please contact Michael Tipper personally at his website at www.michaeltipper.com\n\n## AUTHOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS\n\nI'd like to thank the pioneers of memory improvement \u2013 notably Dr Bruno Furst, Harry Lorayne, Tony Buzan, Kevin Trudeau and Dominic O'Brien \u2013 who have brought the possibility of improved recall and better memory to the masses. Were it not for their dedication, I might still be struggling with my own inability to remember.\n\nI'd especially like to acknowledge the moral support and guidance given to me by a special few who have believed in me and what I could achieve, especially when I doubted or couldn't appreciate my own talent and abilities \u2013 Paul and Lorna Bridle, Denise Fryer and Warren Shute. I'd also like to thank from the bottom of my heart Julie Lutwyche for supporting me all those years and giving me the love, space and encouragement to follow my dreams. Thanks, too, to all of the staff at Duncan Baird Publishers, in particular Caroline Ball, Daphne Razazan and Bob Saxton.\n\nAnd finally, I want to thank all of you who deserve to be mentioned here, and who have positively contributed to my work (and my life), though space prevents me from including you. You will know who you are, so thank you.\n\nThe story of Watkins began in 1893, when scholar of esotericism john Watkins founded our bookshop, inspired by the lament of his friend and teacher Madame Blavatsky that there was nowhere in London to buy books on mysticism, occultism or metaphysics. That moment marked the birth of Watkins, soon to become the publisher of many of the leading lights of spiritual literature, including Carl jung, Rudolf Steiner, Alice Bailey and Ch\u00f6gyam Trungpa.\n\nToday, the passion at Watkins Publishing for vigorous questioning is still resolute. Our stimulating and groundbreaking list ranges from ancient traditions and complementary medicine to the latest ideas about personal development, holistic wellbeing and consciousness exploration. We remain at the cutting edge, committed to publishing books that change lives.\n\nDISCOVER MORE AT:   \nwww.watkinspublishing.com\n\nRead our blog\n\n|\n\nWatch and listen to our authors in action\n\n|\n\nSign up to our mailing list\n\n---|---|---\n\nWe celebrate conscious, passionate, wise and happy living,   \nBe part of that community by visiting\n\n  \/Watkinspublishing  @watkinswisdom  \n  \/watkinsbooks  @watkinswisdom \nFirst published 2007 under the title _Memory Power-Up_\n\nThis edition first published in the UK and USA 2018 by\n\nWatkins, an imprint of Watkins Media Limited\n\nUnit 11, Shepperton House\n\n89-93 Shepperton Road\n\nLondon N1 3DF\n\nenquiries@watkinspublishing.com\n\nDesign and typography copyright \u00a9 Watkins Media Limited 2018\n\nCommissioned illustrations: Bonnie Dain for Lilla Rogers Studio and 3+Co\n\nForeword copyright \u00a9 Dominic O 'Brien 2007, 2018\n\nText copyright \u00a9 Michael Tipper 2007, 2018\n\nArtwork copyright \u00a9 Watkins Media Ltd 2007, 2018\n\nMichael Tipper has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs\n\nand Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.\n\nAll rights reserved.\n\nNo part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or\n\nby any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in\n\nwriting from the Publishers.\n\n1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2\n\nDesigned and typeset by Clare Thorpe\n\nPrinted and bound in the United Kingdom\n\nA CIP record for this book is available from the British Library\n\nISBN: 978-1-78678-175-8\n\nwww.watkinspublishing.com\n  1. Cover\n  2. Title\n  3. Content\n  4. Dedication\n  5. Foreword\n  6. Introduction\n  7. 1 Warm-Ups\n  8. Why do we forget?\n  9. Is it my age?\n  10. Your mental filing system\n  11. Your brain and your memory\n  12. Imagination, association and recall\n  13. Being certain of success\n  14. 2 Gentle Stretches\n  15. Managing stress for a better memory\n  16. Exercise to improve your memory\n  17. A better diet, a better memory\n  18. Memory joggers\n  19. Where did I leave...?\n  20. That reminds me...\n  21. 3 Great Techniques\n  22. Remembering names - the social method\n  23. Remembering facts - the magic of mnemonics\n  24. Remembering spellings\n  25. Always remember your PIN\n  26. Remembering directions\n  27. Remembering errands and simple lists\n  28. I must remember to...\n  29. Shopping with the alphabet\n  30. Remembering what you've heard\n  31. Retrieving the past\n  32. Interlude: The Amazing World Of Memory\n  33. 4 Winning Workouts\n  34. Remembering names and faces - the mnemonic method\n  35. Remembering longer numbers\n  36. The Journey Technique\n  37. Remembering dates and appointments\n  38. Learning a new skill\n  39. Learning foreign vocabulary\n  40. Remembering speeches and jokes\n  41. Mind Maps\u00ae\n  42. Remembering what you've read\n  43. 5 Championship Points\n  44. The Major System\n  45. Learning from a champion\n  46. Remembering a deck of cards\n  47. Long lists of specialized items\n  48. Further reading\n  49. Contact the author\n  50. Author's Acknowledgments\n  51. Copyright\n\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\nDisney Characters and Artwork TM & \u00a9 2018 Disney\n\nThe following songs are the property of:  \nBourne Co.  \nMusic Publishers  \n5 West 37th Street  \nNew York, NY 10018  \nBaby Mine  \nGive a Little Whistle  \nI've Got No Strings  \nSome Day My Prince Will Come  \nWhen You Wish Upon a Star  \nWhistle While You Work  \nWho's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?\n\nPrint ISBN: 978-1-5400-1530-3\n\nePub ISBN: 978-1-5400-3992-7\n\nKindle ISBN: 978-1-5400-3993-4\n\nFor all works contained herein:\n\nUnauthorized copying, arranging, adapting, recording, Internet posting, public performance,\n\nor other distribution of music in this publication is an infringement of copyright.\n\nInfringers are liable under the law.\n\nVisit Hal Leonard Online at\n\nwww.halleonard.com\n\nContact Us:\n\nHal Leonard\n\n7777 W. Bluemound Rd.\n\nMilwaukee, WI 53213\n\nEmail: info@halleonard.com\n\nContact Us:\n\nHal Leonard Europe Limited\n\n42 Wigmore Street\n\nMarylebone, London, W1U 2RN\n\nEmail: info@halleonardeurope.com\n\nIn Australia contact:\n\nHal Leonard Australia Pty. Ltd.\n\n4 Lentara Court\n\nCheltenham, Victoria, 3192 Australia\n\nEmail: ausadmin@halleonard.com.au\n\n# Contents\n\nBe Our Guest\n\nBaby Mine\n\nBeauty And The Beast\n\nBibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo (The Magic Song)\n\nCan You Feel The Love Tonight\n\nCircle Of Life\n\nChim Chim Cher-ee\n\nCruella De Vil\n\nColors Of The Wind\n\nDo You Want To Build A Snowman?\n\nA Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes\n\nEvermore\n\nFriend Like Me\n\nGod Help The Outcasts\n\nGive A Little Whistle\n\nGo The Distance\n\nHakuna Matata\n\nHe's A Tramp\n\nHeigh-Ho\n\nHow Far I'll Go\n\nHow Does A Moment Last Forever\n\nI Just Can't Wait To Be King\n\nI See The Light\n\nI've Got No Strings\n\nIf I Never Knew You (End Title)\n\nIt's A Small World\n\nKiss The Girl\n\nLet It Go\n\nLava\n\nMickey Mouse March\n\nPart Of Your World\n\nSome Day My Prince Will Come\n\nRemember Me\n\nA Spoonful Of Sugar\n\nSupercalifragilisticexpialidocious\n\nTrashin' The Camp*\n\nWhen She Loved Me\n\nWhen You Wish Upon A Star\n\nWhere You Are\n\nWhistle While You Work\n\nWho's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?\n\nA Whole New World\n\nWinnie The Pooh\n\nThe World Es Mi Familia\n\nWritten In The Stars\n\nYo Ho\n\nYou'll Be In My Heart*\n\nYou've Got A Friend In Me\n\nZip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah\n\nYou're Welcome\n\n# Be Our Guest\n\n### from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by HOWARD ASHMAN\n\n\u00a9 1991 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Baby Mine\n\n### from DUMBO\n\n#### Words by NED WASHINGTON   \nMusicby FRANK CHURCHILL\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1941 by Walt Disney Productions\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nWorld Rights Controlled by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# Beauty and The Beast\n\n### from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN  \nLyrics by HOWARD ASHMAN\n\n\u00a9 1991 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo\n\n### (The Magic Song)\n\n### from CINDERELLA\n\n#### Words by JERRY LIVINGSTON   \nMusicby MACK DAVID and AL HOFFMAN\n\n\u00a9 1948 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Can You Feel The Love Tonight\n\n### from THE LION KING\n\n#### Music by ELTON JOHN  \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1994 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Circle Of Life\n\n### from THE LION KING\n\n#### Music by ELTON JOHN  \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1994 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Chim Chim Cher-ee\n\n### from MARY POPPINS\n\n#### Words and Music by RICHARD M. SHERMAN   \nAND ROBERT B. SHERMAN\n\n\u00a9 1963 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Cruella De Vil\n\n### from 101 DALMATIANS\n\n#### Words and Music by   \nMEL LEVEN\n\n\u00a9 1961 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Colors Of The Wind\n\n### from POCAHONTAS\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by STEPHEN SCHWARTZ\n\n\u00a9 1995 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Do You Want To Build A Snowman?\n\n### from FROZEN\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by KRISTEN ANDERSON-LOPEZ   \nand ROBERT LOPEZ\n\n\u00a9 2013 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes\n\n### from CINDERELLA\n\n#### Words and Music by MACK DAVID, AL HOFFMAN   \nand JERRY LIVINGSTON\n\n\u00a9 1948 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Evermore\n\n### from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 2017 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Friend Like Me\n\n### from ALADDIN\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by HOWARD ASHMAN\n\n\u00a9 1992 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# God Help The Outcasts\n\n### from THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by STEPHEN SCHWARTZ\n\n\u00a9 1996 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Give A Little Whistle\n\n### from PINOCCHIO\n\n#### Words by NED WASHINGTON   \nMusic by LEIGH HARLINE\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1940 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# Go The Distance\n\n### from HERCULES\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by DAVID ZIPPEL\n\n\u00a9 1997 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Hakuna Matata\n\n### from THE LION KING\n\n#### Music by ELTON JOHN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1994 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# He's A Tramp\n\n### from LADY AND THE TRAMP\n\n#### Words and Music by PEGGY LEE   \nand SONNY BURKE\n\n\u00a9 1952 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Heigh-Ho\n\n### from SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS\n\n#### Words by LARRY MOREY   \nMusic by FRANK CHURCHILL\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1938 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# How Far I'll Go\n\n### from MOANA\n\n#### Music and Lyrics   \nby LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA\n\n\u00a9 2016 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# How Does A Moment Last Forever\n\n### from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 2017 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# I Just Can't Wait To Be King\n\n### from THE LION KING\n\n#### Music by ELTON JOHN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1994 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# I See The Light\n\n### from TANGLED\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN  \nLyrics by GLENN SLATER\n\n\u00a9 2010 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# I've Got No Strings\n\n### from PINOCCHIO\n\n#### Words by NED WASHINGTON   \nMusic by LEIGH HARLINE\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1940 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# If I Never Knew You\n\n### (End Title)\n\n### from POCAHONTAS\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN  \nLyrics by STEPHEN SCHWARTZ\n\n\u00a9 1995 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# It's A Small World\n\n### from Disney Parks It's A Small World Attraction\n\n#### Words and Music by RICHARD M. SHERMAN   \nAND ROBERT B. SHERMAN\n\n\u00a9 1963 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Kiss The Girl\n\n### from THE LITTLE MERMAID\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN  \nLyrics by HOWARD ASHMAN\n\n\u00a9 1988 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Let It Go\n\n### from FROZEN\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by KRISTEN ANDERSON-LOPEZ   \nand ROBERT LOPEZ\n\n\u00a9 2013 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Lava\n\n### from LAVA\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by   \nJAMES FORD MURPHY\n\n\u00a9 2015 Walt Disney Music Company and Pixar Talking Pictures\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Mickey Mouse March\n\n### from THE MICKEY MOUSE CLUB\n\n#### Words and Music by   \nJIMMIE DODD\n\n\u00a9 1955 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Part Of Your World\n\n### from THE LITTLE MERMAID\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by HOWARD ASHMAN\n\n\u00a9 1988 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Some Day My Prince Will Come\n\n### from SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS\n\n#### Words by LARRY MOREY  \nMusicby FRANK CHURCHILL\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1937 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# Remember Me\n\n### (Ernesto de la Cruz)\n\n### from COCO\n\n#### Words and Music by KRISTEN ANDERSON-LOPEZ   \nand ROBERT LOPEZ\n\n\u00a9 2017 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Pixar Music\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# A Spoonful Of Sugar\n\n### from MARY POPPINS\n\n#### Words and Music by RICHARD M. SHERMAN   \nAND ROBERT B. SHERMAN\n\n\u00a9 1963 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious\n\n### from MARY POPPINS\n\n#### Words and Music by RICHARD M. SHERMAN   \nAND ROBERT B. SHERMAN\n\n\u00a9 1963 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Trashin' The Camp*\n\n### (Pop Version)\n\n### from TARZAN TM\n\n#### Words and Music by   \nPHIL COLLINS\n\n\u00a9 1999 Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n*TARZAN (R) Owned by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc. and Used by Permission.\n\n\u00a9 Burroughs\/Disney\n\n# When She Loved Me\n\n### from TOY STORY 2\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by   \nRANDY NEWMAN\n\n\u00a9 1999 Walt Disney Music Company and Pixar Talking Pictures\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# When You Wish Upon A Star\n\n### from PINOCCHIO\n\n#### Words by NED WASHINGTON   \nMusic by LEIGH HARLINE\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1940 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# Where You Are\n\n### from MOANA\n\n#### Music by LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA,   \nOPETAIA FOA'I and MARK MANCINA  \nLyrics by LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA\n\n\u00a9 2016 Walt Disney Music Company and Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Whistle While You Work\n\n### from SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS\n\n#### Words by LARRY MOREY   \nMusic by FRANK CHURCHILL\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1937 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?\n\n### from THREE LITTLE PIGS\n\n#### Words and Music by FRANK CHURCHILL   \nAdditional Lyric by ANN RONELL\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1933 by Bourne Co. (ASCAP)\n\nCopyright Renewed\n\nInternational Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved\n\n# A Whole New World\n\n### (Aladdin's Theme)\n\n### from ALADDIN\n\n#### Music by ALAN MENKEN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1992 Wonderland Music Company, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Winnie The Pooh\n\n### from THE MANY ADVENTURES OF WINNIE THE POOH\n\n#### Words and Music by RICHARD M. SHERMAN   \nAND ROBERT B. SHERMAN\n\n\u00a9 1963 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# The World Es Mi Familia\n\n### from COCO\n\n#### Music by GERMAINE FRANCO   \nLyrics by ADRIAN MOLINA\n\n\u00a9 2017 Walt Disney Music Company and Pixar Talking Pictures\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Written In The Stars\n\n### from AIDA\n\n#### Music by ELTON JOHN   \nLyrics by TIM RICE\n\n\u00a9 1998 Wonderland Music Company, Inc., Happenstance Ltd. and Evadon Ltd.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Yo Ho\n\n### (A Pirate's Life For Me)\n\n### from Disney Parks Pirates Of The Caribbean Attraction\n\n#### Words by XAVIER ATENCIO   \nMusic by GEORGE BRUNS\n\n\u00a9 1967 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# You'll Be In My Heart*\n\n### (Pop Version)\n\n### from TARZAN TM\n\n#### Words and Music by   \nPHIL COLLINS\n\n\u00a9 1999 Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc. and Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n*TARZAN (R) Owned by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc. and Used by Permission.\n\n\u00a9 Burroughs\/Disney\n\n# You've Got A Friend In Me\n\n### from TOY STORY\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by   \nRANDY NEWMAN\n\n\u00a9 1995 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah\n\n### from SONG OF THE SOUTH\n\n#### Words by RAY GILBERT   \nMusic by ALLIE WRUBEL\n\n\u00a9 1945 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nCopyright Renewed.\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# You're Welcome\n\n### from MOANA\n\n#### Music and Lyrics by   \nLIN-MANUEL MIRANDA\n\n\u00a9 2016 Walt Disney Music Company\n\nAll Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.\n\n# Table of Contents\n\n  1. Be Our Guest\n  2. Baby Mine\n  3. Beauty And The Beast\n  4. Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo (The Magic Song)\n  5. Can You Feel The Love Tonight\n  6. Circle Of Life\n  7. Chim Chim Cher-ee\n  8. Cruella De Vil\n  9. Colors Of The Wind\n  10. Do You Want To Build A Snowman?\n  11. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes\n  12. Evermore\n  13. Friend Like Me\n  14. God Help The Outcasts\n  15. Give A Little Whistle\n  16. Go The Distance\n  17. Hakuna Matata\n  18. He's A Tramp\n  19. Heigh-Ho\n  20. How Far I'll Go\n  21. How Does A Moment Last Forever\n  22. I Just Can't Wait To Be King\n  23. I See The Light\n  24. I've Got No Strings\n  25. If I Never Knew You (End Title)\n  26. It's A Small World\n  27. Kiss The Girl\n  28. Let It Go\n  29. Lava\n  30. Mickey Mouse March\n  31. Part Of Your World\n  32. Some Day My Prince Will Come\n  33. Remember Me\n  34. A Spoonful Of Sugar\n  35. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious\n  36. Trashin' The Camp*\n  37. When She Loved Me\n  38. When You Wish Upon A Star\n  39. Where You Are\n  40. Whistle While You Work\n  41. Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?\n  42. A Whole New World\n  43. Winnie The Pooh\n  44. The World Es Mi Familia\n  45. Written In The Stars\n  46. Yo Ho\n  47. You'll Be In My Heart*\n  48. You've Got A Friend In Me\n  49. Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah\n  50. You're Welcome\n\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n## Contents\n\nPrologue\n\nBOOK ONE \"They're not as big as I thought they'd be\"\n\n1\n\n2\n\n3\n\n4\n\n5\n\n6\n\n7\n\n8\n\n9\n\n10\n\n11\n\n12\n\n13\n\n14\n\n15\n\nBOOK TWO \"If only they were back here at Redwall\"\n\n16\n\n17\n\n18\n\n19\n\n20\n\n21\n\n22\n\n23\n\n24\n\n25\n\n26\n\n27\n\n28\n\nBOOK THREE \"We lived one summer too long\"\n\n29\n\n30\n\n31\n\n32\n\n33\n\n34\n\n35\n\n36\n\n37\n\n38\n\n39\n\n40\n\n41\n\n42\n\n43\n\nEpilogue \nThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.\n\n_Loamhedge_\n\nAn _Ace_ Book \/ published by arrangement with the author\n\nAll rights reserved.\n\nCopyright \u00a9 _2003_ by _The Redwall La Dita Co., Ltd._\n\nThis book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.\n\nFor information address:\n\nThe Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,\n\n375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.\n\nThe Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is   \n<http:\/\/www.penguinputnam.com>\n\nISBN: _978-1-1012-2024-5_\n\nAN _ACE_ BOOK\u00ae\n\n _Ace_ Books first published by The Ace Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,\n\n375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.\n\n _ACE_ and the \" _A_ \" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.\n\nElectronic edition: August, 2005\nBY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\n _Redwall  \nMossflower  \nMattimeo  \nMariel of Redwall  \nSalamandastron  \nMartin the Warrior  \nThe Bellmaker  \nOutcast of Redwall  \nPearls of Lutra  \nThe Long Patrol  \nMarlfox  \nThe Legend of Luke  \nLord Brocktree  \nTaggerung  \nTriss_\n\n _Castaways of the Flying Dutchman  \nThe Angel's Command_\n\n _Seven Strange and Ghostly Tales_\n\n _The Great Redwall Feast  \nA Redwall Winter's Tale_\n\n _The Tale of Urso Brunov_\n\n _Redwall Map and Riddler  \nRedwall Friend and Foe  \nBuild Your Own Redwall Abbey  \nTribes of Redwall: Badgers  \nTribes of Redwall: Otters_\n_For my good friend Martha Buckley,  \nwho inspired my Martha.  \nFor Heather Boyd,  \nwho cheered me from her hospital bed to mine.  \nand  \nTo the memory of two brave warriors:  \nNolan Wallace, who became Lonna Bowstripe,  \nand Eric Masato Takashige Boehm,  \nwho fought the good fight._\n\n## Prologue\n\nHave you been travelling, my young friend? Come in out of the darkness and rain. Sit by the fire, eat, drink and rest yourself. Life is one long journey from beginning to end, you know. We all walk different roads, both with our bodies and our minds. Some of us lose heart and fall by the wayside, whilst others go on to realise their dreams and desires.\n\nLet me tell you a story of travellers, and the paths they followed. Of young ones, like yourself, sometimes uncertain of their direction, and often reluctant to listen to the voices of sense and wisdom. Of a mighty warrior, set on a course of destiny and vengeance, unstoppable in his resolve. Of an evil one and his crew, cruel and ruthless, bound on a march of destruction and conquest. Of a simple maid and her friends, homebodies whose only aims were peace and well-being for all. Of wicked, foolish wanderers, chasing fantasies and fables, consumed by their own greed. Of small babes who dreamed small dreams, not knowing what the future held in store for them. And, finally, of two friends, faithful and true, who had roamed many highways and together chose their own way.\n\nThe lives I will tell you of are intertwined by fate\u2014good and evil bringing their just rewards to each, as they merited them. Listen whilst I relate this story. For am I not the Teller of Tales, the Weaver of Dreams!\n\n# [BOOK ONE  \n\"They're not as big  \nas I thought they'd be\"](Loamhedge-toc.html#TOC-2)\n\n##\n\nLashing rain, driven by harsh biting winds from the sea, scoured the land from the bleak salt marshes to the stunted scrub forest. Abruc the sea otter bent against the strain of a loaded rush basket. It was tied to his shoulders and belted across his brow to stop it from spilling backward.\n\nHolding on to his father's paw, young Stugg trotted alongside, plying his parent with interminable questions, which Abruc did his best to answer.\n\n\"H'are you veddy veddy strong?\"\n\nScrunching his eyes against the wind, Abruc could not help smiling at his inquisitive little son. \"I have t'be strong. I've got to feed you, your mamma an' the whole family. That's my job, I'm a father.\"\n\nStugg sucked his free paw, digesting this information whilst he thought up another question. \"Den why can't Stugg sit atop of your basket no more?\"\n\nAbruc adjusted the belt to ease the strain on his neck. \"Because you've growed since last season. Yore gettin' to be a big feller now, a fine lump of an otter. Soon you'll be carryin' yore ole dad an' the basket. Let's put a move on, Stugg, so we can make it into the woods by dark. It'll be good to take a rest out o' this weather.\"\n\nWith the sound of the grey northeast sea pounding in their ears, both the sea otters squelched through the desolate salt marshes toward the weather-bent scrub forest.\n\nDaylight ebbed into early evening as they entered the shelter of the trees. With a grunt of relief, Abruc swung his basket to the ground. It was brimfull of edible seaweed, scallops, mussels and shrimp\u2014a full two days' work, gleaned from the coast of the barren northeast waters. Abruc sat on a fallen pine. Sensing his father's weariness, Stugg climbed up behind him and began gently rubbing his brow.\n\nAbruc relaxed, sighing gratefully. \"Hmmmm, that's nice. I was beginnin' to think that strap'd cut the top off me skull. Huh, where'd I be then?\"\n\nStugg giggled. \"Wiv a half offa head, silly ole farder!\"\n\nThe sea otter cautioned his son. \"Hush now, not so loud. There might be Coast Raiders about. Huh, they'd cut the tops off'n our skulls, just to watch us die.\"\n\nWide-eyed, Stugg crouched down against his father, speaking in a hushed whisper. \"Mamma says Coaster Raiders be's naughty vermints!\"\n\nHis father pushed dry pine needles into a small heap, shaking his head grimly. \"Naughty ain't the word for that scum. They're evil, cold-blooded murderers. Cruelty is just fun to the likes o' them. Right, young 'un, I suppose yore hungry now?\"\n\nNodding eagerly, Stugg whispered, \"I'm starfished!\"\n\nAbruc chuckled. _Starfished_ was a word all the young ones used, a cross twixt _starving_ and _famished._\n\nHe patted Stugg's head fondly. \"Nothin' worse'n a starfished otter. You stay here, keep yore eyes'n'ears open, an' lay low. I'll go an' find us a snug berth for the night.\"\n\nHe pulled a sack from under his cloak, tossing it to his son. \"Sort through the rest of those rations an' see wot you want for supper. I'll be back soon.\"\n\nAbruc knew the woods well, he recalled a spot not too far off. It was a good dry place, sheltered by a rock ledge. Silent as a night breeze, he weaved his way through the dark, twisted trees, straight to the exact location. He had camped there before. Halting slightly short of his destination, he paused. Something did not feel quite right about the area. Abruc sniffed the air and listened carefully, his animal instinct aroused. He caught the faint sound of ragged breathing. Drawing his long dagger, he crept forward, peering keenly into the shadows, his neck hairs bristling.\n\nFor supper Stugg had selected two flat loaves, some of his mamma's apple and blackberry preserve and their last flask of plum cordial. If his father lit a fire, they could make toasted preserve sandwiches and warm cordial. The young otter was a pretty fair cook, often having helped his mamma to prepare meals. There was not much else to do but wait in silence for his father's return. Stugg set out the food and sat next to the basket of supplies.\n\nAbruc came speeding out of the darkness to his son's side. Crouching beside Stugg, he gripped his paws tightly. The sea otter's voice was urgent and breathless from running.\n\n\"Listen carefully, little mate. Could you find yore way back home to our holt on yore own?\"\n\nStugg was taken aback by the unusual request. \"Er, I fink so, what's a matter, farder?\"\n\nAbruc gripped his son's paws tighter. His voice sounded harsh. \"Answer me\u2014yes or no! Could you find yore way back home?\"\n\nStugg had never seen his father like this. He nodded, his own voice sounding small and scared. \"Yes, Stugg know d'way!\"\n\nAbruc released the young otter's paws. \"Good, now here's wot y'must do, son. Find Shoredog. Tell him to bring the crew to the spot by the rock ledge, he'll know where I mean. Say that they best bring rope, canvas an' poles. Enough t'make a stretcher to carry a wounded, giant stripedog. That's if'n he's still alive when they reach here.\"\n\nWords poured from Stugg's mouth like running water. \"A giant, a stripedog, a wounded one? I never see'd a giant stripedog afore! What happened? Will he get deaded . . .\"\n\nAbruc grabbed Stugg and shook him, something he had never done before. He hissed at him through clenched teeth. \"Shut yore mouth, son! Don't stand here askin' questions! Go now, run, don't stop for anythin'. The life of another creature depends on you. Go!\"\n\nYoung Stugg took off like a madbeast, pine needles scattering from under his paws as he tore homeward through the nighttime forest. Abruc watched until his son was out of sight, then gathered up their belongings and dashed back to the camp beneath the ledge.\n\nSwiftly he heaped dry pine needles and cones with a few twigs. Using the steel of his knife blade against a chunk of flint, he soon had a small fire burning. It was sheltered by the overhanging rock and could not be seen from a reasonable distance. Abruc viewed the scene around him. Two badgers, one very old, the other about two seasons into his adult growth, lay stretched out, side by side. Small and grizzled, the oldest of the pair was obviously dead, slain by various weapon thrusts. As he turned to the younger badger, a brief glance at the churned-up ground and the blood-flecked rock confirmed the sea otter's suspicions. His jaw clenched angrily. \"Dirty murderin' Raiders!\"\n\nThe younger badger was still alive. Abruc had seen one or two badgers in his lifetime, but not as big as this fellow. He was truly a giant\u2014tall, deep of chest and broadbacked with massive paws and powerfully muscled limbs.\n\nThe sea otter winced as he inspected the fearsome wound to the badger's head. A long jagged slash, from eartip to neck, had ripped across the badger's face. Narrowly missing the eye, it had ploughed across the brow, through the wide-striped muzzle, across the jaw line to the side of the creature's throat.\n\nAbruc, with only a limited knowledge of healing, staunched the blood with his cloak. Lifting the badger's head, he cradled it in his lap, dabbing away at the dreadful rift and murmuring to the unconscious beast.\n\n\"Seasons o' salt, matey, 'tis a miracle yore still alive! Y'must have a skull made o' rock. I know you can't hear me, but don't worry, big feller, our crew will do the best we can for ye. There's one or two good healers at our holt.\"\n\nAbruc sat rambling away to the senseless badger, knowing he could do little else until help arrived.\n\nIt was close to midnight. Rainladen wind hissed through the scrub forest, carrying with it salt spray from the thundering seas. Beside the guttering embers of his little fire, Abruc had dozed off, still holding the badger's head.\n\nAt the front of the otter crew, Shoredog pointed with his lantern, hurrying forward. \"There they are, mates!\"\n\nLittle Stugg reached his father first. \"I bringed them, farder!\"\n\nAbruc patted the youngster's paw. \"Yore a good ole scout. Unnh, somebeast get me out from under this giant's head. Me limbs have gone asleep on me from holdin' his weight.\"\n\nWilling paws assisted him upright. Shoredog shook his head as he viewed the injured badger. \"Great seasons, lookit the mess the pore creature's in. I fears there ain't much hope for 'im. I never set eyes on a wound bad as that 'un!\"\n\nStugg caught sight of his mother and tugged at her paw. \"Issa giant stripedog goin' to die, mamma?\"\n\nAbruc's wife Marinu nodded at Shoredog's grandma, Sork. \"Not if'n we can help it, Stugg. Come on, crew, get some warm blankets around that badger an' strap him to a stretcher. Easy now, don't jolt the pore beast too much.\"\n\nEverybeast knew that Marinu and Sork were the best healers in all the southeast.\n\nStugg grinned broadly. Now that he had succeeded in his mission, he proceeded to take charge of the situation, striding about and issuing orders. \"You all hear my mamma, pick dat stripedog up careful!\"\n\nMarinu was about to pull her son to one side when Abruc murmured to her, \"Let the young 'un be, he did well tonight.\"\n\nAs the otter crew manoeuvred the huge badger onto the huge stretcher, Shoredog gave a surprised bark. \"Blood'n'thunder, lookit that!\"\n\nBeneath the injured creature a mighty bow and a quiver of long arrows lay half covered in the loose sand and pine needles. The badger had fallen backward upon the bow, his hefty bulk breaking the weapon in two pieces. One jagged half was stuck into his hip. Marinu halted the bearers until she and Sork had extracted the splintered yew wood. The big fellow grunted faintly as they padded and dressed the wound.\n\nStugg jumped up and down triumphantly. \"He be's alive, d'stripedog maked noise!\"\n\nOld Sork looped the birchbark quiver over Stugg's head. It scraped the ground, the arrows were taller than he. Sork shooed the young one aside. \"Aye, mayhap he is. Now you carry those an' stay out the way.\"\n\nA score of otters bore the badger off on a litter of pine poles, sailcloth and rope, padded with dead grass and soft moss. Stugg stayed behind with his father and Shoredog to bury the dead badger. It was only a shallow grave, but they found slabs of rock to top it off with. Abruc wedged the two pieces of broken bow, with the string still joining them, into the foot of the grave. They would serve as a marker. All three sea otters gazed down at the sad resting place.\n\nAbruc shook his head. \"Pore old beast, we don't even know wot name he went by. He looked weak, an' small. A badger that age should've spent out his seasons restin' in the sun. I wonder wot kin he was t'the big 'un. Mebbe his father?\"\n\nStugg pressed his face against Abruc and wept. He could not imagine anybeast losing a father. He sobbed brokenly. \"Who would kill someone's farder like that?\"\n\nShoredog looked up from smoothing the earth around the stones. \"Only beast I knows who kills like that is Raga Bol.\"\n\nThe name struck fear into Abruc. \"Raga Bol! Has he been here?\"\n\nShoredog stood upright, dusting off his paws. \"While you an' Stugg were gone, Rurff the grey seal visited our holt. He saw the Searats' ship wrecked on the rocks, further north up the coast. Raga Bol an' about fifty vermin crew came ashore. They headed down this way, but pickin's are scarce on this northeast coast, so they've probably marched inland. They ain't got a ship anymore. I was just rousin' our crew to search for you an' Stugg, when the young 'un comes runnin' to tell me you need help.\"\n\nShoredog took one of the straps on Abruc's basket. \"Let me help ye with this, mate, 'tis a good haul.\"\n\nThey set off back to their holt, with Stugg stumbling over the quiver of long arrows.\n\nAbruc shrugged philosophically. \"It's a bad spring, cold an' stormy. Let's hope summer's a bit better when it comes. At least we won't have Raga Bol an' his villains to worry about. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky, really.\"\n\nYoung Stugg hitched the arrows higher on his back. They still dragged along the ground as he muttered aloud. \"More luckier than d'poor stripedogs, I appose.\"\n\nA brief smile crossed Shoredog's weathered face. \"That young 'un of yores is growin' up quick, mate!\"\n\nDawn glimmered chill and blustery over the heathlands some two leagues west of the northeast sea. Wet, hungry and dispirited, Raga Bol's crew of Searats huddled round a smoking fire down a ravine. They stared miserably at a deep, rain-swollen stream running nearby. From further up the bank the vermin could hear their captain's shrieks and curses rending the air.\n\nRinj, a sly-faced female, gnawed at a filthy clawnail, glancing from one to the other. \"Ye t'ink Bol's lost the paw? I t'ought Wirga cudda sewed it back on, she's a good 'ealer.\"\n\nA lanky, gaunt rat named Ferron picked something from his teeth and spat it into the stream. \"Sewed it back on! Have ye gone soft in the skull? Last I saw, Cap'n Bol's paw was 'angin' on by a string o' skin. We should've stayed well clear o' those two stripedogs!\"\n\nRinj wiped firesmoke from her blearing eyes. \"The little ole one wuz no trouble, he didn't know wot 'it 'im, gone afore ye could wink.\"\n\nFerron winced as Raga Bol's screeches and curses redoubled. \"Aye, but wot about the big 'un, eh? I thought Cap'n Bol killed him wid the first blow of his big sword!\"\n\nGlimbo, the captain's first mate, pushed Rinj away from the fire and installed his fat, greasy bulk close to the flames. One of his eyes was a milky sightless orb; the other roved around the crew as he warmed his paws.\n\n\"Never in me days seen Bol 'ave to strike a beast twice wid that blade. But that big stripedog came back after the first whack an' got his teeth in good. Just as well that Bol struck again, or he would've lost more'n one paw. Mark my words, stripedogs are powerful dangerous beasts!\"\n\nThe heathland was a barren region, made drearier by the day's unabated rain. Down in the ravine a huge bonfire blazed to dispel the harsh weather. Every Searat of the crew sat watching their captain. Tall and sinewy, with a restless energy that could be glimpsed in his fiery green eyes, Raga Bol was an impressive rat by any measure. He sat wrapped in a fur cloak, his left pawstump hidden from view. The Searat's right paw rested on the carved bone hilt of a heavy, wide-bladed scimitar, protruding from his waistband. The crewbeasts could feel Raga Bol's eyes on them. Rain sizzling on the fire and wind fanning the flames were the only sounds to be heard as they waited on their captain's word.\n\nFinally, Raga Bol rose and snarled bad-temperedly at them, firelight reflecting from his hooped brass earrings and gold-plated fangs. \"We march west at dawn. Anybeast who don' want to go, let 'im speak now, an' I'll bury 'im right 'ere!\"\n\nNot one of the Searat crew said a word. Raga Bol nodded. \"West it is then. Blowfly, get me two runners.\"\n\nAn enormously fat rat, with a whip curled about his shoulders, motioned two lean crew members forward.\n\nRaga Bol sat looking at them in silence, until they squirmed under his unwinking gaze. His jaw clenched as he moved the stump where his left paw had been. \"You two, go back to where I slew the stripedog. Find the carcasse, an' bring me back his head.\"\n\nEach of the runners touched a paw to his ears. \"Aye aye, Cap'n!\"\n\nRaga Bol stood watching them climbing the sides of the ravine, then turned his attention to an old female Searat crouching nearby. \"Wirga, is that hook ready yet?\"\n\n\"It'll be ready by dawn, Cap'n.\" The old one gave him a toothless grin. \"So thee wants the big stripedog's head, eh?\"\n\nRaga Bol drew his cloak tight and sat, staring into the fire. \"Nobeast ever took a paw o'mine an' stayed in one piece, dead or alive. Now get that hook ready if'n ye want to keep yore head, ye withered old torturer!\"\n\n##\n\nFar over to the west, a brighter spring day had dawned. Ascending meadowlarks heralded the sun beneath a soft, pastel blue sky. Drawn by the sudden warmth, mist rose from the greenswards, transforming dewdrops to small opalescent pearls amid the dainty blossoms of saxifrage, buttercup, capsella and anemones. Mossflower woodland trees were blessed with a crown of fresh green leaves. Life was renewed to the sounds of little birds, calling to their parents with ceaseless demands for food.\n\nToran Widegirth loosed his apron strings, satisfied that he had completed his duties as Redwall Abbey's Head Cook. Leaving his kitchens, the fat otter sought the beautiful spring morn outdoors. Heaving a sigh of relief, Toran sat down on an upturned wheelbarrow at the orchard entrance. He was joined by his friend Carrul, the Father Abbot of Redwall. The mouse sat down beside the otter, both relaxing in silence, blinking in the sunlight and savouring the first good weather that spring.\n\nCarrul glanced sideways at his companion. \"Not going with Skipper and otter crew this season?\"\n\nToran watched an ant negotiating its way over his footpaw. \"Much too early, it ain't summer yet. But you know Skipper an' the crew, first sign o' sun an' a skylark an' they're off like march hares to the west seashores for the season.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul chuckled. \"Fully provisioned I trust?\"\n\nToran nodded wearily. \"Aye, I saw them off myself at dawn. Pushin' a cartload o' victuals I'd made special for 'em. Singin' their rudders off, dancin' like madbeasts!\"\n\nCarrul's smile widened. \"I know, they woke me up, I saw them from my window. Good luck and fair weather to them. So why didn't you go? I gave you permission to take as long as you wanted to go on leave.\"\n\nToran shrugged. \"Oh, I'm gettin' too old for that sort o' thing. Leave it to the younger ones.\"\n\nCarrul snorted. \"Too old? Too big in the tummy, you mean! If you're too old, then what about me, eh? I was your teacher when you were only a tiny Dibbun at Abbey School!\"\n\nThe ottercook tweaked his friend's bony paw. \"Aye, an' ye haven't gained a hair's weight since then. How d'ye do it, you skinny, ancient mouse?\"\n\nThe Abbot looked over his small square spectacles good-humouredly. \"I don't spend my whole life down in those kitchens like you do, my friend. Oh, Toran, isn't it just a glorious day? I hope the summer is a really golden one.\"\n\nToran snuggled more comfortably into the wheelbarrow. \"Makes ye feel good t'be alive, don't it, Carrul?\"\n\nThey both lapsed into silence again, gazing around and taking in the beauties of their Abbey.\n\nBehind them, Redwall reared\u2014a legend in pink, dusty sandstone with its high walls and turrets, stained-glass windows and buttressed arches, belltower, attics and steeple, all complemented by a background of verdant woodland and cloudless blue sky. Toran took in the stout battlements and picturesque gatehouse of the outer wall, whilst the Abbot contented himself by viewing the lawns and orchards, peacefully shimmering in the sunlight.\n\nCarrul's gaze took in the Abbey pond, down near the south ramparts. \"What creature could not count himself lucky to be dwelling in such a paradise. Ah, look Toran, there's our young friend Martha, taking a little nap in her chair, just by the rhododendron bushes on the far side of the pond.\"\n\nToran saw the young haremaid, her head nodding down to a heavy volume, which lay open on her lap.\n\nThe ottercook eased himself from the barrow. \"I'll just take a stroll over there and check she's alright.\"\n\nThe Abbot stretched luxuriously into the position Toran had vacated. \"Dearie me, you're like an old mother hen with that young 'un. Why don't you tell her that lunch will be served late, out in the orchard? In fact, tell everybeast, 'twill cheer them up after being kept indoors by the rain for so long. We'll all lend a paw to help.\"\n\nToran smiled happily. \"What a good idea!\"\n\nThe ottercook approached Martha carefully, not wanting to disturb her. She was very special to him. Toran could recall the winter's day, twelve seasons ago, when Martha Braebuck had arrived at Redwall. She had been nought but a tiny babe, strapped to the back of her ancient grandmother. Her brother Hortwill, two seasons older, had stumbled along, clutching the old hare's cloak. Toran's heart had immediately gone out to the pitiful trio. They had walked from the far Northlands, the only survivors of a vermin attack which had wiped out an entire colony of mountain hares. No sooner were they through the Abbey gates than the poor grandmother had collapsed and died from exhaustion. A sad occurrence, made sadder by the fact that Martha had never learned to walk from that day forth. Her brother grew up as sprightly as any young hare, but despite the most tender care, the babe Martha was immobile from her knee joints to her footpaws. There were no signs of any apparent wound or injury, no scarring or broken bones. No reason, in fact, why the little one should not learn to walk. Some of the wiser heads, like old Phredd the Gatekeeper, Great Father Abbot Carrul and Sister Setiva, the healer shrew who took care of the Abbey infirmary, said it was due to shock. That perhaps Martha's long trek from the Northlands, strapped to her grandmother's back, coupled with witnessing the murder of her family and kin, had caused the problem. Still, the Redwallers were completely puzzled.\n\nToran did everything possible to help her. He believed firmly that one day she would stand and walk. Meanwhile, the kind ottercook provided Martha with the means to get about. Taking a light comfortable chair, he fixed it to the base of a kitchen trolley, adding two large wheels to the back. The young haremaid learned to propel herself about quite easily. Toran also fashioned a crutch for her, but Martha used it only to get at things which were beyond her reach.\n\nMartha Braebuck grew up an extremely bright young creature with a thirst for knowledge. She was a formidable reader and scholar, the equal even of the venerated mouse, Sister Portula, Redwall's Abbey Recorder. Martha could solve riddles and equations, write poems, ballads and even sing. According to popular opinion, she had the sweetest singing voice ever heard within the Abbey walls. She never complained about being chairbound, and was invariably cheerful and willing to help others. The maid was a welcome and useful member of the Redwall Abbey community.\n\nToran watched silently as her head drooped lower. The volume slid from her lap rug onto the grass. Toran grunted as he bent to retrieve it.\n\nMartha came awake, stifling a yawn and rubbing her eyes. \"Dearie me, I must have nodded off!\"\n\nReturning the hefty volume to Martha's lap, the ottercook winked at her. \"Who'd blame ye, with all this sun about. I could lie down right here an' take a nap myself!\"\n\nMartha saw a group of Dibbuns approaching from around the orchard hedge. \"You wouldn't sleep for long, my friend. Look, here comes trouble!\"\n\nThe Abbeybabes descended upon the haremaid's chair. Muggum, a tiny mole who was their ringleader, climbed up onto Martha's lap, rumbling away in his quaint molespeech. \"Yur, Miz Marth', do ee singen us'n's ee song?\"\n\nThe haremaid eyed him good-naturedly. \"Which one would you like me to sing?\"\n\nToran interrupted with his suggestion. \"A pretty day deserves a pretty song, miss. Sing a spring song!\"\n\nThe squirrelbabe Shilly added her request. \"Da one where uz clappa paws!\"\n\nBuffle the shrewbabe, who was the smallest of all, nodded solemnly. \"Gurbbadurrguddun!\"\n\nShilly translated. \"Him says that be a good 'un.\"\n\nMartha sat up straight, exchanging a smile with Toran. \"Well, Buffle's word is good enough for me. Here goes.\"\n\nThe Dibbuns raised their paws, ready to clap, as Martha's melodious voice soared out.\n\n\"The rain has gone away . . . Clap Clap!\n\nand larks do sing on high.\n\nSweet flowers open wide . . . Clap Clap!\n\ntheir petals to the sky!\n\n'Tis spring . . . Clap clap! 'Tis spring,\n\nlet us rejoice and sing,\n\nthe moon is queen the sun is king,\n\nso clap your paws and sing . . . Clap Clap!\n\nThere's not a cloud in sight . . . Clap Clap!\n\nthe leaves are bright and new.\n\nThis day was made for all . . . Clap Clap!\n\nfor me my friend and you!\n\nSo sing . . . Clap Clap! . . . So sing,\n\nlet summer follow spring,\n\nfrom golden morn to evening,\n\nwe clap our paws and sing . . . Clap Clap!\n\n. . . Clap Clap!\"\n\nAlthough the clapping missed its beat once or twice, it was with joyous vigour. The little ones danced around, whooping and squeaking wildly, \"Sing us'n's a more!\"\n\nMartha was coaxed into singing the lively air again. She finished quite out of breath, amid yells for a third performance.\n\nToran took charge, slapping his rudder loudly on the bankside. \"Hold up there, ye rogues, pore Miz Martha's tuckered out. Now lissen t'me. If ye promise t'be good, we'll have lunch out in the orchard today, seein' as 'tis sunny!\"\n\nHis suggestion was greeted with roars of approval. \"Lunch inna h'orchard, 'ooppee!\"\n\nMartha smiled happily. \"Oh, what a splendid idea!\"\n\nLittle Shilly sped off toward the Abbey, calling to the other Dibbuns. \"Come on, we 'elp Granmum Gurvel wiv lunch!\"\n\nToran watched them go. \"I don't think old Gurvel will thank me for lettin' that lot invade the kitchens.\"\n\nMartha settled the big volume more comfortably on her lap. \"Bless their little hearts, they mean well.\"\n\nToran cast a glance at the haremaid's book. \"That's a heavy ole thing t'be readin', miss. Wot's it all about?\"\n\nMartha opened the book at a page marked by a silken ribbon. \"I borrowed it from Sister Portula's library. It's a rare and ancient account of Loamhedge mice.\"\n\nThe ottercook looked thoughtful. \"Loamhedge mice, eh? I've heard of them. Weren't they the ones who helped t'build our Abbey? Aye, they were led by old Abbess, er, wotsername?\"\n\n\"Germaine.\" The haremaid corrected him. \"It was she and Martin the Warrior who helped to build and design Redwall. Germaine and her followers once lived at the place they called Loamhedge. It was a peaceful and prosperous community, almost as large as our Abbey, some say. But they were forced to abandon it and flee for their lives. Loamhedge was left deserted to the four winds.\"\n\nToran's interest was roused. Although he was no great reader himself, he liked to hear his friend tell of what she had read. \"Why did they have to leave? Does the book explain?\"\n\nMartha riffled back to a previously read page. \"It says here that a great sickness fell upon Loamhedge. A plague, brought by vermin, possibly Searats. First there was sickness, then a few deaths. Abbess Germaine was wise enough to realise that it would grow into an epidemic, which would wipe them all out. So she took her mice and fled. They went wandering for many seasons, far from home. One day their journey took them into this part of Mossflower territory. It was here they met Martin the Warrior and his friends. Germaine joined forces with the Woodlanders, helping to rid the lands of powerful enemies. When peace was achieved, Martin and Germaine were free to realise their dream. They built a mighty stone fortress, an Abbey, where goodbeasts could live in safety and happiness together. That's how, countless ages ago, Redwall came into being. . . .\"\n\nMartha was interrupted by her brother Hortwill. He came bounding and splashing through the shallows and threw himself upon her.\n\n\"Wot ho, wot ho, wot ho, me pretty young skin'n'blister!\"\n\nShe ducked her head, laughing as he showered her face with kisses. \"Stop that this instant, Horty! I'm not your skin'n'blister, I'm your sister. Oh, look now, you've splashed water all over Sister Portula's precious book!\"\n\nHortwill Braebuck, or Horty, as everybeast knew him, was Martha's brother, older than her by two seasons. An overpowering character\u2014ebullient, quaint of speech, always in trouble, he was roguishly gallant, sentimental to a fault, and possessed a gluttonous appetite. In short, a typical hare.\n\nThrowing up both paws and ears in mock horror, Horty declaimed, \"Well, flog me twice round the jolly old orchard an' chop off me ears with a rusty blinkin' axe, wot! Splashed a bally spot o'water on Sis Peculiar's blessed book? Lack a day, fifty seasons in the cellar for me. What say you, Toran old scout? Either that or instant death. Wot wot?\"\n\nToran played along with Horty's dramatic mood. Squinting an eye, he growled fiercely, \"Instant death's the only thing!\"\n\nThe young hare threw him a smart military salute. \"As y'say, sah, sentence t'be carried out on the blinkin' spot!\"\n\nWithout further ado, Horty flung himself into the pond and vanished underwater, still saluting.\n\nMartha sat bolt upright in her chair. \"Oh the fool, save him Toran, quickly!\"\n\nLumbering into the pond, the ottercook fished Horty out with one huge paw.\n\nGrinning like a madbeast, and still saluting, Horty spouted a mouthful of water into the air. \"Beloved blinkin' friend, you've saved me life. I'll never forget you, an' I'll always dine at your excellent kitchen!\"\n\nKeeping a straight face, Toran looked at Martha. \"I'd better chuck him back in, miss, think of the food we'd save!\"\n\nMartha nearly fell out of her chair with laughter. \"Hahahaha! Oh no, please sir, hahaha! I beg you, spare his gluttonous young life. Hahahahaha!\"\n\nShooting a last jet of pondwater skyward, Horty said fondly, \"A chap's confounded lucky to have such a merciful sister, wot!\"\n\nToran growled as he frog-marched Horty ashore. \"Ye certainly are, matey. But if'n I hears ye callin' Sister Portula, Sis Peculiar again, back in the pond ye'll go. Aye, an' those two ripscuttle pals o' yores, Springald an' Fenna. A lesson in manners wouldn't harm them, either!\"\n\nMartha dabbed the book pages dry with her lap rug. She could never be angry with her boisterous brother. Horty had always been close by, ready to cheer her up when she was sad or depressed. Her inability to run free like other young ones sometimes put Martha in low spirits.\n\nShe held up the volume for Toran to see. \"No harm done really, it's perfectly dry now. Come on you two, let's go back to the Abbey!\"\n\nOn the way up, they met Muggum and several other Dibbuns who had been banished from the kitchens by Granmum Gurvel, the old assistant molecook.\n\nMuggum tugged his snout respectfully to the haremaid. \"Yur, mizzy, oi'll push ee to ee h'orchard furr lunch.\"\n\nReaching down, Martha lifted the molebabe onto her lap. \"That's very thoughtful of you, Muggum, but I'm sure Horty and Toran can manage the job quite well.\"\n\nPatting the young haremaid's paw, the molebabe nodded sagely. \"Oi thankee, Miz Marth'. Coom on, zurrs, you'm pushen us faster'n'that, us'n's bee gurtly 'ungered furr lunch!\"\n\n##\n\nRedwall orchard was a riot of blossoming fruit trees and bushes. Pink and white flowers clustered thick on every branch, their petals carpeting the grass. Apple, pear, cherry, beech, hazelnut and almond trees flourished in rows, fronted by raspberry, strawberry, red currant and whortleberry. Summer promised an abundant yield.\n\nToran cast an eye over three trolleys laden with buffet lunch\u2014spring vegetable soup, brown bread and cheese, dandelion and burdock cordial, followed by a dessert of damson preserve pie. \"Who did all this?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul bowed apologetically, knowing how touchy the ottercook could be about trespassers in his kitchen domain. \"I offered to help Granmum Gurvel. You looked so hot and weary when I met you in the orchard for a breath of fresh air. Gurvel and I decided to help you out. Is it to your liking, my friend?\"\n\nToran bowed thankfully to them both. \"My thanks to ye. I couldn't have done it better!\"\n\nRedwallers sat in the tree shade, laughing and chatting amiably as lunch was served. Sister Portula spread a rug, and Toran lifted Martha onto it. All four sat beneath a wide chestnut tree at the orchard's far end. Sunlight and shadow dappled them as they watched the inhabitants of Redwall enjoying lunch. Martha appreciated such moments because the elders always included her in their discussions. The young haremaid felt she had become an honorary member of the Elders Council.\n\nMartha laughed at the antics of the Dibbuns, who were beginning to get a bit rowdy. \"They do get excited after a rainy spring indoors. Look at baby Yooch, he's eating flower petals!\"\n\nSister Portula shook her head. \"There's Shilly and some others doing it. I'll wager 'twas Muggum who started it all. Muggum, Shilly and Yooch are more trouble than any ten Dibbuns. I call them the Terrible Trio!\"\n\nToran's stomach shook as he chuckled. \"Yore right, marm. Hi there, Springald, go an' tell those little 'uns to stop eatin' the petals, or Sister Setiva will have to dose 'em with physicks.\"\n\nThe mousemaid Springald shrugged carelessly. \"Flowers won't do 'em any harm. I used to eat petals myself.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul glanced sternly over his glasses at her. \"Do as you are bidden, miss, and don't argue!\"\n\nSpringald curtsied slightly, then flounced off to do as she was told.\n\nSister Portula pursed her lips and tutted. \"Yonder goes more trouble. She's one of the other three. Horty, Springald and Fenna, the young rebels. They aren't babes anymore, they should know better.\"\n\nMartha put aside her cordial beaker. \"Oh, they'll grow out of it, Sister, they're all good creatures at heart, I'm sure.\"\n\nPortula helped herself to bread and cheese. \"Huh, let's hope they do, before there's really trouble. I'm sure we were never like that at their age, were we, Father?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul raised his eyebrows. \"Weren't we, Sister? I can recall two young ones sailing a dining room table on the pond. Aye, with an embroidered linen tablecloth for a sail. Hmm, let me see now, what were their names?\"\n\nSister Portula fidgeted uncomfortably with her sleeve hem. \"But that was only a bit of fun. You and I were well behaved as a rule.\"\n\nMartha could scarcely believe her ears. \"You two? Well, you rascals! Did you get caught, Father?\"\n\nBehind his small glasses, the Abbot's eyes twinkled. \"Oh, we were caught sure enough, and both set to work in the kitchens as punishment. Remember that, Sister?\"\n\nPortula nodded ruefully. \"How could I ever forget five days of scrubbing greasy pots and scouring pans? My little paws stayed wrinkled for half a season!\"\n\nMartha winked cheekily at the Recorder. \"Horty and his two friends seem innocent compared to you and Abbot Carrul. What a pair of rogues you were!\"\n\nA light smile hovered on Portula's kind face. \"Listen, missy, if you think we were naughty, you should have seen two Dibbuns who were younger than us at the time. Bragoon and Saro, an otter and a squirrel. Now those two really were a twin pestilence!\"\n\nMartha turned to Toran. \"I've heard you telling the young ones tales about Bragoon and Saro, but I always thought they were make-believe creatures. Were they actually real?\"\n\nThe ottercook nodded vigorously. \"Oho, missy, that they were! Bragoon was my big brother, five seasons older'n me. Sarobando, or Saro, as everybeast knew her, was a Dibbun squirrel, his best little pal. Sister Portula's right, ye never saw two villains like 'em! Hah, 'twas just as well they ran off whilst they was still young 'uns. If'n Bragoon an' Saro had stayed, we mightn't have a roof over our heads. They would've demolished the Abbey between 'em!\"\n\nWhilst Toran had been talking, some of the Dibbuns and a few of the young 'uns had gathered around.\n\nMuggum scrambled up onto Toran's lap. \"Yurr zurr, you'm tell us'n's ee story 'bowt Zuro an' Burgoon!\"\n\nToran chuckled. \"I can't bring one to mind right now, but I can recite a poem I wrote about 'em for the Harvest Feast many seasons back.\"\n\nTaking a swig of cordial, he tried to recall the words.\n\nShilly waggled her tail impatiently. \"Well, 'urry up an gerron wiv it, Cooky!\"\n\nThe ottercook twitched his nose at her. \"Silence, ye liddle rip!\"\n\nDraining his beaker, Toran launched into the recitation.\n\n\"I'll tell ye a tale of two Dibbuns,\n\nwho lived here long ago,\n\nan otter who was named Bragoon,\n\nan' a squirrel known as Saro.\n\nAye, little Bragoon an' Saro,\n\nwhat a pair o' scamps they were,\n\ntheir names rang through the land oh,\n\nthere was nought they didn't dare!\n\nGood Granmum Gurvel molecook,\n\nmade puddens, cakes an' pies,\n\nthey vanished off the kitchen shelf,\n\nbefore her dear ole eyes.\n\n'Bragoon an' Saro, I'll be bound,'\n\nthe poor ole beast would say,\n\n'they'll eat me out of house an' home,\n\nthey'll turn my fur to grey!'\n\nBragoon an' Saro, gracious me,\n\nI dread to hear those names,\n\ncome hearken whilst I tell ye,\n\nof those two scoundrels' games.\n\nWho filled the Abbot's bed with ants,\n\nwho nailed up all the doors,\n\nwho was it glued the bellrope,\n\nand stuck the ringer's paws,\n\nwho filled the pond with beetroots,\n\nand turned the waters red,\n\nwho baked poor Foremole's sandals,\n\ninside a loaf of bread?\n\nThe dreaded Bragoon an' Saro,\n\nI'm here to tell ye all,\n\nthere's never been two like 'em,\n\nat the Abbey of Redwall!\"\n\nThe Dibbuns jumped up and down in delight, roaring with laughter at the escapades of the infamous pair. Horty and his friends, Springald and Fenna, laughed, too.\n\nToran put on a stern face, wagging a cautionary paw at his listeners. \"I tell ye, 'twasn't so funny for the poor creatures who were the butt o' those tricks!\"\n\nHorty scoffed. \"Oh I say, sah, you don't actually believe all that dreadful twaddle about Bragoon an' Saro, wot?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul answered him. \"Toran's right, 'tis all true. I was a young 'un here myself at the time, I saw it!\"\n\nFenna fluttered her long eyelashes prettily. \"Oh really, Father Abbot, you don't expect us to believe all that about Bragoon and Saro. We're not Dibbuns anymore. Toran makes up the stories to amuse the little ones\u2014they'll believe anything, but we know better.\"\n\nMartha spoke out sharply. \"If the Abbot and Toran say it is true, then I'm certain it is. What reason would we have to doubt them?\"\n\nHer words, however, went unheeded by the three young 'uns, as they strolled off together, still unwilling to credit the existence of the fabled duo.\n\nHorty scoffed again. \"Bragoon an' Saro, wot? Load of jolly old codswallop, if y'ask me. Tchah!\"\n\nSpringald giggled. \"If I swallowed that lot, I'd be looking out for fishes nesting in trees and flying!\"\n\nMartha was so angry that she almost rose from the rug, but then she fell back again.\n\nAbbot Carrul helped her to sit up. \"Don't upset yourself, Martha. One day our young friends will wake up and find themselves somewhat older and a little wiser, just wait and see. I was a bit like them at that age, but one lives and learns.\"\n\nThe young haremaid sighed. \"I hope it happens to my brother soon. I don't like to say this, Father, but Horty seems to behave more outrageously each day.\"\n\nToran helped Martha into her chair. \"Don't ye worry. Horty's a hare, they're always a bit wild when they're young.\"\n\nMartha retrieved her volume and straightened her rug. \"Perhaps you haven't noticed, Toran, but I'm a hare, too!\"\n\nSister Portula dusted a stray flower petal from Martha's head. \"Ah, but you're a very rare and special kind of hare, my dear. Anybeast can see that!\"\n\nHostile weather still reigned on the plains and heathlands of the far east. Raga Bol and his Searats had not made much headway in three days of trekking westward\u2014the Searat captain's pawstump pained abominably. They camped on high ground, in the lee of a rocky projection. Apart from a few chosen cronies, the crew avoided the captain, making their own fire sufficiently far away to evade his sudden wrath.\n\nRaga Bol sat by his own fire, with Glimbo and Blowfly in attendance. The two runners had been sent out to retrieve the badger's head but had returned empty-pawed. They crouched at the far side of the blaze, panting from their long journey. Raga Bol watched reflecting flames glinting from the polished silver hook where his paw had once been. His luminous eyes shifted to the runners.\n\n\"Are ye certain 'twas the spot where I slew the giant stripedog?\"\n\nBoth heads nodded. \"Certain shore, Cap'n!\"\n\n\"I'd swear me oath on it, Cap'n Bol. The stripedog was gone, there was no sign of 'im anywhere's about!\"\n\nThe Searat captain's terrifying stare never left either of the two quivering vermin. \"But the old one, he was buried there?\"\n\n\"Aye, Cap'n, right on the spot where ye slew the big 'un.\"\n\n\"He's right, Cap'n, the very spot. All the tracks were wiped out, too. Wasn't nothin' we could do but come back 'ere, fast as we could, to tell ye!\"\n\nRaga Bol dropped his gaze to the steaming ground at the fire's edge. \"Speak to none about this, or yore both deadrats. Now get out o' my sight!\"\n\nGlimbo and Blowfly scuttled off, relieved to be still among the living, after having brought their murderous captain such bad news. Hunching against the bleak cold at his back, Raga Bol sat silent. His eyes roved between the silver hook and the roaring, wind-driven fire.\n\nBlowfly whispered to Glimbo, \"I reckon dat giant stripedog must still be alive, mate!\"\n\nThe fat Searat's hushed whisper was barely audible, but Raga Bol heard it. He stood slowly and faced them both. With lightning swiftness his hook shot out, latching on to Blowfly's broad belt. The Searat was dragged forward to find himself facing Bol's upraised blade and threatening snarl.\n\n\"Did ye ever see a beast alive after I'd struck 'im wid me blade? Well, did ye?\"\n\nBlowfly watched the heavy scimitar poised, one stroke away from his quivering double chins. The rat's voice went squeaky with panic. \"N . . . no, Cap'n!\"\n\nRaga Bol bared his gold-plated teeth in a wolfish grin. \"Shall I prove it to ye, Blowfly?\"\n\nThe rat sobbed brokenly. \"Aw, don't do it, Cap'n Bol, please. Nobeast ever lived after yew 'it 'em wid yore sword!\"\n\nThe captain's pale eyes lighted on Glimbo. \"You should know, mate, tell 'im!\"\n\nGlimbo loved life too much to remain silent. Words poured from his mouth like running water. \"Dat stripedog's kinbeasts must've carried 'im off, fer a fancy buryin'. I bet they buried the old 'un where he fell, 'cos they couldn't haul two carcasses. Mark me words, Blowfly, it don't matter 'ow big the stripedog was, he's deader'n any doornail now. Once Cap'n Bol's sword swipes 'em, they're well slayed. I'd take me affydavy on it!\"\n\nBlowfly fell to the ground as the hook pulled loose from his belt. Bol ground the scimitar and leaned on it.\n\n\"There's yore answer, mate, the stripedog's dead. I don't want to 'ear no more talk of such beasts from my crew. Now set four guards around me, so I can sleep.\"\n\nThe sentries crouched miserably in the darkness, waiting for the dawn. Wrapped in his cloak, Raga Bol lay alongside a roaring fire. But sleep did not come easily, and, when it did, his dreams were troubled by visions of the giant stripedog coming slowly but surely after him with the light of vengeance burning in his eyes.\n\nAbruc the sea otter, his wife Marinu and their son Stugg sat on the streamside, beneath an overhanging bank canopy. They enjoyed their evening meal outside, away from the bustling noise of the holt. Stugg sucked noisily at the contents of his bowl.\n\nAbruc patted his stomach and winked at the young creature. \"Now that's wot I calls a sea otter chowder. Nobeast can make it like yore mamma does, ain't that right, me 'eart?\"\n\nMarinu refilled her husband's bowl. \"I wager you used to say that about yore own mamma's chowder. All it takes is clams, mussels an' shrimps, with some beans, chestnut flour, seaweed, carrots an' a few pawfuls of sea salt an' hotroot pepper. 'Tis simple to cook up.\"\n\nYoung Stugg held out his bowl for a refill. \"But you make it da best, 'cos yore our mamma!\"\n\nMarinu dipped her ladle into the pot they had brought out. \"You'll soon be as big a flatterer as yore dad! Wipe that chin, you've got chowder all over it.\"\n\nAbruc looked over the rim of his bowl at Marinu. \"So, how are you an' old Sork gettin' along with our big badger? D'ye reckon he'll live?\"\n\nMarinu wiped Stugg's chin with her apron hem as she spoke. \"It looks like he will, though whether or not he'll waken fully we don't know. He might just fade away, after one of those death sleeps that last a few seasons. I never thought anybeast could be so deeply wounded an' live. Sork used fish glue to mend his skull bone. When that was all clean and set, I used long hairs from his own back as thread to stitch the skin back over. We set lots of spider web over it all. Give it a few days, then we'll wash it gently with valerian and sanicle to deaden any pain. Shoredog says he'll have to be moved to the old cave where it'll be quieter. We'll make him a big bed of silver sand and moss.\"\n\nAbruc nodded. \"That should help. I'll keep a warm fire of pine an' sweet herbs burnin' there, night an' day.\"\n\nMarinu rose. \"I'm going back inside. Sork wants to borrow some of the broth off'n my chowder to feed him. A hard task with such a big beast who's still senseless.\"\n\nWhen she had gone inside, Abruc and Stugg finished off the remaining food. The young otter sat watching his father attach a slim line, from the end of his rudder, to a thick root growing from the bankside. Abruc took a chunk of beeswax and began rubbing it into several more loose lines of tough flaxen fibre.\n\nThe sea otter eyed his young son. \"Shouldn't you be off to yore bed, 'tis getting' late.\"\n\nStugg rubbed some of the beeswax on his paw curiously. \"Wot are you doin' wiv dat stuff, farder?\"\n\nAbruc explained as he worked. \"I'm makin' a bowstring, a good stout one that won't rot or break under strain.\"\n\nYoung Stugg pursued his enquiries. \"Wotta you be wantin' a bowstring for, farder?\"\n\nAbruc answered patiently. \"T'aint for me, it's for our big badger. I've got a feelin' he'll be well again some day. When the time comes, he'll be leavin' us to go westward.\"\n\nStugg persisted. \"Is a bowstring good to go westward wiv?\"\n\nHis father began deftly plying the waxed fibres together. \"Aye, son, that big feller's an archer. He'll have t'find 'imself the right wood t'make a new bow, but the least I can do is to plait him a proper bowstring. Then he'll be well armed to settle up with the vermin who tried to slay him an' murdered his ole friend.\"\n\nStugg nodded. \"I bet they be sorry then!\"\n\nAbruc stopped working momentarily. \"Sorry ain't the word, young 'un. When a badger goes after his enemies, there ain't noplace they can run or hide from him. I'll wager our big beast will come down on 'em with the Bloodwrath!\"\n\nUnfamiliar with this strange word, Stugg posed a new question. \"Wot's a Bloodraff, farder?\"\n\nAbruc shook his head decisively. \"Bloodwrath is terrible, somethin' you don't ever want t'see or know about. Go on now, off to bed with ye, me son!\"\n\n##\n\nOld Father Phredd was the Redwall Abbey Gatekeeper. He had once been Abbot, but his seasons caught up with him. Passing the position over to Carrul, he retired to the gatehouse. Phredd was ancient, probably the oldest hedgehog in all Mossflower, and enjoyed being very old, and rather eccentric as well. Although the Old Gatekeeper sought the privacy of his beloved gatehouse and slept a lot, when he was up and about, he could be rather sprightly. His skinny form, with drooping silver spikes, often caused a smile around the Abbey and its grounds. Phredd spoke to stones, trees, plants and flowers, carrying on long conversations and debating with the most everyday objects.\n\nHe had arrived late for lunch, shunning the main crowd that was now gathered in the orchard. Preparing his own plate in the deserted kitchens, Phredd first chose a scone. He prattled on to it as he made his way around the tables.\n\n\"Hee hee, you're a fine fresh fellow. Now what'll I have to go with you, eh, eh? Speak up!\"\n\nPlacing an ear close to the scone, he cackled. \"Teeheehee! Of course, some honey, a piece o' cheese and a beaker of soup\u2014not too hot, just right for swigging, eh?\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel, the old molecook, came in from the orchard to draw off more cordial. She spied Phredd and watched him chatting away to the food until he caught sight of her.\n\nPhredd waved his scone at her. \"Oh, er, young Gurvel, g'day!\"\n\nShe chuckled. \"Hurr hurr, goo day to ee, zurr. Wot bee's ee soup sayin' to ee, sumthin' noice oi 'opes?\"\n\nPhredd sipped at the beaker and smacked his lips. \"Oh yes, indeed, miss. 'Tis saying that you cooked it very nicely. Oh, it also asked if there was any pie about, eh?\"\n\nGurvel went to her larder and took out a large pie. It was preserved plum and apple, the golden crust liberally dusted with maple frosting.\n\nShe cut a generous slice and gave it to him. \"Thurr naow, old 'edgepig, doant ee let nobeast see that. Oi baked it speshul furr supper.\"\n\nPhredd nodded his thanks and skittered off out of the kitchens, conversing with the pie slice. \"My my, you're a handsome fellow! What a splendid dessert you'll make. Come on, let's find a nice quiet corner, eh?\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel shook her head at Phredd's antics. She picked up the remainder of the pie. \"Coom on, pie, back in ee larder again!\"\n\nThe realisation of what she was doing caused the old molecook to smile. \"Gurr, lack ee day, that Phredd got oi a talkin' to moi own pies naow, gurt seasons!\"\n\nMartha had finished her lunch. She, too, sought peace and quiet to continue her reading. Leaving her friends, she wheeled the chair indoors. Crossing Great Hall, she went straight to her favourite place. Harlequin hues of sunlight shafted down through the high, stained-glass windows onto the worn stone floor. Between two towering sandstone columns, a lantern glowed beneath a wondrous woven tapestry with a sword suspended to one side of it. The haremaid halted her chair in full view of the scene, golden motes of sundust floating slowly on the serene air.\n\nMartha paused before opening Sister Portula's heavy book. She gazed up at the central figure in the tapestry, Martin the Warrior. A heroic, armour-clad mouse, the hero and champion of Redwall Abbey. Martha loved looking at his face\u2014so strong and protective yet kindly, with a secret smile forever hiding in his eyes. The sword he was leaning on was the very same one that hung on the wall\u2014a legendary warrior's weapon, its only adornment, one red pommel stone set on the hilt. Martin's swordblade had been forged at Salamandastron, the badgers' mountain fortress on the west seashore. It had been made from a star fragment that had fallen from the skies.\n\nNo matter what position Martha took up when she visited the tapestry, Martin's eyes always seemed to be watching her. The haremaid could feel his presence so strongly that she often spoke to him. Keeping her voice low in the echoing hall, she nodded toward the warrior mouse.\n\n\"The rains stopped today. You can see by the sunlight in here that it's a beautiful spring day outside. I've come to do a bit of reading in peace. You should hear those Dibbuns singing in the orchard\u2014they're so happy! Did you ever do much reading, Martin?\"\n\n\"Hee hee, I don't suppose he did, a warrior like him, eh?\" Phredd emerged from the shadows, where he had installed himself behind a column to enjoy his lunch.\n\nMartha was slightly surprised at the old hedgehog's appearance. \"Oh I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you were here.\"\n\nPhredd picked pie crumbs from his cheek spikes. \"No need to be sorry, pretty miss, you carry on talking to your friend. I've had many a long chat with him, eh!\"\n\nThe haremaid continued looking at the tapestry. \"He looks so understanding, like a friend anybeast could talk to. Do you think he can hear us?\"\n\nPhredd patted her shoulder lightly. \"Of course he can. I'm sorry for intruding. You carry on, miss. I'll just pop off to my gatehouse for an afternoon nap. Good day to you.\"\n\nHe shuffled off, though Martha heard him reprimanding a corner bench. \"You mind your own business an' don't be eavesdropping now, eh, eh!\"\n\nMartha opened the book but was only able to concentrate on it for a short while before her eyelids began to flicker and then droop. The peacefulness of her surroundings, combined with the warm sunlight pouring down from the windows, had woven its own spell. There, in the silence of Great Hall, the small figure in the chair slept in a pool of tranquillity. Floating through the corridors of her mind came two mice\u2014one, a maid of her own age clad in a gown of green; the other, Martin the Warrior.\n\nHis voice was as reassuring as soft breezes through a meadow. \"I never did read much, Martha. It is good to read, all learning is knowledge. Read on, young one. Learn of Sister Amyl and the mice of Loamhedge.\"\n\nThe haremaid could hear her own voice replying, \"Learn what? Who is Sister Amyl?\"\n\nThe young mousemaid standing beside the warrior pointed to Martha and spoke, every word burning itself into Martha's mind.\n\n\"Where once I dwelt in Loamhedge,\n\nmy secret lies hid from view,\n\na tale of how I learned to walk,\n\nwhen once I was as you.\n\nThough you cannot go there,\n\nlook out for two who may,\n\ntravellers from out of the past,\n\nreturning home someday.\"\n\nBoth Martin and Sister Amyl raised a paw in farewell. The dream faded like wisping smoke as Martha slept on.\n\nAround midnoon Martha was awakened rudely, her chair jolted as three pair of paws latched on to it. Horty, Springald and Fenna ran her speedily across Great Hall, whirling perilously around the huge stone columns.\n\nMartha gripped the chair tightly. \"Whoo! Slow down, please. Where are we going?\"\n\nHorty jumped up beside her, shouting, \"Out to enjoy the jolly old fresh air, my beautiful skin'n'blister, you'll go mouldy sittin' indoors, wot! I say, you chaps, can't you make this thing go faster? Yaaaah!\"\n\nThe chair struck a table edge and upturned. Springald and Fenna leapt aside, but Martha and Horty were shot out. Luckily, Martha landed on top of her brother, clutching Sister Portula's volume to her. The chair skidded on a short distance, then lay still, one of its wheels still turning slowly.\n\nHorty looked up into his sister's face. \"Dreadfully sorry about that, old gel, just a bit of fun, wot. I say, are you hurt?\"\n\nMartha glared down from where she was sitting on him. \"Lucky for you I'm not. Is my chair damaged?\"\n\nSpringald and Fenna set the chair upright and examined it.\n\n\"No, not a mark on it, Martha!\"\n\n\"Haha, old Toran knew what he was doing when he built this thing. Stay there, we'll lift you back in!\"\n\nIn frosty silence, Martha allowed them to lift her back into the chair. The trio fussed about, folding the rug neatly about her lap and laying the volume on it.\n\nFenna smiled sweetly. \"There, no real harm done, Martha. We were only trying to cheer you up, didn't mean to throw you like that.\"\n\nHastily Springald backed her up. \"Yes, we were going to take you for a quick spin around the walltop. Lovely view from there on a day like this.\"\n\nHorty waggled his ears in agreement. \"Right you are, m'dear. There's still time for a toddle round the battlements, though we'll go slower this time. Word of honour, wot!\"\n\nMartha shook her head firmly. \"Oh no, you three wildbeasts aren't taking me anywhere. Now go away! Please, leave me alone, I'm quite happy here!\"\n\nHorty scuffed his footpaw guiltily along the floorstones. \"I say, y'won't tell anybeast about what happened, will you?\"\n\nMartha tapped her chair arm pensively. \"Any beast like who?\"\n\nHorty fidgeted with his belt tab. \"Er, like Toran, or Abbot Carrul or blinkin' old Sis Peculiar.\"\n\nMartha reminded him of the Infirmary Keeper. \"Or Sister Setiva?\"\n\nFenna's eyes went wide. \"Oh please, don't tell her!\"\n\nThe other two miscreants joined in with their pleas.\n\n\"She'll make us scrub the infirmary out and stitch sheets!\"\n\n\"Aye, an' physick the blinkin' life out of us. Oh come on, charmin', beautiful Sis, say y'won't snitch to that monster!\"\n\nThey looked so sorry for themselves that Martha relented. \"Alright, I won't say anything\u2014provided you go away immediately and leave me in peace.\"\n\nWithout a word the trio began to scramble away and were almost at the door when Martha suddenly recalled her dream.\n\n\"Wait, come back here, there's something I need you to do!\"\n\nHorty dashed back so hastily that he almost tripped and fell onto his sister's lap. \"Anything, dear old skin'n'blister, we're yours to flippin' well command!\"\n\nMartha issued her modest requests, but she spoke firmly. \"Fenna, I want you to go and seek out Abbot Carrul. Horty, you go and find Sister Portula, and mind how you address her. The message for both of them is this: Ask politely that if neither is too busy, would they please come to the gatehouse. There is an important matter I would like to discuss with them. Springald, push my chair to the gatehouse\u2014at a reasonable pace, please.\"\n\nBrother Phredd poked his head around the gatehouse doorway, blinking and yawning. \"Ah yes, young wotsername, come in please, and your friend, too. Always nice to have afternoon visitors, eh!\"\n\nAs Springald pushed Martha over the threshold, the haremaid heard the mousemaid muttering. \"Huh, I'm not stopping in some dusty old gatehouse on an afternoon like this!\"\n\nMartha fixed her with an icy smile. \"Oh, you don't have to stay, you run off to the kitchens now. Have a word with Gurvel or Toran\u2014tell them I'd like afternoon tea for four.\"\n\nSpringald looked puzzled. \"Afternoon tea for four?\"\n\nMartha wheeled round to face her. \"Yes, afternoon tea, you know, scones and slices of cake, and a large pot of mint tea with honey. Hop along now, bring them straight back here, and don't spill the tea. Off you go, miss!\"\n\nTo ensure Martha's silence, Springald had no option but to obey. With a sweep of her skirt she flounced off.\n\nOld Phredd addressed the chair he was about to sit on. \"Afternoon tea, how does that sound to you, quite nice, eh?\"\n\nIn due course, Abbot Carrul and Sister Portula arrived. Both knew that Martha was a sensible creature and would not summon them on some foolish errand. Brother Phredd had just seated them both, when another knock came on the door. He scratched his drooping spikes and muttered. \"More visitors, quite an eventful afternoon, eh?\"\n\nSpringald pushed the laden trolley in. She curtsied impudently at the Abbot. \"Afternoon tea for four, Father!\"\n\nMartha forestalled any further smartness by nodding graciously at the mousemaid. \"Thank you, miss, you may go now!\"\n\nSister Portula watched the back of Springald's head shaking with rage as she exited the gatehouse and slammed the door. \"Gracious me, you certainly put that young mouse in her place!\"\n\nMartha smiled demurely. \"Yes, Sister, but she does need it now and again, doesn't she?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul took the haremaid's paw. \"What was it you wanted to see us about, Martha?\"\n\nOver afternoon tea, Martha explained to her friends how she had fallen asleep. She told them of Martin's visitation, and of the young mouse who had accompanied him, ending with the short poem, which she recalled precisely.\n\n\"Where once I dwelt in Loamhedge,\n\nmy secret lies hid from view,\n\nthe tale of how I learned to walk,\n\nwhen once I was as you.\n\nThough you cannot go there,\n\nlook out for two who may,\n\ntravellers from out of the past,\n\nreturning home someday.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul sat forward in his armchair. \"Strange. What do you think, Sister?\"\n\nPortula put aside her tea. \"Not many Redwallers are honoured by a visit from Martin the Warrior. We must heed all he says. His spirit is not just the essence of valour and honour, he is also the voice of knowledge and wisdom. Now, what is your own opinion of this incident, Martha?\"\n\nThe haremaid tapped the cover of the book. \"This is the history of Loamhedge that you loaned me, Sister. I think the answer lies inside it. That's why I called you here. I am still young, but you three have the knowledge of seasons on your side. I was hoping that you could help me. I never dreamed that there might be an answer to why I can't walk. Do you think there is?\"\n\nOld Phredd picked up the big tome and laid it on the table. He spoke to it, as it if were a living thing. \"Well now, you dusty old relic, are you going to assist us with this little one's problem, eh, eh?\"\n\nHe turned and gave Martha a toothless grin. \"Heeheehee, I think he will. Though one can never really tell what a book says until one reads it, eh?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul opened the book. \"This may take some time, but we're on your side, Martha. If there is a way to make you walk, rest assured, we'll find it.\"\n\nMartha could feel tears beginning to brim in her eyes. She blinked them away swiftly. \"Thank you all, my good friends. But there is something that I don't think the book can tell us. Who are the ones we must look out for? The two travellers from out of the past, returning home someday?\"\n\nSister Portula gazed out the window into the sunlit noon. \"You're right, Martha. I wonder who they could be.\"\n\n##\n\nNorth of Redwall, spring eventide filtered soft light through the leafy canopy of Mossflower Wood. Amid aisles of oak, beech, elm, sycamore and other forest giants, slender rowan, birch and willow stood like young attendants, waiting on their stately lords. Blue smoke drifted lazily upward through the foliage which fringed a shallow stream. Somewhere nearby, a pair of nightingales warbled harmoniously.\n\nThe tremulous beauty was lost upon a small vermin band who had trekked down from the far Northlands. They had camped on the bank to fish. A fat, brutish weasel called Burrad was their leader. Beneath his ragged cloak he carried a cutlass, its bone handle notched with the lives he had taken. Burrad's sly eyes watched his band closely. They were spitting four shiny scaled roach on green willow withes to grill over the fire.\n\nDrawing the cutlass, Burrad pointed it at the biggest fish. \"Dat'n der is mine, yew cook it good fer me, Flinky!\"\n\nThe stoat called Flinky let out a pitifully indignant whine. \"Arr 'ey, Chief, I caught dis wun meself, 'tis me own fish!\"\n\nDespite his bulk, Burrad was quick. Bulling the stoat over, he whipped Flinky mercilessly with the flat of his blade.\n\nCovering his head, the victim screeched for mercy. \"Yaaaaaargh, stop 'im mates, afore he kills me pore ould body! Yeeegh, spare me, yer mightiness, spare me. Aaaaagh!\"\n\nCruel by nature, Burrad thrashed Flinky even harder. Throwing himself upon the hapless stoat, he pressed the blade against Flinky's scrawny neck, snarling viciously.\n\n\"Wot d'yer want, the fist or yore 'ead? 'Urry up an' speak.\"\n\nThe cutlass blade pressed savagely down. Flinky wailed. \"Yeeeeh, take de fish, I've only got one 'ead. Take de fish!\"\n\nBurrad rose, grinning wolfishly as he kicked Flinky's bottom. \"Cook dat fish good, or yore a dead 'un!\"\n\nHe turned on the other eleven vermin gang members. \"Wot are youse lot gawpin' at, eh? Gimme some grog!\"\n\nA female stoat called Crinktail, whose tail was shaped almost like a letter _Z,_ passed Burrad the jug of nettle grog. Snatching it roughly, the bully sat down, taking long gulps of the fiery liquid.\n\nHe watched Flinky like a hawk. \"Crispy outside an' soft inside, dat's de way I likes fish.\"\n\nThe others averted their eyes; there was no doubt about who the leader of their gang was.\n\nCrouched low in the reeds on the far bank, two creatures viewed the scene. One was an otter, the other a squirrel, both in their late middle seasons.\n\nThe otter squinched his eyes, letting them rove over the gang. \"Hmm, about twelve o' them over there, I'd say.\"\n\nThe squirrel nibbled on a young reed. \"There's thirteen.\"\n\nHer companion shrugged. \"I won't argue with ye, 'cos my eyes ain't as good as they used t'be. I tell ye though, mate, that's one sorry gang o' vermin. Looks as if they got rocks in their skulls instead o' brains.\"\n\nThe squirrel chuckled. \"Aye, campin' there without a single sentry posted, an' a fire smokin' away like a beacon. 'Tis a wonder their mothers let 'em out alone.\"\n\nThe otter nodded. \"See ole lardbelly yonder, the big weasel? Leave him t'me, I enjoy takin' bullies down a peg.\"\n\nThe squirrel commented drily, \"Watch he don't fall on ye, he'd flatten ye like a pancake. Are those fish ready yet?\"\n\nHer companion sniffed the air. \"I'd say so. Right then, are we ready t'go an' pay 'em a visit?\"\n\nThe squirrel sighed. \"Aye, layin' here won't get us any supper. You go in the front, an' I'll make me way around back.\"\n\nThe lean, aging otter grumbled. \"It's always me wot has t'go in the front. Why can't I go in the back?\"\n\nThe squirrel cut left along the streambank, replying, \" 'Cos I'm the best tree climber. Give me time t'get ready, mate, don't walk in too early. Good luck!\"\n\nTucking his rudder into the back of his belt, the otter draped his ragged cloak to conceal it. He bound a faded red bandanna low on his brow, disguising both ears and scrunching down over his eyes to make them look shortsighted.\n\nPicking up a polished hardwood staff, he splashed into the stream shallows, muttering to himself. \"Huh, I'm gettin' too old for this game!\"\n\nLittle Redd was the youngest of the vermin gang. Small and runty, he was often the butt of their coarse jokes.\n\nSeeking about for firewood, Redd glanced sideways. He saw the bedraggled creature wading across the stream, and called to Burrad. \"Aye aye, Chief, looks like we got company!\"\n\nBurrad took his mouth from the grog jug. He cast a contemptuous glance at the hunched figure struggling toward the bankside. \"Wot'n de name o'bludd is dat?\"\n\nThe otter sloshed ashore, calling in a quavery voice. \"A good evenin' to one an' all. Seems I'm just in time for supper. Mmm . . . roasted roach, me favourite vittles!\"\n\nBurrad's cutlass was drawn and wavering a whisker's breadth from the unwanted visitor's nose. \"Who are ye? Huhuhuh, or should I say, wot are ye?\"\n\nThe stranger avoided the blade neatly. Ducking under it, he stood at the vermin leader's side, wrinkling his nose comically. \"Wot am I, young feller? I'm a ferroat, o' course!\"\n\nFlinky looked up from the cooking fire. \"A ferroat? Ah' shure, an' wot sort o' beast is dat now?\"\n\nThe intruder replied airily. \"Oh, just a cross twixt a ferret an' a stoat. I was a small sickly babe, or so me ole mum'n'dad told me. That's why I look like this.\"\n\nIgnoring his fish-cooking task, Flinky continued. \"An' who, pray, was yore muther an' father?\"\n\nThe stranger replied, straight-faced. \"A rat an' a fox, I s'pose, but they was terrible liars.\"\n\nFlinky scratched his head. \"Liars? Huh, I'll say they was!\"\n\nBurrad interrupted by thwacking Flinky between both ears with the flat of his blade. \"Who asked yew, puddle'ead? Ger-ron wid cookin' dose fishes!\"\n\nHe turned to the odd-looking creature. \"Wot's yore name, ferroat, an' wot d'ye want 'ere?\"\n\nThe newcomer pointed to himself. \"Just told ye, haven't I? Me name's Ferroat, an' I'll sing an' dance fer me supper. That's if ye'll allow me, kind sir.\"\n\nThe vermin gang winked and sniggered among themselves. Burrad, a kind sir? This old fool was begging to die.\n\nTesting his cutlass blade by licking the edge, Burrad leaned close to his intended victim and grinned. \"Allow ye, eh? If'n yore dancin' an' singin' ain't to me likin', I'll allow this blade to chop ye into ten pieces. Then I'll allow me gang to roast ye over that fire. If ye don't taste nice, we kin always use ye fer fishbait!\"\n\nSmiling affably, the odd beast bowed creakily. \" 'Tis a fair offer, sir, I thankee kindly.\"\n\nShuffling about in a curious jig, the creature twirled his staff and began singing.\n\n\"I'll always recall wot Ma said to me,\n\nere I went a rovin' a minstrel to be,\n\nbeware of the vermin, they ain't got no class,\n\nan' they ain't got the brains Mother Nature gave grass!\n\nRowledy dowlety toodle um day.\n\nI soon found out me dear mother was right,\n\nI met up with some vermin the followin' night,\n\nthey were strangers to bathin', an' that made me think,\n\nwhy didn't Ma tell me that all vermin stink?\n\nRowledy pong and a toodledy pooh!\"\n\nThe comic-looking old ragbag of a beast jigged and shuffled around. Raucous laughter greeted his performance followed by tears of merriment that coursed down the vermin's cheeks. It was only at the start of the third verse, when vermin's faces were compared to toads' bottoms, that Burrad realised the singer was insulting him and his gang.\n\nRoaring with rage, the fat weasel rushed the disguised otter. Whirling his cutlass, Burrad aimed a mighty swipe that should have left the singer headless. However, far from being slain, the odd creature ducked under the blow, came up under Burrad and tweaked his snout.\n\nPurple with spleen, the gang leader grappled with his opponent, yelling to his second in command. \"Skrodd, gut this old fleabag wid yer spear, I've got 'im!\"\n\nThe tall, evil-looking fox dashed forward, plunging with his spear. But the otter was fast and more clever than both vermin. He butted Burrad under the chin, wriggled from his grasp and scuttled to one side in the blink of an eye.\n\nBurrad stood gaping at the spear protruding from his stomach. He raised his clouding eyes to the open-mouthed fox, faltering. \"Ye've killed me, yer blather-brained foo . . . !\"\n\nBurrad crashed over backward, slain by his own gang member. Amid the drama, nobeast noticed the four fish vanish up into the willow foliage, hauled on a thin twine by the green withes they were spitted upon.\n\nSkrodd's surprise was only momentary. His brain was already reacting to the fact that he was now the vermin gang's new leader. Leaving the spear stuck in his former chief, the tall fox grabbed the cutlass from Burrad's limp grasp. He came at the otter with a blurring barrage of swift slashes.\n\n _Whizzzzzthonk!_ A slingstone from the trees suddenly rendered him senseless. Skrodd's fellow vermin looked on in horror as his body collapsed in a heap. Before the gang could move, the squirrel dropped from her perch. Danger glinted in her eyes as she twirled a loaded sling expertly.\n\n\"There's twoscore more of us layin' in the bushes, just waitin' on the word!\"\n\nShedding his disguise, the otter knocked daggers and other weapons from the vermin's paws, with sharp raps of his polished staff. He looked nothing like the ragged, dancing fool he had been a moment ago. His voice was stern and commanding.\n\n\"Everybeast stand still, right where ye are! Believe Saro, we've got a full crew ready to pounce on ye!\"\n\nHalfchop, a rat who was minus a paw, gulped. \"If'n that un's called Saro, yew must be Bragoon?\"\n\nFlinky look at the pair in astonishment. \"I've heard of ye, Bragoon an' Saro. Two mighty warriors!\"\n\nBragoon leaned on his staff and nodded. \"That's us, an' there's forty more trained fighters like us, just waitin' to get a crack at you lot. So have the brains to stay alive an' listen to wot we say.\"\n\nFlinky bowed politely. \"Anythin', yer honour, sure we're in no position to be arguin' wid ye.\"\n\nSaro pointed at a wobbly-nosed ferret called Plumnose. \"You, where have ye come from? Speak!\"\n\nGesturing back over his shoulder, Plumnose replied, \"Durr, we cummed from der Nort'lands.\"\n\nSaro nodded. \"The Northlands, eh? Then listen carefully to my friend Bragoon.\"\n\nThe otter let his fierce eyes wander round the hapless vermin as he ground out an ultimatum. \"Get yoreselves back to the Northlands, 'cos if yore anywhere south of here by nightfall, yore all deadbeasts! We're goin' now, but our mates'll stay hidden, watchin' ye. Sit still here until 'tis properly dark, then break camp an' get back to where ye came from\u2014sharpish! We'll be passin' this way again tomorrow. Make sure yore not still here. Is that clear?\"\n\nFlinky's head bobbed up and down like a yo-yo. \"Ah, sure, 'tis certain clear, yer mightiness. We've all got the message, an' a fine important one it is, sir!\"\n\nBragoon and Saro backed out of the camp. A moment later they were lost in the surrounding trees. The vermin sat wordlessly staring at one another until Plumnose broke the silence.\n\n\"Wodd duh we do now?\"\n\nFlinky's mate, Crinktail, was in no doubt. \"Like they said, we wait 'til it's dark, then we gets out of here. I don't know about youse, but I'm goin'.\"\n\nFlinky agreed. \"Aye, ye don't disobey two like Bragoon an' Saro. Best do the sensible thing, mates.\"\n\nRecovering from the slingstone blow, Skrodd sat up groaning. \"Unnnh, wot hit me?\"\n\nSlipback, a weasel with most of his back fur missing, toyed with the cutlass that had belonged to Burrad.\n\n\"Ye were knocked cold by a slingstone, mate.\"\n\nSkrodd felt the lump on his skull and winced. \"Who did it?\"\n\nFlinky chuckled. \" 'Twas none other than a famous squirrel called Saro. Yore lucky she did, 'cos the one you was goin' after wid yore blade was 'er partner, Bragoon.\"\n\nSkrodd stood slowly and walked across to Slipback. Suddenly he dealt the weasel a swift kick to the chin. As Slipback fell, the tall fox grabbed Burrad's cutlass.\n\n\"Keep yer paws off dat blade, 'tis mine now. I slew Burrad, an' I'm the new chief round 'ere!\"\n\nSlipback avoided a second kick. \"Only by accident\u2014dat don't make yew chief!\"\n\nSkrodd turned to face the rest of the gang, wielding his new weapon. \"Accident or not, Burrad's dead. Does anybeast want to challenge me? Come on!\"\n\nNone came forward. They knew the tall fox's reputation as a fighter; even Burrad had never kicked him about.\n\nSkrodd smiled grimly. \"Right, up on yore hunkers, we're goin' to track those two down!\"\n\nLittle Redd exclaimed, \"Didn't ye hear Flinky? Those two are dangerous warriors, Bragoon an' Saro.\"\n\nSkrodd turned on the little fox. \"Ye mean that ole ragbag who was jiggin' about an' tryin' to sing for his supper? Wot did the other one look like, Flinky?\"\n\nThe stoat shrugged. \"Small an' oldish, why d'ye ask?\"\n\nSkrodd curled his lip scornfully. \"A pair o' little ole tattered ragamuffins, an' ye lot believed they was Bragoon an' Saro. Real famous warriors are big an' tough. Any two beasts could say they was Bragoon an' Saro. Those two were nothin' but a pair of ole impostors. Now come on, let's get after 'em. Nobeast knocks me down wid a slingstone an' lives t'brag about it. I'll gut the two of 'em!\"\n\nA hefty-looking rat called Dargle remained seated. \"They said we was to sit 'ere 'til it was dark, then head back t'the Northlands. The otter said there was twoscore fighters layin' nearby, an' that we'd be dead meat if'n we didn't do like we was told.\"\n\nSkrodd shook his head in disbelief. \"An' ye believed 'im? That's the oldest trick in the book. Watch, I'll show ye twoscore o' fighters!\"\n\nFuriously grabbing anything that came to paw\u2014firewood, pebbles and soil\u2014the tall fox flung them at the surrounding trees, yelling out defiantly. \"Now then, ye mighty fighters, come out an' show yerselves. I'll fight ye all at once, or one by one if'n ye ain't frightened o' me! Get out 'ere, ye mangy frogbait!\"\n\nSilence greeted the challenge. Skrodd spat contemptuously into the fire, glaring at the vermin gang. \"Wot a bunch of addlebrains! Up on yore paws an' get movin' ye bunch o' ditherin' oafs. After I've slain those two ole relics, we'll get the rest o' this job done. Move!\"\n\nAs they moved southward into the woodlands, Little Redd discussed the situation with Flinky. \"Skrodd ain't takin' us to that Abbey place that Burrad was always goin' on about, is he?\"\n\nFlinky nodded. \"Ah sure, it looks like he wants t'be the big bold beast who gets the magic sword. Huh, magic sword! I wonder where ould Burrad heard that tale?\"\n\nJuppa, the weasel who was Slipback's mate, joined the conversation. \"Burrad said his father told 'im about it, just afore he died. Said there was an Abbey, a big place called Redwall. Accordin' to 'im, there's only a few peaceful woodlanders lives there. They keep a magic sword at Redwall. 'Tis said that the warrior who holds that sword is the greatest in the land!\"\n\nSlipback confirmed his mate's story. \"Aye, none can stand against the sword owner, I've heard the tale meself.\"\n\nSkrodd, who was leading the gang through the darkened woodlands, overheard Slipback's remark. He stopped and questioned the weasel. \"Wot have ye heard? Tell me.\"\n\nThe garrulous Flinky spoke up. \"Ah sure, 'twas me that told him. I sat wid Burrad's ole dad many a night, yarnin' away. He was a fine ould feller, not like his son. Anyhow, he told me all about the magic sword, so he did.\"\n\nSkrodd was fired with the idea of possessing such an enchanted blade. He stared hard at the gabby stoat. \"Right, then, you tell me everythin' the ole beast said.\"\n\nFlinky liked to talk, but he was also aware that the tall fox was not one to be taken lightly. \"Ah, well let me see now. There's this place, see, a grand ould Abbey called Redwall that stands on a path somewhere in the centre of the land. Sure, an' a fine buildin' it is!\"\n\nLittle Redd interrupted. \"I've 'eard o' Redwall.\"\n\nSkrodd froze him with a glare, gesturing Flinky to continue.\n\n\"Aye, Redwall was built by a mighty warrior long ago. He carried a great sword made from bits o' the moon 'n stars. A marvellous blade, magic enough t'make a champion fighter out o' anybeast. That warrior's long dead now, but the sword still hangs in the Abbey.\"\n\nThis time it was Skrodd's turn to interrupt. \"Then why doesn't one of the creatures at Redwall Abbey wear it?\"\n\nFlinky shook his head. \"Ah no, they're all only simple woodland beasts. They're farmers an' such, not fighters. Hah, what need d'they have o' swords, 'tis said that Redwall is a place of peace an' plenty.\"\n\nLittle Redd's eyes shone with longing. \"I wish I had a magic sword!\"\n\nSkrodd shoved him roughly. \"A runt like yew, huh, you'll have to fight me fer it. That sword is goin' t'be mine!\"\n\nThe hefty rat Dargle muttered under his breath. \"If ye think ye can take it, fox!\"\n\nSkrodd looked around at the vermin behind him. \"Did somebeast say somethin'?\"\n\nFlinky rubbed his stomach. \"Ah no, Chief, 'twas just me ould guts rumblin' away. I knew that fish wasn't fer me somehow.\"\n\nBragoon and Saro had made camp in a grove of conifers, some miles south of where they had encountered the vermin.\n\nBurying the fishbones beneath the deep layer of pine needles, the otter wiped his mouth. \"Bit o' fish like that makes a nice change, eh mate? Did ye manage to lay paws on any o' that stuff they was drinkin'?\"\n\nThe aging squirrel wrinkled her nose disgustedly. \"That poison? Vermin-brewed nettle grog. Small wonder they're stupid\u2014it must've rotted what little brains they had. Best stick with clean streamwater until we get back to Redwall an' get some decent drink.\"\n\nShe lay back, viewing the star-dusted skies through the treetops. \"Aah, t'be back home in the good ole Abbey. D'ye think they've forgiven us for the old Dibbun days?\"\n\nHer companion chuckled. \"I certainly hope they have, we were a fearsome pair, mate. Hmmm, wonder if ole Granmum Gurvel's still the Abbeycook. Hoho, the pies'n'scones we swiped off'n her kitchen windowsill. No wonder she turned grey!\"\n\nSaro shrugged. \"There's a lot o' seasons run under the bridge since we were Abbeybabes. I don't suppose pore old Gurvel will still be livin'. She was a great cook though.\"\n\nBragoon nodded. \"Aye, she was that. I'll bet that little brother o' mine Toran is Abbeycook now. Gurvel taught him a lot, y'know. He was always a goodbeast around kitchens an' ovens.\"\n\nSaro hopped up and spread herself along a bough, directly above Bragoon's resting spot. She reminisced hungrily.\n\n\"Scones, or fresh bread, with meadowcream an' damson preserve. That's what I could eat right now!\"\n\nStretched on the ground, Bragoon yawned and sighed. \"Don't even mention it, mate. Let's get a good night's shuteye. We could make Redwall by afternoon tea tomorrow. You can fill yore face then. G'night, Saro.\"\n\nThe squirrel ignored her friend and continued yearning. \"October Ale! What could be nicer than a foamin' beaker of good October Ale. Mmmm, with some brown farlbread an' some yellow cheese with roasted hazelnuts in it. Simple but satisfyin', eh Brag?\"\n\nThe otter opened one eye. \"Very acceptable. Now go t'sleep!\"\n\nSaro carried on as if she had not heard. \"What would y'say to an apple'n'blackberry crumble, spread thick with meadowcream?\"\n\nBragoon growled. \"I'd say button yore lip an' sleep. So goodnight!\"\n\nBut Saro could not forget the subject of food. \"Howsabout ice cold mint tea an' a thick slice of heavy fruitcake with honey crystals in it. Ooooh!\"\n\nBragoon sat up slowly. \"I'd say ye was makin' my pore stomach gurgle with all this vittle talk. Good . . . night!\"\n\nSaro licked her lips. \"Or some of yore favourite, a big carrot'n'mushroom pasty, with onion gravy drippin' an' oozin' out the sides, an' . . . Yaahoooow!\"\n\nShe was catapulted into the air as Bragoon hauled down hard on the bough, letting it go suddenly. Rising from the ground, Saro dusted herself off indignantly.\n\n\"Gettin' touchy in yore old age, aren't ye? Goodnight to ye, ole grumpy rudder!\"\n\nBragoon snorted. \"I swear ye were born chatterin'. Now goodnight, old gabby whiskers!\"\n\nSilence fell over the glade. Both lifelong friends drifted into the realm of slumber. They dreamt golden-tinged memories of their Dibbun seasons at the place they called home\u2014Redwall Abbey.\n\n##\n\nThe big badger's eyes flickered, then opened slowly. He lay quite still, taking in his strange surroundings\u2014a cave, peaceful and warm, with sweet aromatic wisps drifting languidly from a rockbound hearth. A fireglow cast flickering shadows across the rough-hewn walls. He felt secure and safe there with moss and soft, silver sand beneath him.\n\nA movement near his head caught the badger's attention. A young sea otter emerged.\n\n\"De old stripedog who was slayed, was he yore farder, sir?\"\n\nThough it pained him, he strained his neck to get a closer look at the young one. The badger's voice, echoing in the cavern, sounded strange to his ears. \"Nay, he was my friend, though a father could not have been kinder to me. He was called Grawn. I trust you put him to rest decently.\"\n\nThe youngster nodded several times. \"Shoredog an' my farder made a bury hole. They putted rocks on him an' yore bow, 'cos it was broked in halves.\"\n\nThe badger's big dark eyes glistened wetly. \"I must thank your father and Shoredog. What do they call you?\"\n\nThe young beast held out his paw politely. \"I bee's Stugg, son of Abruc an' Marinu, sir.\"\n\nA massive paw took Stugg's smaller one, enveloping it. \" 'Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Stugg. I am called Lonna Bowstripe. Is your father hereabout? I would speak with him.\"\n\nLonna listened to young Stugg scamper from the cave calling shrilly. \"Farder, farder, come quick! De big stripedog bee's awake, his name be Lonna!\"\n\nIn a short while, two male sea otters entered the cave, followed by two females, one very old, and Stugg following up the rear.\n\nLonna leaned forward slightly. \"Thank you, my friends, for saving my life, caring for me and putting old Grawn to rest. Stugg told me you buried him well.\"\n\nAbruc pressed Lonna back down gently. \"We did what was right for your companion. Only vermin leave the dead unburied. As for ye bein' cared for, 'twas my wife Marinu an' ole Sork who saw to yore well-bein'. You lie still an' rest now, Lonna. By an' by ye'll get stronger. We'll see to that.\"\n\nThe big badger's paw touched the long scar ridge that crossed his face diagonally from eartip to jaw. \"I must grow strong again to repay the vermin who did this and murdered poor Grawn. Did you see them?\"\n\nSork placed Lonna's paw by his side. \"Be still, bigbeast, an' thank the seasons ye are still alive. That face still needs a lot of healing, aye, an' yore back, too. We'll bring ye food an' drink.\" Sork and Marinu departed.\n\nShoredog stood over Lonna, looking down into his injured face. \"We never saw the vermin, but we know 'em. Raga Bol the Searat an' his crew were the ones. His ship was wrecked beyond repair. They have gone westward, inland to where the weather's fair an' the pickin's easier. Do ye know Raga Bol?\"\n\nLonna's scar twitched faintly. \"I do not know the scum, but I know of him. They say he kills for fun.\"\n\nYoung Stugg scowled. \"My farder says Raga Bol be's wicked!\"\n\nAbruc tugged his son's rudder. \"Go an' help yore mamma now.\"\n\nLonna watched the young otter shuffle off. \"He'll grow up to be a fine big creature someday.\"\n\nAbruc smiled. \"Aye, Stugg's a good liddle son.\"\n\nAbruc sought Lonna's paw and pressed something into it. \"Yore weapon was too badly broken to fix. I wove ye a new bowstring. Mayhap ye'll need it when y'leave here.\"\n\nLonna held the cord where he could see it better. \"Thankee, friend. 'Tis a fine, tough one, well woven and waxed. This is a good and thoughtful gift.\"\n\nAbruc flushed with pleasure. \"Ye have only to ask if ye need ought else. We'll do our best to find it.\"\n\nThe giant badger closed his eyes, speaking softly. \"I'd be obliged if you could get some ash shafts for arrows, and a few long stout yew saplings, so I can choose one to make a new bow from.\"\n\nShoredog replied. \"We saved yore quiver an' the arrows, too. Me an' Abruc know some stream otters not too far from here. They coppice a yew grove. We can have ye a selection of good saplings by tomorrow night. Now sleep, Lonna, ye must rest if yore goin' to get better. Relax an' sleep.\"\n\nA short time thereafter, Lonna allowed Marinu to feed him. Then he drifted off into slumber whilst Sork tended to his hurts. In his sleep he visioned Raga Bol, swinging down at his face with the broad-bladed scimitar. The big badger concentrated all his energy and thoughts on the Searat's savage features.\n\nMentally he began chanting, over and over, \"Look and you will see me! Know that I am Lonna Bowstripe! The earth is not big enough for us both! I will come on your trail! I will find you, Raga Bol! I will seek you out no matter where! The day of your death is already written on the stones of Hellgates!\"\n\nWhilst the big badger was sleeping, young Stugg crept in to see him. The expression of hatred on Lonna's ruined features was so frightening that the young sea otter ran from the cave.\n\nRaga Bol was still out on the heathlands, trekking west with his Searats. They were camped on the streambank in what had once been a vole settlement. Amid the smoke and carnage of burning dwellings and slain voles, the barbarous crew fought among themselves over the pitiful possessions and plundered food.\n\nWirga, the wizened old Searat who had healed Raga Bol's severed stump, stood watching her master chewing on a strip of dried fish.\n\nWith the silver hook tugging at the fish as he pulled to tear it apart, Bol grinned wickedly at Wirga. \"See, I told ye, the further west we go, the better the pickin's get. This stump o' mine ain't painin' so much now. Aye, an' the weather's gettin' better, too.\"\n\nWirga gestured round at the slain vole bodies lying on the bank. \"Fling 'em in the stream an' this'd make a good camp for the night, Cap'n.\"\n\nBol picked his teeth with the hooktip. \"Aye, 'tis nice'n'restful 'ereabouts now. Hahaha!\"\n\nDutifully, Wirga laughed with him. Her cackling trailed off as she saw her captain go off into a vacant silence, his eyes opening wide as the fish fell unheeded from his mouth.\n\nWirga stared at him anxiously. \"What is it, Cap'n, a bone stuck in thy gullet? Let me take a look!\"\n\nAs she bent toward him, Raga Bol recovered and kicked her roughly away. \"Break camp, we're movin' out!\"\n\nThe healer was bewildered at this sudden change. \"But Cap'n, thee said . . .\"\n\nWirga narrowly dodged an angry slash from the silver hook.\n\nBol booted the fire left and right, scattering it. \"I said we're movin' out, we ain't stayin' in this place. Now shift yoreself an' get the crew together!\"\n\nHe strode off, to the top of a small rise, peering back at the route they had come along. Wirga passed the word on to Glimbo.\n\nThe one-eyed Searat rolled his milky orb in puzzlement. \"Why does 'e wanna move? 'Tis nearly dark!\"\n\nWirga picked up her stolen belongings. \"Hah! Yew go an' ask 'im, if'n thee feels tired o' livin'.\"\n\nThe crew gathered in sullen silence, watching their leader. He was still gazing eastward from the top of the rise. None of them dared make a move until he did.\n\nRaga Bol stared at the hostile heathland, muttering to himself. \"Yore dead, stripedog, or ye should be. In the name o' blood an' thunder, where are ye?\"\n\nHe drew his cloak about him and shivered. Somewhere in Raga Bol's evil mind he had felt Lonna Bowstripe's threat.\n\nIn the gatehouse at Redwall Abbey, Martha and her friends were studying the history of Loamhedge. It made harrowing reading.\n\nAbbot Carrul shook his head sadly. \"This is not the story of one creature, it is the history of many, all related to one writer, who set it down as a chronicle. I think that this poem, \"The Loamhedge Lament,\" by Sister Linfa, sums up most of the tragedy. I'll read it out to you.\"\n\nMartha's eyes misted over as the Abbot recited the poem.\n\n\"Where are the carefree sunlit days,\n\nwhen once amid tranquil bowers,\n\nLoamhedge mice would take their ease,\n\nto dream away happy hours?\n\nWhere did the laughter go?\n\nWho stole the joy away?\n\nHeavy the heart that goes\n\nfar from its home to stray.\n\nA sickness stole in to blight our lives\n\nlike a spectre of unwanted doom.\n\nMidst grief and anguish it lingered,\n\ncreeping through hall and room.\n\nLike wheat before the sickle,\n\nit laid our loved ones low,\n\nleaving us only one answer,\n\nto flee our home and go!\n\nStalked by desolation now,\n\nleft open to wind and rain,\n\nonly in old memories dim\n\nwould Loamhedge live again.\"\n\nThe day's last gleaming shone through the open door. Toran stood framed there, wiping his eyes on his cook's apron. He had entered unnoticed and heard the whole thing.\n\n\"Leave this now, and come back to the Abbey for supper, friends. Tomorrow morning ye can sit out on the wallsteps in the sunlight and study some more. Martha, come on, 'tis far too sad, sittin' here at night readin' of sickness an' death.\"\n\nThe haremaid cast an imploring glance at Abbot Carrul. \"But we must find out about Sister Amyl's secret, and we must find out a way to discover where Loamhedge lies!\"\n\nThe Abbot shepherded her to the gatehouse door. \"Toran's right, miss, the night hours can be long and oppressive for such heavy stuff. Let's go to supper in Cavern Hole and shed our sad mood for tonight. We'll be much brighter, and more alert, in the morning.\"\n\nOld Phredd the Gatekeeper waved them off. \"Hmm hmm, you run along now. I'll stay here awhile.\"\n\nHe watched them go, then wandered back into the little building, talking to a cushion he had picked up. \"Hmm, the way to Loamhedge, now where've we seen that before? Chronicle of some bygone traveller I expect, eh, eh?\"\n\nClimbing upon a chair, he peered at a row of books on a high shelf. Selecting one, Phredd blew the dust from its covers and smiled benignly at it. \"Ah, there you are, y'old rascal. Hiding up there, heehee. Didn't think I could see ye? Now what've you got to say for yourself, eh, eh?\"\n\nSettling down in an armchair, he brought a lantern close and opened the book's yellowed pages. \"Heeheehee, we've met before, haven't we? The recordings of Tim Churchmouse, now I recall ye! The journey to seek out Mattimeo, son of the warrior Matthias. Aye, that covered the Loamhedge Abbey territory, I'm certain it did!\"\n\nToran had been keeping his eye on Martha throughout supper. The ottercook did not like to see his young chum so downcast. He chivvied her, hoping to lighten Martha's mood.\n\n\"Cheer up, beauty. If'n ye keep lookin' like that, it'll teem down rain tomorrow. Wot's the matter, my mushroom 'n'barley soup too cold? Has the bread gone stale, the cheese too hard, not enough plums in the pudden? Speak up, droopy ears, does that strawberry fizz cordial taste musty?\"\n\nThe haremaid managed a wan smile. \"No, Toran, it's not that, the supper is delicious. It's just that . . . oh, I don't know.\"\n\nToran collared Horty, just as he was reaching for another helping of plum pudding. \"Hear that, young starvation face? Yore sister doesn't know wot's wrong with her. Sing her a song an' liven her up, or y'don't get any more plum pud!\"\n\nHorty had done this once or twice before, when Martha was a bit down. That, and Toran's threat to cut off his plum pudding supply, galvanised the greedy young hare into action. He let rip with a special ditty he saved for such occasions.\n\n\"What a gloomy little mug, wot wot,\n\ncome on, let's see you smile.\n\nWith a scowl like that you'd frighten\n\nevery beast within a mile.\n\nSo chortle hahaheeheehoho!\n\nand brighten up for me,\n\nor I'll send you to that Sister\n\nfrom the Infirmary.\n\nShe'll say 'Wot have we here, wot wot?\n\nA face like a flattened frog?\n\nThis calls for a bucket o' physick, aye,\n\nnow that should do the job!\n\nWill somebeast grab her nose,\n\nso she can't hold her breath,\n\nthen I'll be able to grab a ladle,\n\nan' physick the child to death!\n\nI'll not have it said of me, I couldn't do my job,\n\nan' send a young 'un to her grave,\n\nwith a grin upon her gob!'\n\nSo chortle hohohahahee,\n\nan' smile an' giggle a lot,\n\nyou can't sit there all evenin'\n\nwith a face like a rusty pot. Wot wot!\"\n\nMartha was chuckling when she spied Sister Setiva, the Infirmary Keeper, making a beeline for her brother.\n\nSetiva had a stern manner, and a marked northern accent, coupled with a dislike for impudence. \"Ach, ye flop-eared wretch, ah'll physick ye tae death if'n ah lay paws on ye!\"\n\nHorty hid behind Toran. \"I say, sah, 'twas only a blinkin' joke, y'know. Don't let that old poisoner get me!\"\n\nMartha wiped tears of merriment from her eyes as the Abbot leaned across to her and asked, \"Better now, miss?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Yes, thank you, Father. Oh, that Horty!\"\n\nSister Portula gave the Abbot a sidelong glance. \"It's all very well making plans to continue our studies out on the steps tomorrow, but look at the ruckus today. They were crowded around the gatehouse to see what we were doing inside. I think we'd best get ready to have lots of company tomorrow, Father\u2014unless you can think of another way to keep our creatures distracted.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul touched a paw to the side of his nose. \"I've already thought of that, Sister. Do you not know what day it is tomorrow?\"\n\nPortula shrugged. \"A day like any other. Sunny, I hope.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul stood up and murmured to her as he banged a ladle upon the tabletop to gain order. \"Tomorrow is the first day of summer.\"\n\nHe raised his voice. \"Your attention please, my friends!\"\n\nA respectful silence fell upon the boisterous Redwallers. Everybeast was eager to hear what their Abbot had to say.\n\n\"It is my wish that, as tomorrow is the first day of Summer Season, a sports day and a feast shall be held within the grounds of our Abbey. My good friend Foremole Dwurl will be in charge of the proceedings. I trust you will cooperate with him. Foremole Dwurl!\"\n\nRedwall's mole leader, a kindly old fellow, bowed low to the Abbot. Amid the raucous cheering and shouting, he climbed upon the table and stamped his footpaws to gain order.\n\n\"Thankee, zurr h'Abbot. Naow, you'm all coom to ee h'orchard arter brekkist, an' oi'll give ee yurr tarsks. Hurr hurr, an' all you'm Dibbuns make shore you'm be proper scrubbed!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul looked over the top of his tiny glasses at Sister Portula. \"Does that solve your problem, marm?\"\n\nThe good Sister looked slightly nonplussed. \"But Father, Summer Season doesn't start for two days yet.\"\n\nForemole Dwurl wrinkled his snout confidentially. \"If'n you'm doant tell 'um, marm, us'n's woant. Hurrhurr!\"\n\nSilence reigned in Cavern Hole. Every Redwaller was tucked up in bed, anticipating the coming day's delights. Summer Season feast and sports was always a joyous event on the Abbey calendar.\n\nAbbot Carrul pushed Martha's chair across Great Hall to her bedroom, which was next to his on ground level. His voice echoed whisperingly about the huge columns as they went.\n\n\"Did you notice that Old Phredd didn't come in for supper this evening?\"\n\nMartha voiced her concern. \"Oh dear, I do hope he's not ill!\"\n\nThe Father Abbot reassured her. \"Not at all, that old fogy's fit as a flea. He was rather anxious for us to get out of the gatehouse, though. I'll wager a button to a barrel of mushrooms that rascal has information about Loamhedge hidden in his dusty archives, sly old hog!\"\n\nMartha sat up eagerly. \"Do you really think so, Father?\"\n\nCarrul nodded. \"I'm certain of it, miss. D'you know, I think our search is going to turn up some interesting and exciting stuff tomorrow.\"\n\nThe young haremaid wriggled with anticipation, since any prediction the Abbot made invariably came to pass. \"Oh, I do hope so, Father. Maybe we'll discover Sister Amyl's secret. Wouldn't that be wonderful!\"\n\nMartha looked up as they passed the great tapestry. Was it just a trick of the flickering lanterns, or did she really see Martin the Warrior's eyes twinkle at her?\n\n##\n\nSome leagues north of Redwall Abbey, the ragtag vermin gang blundered their way through the nighttime thickness of Mossflower woodlands. Skrodd swiped at the undergrowth with his former leader's cutlass as he led the party.\n\nThe big rat, Dargle, kept muttering under his breath, continuously criticising Skrodd. \"Fancy trackin' two beasts when yore lost, huh!\"\n\nTired and sleepy, the other vermin managed a weary murmur of agreement. Skrodd did not want to challenge Dargle directly\u2014it was the wrong time and place for such a move. So he asserted his authority by bullying all and sundry. He turned on them, brandishing the cutlass.\n\n\"Shut yer gobs an' keep movin'. Lost? Hah! Youse'd be the lost ones if'n I wasn't leadin' ye!\"\n\nFlinky enjoyed causing trouble. Disguising his voice, he called out behind the big fox's back. \"That's no way t'be talkin' to pore pawsore beasts!\"\n\nLittle Redd agreed with him. \"Aye, we should be sleepin' now instead o' wanderin' round an' round all night long!\"\n\nAlthough Flinky was the instigator, Redd was the unlucky one whose voice Skrodd identified. With a savage kick, Skrodd sent the small fox sprawling.\n\nLaying the cutlass blade against his neck, he snarled, \"Ye liddle runt, say the word an' ye can sleep 'ere fer good. I've took enough of yore moanin'!\"\n\nRealising that he had gone too far, Flinky tried to remedy the situation by pulling Redd upright as he appealed to Skrodd. \"Ah, come on now, sure he's only a tired young whelp. No sense in slayin' one of yore own mates. Let's step out a bit, an' I'll sing a song to help us along, eh?\"\n\nSkrodd relented, pointing his blade at the stoat. \"Right, you sing. The rest o' ye march, an' shuttup!\"\n\nFlinky's ditty put a little fresh life into the gang's paws.\n\n\"Ferrets are fine ould foragers,\n\nthough frequently furtive an' fey,\n\nstoats can sing sweetly fer seasons,\n\nso me sister used to say,\n\nbut foxes are fine an' ferocious,\n\nwhen faced with a fight or a fray,\n\nan' rats remain rambunctious but only for a day!\n\nBut wot about weasels, those wily ould weasels,\n\nthey're woefully wayward an' wild,\n\nthe ones they've whipped an' walloped,\n\nwill wail that weasels are vile,\n\nthey've bullied an' beaten an' battered,\n\nthey've tormented tortured an' tripped,\n\nI'm sure any day their pore victims would say,\n\nsteer clear o' the weasel don't get in his way,\n\nfor of all the vermin ye'd care to recall,\n\nthe weasel's the wickedest wretch of all.\n\nAn' virtuous vermin will all agree,\n\nany weasel is worse than me!\"\n\nThere were four weasels in the gang: Slipback; his mate, Juppa; and two taciturn brothers, Rogg and Floggo. All of them protested volubly at Flinky's song.\n\n\"That ain't right, foxes are worse'n weasels!\"\n\n\"Ye sing dat again, an' I'll wallop ye alright!\"\n\nSkrodd's bad-tempered shout quickly silenced them. \"Shut yore faces back there, or I'll show ye 'ow ferocious foxes can be. Sing somethin' else, Flinky, an' don't insult nobeast!\"\n\nDargle called out, \"Aye, an' be nice to foxes, they're easy hurt!\"\n\nSkrodd fixed the big rat with an icy glare. \"Aye, an' they can hurt rats easily, too!\"\n\nDargle stared fearlessly back at him. \"Ye don't scare me, fox. Burrad was slayed by mistake. Us rats don't make mistakes when we fight!\"\n\nSkrodd never answered. Turning away, he continued to march, but the challenge was out in the open now. The rest of the gang exchanged nods and winks\u2014a fight to the death was not far off. Skrodd pulled Little Redd up to the front with him and allowed him to walk by his side. The small fox felt honoured; normally he would be left trailing at the back of the gang.\n\nKeeping his voice low, the bigger fox took on a friendly tone with the young one. \"You stay by me, mate. Us foxes've got to stick together.\"\n\nLittle Redd had to glance around to make sure Skrodd was not talking to some other beast. He was more used to kicks and insults than to kind words.\n\nThe big fox winked at him. \"I been keepin' an eye on ye, mate. Yore a smart little feller, not like this other lot!\"\n\nRedd hated being called \"little,\" but he was quite pleased to know that Skrodd thought of him as smart. He returned the wink, speaking out of the side of his mouth.\n\n\"I ain't no fool, an' I ain't so little, either. I'm growin' fast. One day they'll call me Big Redd.\"\n\nSkrodd got to the point. \"Lissen, mate, I want ye t'do me a favour. Do ye think yore smart enough t'be useful to me?\"\n\nLittle Redd walked on tippaw, swelling his chest out. \"Just tell me wot ye want doin', mate!\"\n\nSkrodd leaned close. \"Keep an eye on the gang, especially Dargle. That rat's gettin' too big fer his boots. I want ye to watch my back, sort o' be my second in command.\"\n\nRedd hid his delight, replying gruffly, \"I'll do that, just watch me. Soon they'll be callin' me Big Redd. I won't let ye down, mate!\"\n\nSkrodd patted the small fox's back. \"Good! When I gets this gang sorted out, we'll give ye a proper vermin name. Big Redd don't mean nothin'. How does Badredd sound to ye, eh?\"\n\nThe young fox was squirming inside with joy. However, he kept his voice tough, in keeping with his new position. \"Sounds great t'me, mate. Badredd\u2014I like that! 'Tis a real killer's name. Badredd!\"\n\nAfter a fruitless night rambling through woodland thickets, the gang watched a rose-tinged dawn break over the treetops. They were soaked through by heavy dew, which was dripping everywhere from boughs and leaves.\n\nDargle's temper was on a short fuse. Emerging into a clearing on the bank of a stream, he struck out at Little Redd with his spear haft.\n\n\"Keep outta my way, runt! Every time ye come near me, I get soaked wid the water ye knock off the bushes.\"\n\nRedd looked appealingly at Skrodd. The big fox cast a glance of mock pity at Dargle and snarled scornfully. \"Scared of a few drips o' dew, are ye? Look at us, we're all wet through, an' we ain't moanin'.\"\n\nDargle faced up to Skrodd right away. \"Hah! Wet through an' weary, an' wot for, eh? We never found the otter an' the squirrel. No, we just tramped around all night followin' you, an' now we're good an' lost. Some leader you are, Skrodd!\"\n\nThe big fox bristled. \"Don't talk silly, we ain't lost!\"\n\nIt was Dargle's turn to sound scornful. \"Oh, ain't we now? See that rowan tree, I marked it wid me spearblade not long after we started marchin'. Look!\"\n\nFlinky inspected the fresh scar on the rowan bark. \"Aye, 'tis a new spearmark sure enuff. Dargle's right!\"\n\nLeaning on his spearbutt, the hefty rat grinned teasingly. \"We've been goin' round in circles, mates, an' now our great leader's got us lost. Well, Skrodd?\"\n\nThe fox held his blade at the ready and challenged Dargle. \"If'n yore so clever, then you find the way. 'Tis easy to stand there talkin' smart all day, Dargle. Go on, show us how ye are, an' find the right way!\"\n\nThe rat squatted down on his haunches, chuckling. \"Sort out yore own mess, I'm stoppin' here an' restin'.\"\n\nHalfchop ventured a suggestion. \"Burrad would've sent Plumnose to find the way, 'cos he's a good tracker.\"\n\nRelief flooded through Skrodd as he realised that Halfchop had provided the solution to a sticky problem. Taking advantage, he quickly re-established his position as leader of the gang.\n\n\"Right, Plumnose, get on yore way! Ferget the two beasts we were trackin', they'll keep for another day. Find us the way to this Redwall Abbey place an' report back here.\"\n\nAlways one to seize an opportunity, Flinky nodded his head admiringly. \"Ah, that's a grand ould move, Chief. I see ye noticed the fine campsite we're at. We can lay up here fer a day or two an' rest, once we're sure of the way. Lookit, we got a stream wid fish an' freshwater an' lots o' trees full of fat birds sittin' on nests packed wid eggs. The place is filled wid roots an' fruit an' firewood!\"\n\nSkrodd looked sage. \"That's wot I was thinkin', a day or two here'll freshen us up for the rest o' the journey. We'll make camp an' rest awhile, mates.\"\n\nOnly Plumnose was not happy with the new plans. His huge nose wobbled from side to side as he complained. \"Duh, id's nod right. I'b tired, too, j'know!\"\n\nRogg and Floggo, the weasel brothers, notched arrows to their bows and fired a pair of shafts near Plumnose's paws.\n\n\"Yore the tracker, Plum, now git goin'!\"\n\n\"Aye, ye could track a butterfly underwater wid a hooter like that. Hohoho!\"\n\nThrowing twigs and grass clumps at the unfortunate creature, the gang drove Plumnose from the camp. Glad they had not been selected to go tracking, they shouted after him.\n\n\"Don't trip over yer nose, Plum!\"\n\n\"Aye, an' don't sniff any big boulders up. Heeheehee!\"\n\nThe tension was broken for the moment. Gathering wood and foraging for victuals, the gang busied themselves.\n\nFlinky dug a firepit on the streambank, singing a cheery ditty.\n\n\"Ah 'tis luvverly bein' a vermin,\n\n'cos ye lead a simple life,\n\nleave the snufflin' babes behind,\n\nrun off from the naggin' wife.\n\nThere's nought to do but ramble,\n\nan' plunder on the way,\n\njust look bold, rob all ye can hold,\n\nan' bid 'em all good day.\n\nA vermin, a vermin, that's wot I'll always be,\n\nI'm base an' vile, 'cos that's me style,\n\nan' I'll bet ye envy me!\"\n\nBy late morn they had a good fire burning. Flinky and his mate, Crinktail, were in their element. They boiled woodpigeon eggs, grilled fish, and made a passable vegetable stew from various roots and wild produce which grew plentifully roundabout. Neither Dargle nor Skrodd made any move to help. Sitting close to the fire, they helped themselves, glaring at each other across the flames.\n\nSkrodd collared Little Redd and gave him whispered orders. \"Scout round an' find me somewheres safe to rest. Make sure 'tis soft an' comfortable. Pick a place far away from that rat, an' someplace close for yourself, so ye can guard me. Go on!\"\n\nPuffed up with his own importance, Redd went to seek a suitable resting spot. He chose the base of a spreading oak, not too close to the stream. It was a basin-shaped depression between two thick roots.\n\nWhen the gang finished eating, they settled down for a much-needed sleep. Most of them stayed by the fire, but Dargle chose a fernbed on the opposite side of the camp from Skrodd. From there the rat could see his enemy and lay plans.\n\nLittle Redd proudly showed Skrodd the spot at the base of the oak trunk. \"That's it, mate, nice an' snug, see!\"\n\nThe small fox lay down, gesturing. \"There's plenty o' room for both of us. I can guard ye good from here, mate.\"\n\nSkrodd shook his head disapprovingly. \"Nah, ye go an' lay by the fire with the others. That'll put ye halfway twixt me'n Dargle. But don't go sleepin', keep yore eyes peeled on those ferns where he's layin' low. Soon as Dargle makes a move, come runnin' an' let me know.\"\n\nLittle Redd rose reluctantly. \"I kin watch him just as well if'n I stop 'ere with you, mate.\"\n\nSkrodd hauled him roughly upward, thrusting him toward the fire. \"Ye'd do better to heed my orders. Now get goin'. I'm chief round 'ere, see!\"\n\nStinging from the rebuke, Redd slouched over to the fire. Sullenly, he slunk down amid the snoring vermin.\n\nWith not a breeze to rustle the trees, warm noon sunlight shone down on the camp. Bees hummed gently, and butterflies fluttered silently around blossoming bushes. Near the ashy embers of the cooking fire, Little Redd drifted into a slumber. Only one of the gang was still awake\u2014Dargle. Now was the time to put his plan into action. Draping his cloak over the ferns so it would look like he was still there, the rat inched his way backward out of the foliage. Flat on his stomach, he took a careful route, circling the campsite. When the rear of the spreading oak came in sight, Dargle rose into a half crouch. Gripping his spear firmly, he crept up on his sleeping enemy.\n\nSkrodd woke momentarily, but only to die. A muffled grunt of agony escaped him as Dargle's spear thrust into his body.\n\nDargle leaned down on the spearhilt, grinning triumphantly. \" _Now_ who's the chief, eh?\"\n\nIt was the rat's only mistake\u2014it turned out to be his last. Skrodd had lain down to sleep with the cutlass held tight in his paw. Now, with one spasmodic jerk, he whipped the broad blade across his assassin's neck, almost severing Dargle's head. The ambitious rat fell slain on top of his victim's dead body.\n\nLittle Redd was wakened by Flinky kicking him in the back. The small fox sat up rubbing his eyes and muttering at the still-sleeping stoat. \"Keep yore paws to yoreself, ye great lump!\"\n\nFlinky rolled over and emitted a huge snore. To avoid a second kick, Redd rose stiffly and looked around. Dargle's cloak was still draped over the ferns. He let out a sigh of relief and wandered over to check on Skrodd. Redd was dumbfounded by the sight that greeted him\u2014Skrodd and Dargle, both dead!\n\nLittle Redd circled them slowly, poking both beasts with a stick and uttering their names softly. There was no doubt about it, they were still as stones. His first thought was to run and tell the others. He had already opened his mouth to shout when a thought struck him. Who would be the next to claim leadership of the gang? Little Redd sat down and did some serious thinking. It did not take him long to reach a decision. He would be the new chief. Getting the cutlass loose from Skrodd's paw was a difficult task, but he managed it somehow. Dargle was almost decapitated by Skrodd's death blow. Two good chops of the hefty blade finished the job.\n\nFlinky was roused by a painful feeling he knew well, the slap of a flat cutlass blade. He sprang upright, rubbing his rump, expecting to see Skrodd standing over him. Instead, there stood the small fox, whacking away at the other gang vermin and yelling aloud.\n\n\"Up on yore hunkers, all of ye!\"\n\nThe weasel Juppa grabbed a chunk of firewood and advanced on the small fox, snarling. \"Ye snotty liddle runt, who do ye think y'are, smackin' me wid the chief's blade?\"\n\nRedd jarred the wood from Juppa's paws with a blow from the cutlass. His voice was shrill but commanding. \"I'm the new chief round here, that's who I am. Come an' see this, all of ye!\"\n\nThe gang stood around the two carcasses in awed silence as the small fox explained. \"I saw Dargle run Skrodd through with his spear. So I rushed in, grabbed the cutlass an' slew the dirty murderin' sneak with one swipe!\"\n\nCrinktail looked at him disbelievingly. \"You, Little Redd, took off Dargle's block in one go?\"\n\nRedd was getting the feel of the heavy sword now. He took a pace back, then leaped forward, swinging the cutlass in both paws, shouting fiercely. \"Aye, one swipe! D'ye want me to show ye how? I'm the chief now, this sword's mine, I killed to get it!\"\n\nHe was gratified to see fear shining from Crinktail's eyes as she backed away from him swiftly. \"No, no,\" she pleaded, \"if you say ye did it, I'm not one to argue with ye!\"\n\nEver the one to seize an opportunity, however, Flinky confronted Redd and held out his paws placatingly. \"Ah now, don't go upsettin' yoreself, Little Redd. We all think ye'll make a grand chief. Anyway, better'n the last two. Isn't that right, mates?\"\n\nHe turned to the gang, winking broadly at them but making sure the small fox could not see his gesture.\n\n\"C'mon now, raise yer paws an' salute the great new chief!\"\n\nA newfound confidence flooded through Redd as he watched the remaining nine vermin acknowledging his leadership with raised paws. He suppressed a shudder of joy. For as long as he could recall he had been ignored, bullied or pushed about. Now, in the course of one day, he was in command of the gang.\n\nDeciding to assert his authority, Little Redd glared haughtily at the ratbag vermin. \"My name ain't Little Redd no more. From now on ye'll all call me Badredd. Is that clear?\"\n\nFlinky threw him an elaborate salute. \"Badredd it is, yer honour, sure an' a fine ould name it is! Well now, Badredd sir, wot's yore pleasure\u2014do we stop 'ere awhile in this grand camp? There's water an' vittles aplenty roundabout, an' 'tis a pleasant spot.\"\n\nBadredd nodded imperiously. \"Aye, we'll stop 'ere awhile!\"\n\nAs they prepared the evening meal, Flinky's mate, Crinktail, whispered to him. \"Badredd, huh! Wot'n the name o' blood made ye support that liddle fool?\"\n\nFlinky winked at her as he turned a roasting woodpigeon on a willow spit over the fire. \"Trust me, mate, better a liddle fool than a big bully. I can 'andle this 'un. Badredd'll do like I suggest, ye'll see. We've 'ad enough o' weasels, big foxes an' bullyrats in this gang. This Mossflower territory's a good soft place to stay, plenty of everythin'. Better'n those ould Northlands. Leave the thinkin' t'me, we'll live the good life from now on. Badredd'll do like I tell 'im.\"\n\nThe newly elected Badredd sat on the streambank, picking a roasted woodpigeon leg and watching the westering sun die in a crimson haze. He listened to Flinky singing as he dished out supper to the gang, who lay about looking contented enough.\n\n\"Oh this is the place to be,\n\nwhere the fruit falls from the tree,\n\nwhere eggs an' birds jump out of the nest,\n\nright in me pan they come to rest.\n\nOh this is the place for me,\n\nfar from that Northland sea.\n\nHere the good ould fish leap out of the stream,\n\nan shout, 'Please, sir, cook me,'\n\nwhere the sun shines all the day,\n\nan' the cold wind stops away,\n\nan' the water's clean 'n' fresh 'n' clear,\n\nI'll make ye a promise now, me dear,\n\nI'll take a bath so don't ye fear,\n\nin ten summers' time if I'm still here,\n\n'cos this is the place for me!\"\n\nBadredd, however, had totally different plans. Not for him all this lying about on sunny streambanks. Ambition had entered his being. To be the owner of the magic sword and ruler of that place Skrodd had spoken of\u2014Redwall Abbey.\n\n##\n\nLonna Bowstripe sat outside the cave, savouring the approach of summer in the harsh northeast coastlands. Pale sunlight glimmered out of a watery, cloud-flecked sky. It was breezy, but the chill had died out of the wind. Green buds were shooting out of the scrublands, seabirds mewed across the marshes.\n\nThe huge badger shifted his position near the fire, wincing momentarily and arching his back. Young Stugg sat beside him like some constant shadow, always close to the big creature. Lonna fascinated the young sea otter.\n\n\"You back still be hurted, Lonn'?\"\n\nLonna smiled down at his companion. \"A bit, but it's getting better every day, mate. Pass me the bow, please.\"\n\nStugg ambled across and carried the yew sapling to him. Out of six lengths, this was the one Lonna had chosen to use for fashioning his bow. Stugg inspected it closely. The wood had seasoned out until it was strong as sprung metal. Lonna had shaved away the bark, leaving a broad band at its centre that he had bound and whipped with green cord to make a pawhold. At both ends, the wood was circled and notched deep to accommodate bowstrings. Stugg watched as the badger tested the yew's strength by bending it against his footpaws.\n\n\"Wot you think, Lonn', bee's it ready?\"\n\nThe badger applied heavy pressure, bending the bow until it formed a deep arc. He straightened it slowly and then responded. \"As ready as it will ever be, young 'un. This is a good bow!\"\n\nStugg jumped up and down impatiently. \"Putta string on it, Lonn'. Fire a h'arrow for Stugg!\"\n\nAbruc wandered out of the main holt cave toward them. \"Ahoy there, young pestilence! Are ye still botherin' Lonna? Yore more trouble than a sack o' frogs!\"\n\nThe giant badger tugged Stugg's little rudder fondly. \"Oh, he's no trouble, Abruc. Stugg's my good old workmate.\"\n\nAbruc sat down beside them. He could not keep the curiosity out of his voice. \"Well, bigbeast, is yore bow finally ready?\"\n\nLonna used the bowstaff to pull himself upright. \"Let's string it and see, shall we?\"\n\nA short time thereafter, all the sea otters had gathered to watch the testing of the bow. Lonna limped slightly as he went back into the cave to fetch his quiver of arrows.\n\nStugg stood outside, holding the bow and declaiming proudly to everybeast, \"All stan' back now, please. I help Lonn' to make dis bow. 'Tis a very dangerful weapon, so watch out!\"\n\nThe big badger emerged with the birch bark quiver. It was packed heavily with two score of long ashwood shafts, which Abruc and Shoredog had helped to fashion. Each one was fletched with grey gull feathers, gleaned from the shoreline. The arrows were tipped with flint shards, sharpened and ground to lethal points.\n\nLonna took the bowstring which Abruc had woven and looped it over the notch in the yew staff.\n\nAfter knotting it with a skilful hitch, he remarked, \"If this bow fails, it won't be for want of a good string. This is the finest one I've ever seen, thanks to you, friend.\"\n\nAbruc flushed with pleasure. \"Thankee. 'Tis a special string, worthy of a mighty bow.\"\n\nLonna braced the yew sapling against his footpaw, with the string at the bottom end. Tying a loop into the free end, he leaned down heavily on the centre of the wood.\n\nA gasp arose from the otters as the yew bent in a great arc. With the graceful ease of an expert bowbeast, Lonna slipped the loop deftly over the notched top end. It was a bow now, a mighty and formidable longbow that only a beast the size and strength of Lonna Bowstripe could draw. Taking three arrows, he set them point down in the earth and selected one, explaining as he did, \"Height, distance and accuracy are what an archer needs.\"\n\nWhipping the bow up, he laid the first arrow on it, heaved back powerfully and let fly, all in a split second. Swift as lightning the shaft sped upward and was immediately lost to sight.\n\nShoredog let out a growl of surprise. \"Whoo! Where did it go?\"\n\nStugg gestured airily. \"Stuck inna moon I appose, eh Lonn?\"\n\nA rare smile creased the badger's scarred face. \"Aye, I suppose so, mate. Let's try for distance next.\"\n\nThe second arrow he laid flat against his jaw, squinting one eye and holding the bow straight.\n\n _Zzzzip!_ Out across the stream over marsh and scrubland it flew, until it was lost on the seaward horizon.\n\nAbruc clapped his paws in delight. \"Speared a big fish I bet, eh Stugg?\"\n\nThe young otter smirked. \"Prolably two, anna big crab!\"\n\nLonna scanned the countryside. \"I need a target now.\" He bowed to Abruc's wife, Marinu. \"Lady, would you like to choose one? Anything will do.\"\n\nShe looked around, then pointed. \"There's a piece of driftwood just beyond the marsh, see? To the right of that rivulet which runs out onto the shore. I don't know if you can reach that far, Lonna. Shall I pick something a little closer? I'm afraid I don't know much about firing arr . . . !\"\n\nHer words were cut short as the chunk of driftwood went end over end, pierced through by the badger's arrow. A rousing cheer went up from the spectators.\n\nLonna unstrung his bow, passing it to Stugg. \"Well, mate, it looks like we made a proper bow. Thank you for all your help.\"\n\nThe young otter nodded. \"Searats better watch out now!\"\n\nLonna took supper in the sea otters' main cave that night\u2014a large seafood pie, followed by a preserved plum crumble, washed down with beakers of last summer's best cider. He sat by the fire with Abruc and Shoredog, with Stugg dozing on his lap.\n\nOld Sork made Lonna hold still whilst she inspected his facial scar. \"A luckybeast is what ye are. 'Tis healin' better'n I hoped. So what are ye lookin' so miserable about, eh?\"\n\nThe big badger shrugged. \"Every day that I sit here, Raga Bol and his crew get further away. Soon there'll be no trace of them to follow.\"\n\nAbruc refilled his beaker with cider. \"Never fear, Lonna. A Searat like Raga Bol always leaves a trail, a path of murder an' destruction that anybeast with half an eye could follow. I've been watchin' ye since you've been up an' about. I know yore impatient to begone from here. Well, summer's almost in, the time'll soon be ripe.\"\n\nLonna stared into the flames as he replied. \"Raga Bol and his crew won't live to see the leaves turn gold this autumn. I leave tomorrow!\"\n\nShoredog helped himself to more cider, peering curiously at the big badger. \"Then we'll go with ye, Lonna, us an' a dozen of our best fighters. Even a warrior as big as yoreself will need help with Bol an' his crew!\"\n\nThe badger shook his huge scarred head. \"I'm grateful, friend, but this is a thing I must do alone. You stay here and care for your families. There will be a hard time ahead for me. Raga Bol knows I am coming.\"\n\nAbruc replenished the fire with driftwood and sea coal. \"He probably thinks yore dead, mate. How could he know yore comin' after him?\"\n\nLonna never took his eyes from the flames as he explained. \"I never knew my mother and father. Grawn, the wise old badger you buried, was the one who reared me. Not only did he teach me all the skills of a bowbeast but also many other things. When I was very small, Grawn told me that I was gifted with something few other badgers possess. He said that I was born with the power of a Seer. Old Grawn used to question me a lot. One day he said to me, 'You have the keenest eyes of any bowbeast I have known, but you also have another eye, inside your mind. You can see things the rest of us cannot, strange things that will shape your destiny.' It has always been so with me. Even when I was lying wounded in the cave, I could see Raga Bol. I can stare into this fire and see his face. Believe me, he knows I am coming. I want him to know, to fear me. He is evil and must die!\"\n\nShoredog felt the fur on the nape of his neck begin to prickle. \"But if yore a Seer, ye must have known Grawn was goin' t'die, didn't ye?\"\n\nLonna's eyes left the flames momentarily. \"Aye, I knew the old beast had not long to go, but I didn't know the manner of his death. Grawn was old and very ill. He wished to end his days at the badger mountain of Salamandastron. I was taking him there, and I knew my own fate was also linked to the mountain.\"\n\nAbruc leaned forward. \"Do ye know where this mountain is?\"\n\nLonna turned back to contemplating the fire. \"I have never been there, but I feel I am guided to it by my mind's eye. It is far to the west, on the shores of the great sea. When my business with the Searats is done, that is where I'll go. I will not return to this place again. That is why I must travel alone.\"\n\nAs they sat silently by the fire, Marinu came and lifted the sleeping Stugg from Lonna's lap. All the other otters had retired for the night. Only the three of them\u2014Lonna, Abruc, and Shoredog\u2014remained.\n\nShoredog broke the silence. \"Garfo Trok, he's the answer!\"\n\nAbruc nodded vigorously. \"Right, mate, good ole Garfo!\"\n\nLonna stared from one to the other. \"What are you talking about\u2014who's Garfo Trok?\"\n\nShoredog rose and picked up his warm cape. \"Skipper o' the Nor'east Riverdogs, that's who Garfo is. He runs a riverboat. Garfo will take ye westward along the waterways. That should save time an' strain on that back o' yores, Lonna. Ye'll pick up Raga Bol's trail in half the time ye'd take limpin' along step by step.\"\n\nShoredog hurried from the holt, calling back to Abruc. \"I'll be back with Garfo by midday. Tell the cooks to pack plenty o' vittles, especially nutbread!\"\n\nAbruc nudged Lonna cheerfully. \"Ye'll like ole Garfo, that otter knows waterways like the back of 'is rudder.\"\n\nHappy but puzzled, Lonna smiled at the sea otter. \"I'm sure I will, but what's all this about vittles and nutbread? I eat only lightly when I'm travelling.\"\n\nAbruc stood up and stretched. \"Ye may do, Lonna, but Garfo Trok ain't a beast that's ever stinted 'isself when it comes to vittles, particularly nutbread. Why, that ole dog'd go to Hellgates for a loaf! Now get yoreself off an' rest, ye've a big day tomorrow!\"\n\nAfter Abruc had gone, Lonna stretched out by the fire, intending to sleep there for the remainder of the night. Before he closed his eyes, he spent several minutes intensely concentrating on the red embers, repeating mentally, \"Rest not too deeply, Raga Bol! Know that I am coming for you! As surely as night follows day, I am coming!\"\n\nRaga Bol and his crew were sleeping. They had made it out of the hills and moorlands into the first fringes of heavy forest. A spark from the campfire touched Ferron's nose, startling him awake. The gaunt rat sat bolt upright, rubbing at the stinging spot. He saw Raga Bol sit up as well, waving his silver hook and mumbling as he tried to come fully awake.\n\n\"Go 'way, yore dead! Get away from me, d'ye hear?\" The Searat captain caught Ferron looking strangely at him across the fire. \"Who are ye gawpin' at, long face, eh?\"\n\nFerron knew better than to answer back. Instead, he lay back down and closed his eyes. All the crew had been saying the same thing. Lately Cap'n Bol was acting very strange.\n\n##\n\nDawn was only moments old, but Redwall Abbey was awake and buzzing. Today was the special day Abbot Carrul had promised. Breakfast was already being served from a large buffet table, set up in the passage outside the kitchens. With laden platters, the Redwallers sat down to eat at anyplace which took their fancy. Horty and his friends looked out from the dormitory window at the scene below. Dibbuns thronged together on the broad front step of the Abbey, spooning down bowls of oatmeal mixed with honey and fruit. Anybeast wanting to dine outside had to step carefully over them to reach the lawns or the orchard. It was a jumble of happy confusion.\n\nMuggum waved his beaker at the passing elders, who tip-pawed around him. \"Yurr, moind ee paws, you'm nearly trodded in this choild's brekkist. Whurr's ee manners? Hurr!\"\n\nWarm sunlight was rapidly dispersing the mist into a golden haze. Fenna the squirrelmaid leaned out over the dormitory sill and dropped a fragment of scone down into the hood of Sister Setiva's habit, giggling as she drew back inside.\n\n\"Did she notice it?\"\n\nHorty reassured her. \"Not at all. She's toddled off down to the pond with Brother Gelf. Hahaha! I expect old Setiva'll be set upon by the first blinkin' bird that spots it. Should liven her up, wot!\"\n\nSpringald watched the Infirmary Sister balancing her tray gingerly as she crossed the lawn. \"Huh, pity help the bird who tries to set upon her. She'll bath it in the pond and physick it silly. Look out, here comes Father Abbot!\"\n\nThe mischievous trio ducked below the windowsill as Abbot Carrul, Toran, Sister Portula and Martha emerged from the Abbey. Toran lifted Martha's chair over the step and assisted Portula with a trolley full of food. They set out for the gatehouse together, with Abbot Carrul stretching his paws and breathing deeply.\n\n\"My my, it's a good-to-be-alive day. Let's hope we get a few hours of peace to tackle our studies.\"\n\nToran had to rap loudly on the gatehouse door to gain attention. Old Phredd could be heard inside, arguing with an armchair.\n\n\"Come out my way and let me see who 'tis. It's your fault, being so comfy and allowin' me to sleep like that!\"\n\nA moment later, his frowzy, prickled head poked around the door. \"Oh, er hmm. Good morning, I suppose it's morning, isn't it? Of course, if 'twas noon, the sun would be much higher, eh, eh?\" Dabbing his face in a bowl of water, the ancient hedgehog absentmindedly wiped his eyes on Martha's lap rug. \"There, that's better. Oh good, I see you brought breakfast with you. Splendid, I'm starving!\"\n\nMartha ate very little, trying to hold back her impatience as Phredd slowly munched his way around the food. Toran, however, got to the point right away.\n\n\"Well then, sir, how did yore studyin' go? Did ye find out anythin' useful about Loamhedge?\"\n\nPhredd nodded toward a dusty book lying on his bed. \"Oh, that. Take a look in the old volume there. I read it until I could keep my eyes open no longer. Hmm, quite interesting really, an exciting little story, eh?\"\n\nMartha opened the book, its pages yellow with age and so brittle that they were cracking and beginning to flake. She read aloud from the neatly scribed lines of purple, faded ink. \"Written by Tim Churchmouse. Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country . . .\"*\n\nPhredd interrupted her as he dealt with a hazelnut roll. \"It was written in the seasons of Abbot Mordalphus. The account of Mattimeo, son of Matthias the Abbey Champion. All about abduction and slavery, a search, a chase and so on. If you're looking for a route to the old Abbey of Loamhedge, the descriptions are very long and complicated, but there's a map included that should be a help. Actually I only got a third of the way through the account before I dropped off. . . .\"\n\nAbbot Carrul shook his head in wonder. \"In the seasons of Mordalphus, . . . Dearie me! That book must be nearly as old as time itself!\"\n\nSister Portula put aside her beaker of mint tea. \"The land will have changed a lot since then, what with rains and floods altering water courses and storms blowing down trees. There'll be new areas of woodland grown over the ages, and I don't know what. Do you think it will be much help, Toran?\"\n\nAs she had been speaking, the noise of stamping paws and singing voices had been swelling outside.\n\nToran went to the door. \"Who knows, Sister? Great Seasons, what's all that rackety din about?\"\n\nOld Phredd chuckled. \"They're singing the Summer Feast song. What a happy sound! Let's go out and watch, eh, eh?\"\n\nMartha was less than enthusiastic, since she wanted to continue studying the book. But the Abbot patted her paw encouragingly. \"You know, we can study the problem at our leisure, but next summer's first day is a long time away. They sound so joyful and excited! Come on, young 'un, let's go and see.\"\n\nSmilingly, the haremaid relented.\n\nUp and down the wallsteps and all over the lawns, Redwallers, led by Horty, were joining paws and skipping about, singing lustily to the jolly tune.\n\n\"The sun could not shine brighter\n\nupon this summer's day,\n\nmy heart could not be lighter.\n\nI've heard our Abbot say\n\nthere'll be a feast this evening,\n\nso listen one and all:\n\nThis afternoon we'll run a race\n\naround the Abbey wall!\n\nCome form up in a line, pals,\n\nand listen for your names,\n\nit's ready steady set and go,\n\nfor Redwall Abbey games!\n\nThere's vittles in the kitchen,\n\ngood ale and cordials, too,\n\nfine singers and musicians,\n\nto play the evening through.\n\nBut first I'll gird my robe up,\n\nso I don't trip or fall.\n\nI'm going to be the first around\n\nthat high old Abbey wall!\n\nCome form up in a line, pals,\n\nand listen for your names,\n\nit's ready steady set and go,\n\nfor Redwall Abbey games!\"\n\nMartha could not resist the merry cavalcade. Clapping her paws in time to the lively song, she laughed happily. Sister Portula, whooping like a wildbeast, grabbed Martha's chair and dashed off into the throng.\n\nAbbot Carrul winked at Phredd. \"My mistake for starting all this, but who could sit indoors studying on such a wonderful day?\"\n\nToran, in complete agreement, shepherded both of his friends out of the way of the dancers. \"You two stay here. I'll go an' bring two armchairs an' the rest o' the food out of the gatehouse. Ye can sit back an' watch the whole thing in comfort. We can always look through dusty ole books tomorrow.\"\n\nOld Phredd spoke to a buttercup growing by the wall. \"Heehee, now there's a sensible young creature. Beasts like that make a body enjoy his old age, eh, eh?\"\n\nBragoon and Saro stood outside the main gate. Memories flooded back as they touched the stout oak timbers.\n\nThe aging squirrel looked misty-eyed. \"Dear ole Redwall Abbey! Sounds like they're havin' a good time in there, mate. Well, do we knock for the Gatekeeper?\"\n\nBragoon scuffed the gravel path with his rudder as he pondered the question. \"Hmm, we've been a long time gone. Suppose nobeast knows us anymore. Or worse, supposin' they do recognise us an' recall wot a pair of scoundrels we were! They might not want us back. Wot d'ye think?\"\n\nSaro gnawed at her lip. \"Aye, I think yore right, Brag. Tell ye what, let's just slip in unnoticed an' sort of mingle with the crowd. That way we can judge the lay o' the land.\"\n\nThe otter grinned furtively at his companion. \"The way we used to come an' go, through the ole east wall gate. I'll bet ye can still open it.\"\n\nSaro clapped his back with her bushy tail. \"Great idea! Come on, let's give it a try. We'll disguise ourselves up a bit so as not to cause too much of a stir!\"\n\nBrother Weld, an old bankvole who was Abbey Beekeeper, perched on the arm of Abbot Carrul's chair to watch the fun. Some of the other games were in progress, and competition among the Dibbuns was fierce.\n\nThe Abbot watched them fondly as he reminisced. \"I was pretty good at the nut and spoon race in my younger seasons.\"\n\nWeld kept his eyes on the games as he observed drily, \"Aye, Father, you beat me three seasons on the run. Then they caught you sticking your nut to the spoon with honey.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul cautioned him. \"Not so loud, Weld, keep your voice down. We can't have the young 'uns discovering that a Dibbun who cheated at nut and spoon is now their Abbot!\"\n\nThree of the Dibbuns\u2014Muggum, Shilly and Yooch\u2014were trying madly to win the greasy pole event. A big bag of candied chestnuts hung from the top of the pole. It resisted all their efforts. Each time, they ended up skimming dismally down to earth, caked with a mixture of soap and vegetable oil. After some earnest plotting, they hatched up a joint plan. Muggum stood tippaw, grasping the base of the pole. Yooch scrambled up the molebabe's back and stood on his head. Both clung tightly to the pole, then Shilly climbed up over them onto Yooch's head. Holding the pole with one paw, the squirrelbabe strove with her free paw to reach the bag. Unfortunately, the combined height of all three Dibbuns was still short of the prize. Muggum could not look up, his tiny face squinched by the weight of his two pals. But that did not stop him yelling out words of encouragement.\n\n\"Gurr, goo on Shilly, grab ee chesknutters naow!\"\n\nShilly roared back at him. \"I carn't not gerrem, me paw bee's too likkle'n'short!\"\n\nYooch the molebabe grunted his contribution. \"Moi pore bee's flattinged, 'urry up!\"\n\nAmid the spectators' shouts of support and hoots of laughter at the spectacle, Fenna came bounding out. The squirrelmaid hopped up the backs of all three Dibbuns. Launching herself from the top of Shilly's head, she made a graceful leap. Fenna effortlessly unhooked the bag of candied chestnuts. Performing a spectacular somersault, she landed neatly on the ground, without a speck of grease anywhere on her.\n\nShe smiled smugly. \"No trouble at all, the prize is mine!\"\n\nMartha's voice cut across her jubilant cries. \"Not fair! It's the greasy pole you're supposed to climb, not the greasy Dibbuns. You should forefeit the nuts, Fenna!\"\n\nFenna stuck her lip out and pouted. \"But I won them!\"\n\nThe Abbot left his armchair and took possession of the bag. \"The object is to get the nuts. There's no hard-and-fast rule about climbing greasy poles. But be fair, Fenna. The little ones tried so hard, and they gave us all such fun. I suggest we split the nuts four ways betwixt you and them.\"\n\nWhilst everybeast was applauding the decision, Toran caught Shilly and Yooch as they fell backwards from the pole. Horty was left with the task of unsticking Muggum, who was practically plastered to the pole with grease. He tugged his snout politely to the young hare.\n\n\"Thankee, zurr, oi thort oi wuz stucked thurr fer loife!\"\n\nHorty gazed down at his clean tunic, now coated with the mess. \"Oh, think nothin' of it, old lad. My pleasure, wot!\" He slipped and fell flat as he stumbled away from the pole.\n\nBy the pondside an old female squirrel, her face hooded against the sun by a cowl, was bathing her footpaws in the reeded shallows. An otter of medium size, his face also hooded, sat next to her. Sister Portula sought a seat in the reedshade alongside them, fanning her face with a dockleaf.\n\n\"Whew, this is certainly going to be a memorable summer!\"\n\nThe otter glanced sideways at her. \"Has afternoon tea been served yet, Sister?\"\n\nPortula swiped at a flying midge which was tormenting her. \"We never serve afternoon tea when there's going to be an evening feast. You knew that, didn't you, Brother?\"\n\nThe female squirrel sighed. \"Oh no, I was lookin' forward to some nice scones with strawberry preserve an' meadowcream.\"\n\nPortula had to raise her voice to be heard over the sounds of sporting revellers. \"The walltop race will be starting soon. I think first prize for that might be a cream tea with scones.\"\n\nThe squirrel jumped upright, surprisingly spry for one of her long seasons. \"Right, I'll enter an' win first prize!\"\n\nThe Sister shook her head doubtfully. \"You'll have lots of competition from younger and fitter creatures, I'm afraid.\"\n\nThe otter smiled knowingly. \"Oh, don't ye worry about that, Sister. If'n there's a prize of afternoon tea goin', my mate'll win it. Right, Saro?\"\n\nThe squirrel threw off her cowl. \"I'll give it a good try, Brag, an' maybe I'll share it with ye.\"\n\nThe good Sister stared open-mouthed at the aging squirrel. \"Saro, is it really you?\"\n\nSaro took the old Recorder's paw and shook it warmly. \"Aye, Portula, my ole friend, an' guess who this creakin' ruddered lump is?\"\n\nPortula was all aflutter. \"Wait, don't tell me now. . . . Oh, seasons o' mercy, it's Bragoon!\"\n\nShe raced off, waving her paws wildly and shouting, \"They're back! It's Bragoon and Sarabando! They're back!\"\n\nThe squirrel watched her go. \"Hear that, I got me full title!\"\n\nThe games were abandoned for the moment. Redwallers crowded to the pond to see the legendary duo. Both beasts were overwhelmed by pawshakes, kisses, backslaps and the embraces of old friends. Banter and welcomes went back and forth as they were reunited with the comrades of long-gone seasons.\n\n\"Saro, you bushy-tailed rogue, 'tis me, Phredd the Gatekeeper!\"\n\n\"Old Phredd? I don't believe it. Are you still here?\"\n\n\"Och, 'tis that dreadful Dibbun Bragoon! Where've ye been, ye bold wee scamp?\"\n\n\"Sister Setiva, a pleasure t'see yore face, marm. Been? Oh me'n Saro've been as far as there an' back a few times!\"\n\n\"Yurr, oi'd know ee thievin' likkle face anywhurrs, Miz Saro!\"\n\n\"Granmum Gurvel, my ole beauty, give me a hug, quick!\"\n\n\"Haharr, who's that\u2014not young Carrul the nut'n'spoon cheat?\"\n\n\"Bragoon, friend of my Dibbun days, oh 'tis so good to see you! Ahem, the name's changed now, I'm Father Abbot Carrul. But what a pleasure to see you, and Saro, too!\"\n\n\"Look out, who's this big, rough-lookin' villain, eh?\"\n\n\"Oi bee's Muggum, marm, bee's you'm really Sabburandum?\"\n\nSuddenly Bragoon found himself swept off his paws and hugged in a viselike grip. Tears flowed freely down Toran's face.\n\n\"Brother Brag, you've come home to Redwall!\"\n\nPlanting a kiss between Toran's ears, Bragoon wheezed. \"Brother Toran, I won't see sunset if'n ye crush me t'death. I missed ye, Toran, y'great lump of an otter!\"\n\nGreeting upon greeting followed, everybeast seemed at once to be embracing the pair. The air resounded to cries of \"Well I never, my oh my, just look at ye, welcome home!\"\n\nSpringald, Horty and Fenna stood to one side. Like most teen-season creatures, they were embarrassed by all the hugging and kissing among elders.\n\nSpringald muttered in resignation. \"I suppose that means the end of the Games Day. Huh, I'd have won the wall race easily if they hadn't turned up.\"\n\nFenna passed each of them a piece of candied chestnut, musing aloud. \"So, that's the famous Bragoon and Saro. Huh, they're not as big as I thought they'd be. They look pretty old, too\u2014creaky, I'd say. What do you think, Horty?\"\n\nThe young hare shrugged. \"After all the tall stories we've heard about 'em, wot? Actually, old bean, you could be right. Those two ain't exactly the huge giants we've been told about. A bit blinkin' old, an' jolly ordinary, too, though everybeast seems tip over tail to see 'em back, wot? Let's toddle over there now that the huggin'n'kissin' is all done with. Come on, chaps, I want to get a closer dekko at the bold blinkin' Bragoon an' the startlin' Sarobando.\"\n\nMartha was being introduced to the pair by Sister Setiva.\n\nBragoon shook the haremaid's paw gently. \"Martha, eh? A pretty name for a pretty maid. Well, Martha, you don't look anything like us two when we were young. I wager you've heard a lot o' stories about the villainy we got up to in the old days.\"\n\nMartha thought Bragoon had a kind face; she liked him immediately. She tried changing the conversation from his past misdeeds. \"How did you and Sarobando get into the Abbey, sir, with the gate locked and barred?\"\n\nOld Phredd scratched his scrubby beard. \"Aye, how did you get in, eh, eh?\"\n\nSaro shrugged modestly. \"Oh, 'twas nothin' really, just a little trick we used to do with the east wallgate. Don't worry, Phredd, we locked it behind us.\"\n\nFenna interrupted. \"Mister Bragoon, I heard that you were once a Skipper of Otters. Is that true?\"\n\nThe aging otter nodded. \" 'Tis true enough, miss, but ole Saro didn't fancy bein' an otter. So I gave it up to go rovin' with her.\"\n\nSpringald enquired, rather pertly, \"Are you as good a cook as your brother Toran?\"\n\nBragoon chuckled at the idea. \"Wot, me? No, pretty one, I'll wager that Toran's the best cook anywhere. Huh, I'd prob'ly end up burnin' a salad!\"\n\nIgnoring the Abbot's stern gaze, the mousemaid continued. \"Miz Saro, are you as quick as they say you are? I bet I'm faster than you. I won the Abbey wallrace last summer.\"\n\nSaro grinned from ear to ear and shook Springald's paw. \"My congratulations, missy! So then, I'll have a bit o' competition in this wall race. I'm plannin' on runnin' in it for a prize of an afternoon cream tea. Mmm! 'Tis many a long season since I tasted one.\"\n\nSpringald blurted out, \"You're too old, I'll beat you easy!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul was shocked by her behaviour. \"Springald, show some respect for your elders!\"\n\nHowever, it was Saro who interceded on her behalf. \"Not at all, Father, I like to see a young 'un with a bit o' spirit. She's like me at her age. Don't ye fret now, 'twill be a fine race, I'm sure. Let's go to the wall an' get it started. No time like the present, eh, mate?\"\n\nSupremely confident, Springald winked at Horty and whispered to Fenna. \"That old relic's in for a surprise.\"\n\nTurning to Saro, she bowed mockingly. \"After you, marm!\"\n\n##\n\nThe crowd gathered under the threshold of the gatehouse. None of the wall racers was interested in entering. Everybeast was talking about it, eager to see the race between Springald and Saro.\n\nThe Abbot held up his paws. \"So be it, the wall race will start from the threshold above this gate. One circuit of the entire rampart's area, ending back on the same spot. Pushing or shoving means instant disqualification. Runners may use all of the walkway, including the battlements. Any questions?\"\n\nShilly the squirrelbabe piped up. \"Farver h'Abbot, worrabout uz likkle 'uns an' the very very h'old 'uns?\"\n\nShe was referring to the ground race, which was run over the same distance but from the ground level. This was for Dibbuns and Elders, mainly to avoid the dangers of falling from the walltops, where only fit and experienced runners competed.\n\nThe Abbot watched as Foremole Dwurl scored a deep line along the ground with his formidable digging claws. \"Of course, we mustn't forget the ground race. All competitors come up to the line, please. No crowding or jostling!\" He checked the walltop, where Springald and Saro were standing level.\n\nBrother Weld, acting as walltop official, waved down to the Abbot. \"All ready up here!\"\n\nBragoon and Toran sat on the lawn where they could see both races at the same time. Toran patted his ample stomach.\n\n\"Me racin' days are long gone. What about ye, Brother? Yore the same age as Saro, why ain't you runnin'?\"\n\nBragoon folded his paws and settled back. \"I'm far too old. Saro was born on the same day as me, but she's an hour younger.\"\n\nToran scoffed. \"An hour, that's nothin' in a lifetime!\"\n\nHis brother Bragoon maintained a straight face. \"Oh it isn't, eh? Ye try holdin' yore breath for an hour, matey!\"\n\nEvery Dibbun in Redwall was hopping and leaping on the line, waiting for the start.\n\nAbbot Carrul held up a big spotted red 'kerchief, taking one last look around as he called, \"Is that all now, last chance for any late entrants!\"\n\nHorty came bowling up, pushing Martha in her chair as she protested. \"No, please Horty, I've never raced before!\"\n\nThe garrulous hare pushed his sister onto the line. \"Oh piffle'n'twodge, miss. We'll show these blighters what us Braebucks are jolly well made of, wot! Two stout runnin' paws an' a splendid set o' wheels. Hahah, we'll leave 'em all bally well standin', wot wot!\"\n\nToran and Bragoon applauded from the sideline. \"That's the stuff, give it a go, miss!\"\n\nSpringald stood in a ready stance. Saro glanced sideways at her as she pawed the line.\n\n\"Good luck to ye, young 'un!\"\n\nThe mousemaid kept her eyes set on the course ahead. \"Aye, good luck to you, too, old 'un. You're going to need it!\"\n\nSeveral of the Dibbuns made overenthusiastic false starts, causing a slight delay as Toran and Bragoon got them back into line.\n\nAbbot Carrul stood out on the lawn and shouted as the 'kerchief fluttered in the breeze.\n\n\"On your marks . . . Ready . . . Steady . . . Go!\"\n\nAway everybeast went, young and old, on walltop or ground, running at top speed.\n\nCarrul sat on the grass with the two otters. \"Dearie me, some of those Dibbuns have raced off in the opposite direction.\"\n\nToran laughed. \"Oh, let 'em go. They'll still run the same distance at the finish. Flyin' fur'n'feathers! Lookit young Springald go, ye'd think she had wings on 'er footpaws. Looks like Saro is laggin' behind a bit. D'ye think she's in trouble already, Brag?\"\n\nThe otter shook his head. \"She's just pacin' herself, keepin' the mousemaid lookin' back over her shoulder, ye'll see.\"\n\nBoth walltop runners were almost at the north wall corner, with Springald a good two paces in front.\n\nBelow on the grass, chaos ensued. A molebabe and a tiny shrewlet had decided to stop and share some candied chestnuts between them. Another molebabe tripped over them. He forgot the race and joined the pair.\n\n\"Hurr, worrum ee got thurr, candee chesknutters, oi'm gurtly fond o' they'm, boi 'okey oi arr!\"\n\nThe shrewlet passed him a few. \"Den h'eat dese up, nuts make y'go faster, we still winna race, mate!\"\n\nMartha clung tight to the chair as the little cart bounced and bumped furiously forward, with Horty yelling out a warning to them. \"I say there, you bounders, make way or we'll run ye down. Watch out for the corner, me old skin'n'blister. Steer quicker, or we'll knock a hole in that wall, wot!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul shook his head in admiration as he viewed the walltop runners. \"My word, the speed of those two, they're nearly at the east corner already. Look at them go!\"\n\nAs Toran saw them negotiate the corner and tear off along the parapet southward, he groaned softly, \"Aaaah, pore ole Saro's flaggin' now. See, Springald's stretched her lead, I think she's bound to win.\"\n\nA slight smile played about Bragoon's lips. \"The race ain't over 'til the winner crosses the line. You watch, Saro'll soon take the spring out o' Miss Springald.\"\n\nBut by now the mousemaid had turned the south wall-corner, leading by three paces.\n\nThe Abbot commented. \"I think that young 'un's got the field to herself now.\"\n\nBragoon did not answer; instead, he put both paws to his mouth and emitted a single sharp whistle.\n\nSpringald was panting heavily, but still she took time to glance back at Saro as she gasped, \"Give up, old 'un, you're beat!\"\n\nSaro was breathing like a bellows, still hard on her opponent's heels. At the sound of Bragoon's whistle, Saro summoned up all her energy and put on a massive burst of speed. As the finishing line loomed up, Springald set her eyes dead ahead, racing wildly for it. Saro made a mighty leap. She sailed up and over, passing above the startled mousemaid's head, to land beyond the line, half a pace ahead, right beside Brother Weld, who roared out, \"Saro wins!\"\n\nCompletely shocked, Springald collapsed in a heap on the walkway. Fighting for breath, she gasped, \"Wh . . . wh . . . what h . . . happened?\"\n\nWeld the Beekeeper was holding Saro's paw high, shouting, \"The winner by a half pace\u2014Miz Sarobando!\"\n\nOn the ground, three quarters of the way around, more contestants were put out of the race as they met the reverse runners. They collided and fell in a jumble, roaring and arguing.\n\n\"Yurr, wot ways bee's you'm foogles a runnen?\"\n\n\"Uz norra foogles, you knock uz over 'cos we winnin'!\"\n\nMartha steered the cart around them, yelling in panic, \"Slow down, Horty, watch out for those Dibbuns!\"\n\nHer brother narrowly missed the melee, speeding up as he shouted, \"Forward the buffs! Onward t'death or flippin' glory! Blood'n'vinegar, me jolly lads! Redwaaall!\"\n\nHowling and hooting, he rushed over the finishing line, grinding to a halt and losing a back wheel in the process. \"Hoorah, me beautiful ole skin'n'blister, we won. Wot Wot Wot!\"\n\n\"Nay, you'm diddent, zurr. Uz wunned\u2014Shilly an' oi!\"\n\nHorty's mouth fell open. \"But . . . but . . . how . . . wot . . . but?\"\n\nMartha almost fell from her chair laughing. \"Hahahahaha! Muggum and Shilly were first over. Heeheehee, they won. Stop your but butting, Horty, we were second. A great effort on your part, sir. Thank you kindly!\"\n\nShe did not tell him that, when they almost collided with the fallen Dibbuns, she had rescued Muggum from the heap as they whizzed by. Muggum had hold of Shilly's tail, so she, too, was swept aboard the chair. Both of the little ones hopped off the cart, over the line, just ahead of it. Luckily they landed either side of the vehicle.\n\nThe Abbot, who had his suspicions as to who the real winners were, eyed the Dibbuns sternly. \"Who won? I want the truth!\"\n\nMuggum was the picture of infant innocence. \"Troofully, we'm wunned, zurr. Us'n's farster'n woild bunglybees, moi paws nurrly tukk foire!\"\n\nThe Father Abbot shook his head in disbelief until Martha reassured him. Toran and Bragoon backed her up stoutly.\n\n\"Aye, 'twas the Dibbuns who won, fair'n'square!\"\n\n\"Right, mate, would we lie to a great Father Abbot?\"\n\nFolding both paws into his wide sleeves, the Abbot wandered off, muttering, \"Why shouldn't I believe three good and honest creatures? Frogs can fly, fish make nests in trees. Who am I but a poor Abbot who knows nothing?\"\n\nIt was still some time until nightfall and the commencement of the Summer Feast. Under the Abbot's instructions, the kitchen crew had already made a substantial afternoon tea.\n\nSaro threw a friendly paw around Springald's shoulders. \"That was the closest race I've ever run. Come on, young 'un, you'n yore friends must take tea with me. Let the winnin' Dibbuns an' Martha sit with us, too.\"\n\nThe banks of the Abbey pond made a perfect setting as the Redwallers sat in the lengthening noon shadows, watching sungleams on the cool, dark water. Junty Cellarhog, the big hedgehog who took care of Redwall's famous cellars, personally served them with ice-cold rosehip and mint tea. Everybeast gossiped animatedly whilst enjoying the excellent food. Most Redwallers wanted to know more about the famous pair and their adventures. Bragoon had to do most of the answering, as Saro was lost in the ecstasy of scones, meadowcream and strawberry jam. Even Horty was amazed at the amount of food that Saro could put away.\n\nHe remarked in awed tones, \"Good grief, marm, you can certainly deal pretty roughly with scones when you've a blinkin' mind to, wot!\"\n\nBragoon shoved more meadowcream over to his companion. \"Don't disturb Saro while she's eatin', she gets fierce.\"\n\nHorty nodded politely. \"Know wotcha mean, sah. I expect it was jolly tough, wot. All those seasons o' fightin' rascally vermin. Must've given the lady a confounded keen appetite!\"\n\nBragoon nodded. \"Many's the time I've had to count me paws after sittin' too close to Saro at vittlin' time!\"\n\nToran beckoned to his friend Junty. \"Now then, ole cellar-spikes, wot about a bit o' music? Brought yore fiddle?\"\n\nJunty Cellarhog took a small, beautifully crafted fiddle out of the hood of his cloak. He tuned it deftly. \"Rightyo, any pertickler tune ye'd like?\"\n\nHorty volunteered. \"Play the Dawnsong. I'm sure Martha will sing for us. The jolly old skin'n'blister has a rather charmin' voice, y'know.\"\n\nEverybeast began calling for Martha to sing. Junty struck a chord or two. The haremaid bowed in deference to the two guests.\n\n\"Only if Bragoon and Sarobando would like to hear it.\"\n\nThe otter chortled. \"Like to hear it? I'd _love_ to hear ye sing, Martha. All I ever hear is my mate Saro, an' she's got a voice like a frog bein' strangled!\"\n\nThe squirrel looked up indignantly from a half-eaten scone. \"Hah, lissen who's talkin'. Let me tell ye, missy, to hear ole Bragoon singin', 'tis like listenin' to a nail trapped under a door!\"\n\nFenna giggled. \"Then you'd best be singing, Martha. Those two'll curdle the meadowcream if they start warbling.\"\n\nMartha paused until Junty's fiddle had played the opening bars, then she began to sing.\n\n\"I have a friend as old as time,\n\nyet new as every day.\n\nShe banishes the night's dark fears,\n\nand sends bad dreams away.\n\nShe's always there to visit me,\n\nso faithfully each morn,\n\nso peaceful and so beautiful,\n\nmy friend whose name is Dawn.\n\nShe fills the air with small birds' song,\n\nand opens all the flowers.\n\nShe bids the beaming sun to shine,\n\nto warm the daylight hours.\n\nShe comes and goes so silently,\n\nto leave the earth reborn,\n\nserene and true, all clad in dew,\n\nmy friend whose name is Dawn.\"\n\nThere was silence as the last poignant notes hovered on the still air, then wild applause.\n\nBragoon's tough face softened as he sniffed. \"I never heard anythin' so pretty in all me days!\"\n\nHorty puffed out his chest. \"I told you she could sing!\"\n\nSaro, having forgotten her afternoon tea, sat transfixed. \"Sing, did ye say? Listen, even the birds've gone quiet at the sound of the maid's voice. I'm retirin' from singin' as of now. Wot d'ye say, mate?\"\n\nBragoon had borrowed Junty's fiddle. He plucked the strings as he gazed in admiration at the haremaid. \"Our lips are sealed, Miss Martha, ye put us t'shame. Mind ye, I can still knock a tune out on the ole fiddle, an Saro ain't a bad dancer. Shall I play a jig for ye?\"\n\nMuggum had a swift word in Martha's ear, causing her to smile. \"Do you know a Dibbun reel called Dungle Drips?\"\n\nThe Abbeybabes leaped up and down, shouting eagerly. \"Play ee Dungle Drips, zurr!\"\n\nBragoon raised the fiddlebow, winking at Saro. \"Haha, Dungle Drips. We danced to that 'un a few times when we was Dibbuns, eh mate?\"\n\nThe aging squirrel leaped up. \"Aye, I'll say we did! Right, c'mon, me liddle darlins, I'll show ye a step or two. I once was Redwall's Champion Dibbun Dancer!\"\n\nEven before the first notes rang out, the Dibbuns clasped paws and whooped. Saro was whirled off amid a crowd of molebabes, tiny mice, infant squirrels and small hoglets. All the Dibbuns roared the molespeech lyrics with gusto, hurtling themselves into the wild reel. Martha was convulsed with laughter at their antics and amazed at Saro's skill. The squirrel was a born dancer, twirling and somersaulting recklessly as she sang out in mole dialect along with the Dibbuns.\n\n\"Whooooaaah! Let's do ee jig o' Dungle Drips,\n\nwoe to ee furst likkle paw wot slips,\n\nchop off ee tail, throw um in bed,\n\nwiv a bandage rownd ee hedd!\n\nFeed ee choild on strawbee pudd,\n\ngurt fat h'infants uz darnce gudd,\n\nDungle Drips naow clap ee paws,\n\ntug moi snout an' oi'll tug yores.\n\nBow to ee h'Abbot, gudd day zurr,\n\ntwurl ee rounden everywhurr,\n\nDungle Drips bee's gurt gudd fun,\n\noop t'bed naow likkle 'un. Whoooooaaah!\"\n\nThe dance grew more frantic, the singing faster as Bragoon speeded up his fiddling. Muggum and his crew performed some very fancy pawwork\u2014shuffling and high kicking, raising raucous cheers and calling for the fiddler to play even faster. The scene of wild abandon suddenly stretched out into a double line with Saro bringing up the rear as the Abbeybabes cavorted furiously across the lawns and vanished into the Abbey.\n\nBragoon stopped playing and blew upon his heated paws. \"Whew! Wot happened there, Carrul?\"\n\nBewildered, the Abbot shook his head. \"I've no idea. Sister Setiva, do you know what those babes are up to?\"\n\nThe shrewnurse shrugged. \"Och, the wee beasties must have danced off tae their beds. 'Tis no great surprise, ah'm thinkin', after all that racin', eatin' and jiggin'. Ye ken, they must be rare wearied.\"\n\nThe Redwallers sat sipping tea for quite some time. There was no sound from within the Abbey. Then Saro emerged. Chuckling to herself, she sat down wearily, accepting a beaker of tea gratefully.\n\n\"Whew, I ain't as young as I used t'be! That was some dance, I tell ye. Those Dibbuns jigged through the Abbey, up the stairs they went, straight into their dormitory. Before you could say boo, they were flat out on their beds an' snorin'! I felt like joinin' 'em myself. Huh, looks like the liddle 'uns have called it a day.\"\n\nToran looked perplexed. \"But wot about the Summer Feast?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul saw the look of disappointment on his friend's face. \"Cheer up, Toran, we'll have it at midday tomorrow. 'Twill keep until then.\"\n\nHorty's ears drooped mournfully. \"I say, you chaps, all I've had to eat is a few measly scones an' a drop o' tea.\"\n\nMartha slapped his paw playfully. \"Shame on you, I wouldn't call three plates of scones measly. Don't pull such faces, you'll last until tomorrow.\"\n\nThe gluttonous young hare went into a sulk. \"Jolly easy for you t'say, wot. Skin'n'blisters never scoff much anyway, not like us chaps. So be it then! If none of you lot see me round an' about tomorrow, you'd best take a blinkin' good search. You won't be smilin' then. Not when you find the skeleton of a gallant young hare in some lonely corner. Oh yes, indeed, that'll be me, perished t'death from flippin' hunger, wot! Woe is us, you'll cry, an' weep absolute buckets o' tears, thinkin' we should've let the poor brave lad have a small extra scoff last night.\"\n\nBragoon played along with Horty, shaking his head sadly. \"An' wot'll yore skeleton reply to us, ole mate?\"\n\nHorty sniffed. \"It'll say, too blinkin' late, but I told you so, an' yah boo sucks to you, cruel rotten lot! I leave you to your guilty consciences, you heartless bounders. My famished lips are sealed. Wot!\" He stalked frostily into a corner whilst stealing the last scone from under Sister Portula's nose.\n\n##\n\nIt was still warm as darkness fell. When the Redwallers stopped by the water, enjoying a faint breeze, talk turned to the life of Redwall Abbey and gradually to Martha's story. Bragoon and Saro, who had become very fond of the pretty young haremaid, listened intently. Abbot Carrul, Sister Setiva, Toran and Sister Portula all contributed to the narrative, with Martha filling in the details.\n\nWhen the tale ended, Bragoon sat staring at the haremaid's unmoving footpaws, peeping from under her lap rug. The aging otter's voice was extremely sympathetic. \"What a terrible thing t'happen to a young 'un! An' you've never been able to walk since ye can first remember?\"\n\nMartha shook her head. \"No, sir, though 'tis not for the want of trying. I collapse every time I do, as if my footpaws were held there by two pieces of wet string.\"\n\nSaro was impressed by the young one's frankness. \"That's a hard thing for anybeast t'bear. If'n ye don't mind me askin', Martha, wot d'ye do with yourself all day?\"\n\nMartha shrugged. \"Oh, I get around. There's always my kind friends to push me, though I can wheel myself around if I need to. I do a lot of reading and studying, too. Oh, that reminds me, Sister Portula, I left your book in the gatehouse. Old Phredd's still up, I can see the light at his window from here. Let's pay him a visit.\"\n\nThey all strolled across to the gatehouse with Bragoon and Saro pushing Martha's chair. Unusually for Phredd, he was wide awake and answered the door promptly.\n\n\"Young Martha, I was hoping you'd come. I see you brought all your friends, eh? Well come in, everybeast. You'll have to find somewhere to sit, there's not much room, y'know!\"\n\nPhredd spoke to the latch as he closed the door behind them. \"Heehee, got something to show this haremaid, haven't we?\"\n\nMartha sat up eagerly. \"Have you found anything, sir?\"\n\nThe old hedgehog sat on the side of his bed, opening Sister Portula's book at a page he had marked. \"Found something? Hah, the moment that race was over and I could rescue my armchairs back in here, I did some serious reading. There's more important things in life than running oneself silly around walltops, y'know. After all, Martin the Warrior sent you a message that mustn't be ignored, missy.\"\n\nBragoon suddenly became interested. \"Martin the Warrior sent ye a message, Martha? What did he say?\"\n\nThe haremaid explained. \"I fell asleep near the tapestry. Martin and another young mouse named Sister Amyl appeared to me. Martin told me to read, because reading is knowledge, then Sister Amyl spoke this rhyme to me.\n\n\"Where once I dwelt in Loamhedge,\n\nmy secret lies hid from view,\n\nthe tale of how I learned to walk,\n\nwhen once I was as you.\n\nThough you cannot go there,\n\nlook out for two who may,\n\ntravellers from out of the past,\n\nreturning home someday.\"\n\nSaro looked very serious. \"I remember Martin the Warrior spoke to me an' Brag when we were young.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul peered over his spectacles in astonishment. \"Martin spoke to you two? Did he really?\"\n\nSaro kept her face straight. \"Oh aye, I'll tell ye wot he said.\n\n\"Seek adventure, liddle mates,\n\ngo ye forth from Redwall's gates.\n\nBoth of ye, wild and unchecked,\n\nbegone afore my Abbey's wrecked!\"\n\nBragoon chuckled. \"She's only jokin', of course.\"\n\nOld Phredd glared at them both. \"This is no joking matter. As soon as I saw you down by the pond today, I knew you were the two travellers from out of the past. Eh, eh, the two that Sister Amyl's poem spoke of, right?\"\n\nHorty's eyes went wide as saucers. \"Right indeed, wot!\"\n\nPhredd tapped the open book he held. \"Stop jabbering and listen, please, this is most important. I have found the story of Sister Amyl. It was written by another, Recorder Scrittum. He was the Loamhedge brother who put most of this story together\u2014and very well he did it, too. Listen to this!\"\n\nThey sat entranced as Phredd's wavery tones brought the past back to life for them.\n\n\" 'The plague has come to Loamhedge, a great sickness is upon us. This morning we buried four, three sisters and one brother. Our infirmary is packed with the ill and suffering. I fear this Abbey has become a pest hole. Abbess Germaine and her Council have reached a bitter decision: if we are to survive, we must leave Loamhedge. It is almost unthinkable, is it not? Having to forsake our beautiful old home to wander in the wilderness. Germaine speaks of travelling to Mossflower country, where she has friends who will give us shelter. We are to take very little with us and live off the land as we go. These are hard and sad times, indeed.\n\n\" 'However, there is no other way for it. Poor Sister Amyl is a young mouse who has never walked. She makes her way about in a wheeled chair. Amyl has decided not to go with us. I pleaded with her, saying that I would care for her and push the chair to wherever we were bound, but she would not hear of it. Amyl said that the journey would be far too arduous and feared that she would hold us back. In a way she is right, since a wheeled chair cannot be hauled over hill and dale. There would be bad weather to contend with\u2014rivers, swollen streams, rocks and swampland. Also, it will soon be wintertide. The Abbess does not know of Amyl's decision yet. It is my sad duty to tell her of the situation. Young Sister Amyl is such a good creature. It will break my heart to leave her at Loamhedge, amid the dying.' \"\n\nToran interrupted the narration by sniffing loudly and grubbing a paw across his moist eyes. \"Pore liddle thing, left t'die in a deserted Abbey. I'd never leave ye to a fate like that, Martha, no matter wot it took!\"\n\nBragoon grasped the haremaid's paw. \"Me either, miss!\"\n\nMartha forestalled Saro and the rest by holding up a paw. \"I know you wouldn't, none of you. . . .\"\n\nShe caught sight of Old Phredd, glaring about impatiently. \"Oops, sorry sir, we'll be quiet, I promise!\"\n\nThe Gatekeeper huffed, then leafed on to another marked page. \"Thank you! Now let me read further into this narrative. Here is a section by Recorder Scrittum, concerning setting up camp on the first evening of the journey.\n\n\" 'Let me tell you of a miracle! Can I believe my eyes, you must take what I tell you as true, I have always been a faithful recorder, and never given to lying. Here was I, trudging along carrying my writing equipment and a sack of provisions. We were heading for a streambank with high sides, where there would be shelter for the brothers and sisters. I was travelling somewhere in the centre of the column, not having seen the Abbess, as she was leading up at the front. I came away from Loamhedge, filled with shame and remorse, being too overcome with grief to bid Sister Amyl farewell. I slunk off like a thief. Then, from the rear of the marchers, a mighty cheer rose up. I trekked back to see what was causing such jubilation. There across the heathland, limping slowly but walking without any shadow of a doubt, came young Sister Amyl!' \"\n\nAgain, Phredd's recital was interrupted when a hearty cheer came from his listeners. The old hedgehog made as if to slam the book shut.\n\n\"Do you want to hear the rest of this, or shall I lay back on my bed and go to sleep, eh, eh?\"\n\nSomewhat embarrassed, Abbot Carrul replied, \"Forgive us, friend, we'll stay silent. It was just that we felt so happy for Sister Amyl, we had to cheer.\"\n\nPhredd went back to his book, muttering, \"Aye, so did I when I first read it. Ahem, allow me to continue. 'Was it a miracle, or some sort of magic? I had told the Abbess of Amyl's plight. She was sorrowful, of course, but informed me she would have a word with Amyl. What came of their conversation, I did not know. But here was my young friend, as large as life and up on her footpaws. Later that evening we sat by the fire, exhausted after the day's long march. Sister Amyl lay wrapped in her cloak sleeping deeply. I sought out Abbess Germaine and spoke to her about the amazing happening. Here is what our great and wise Mother Abbess told me. She said that she had recalled a formula, given to her by an old healer, many seasons ago. Searching through her belongings, she had found the parchment. This she gave to Amyl, telling her that she must decide on her own whether to stay or whether to read the formula, learn from it and undertake the journey. Obviously, Sister Amyl must have read what was written on the parchment. Was it a magic spell, or some remedy of herbal medicine? The Abbess would not tell me.' \"\n\nMartha stifled a cry of disappointment, nevertheless listening dutifully as Phredd continued reading.\n\n\" 'Next morning I dropped to the rear of the column and walked with Sister Amyl, whose pace was getting stronger and more sure as the day went on. I told her what I had gleaned from the Abbess and faced her with the question: What was written on the parchment?\n\n\" 'Amyl gave me one of her rare, secretive smiles and refused to speak of it. All that day I persisted, harassing her to divulge the information. It was only after a full day's march through sleeting rain and harsh country that she relented. We were camped beside a rocky tor, huddled in our cloaks around the fire, when she finally spoke. Her words are etched into my memory, and here they are, for what it's worth. The message on the parchment would be of no use to you. It would only have a meaning for somebeast who is greatly troubled in mind or body. Once I had learned what the old healer's rhyme was, I left the parchment behind at Loamhedge. I carry its power within me now, but any creature in need of those words must seek it out for themselves.\n\n\" 'Beneath the flower that never grows,\n\nSylvaticus lies in repose.\n\nMy secret is entombed with her,\n\nlook and think what you see there.\n\nA prison with four legs which moved,\n\nyet it could walk nowhere,\n\nwhose arms lacked paws, but yet they held,\n\na wretched captive there.' \"\n\nPhredd closed the book decisively, addressing its cover. \"My bed calls me. I bid you a weary goodnight.\"\n\nBragoon protested. \"Is that all there is?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul reassured the otter. \"If there was more, my old friend would have told you. Right, Phredd?\"\n\nThe ancient Abbey Gatekeeper reached for his nightshirt. \"Right indeed, young Carrul. I have given you all the information that is of interest to you, namely, Sister Amyl's story. We already have a map of the route to Loamhedge that was used by Matthias in his search for his son Mattimeo.\"\n\nSaro yawned and stood up stretching. \"We'll look at that tomorrow. After all that racin' an' jiggin', I'm ready for bed, too. That poem of Sister Amyl's, 'tis a real tail twister an' no mistake. Flowers that never grow, prisons with four legs an' no paws. An' who in the name o' fur'n'bush is Sylvaticus lyin' in repose?\"\n\nOld Phredd poked his head through the neck of the nightshirt. \"Sylvaticus was the first Abbess of Loamhedge. Don't know where I learned that, must have been at Dibbun School. Hmmm, that was more seasons ago than I care to remember. Funny how old little facts stick in one's mind. Don't slam my door when you leave, it doesn't like being slammed. Goodnight!\"\n\nThey strolled back to the Abbey through the balmy night air, discussing the whole thing.\n\nMartha turned to Bragoon and Saro, who were pushing her chair. \"Phredd said that you were the two travellers from the past. Do you believe him?\"\n\nBragoon nodded. \"Of course we do, beauty. Don't ye fret now, me'n my mate'll bring that parchment back from Loamhedge for ye. Ain't that right, Saro?\"\n\nThe aging squirrel's reply left Martha in no doubt. \"Aye, I'll wager a split acorn to a cream tea on it, missy. We'll have ye up'n'dancin' in no time!\"\n\nThe haremaid's face was a picture of joy to behold. \"I will dance someday just for you, my good friends. Tomorrow I'll make a copy of Sister Amyl's poem so you can take it with you in case you forget the words.\"\n\nHorty did a small hopskip of eagerness. \"Splendid idea, my wise an' pretty sis. I'll take charge of it, like a sort of jolly old mapfinder. Wot!\"\n\nBragoon and Saro exchanged glances, and the otter murmured, \"We'll have to see about that.\"\n\nFurther discussion was cut short. Sister Setiva met them at the Abbey doorway. She stood in a pool of golden light, holding up a lantern. The stern old Infirmary Keeper cast a jaundiced eye over the new arrivals.\n\n\"Ah'm tae shew ye to yore beds. There's two spare ones in the room next tae mine.\"\n\nBragoon bowed appreciatively to her. \"It'll be a treat to sleep in a real bed again, Sister.\"\n\nSaro agreed. \"Aye, after some o' the places we've laid our heads down. But we'll be up at the crack o' dawn, ready to lend a paw with yore problem, Martha.\"\n\nBragoon thumped his rudder down firmly. \"Ye can bet yore brekkist on that, missy. We won't let ye down!\"\n\nMartha clasped their paws fondly. \"Pleasant dreams to both of you.\"\n\nThe pair found themselves being prodded, none too gently, with Setiva's blackthorn stick.\n\nShe commanded them in a no-nonsense voice. \"Follow me tae mah sickbay, an' 'twill be woe betide either of ye if ah hear just one wee snore disturbin' mah rest, d'ye ken?\"\n\nBragoon saluted her smartly. \"Oh, we're kennin' away like a pair o' good 'uns, Sister. Lead on!\" They grinned at each other, listening to the shrewnurse while she chunnered away to herself as she shuffled upstairs.\n\n\"Ach, I'll have tae dig oot fresh sheets an' coverlets! Ah'm thinkin' they're big enough tae make their ain beds, great roarin' villains! Ah'll nae sleep a whit taenight, knowin' they two are in the next room tae mine!\"\n\nOpening the infirmary door, she glared at her guests. \"Wipe the mud off ye're paws an' the silly grins offn'n ye're faces. Ah'll be inspectin' yon sickbay on the morrow, an' ah'll skelpit the pair o' ye if'n there's one wee thing oot o' place, d'ye ken? Ah bid ye a silent guidnight!\" She slammed the door and retreated into her own chamber.\n\nBragoon burst out sniggering as Saro called out in imitation of Setiva's far northern accent.\n\n\"Aye, we ken, Sister, an' a guidnight to ye, too, the noo!\"\n\nThe Sister's strict tone rang out from the adjoining room. \"Ah'll be in there wi' mah stick if there's anither sound, so get tae sleep an' no talkin'!\"\n\nSaro whispered in Bragoon's ear. \"Goodnight, mate.\"\n\n##\n\nEarly morn found the northeast skies showing more promise of decent weather. Outside the holt of Shoredog, pleasant sunlight was turning the mist into a warm yellow haze over the stream.\n\nLonna Bowstripe limped out with the rest of the sea otters to witness the arrival of the otter known as Garfo Trok. He had come in a peculiar-looking craft, a long, battered old boat with rounded stern and for'ard ends. It had a rickety cabin erected amidships and sported a square, heavily-patched sail, which was furled around a much repaired crosspiece.\n\nGarfo was a stream otter, a jovial, fat beast. He wore an old iron helmet that resembled a cooking pot, and a permanent smile on his broad, friendly face. Shipping his paddling pole, Garfo waddled ashore and began singing in a dreadfully toneless voice.\n\n\" 'Tis a long ways down the stream, me lads,\n\nwhen a beast ain't got no grub oh,\n\nwid a belly like a wind-blowed sail,\n\naboard this leaky tub oh.\n\nIf I fell overboard like this,\n\nall thin'n'pale'n'slack oh,\n\na pike'd take one look at me,\n\nan' quickly chuck me back oh!\n\nMe ribs are showin' through me fur,\n\nI'm frightened o' the weather,\n\nin case a sudden gust o' wind,\n\nwhips me off like a feather.\n\nMe cheeks are sunken hollow,\n\nan' me nose is wintry blue, lads,\n\nme rudder's covered in green mold,\n\nI'm sufferin' from the Doodads!\n\nTake pity on this riverdog,\n\nan' feed me good ole vittles,\n\nsome skilly'n'duff to stop me bones,\n\na-clackin' round like skittles.\n\nA pot or two o' barley stew,\n\nan' nutbread by the plateful,\n\nan' a bathtub full o' custard, lads,\n\nwould find me ever grateful!\"\n\nThe sea otters laughed and applauded Garfo heartily, then gathered round as he shook paws, patted backs and kissed babes, all the while hooting in booming tones, \"Whoohoohoo, slap me rudder an' curl me whiskers! Lookit ye lot. Wot 'ave youse been feedin' yoreselves on? Y'all look so chub'n'sparky! Ma Sork, me ole tatercake, are ye still bakin' the primest nutbread in the northeast?\"\n\nOld Sork whacked him playfully with her ladle as he picked her up and hugged her. \"Put me down, ye great fatbarrel. I've been up all night bakin' nutloaves to feed yore hungry gob!\"\n\nGarfo put her down and cast a jolly eye over Lonna. \"Whoohoo, shrivel me snout an' gravel me guts! So this is the giant stripedog I'm carryin' as cargo. Hah, I thought I was a big 'un, but ye could eat dinner of'n me head, mate!\"\n\nLonna shook Garfo Trok's paw. \"Pleased to meet you, mate, but I'm not just cargo. My name is Lonna Bowstripe, and I can wield a paddle as good as most.\"\n\nGarfo was big and well built for an otter, but Lonna's giant frame towered over him. He released the badger's huge paw.\n\n\"Wield a paddle, big feller? Whoohoo, ye look strong enough t'carry me an' my old boat _Beetlebutt_ up a waterfall on yore back! Belay, Lonna, let's get some brekkist afore we sail.\"\n\nLonna had already eaten, so he sat nibbling a crust of rye bread and sipping some plum cordial whilst Garfo dealt with breakfast. The otter was a mighty eater and extremely odd in his choice of food. He spread nutbread with honey and dunked it into hotroot soup. Breaking up an apple pie, he crumbled it into a bowl of mushroom stew, daubing plum preserve on an onion-and-leek pastie.\n\nClearing the lot in a remarkably short time, Garfo stood up, patting his big stomach. \"Ahoy, Lonna, pack that bow'n' arrers an' let's go sailin'. Can't waste a fine mornin' sittin' here vittlin', like some I've seen. Never could abide greediness in a beast!\"\n\nThe otters had packed _Beetlebutt_ with an amazing array of provisions. Lonna looked around at the faces of all these otters that he had come to like so much. It was going to be a sad experience saying good-bye to them. Garfo stood, waiting to push off, as the badger went in turn to each of his otter friends\u2014Shoredog, Sork, Marinu and many others, saving his last farewell for Abruc and young Stugg. Lonna embraced Abruc warmly and clasped his paw. A tear coursed down the big badger's scarred face.\n\n\"Farewell to you and your family, my good friend. I will never forget you and your son. You saved my life, cared for me, fed and nursed me. All I can give you in return are my thanks and undying friendship!\"\n\nAbruc scuffed the ground with his rudder, then looked up at the big badger. \"Friendship is the greatest gift one can give to another. You are a goodbeast, Lonna. I know ye would've done the same for me an' mine if'n ye found us lyin' hurt. Go on, mate, you go now, an' know our thoughts are always with ye!\"\n\nStugg tugged at Lonna's paw until the badger lifted the young otter and held him level with his eyes. His face solemn, Stugg wiped a tear from Lonna's striped muzzle.\n\n\"Lonn', der is somet'ink you can do for me an' my farder. Get Rag' Bol an' dose Searats, so they don't hurt no more pore beasts!\"\n\nThe badger put Stugg back down and stepped aboard the boat. Raising his bow, he called out as Garfo pushed off into the midstream.\n\n\"Stugg, my little mate. I swear by the fine string your father made for this bow. I will wipe Raga Bol and his Searats from the land forever. This is my oath, and my promise to you. Good-bye!\"\n\nPutting aside the bow, he joined Garfo Trok at the paddling poles.\n\nFighting away the tears, Lonna did not look back as they sped downstream. Behind him the tribe of Shoredog stood on the banks, singing an old sea otter song of farewell.\n\n\"When the sun sets like fire,\n\nI will think of you,\n\nwhen the moon casts its light,\n\nI'll remember, too,\n\nif a soft rain falls gently,\n\nI'll stand in this place,\n\nrecalling the last time,\n\nI saw your kind face.\n\nGood fortune go with you,\n\nto your journey's end,\n\nlet the waters run calmly,\n\nfor you, my dear friend.\"\n\nGarfo Trok had spent his life amid the northeast streams and rivers. There was no waterway for leagues that the burly otter was not familiar with. Lonna obeyed his every order, backing and tacking down the broad stream. They made good progress. Midday found the Beetlebutt running smoothly with a fair breeze running astern.\n\nGarfo shipped his long paddle, gazing up at the blue, cloud-flecked sky. \"Let the ole lady drift for awhile, mate. Belay that paddle an' we'll haul sail an' take a bite o' lunch.\"\n\nThey released the sail and made its ends fast to the cleats. Lonna had been wondering when the otter's appetite was going to reappear. Together they sat on the roof of the little midships cabin, drinking cider and eating nutbread.\n\nGarfo chuckled as he watched the big badger consume his lunch. \"Whoohoo, ain't nothin' wrong with a beast who kin eat hearty, mate! That limp o' yourn will soon clear up with a good cruise. Ye won't be walkin' so much.\" Lonna liked the feel of a boat beneath his paws; he felt rested and well.\n\nGesturing ahead, he enquired, \"How long can we go by water, Garfo?\"\n\nThe otter refilled his beaker. \"Almost into Mossflower. This ole stream takes a turn there an' runs back east. I kin see yore wonderin' 'ow far ahead those vermin are.\"\n\nLonna eyed him keenly. \"Aye, can ye tell me, mate?\"\n\nGarfo scratched his rudder thoughtfully. \"Raga Bol has t'go by land since they ain't got no boat an' there's too many of 'em for small rivercraft. Those Searats should be well into Mossflower Wood by now. I'd say ye was about ten days behind 'em, Lonna. But I kin cut that down to eight, wid some canny sailin'. Don't fret, mate.\"\n\nThe badger's eyes narrowed, the look on his ruined face caused the otter to shudder. Lonna laughed mirthlessly. \"Oh, I'm not fretting at all. I'll catch up to them for sure!\"\n\nThe country they were sailing through was open, with no tree cover. Gradually it ran into hills and gorges, the streambanks growing higher on either side.\n\nGarfo pointed to a steep bend up ahead. \"When we round the point of yon bend, we'll be meetin' up with Buteo. Now I know yore not a-feared of anybeast, but don't start anythin' wid him. I've knowed Buteo a long time.\"\n\nLonna was intrigued. \"Just as you say, mate, but who is Buteo?\"\n\nGarfo crumbled some nutbread on the cabin roof. \"Oh, ye'll find out soon enuff, matey, soon enuff!\"\n\n _Beetlebutt_ took the bend smoothly, keeping to midstream. Halfway around it, Lonna was startled to feel a slight cuff on the back of his head. Buteo landed like a bolt of lightning, silent and menacing. He was a honey buzzard\u2014a large, savage-looking bird of prey. From fawn-barred tail to mottled chest, and huge wingspan to lethal-hooked beak and a fierce eye, Buteo looked every inch a killer. Folding his wings, the buzzard stared disdainfully at the crumbled nutbread that Garfo had put out for him, then pointed a lethally sharp talon at them.\n\n\"Heek! This be Buteo territory, I rule here. Heeeeeekah!\"\n\nGarfo replied cheerily. \"So ye do, me ole burdy, but we ain't trespassin', just passin' through.\"\n\nButeo cocked his head to one side, glaring at them. \"Yaheeek! I riddle you riddle, you spin me a spin. Only pass here if you win. Good?\"\n\nGarfo cautioned Lonna to silence with a warning glance. The badger watched as the otter appeared to consider this proposition.\n\n\"Good it is, Buteo. You go first.\"\n\nThe honey buzzard stared up at the sky, a thing that honey buzzards do when trying to appear mysterious. \"Heeeeekoh! What be brown'n'yellow, fat'n'mad, an' if you slow, sting you bad?\"\n\nGarfo scratched his rudder, shaking his head, as if really perplexed. \"Frazzle me whiskers, Buteo, that's a real poser!\"\n\nButeo pecked up the crumbled nutbread, sniggering. \"Keeheeheehee! Stupid riverdog not crossing through my country. Buteo much clever. Keehar!\"\n\nGarfo tipped a sly wink to Lonna, then jumped up shouting. \"I got it, 'tis a bumbly bee!\"\n\nBoth Garfo and Lonna had to avoid the buzzard's wings as he beat the air in frustration. \"Yeekeeha! How you know?\"\n\nThe otter twitched his nose modestly. \"Oh, I just took a guess. But it was a great an' clever riddle.\"\n\nButeo stalked up and down, digging his talons angrily into the cabin roof. Then he turned and wheeled on Garfo. \"Yeeee! You still not go 'til you spin me. This time I win!\"\n\nThe crafty otter produced a flat pebble from his helmet, spat on one side of it and held it up for the bird to see. \"Right, I'll spin ye\u2014dry side I win, wet side you lose. Good?\"\n\nThe honey buzzard nodded eagerly. \"Keehee! I take wet!\"\n\nGarfo spun the pebble into the air, chanting, \"Up she comes, down she goes, how she lands, nobeast knows!\"\n\nButeo's keen eyes watched every spin of the stone until it clacked down flat on the deck.\n\nGarfo grinned from ear to ear. \"Wet side, you lose!\"\n\nThe buzzard hovered over the otter, glaring murderously at him. Garfo sat munching a chuck of nutbread, looking the fierce bird straight in the eye. \"Ye've got to let us pass now, mate, or you ain't a bird whose word can be trusted.\"\n\nFearing that the buzzard was going to attack Garfo, Lonna braced himself to spring upon it.\n\nThe bird's black and gold eyes dilated wildly as it screeched. \"Allbeast know Buteo be a bird of honour, my word always good. I slay anybeast who say different. Yeeeeeekaaaah!\"\n\nSnatching the nutbread from the otter's paw, he soared off into the air\u2014up and up, until he was a mere dot in the sky.\n\nLonna relaxed gratefully. \"That was a close call, my friend. Buteo looked like a bird who would fight to the death. How did you manage to hoodwink him like that?\"\n\nGarfo Trok winked knowingly. \"I been doin' it a long time, mate, whenever my journeys take me by this way. Pore ole Buteo's memory's scrambled from too many battles. Besides, he ain't the brightest o' birds. Funny how he loses every time. I'll let him win on the return trip, 'cos I'll be bound back nor'east anyway. That's fair enough.\"\n\nLonna could not help laughing at the sly otter. \"You great fat fraud! Shame on you, Garfo Trok!\"\n\nNibbling on a piece of cheese he had found, Garfo waved his rudder nonchalantly. \"Better'n havin' to fight t'the death wid a mad buzzard. You said so yoreself, mate. Anythin' for an easy life, that's my motto.\"\n\n##\n\nThe Searat Blowfly sat on a rotten log, cooling his footpaws by rubbing them in the rich, damp loam. Gazing up at the trunks of mighty woodland trees, with their canopy of sun-pierced green, he murmured to the Searat sitting alongside him.\n\n\"I likes this 'ere Mossflower place, better weather 'ere than on that nor'east coast. Plenny o' shelter an' prime vittles, too!\"\n\nHis companion, a sad-faced Searat called Rojin, rubbed his blistered footpaws tenderly as he complained. \"Huh, if only we wasn't marchin' so much. I ain' cut out fer all this trekkin'. I'm a Searat, norra landlubber!\"\n\nHangclaw, another rat, limped over to join them. Rooting with his daggerpoint at a splinter in his footpaw, he spat in disgust.\n\n\"Right y'are, shipmate, just look at me pore trampers. Why are we walkin' all the time. Where's ole Bol got us bound to? We're traipsin' around all day an' 'arf the night!\"\n\nGlimbo, the one-eyed rat who had been first mate aboard ship, had been loitering nearby, eavesdropping on the three crewrats. Sneaking up behind them, he gave the rotten log a hard shove with his spearpoint, sending the trio sprawling into the loam.\n\n\"Gerrup on yer paws an' quit whinin', ye slab-sided sons o' worms. If the cap'n catches ye, he'll leave youse here to rest as food fer the ants. Now march!\"\n\nRaga Bol had been marching up in front of the others but had looked back over his shoulder so often that the crew could not fail to notice. The Searat captain dropped back until he was level with Glimbo. Catching his mate's sleeve with the deadly silver hook, Bol swiftly dragged him behind a broad sycamore trunk.\n\nGlimbo's sightless eye rolled in its socket as he saluted. \"They're all on the march, Cap'n!\"\n\nRaga Bol poked his head out from behind the tree and snarled at the backstragglers. \"Keep movin', I'm watchin' ye!\" Then he turned his attention to the trembling Glimbo. \"They're talkin' about me, wot're they sayin'? The truth!\"\n\nThe mate was trembling so hard that the back of his head made a noise on the tree trunk like a woodpecker. \"N . . . nothin', Cap'n, they ain't sayin' nothin'.\"\n\nHe heard the slither of cold steel as Bol drew his scimitar. As Raga Bol pulled him close, Glimbo could see the glint of his captain's gold teeth. He knew how dangerous the captain's moods were becoming.\n\nWith his scimitar upraised, Bol hissed, \"They must be sayin' somethin', ye mud-brained idiot!\"\n\nWords poured out of Glimbo at breakneck pace. \"On me oath, Cap'n, the whole crew's sayin' 'ow thankful they are to ye for bringin' 'em 'ere, where 'tis sunny an' there's easy pickins. It's just that they ain't used to all this marchin' . . . some of 'em gotten sore paws.\"\n\n _Thunk!_ The scimitar blade cut deep into the sycamore, taking off a tuft of Glimbo's whiskers. \"Sore paws, is it? You tell any beast moanin' about sore paws that I'll chop 'em off an' make 'em march on the stumps! Aye, an' ye can tell all the crew to quit starin' at me all the time. An' ye can tell 'em another thing, too. Any rat I 'ears mentionin' that giant stripedog, I'll make 'im eat his own tongue. There ain't no big stripedog follerin' me, d'ye hear?\"\n\nGlimbo gulped hard, knowing how close to death he had come. Raga Bol wandered off without warning, leaving him to pull the scimitar loose and return it. The mate was surprised to see his captain sit down in the loam and speak in a voice that almost had a sob in it. \"I ain't been sleepin' at nights. Post extra guards around me when it gets dark.\"\n\nGlimbo dislodged the blade and returned it to his captain. Raga Bol grabbed the scimitar, staring suspiciously at him.\n\n\"Stop starin' at me like that, thick'ead. Gerrabout yer business an' make 'em march faster!\"\n\nGlimbo saluted and walked off bemused. This was not the Raga Bol he knew from the seafaring days. The captain was definitely acting strange. He glanced back at Bol, but the captain did not notice him looking, because he, too, was peering back over his shoulder.\n\nBadredd felt the early sun on his muzzle as he lay on a soft patch of moss, with both eyes closed, feigning sleep. He listened to the voices of the gang, identifying each one as they spoke.\n\n\"Sure 'tis a luvly morn, an' a grand ould spot t'be enjoyin' it in!\" Flinky had an unmistakable accent.\n\nHis mate, Crinktail, was next to speak. \"Which way d'ye want these woodpigeon eggs boilin'?\"\n\nFlinky replied, \"Keep 'em nice'n'soft, me ould darlin'. I've never been fussy on hardboiled eggs.\"\n\nCrinktail sounded cheerful. \"I'll cook night an' day for ye, if'n yew can fool that little fox into lettin' us stay by this water for a few more days.\"\n\nBadredd heard Juppa's voice chime in. \"Aye, this is a prime spot. See if'n ye can fool the liddle idjit to stop 'ere fer a score o' days!\"\n\nFlinky oozed confidence. \"Leave it t'me, mates. I'm a silver-tongued ould charmer when I wants t'be!\"\n\nBadredd yawned convincingly, then, opening his eyes, sat up lazily and stretched. \"Boiled woodpigeon eggs, eh? Bring 'em over here, Flinky, I 'ope they're done nice'n'soft.\"\n\nThe stoat gritted his teeth but obeyed the new chief's orders. \"Top o' the mornin' to ye, sir, an' another grand day 'tis, t'be sure. Now ye enjoy those eggs, there's plenny more around. We was just sayin' wot a fine spot ye chose fer us. Yore a wise leader, so y'are!\"\n\nBadredd put the eggs to one side and stood up, sword in paw. Scowling darkly, he asserted his authority. \"Don't get to like it too much, you lot, 'cos we're movin' on as soon as we've eaten. So pack up yore gear an' stand by, ready t'march as soon as Plumnose gets back!\"\n\nHalfchop's face was the picture of dismay. \"But didn't ye say we wuz stayin' 'ere for a coupla days?\"\n\nThe little fox gripped his cutlass tighter. \"Well, I just changed me mind. A chief can do that!\"\n\nSlipback stood paws on hips, facing up to Badredd. \"Changed yore mind, eh, jus' like that! An' where d'ye think yore takin' us, eh?\"\n\nRaising the cutlass, Badredd took a pace forward and snarled nastily at the weasel. \"We're goin' to this Abbey place, if 'tis any business of yores. So git yore tackle t'gether!\"\n\nSlipback turned to the others, scoffing insolently, \"Hah, looks t'me like the liddle fox needs a magic sword t'make 'im look bigger!\"\n\nBadredd's temper snapped. He swung at the weasel's unprotected back, chopping off his tail with a single blow.\n\nSlipback screeched in pain. \"Yeeeaaaargh, me tail!\"\n\nHis mate, Juppa, hastily slapped a pawful of bank mud on the severed stump. Slipback lay moaning, half fainting with the agony.\n\nJuppa glared accusingly at Badredd. \"Ye had no call t'do that to 'im!\"\n\nAs the fox once again flourished his cutlass, the gang fell back. He saw the fear in their eyes and exulted in it. \"Next time anybeast talks t'me like that, I'll slay 'im! Oh, I know wot ye've been sayin' be'ind me back. Think ye can fool me, do ye? Well, dig the dirt out yore lugs an' lissen. I'm rulin' this roost, an' wot I say goes! I'm goin' to own that magic sword, aye, an' take the Abbey, too. Anybeast who sez diff'rent, let 'em speak now!\"\n\nFlinky raised his paws placatingly. \"Ah, sure now, who'd be wantin' t'get themselves slayed by battlin' wid a fine great warrior like yoreself? 'Tis just that we thought ye was goin' to stop 'ere a few days.\"\n\nIt was then that Badredd knew he was really the leader of the gang. A feeling of power surged through him. Now he could be as cruel and commanding as Burrad or Skrodd. Had he not just drawn blood? Curling his lip contemptuously, he growled, \"I do the thinkin' from now on. We're goin' to the Abbey. Come on, Slipback, up on yer hunkers, ye ain't dead yet.\"\n\nWith a poultice of mud and dockleaf tied to his severed tail, the weasel rose slowly, fixing Badredd with a stare of hatred. \"There's eight of us an' only one of you, fox. Don't get too big'n'fancy wid yore ideas, 'cos ye've still got to sleep at nights. I wouldn't turn me back on us too often if'n I was you\u2014ye can't kill us all!\"\n\nBadredd realised the truth in Slipback's statement, but now that he had all this newfound power he was not backing down. With his cutlass blade, Badredd upset the small cauldron of water over the campfire. It went out with a hiss and a cloud of steam.\n\nAt that moment, Plumnose came lumbering back through the woodlands. The ferret's oversized nose wobbled from side to side as he took in the scene. \"Huh, wod's bin goin' on, mates?\"\n\nFlinky began explaining. \"Ah well, Plum, me ould messmate, wait'll I tell ye wot . . .\"\n\nBadredd shoved the stoat roughly aside. \"I'm the chief now\u2014make yore report t'me. Well, wot did ye find?\"\n\nPlumnose pointed in the direction he had been scouting. \"Er, over der, I'b found a path dat runs south't'north. I t'ink dat's der way to the h'abbey. Id's aboud h'a day's march, Chief, to d'path I mean.\"\n\nBadredd pointed with his blade. \"Get movin', you lot. Plumnose, you go up front an' show 'em the way. Slipback, Juppa, Crinktail, Flinky an' Halfchop, up front wid 'im. I ain't walkin' wid youse behind me. Rogg an' Floggo, you bring up the rear wid me.\"\n\nHe shook the cutlass at Flinky. \"An' remember this, old silver tongue, no gossipin' an' plottin', 'cos I'll be watchin' ye. There'll be no more coaxin' me inter things wot I don't wanna do. Now move yoreselves!\"\n\nIt was pleasant walking through the woodlands. Patches of light and shade mottled the grass, and many forest blossoms were coming into bloom. The weasel brothers, Rogg and Floggo, were a taciturn pair. Since both of them carried bows and arrows, Badredd had kept them back with him. He explained their duties as he watched the backs of the gang, marching ahead. Badredd confided to the weasel brothers as though they were lifelong friends.\n\n\"Stay by my side, mates, I'll make ye both my seconds in command. Keep yore eyes on the rest of that gang an' watch me back. Aye, ye two look true'n'blue t'me. When we conquer that Abbey place, I'll reward ye well. Mark my words, ye'll live the lives o' kings!\"\n\nRogg and Floggo were not at all impressed by the little fox's brags and promises. They had seen gang leaders come and go, each one as ruthlessly cruel as the next. Keeping a stolid silence, the brothers marched dutifully on. Badredd kept a half pace behind them, carrying the cutlass over one shoulder like a spear. He had tried wearing it thrust into his belt, but the blade was too long. It dragged along the ground and got caught twixt his footpaws, causing undignified stumbles. Leaders could not afford to look foolish to those serving them.\n\nMorning wore on to midday. The gang's initial feelings of a brisk march through pleasant country began to pall as the going got more difficult. Those who were marching in front began complaining when they had to pass through a wide area of stinging nettles. Badredd roared at them to carry on in silence, which they did but only briefly. They had come upon marshy ground\u2014not too deep but very uncomfortable\u2014and soon were grumbling loudly. Swarms of midges attacked as the vermin struggled through the smelly, oozing mud. This time they ignored Badredd's shouts and threats, even hurling insults back at him. After what seemed like hours, the front marchers emerged onto firm ground. Badredd and his bodyguards Rogg and Floggo hurried to catch up with them.\n\nThe gang had found a dry, sunny clearing where they lay, looking sullen and rebellious. One glance at their mud-splashed, insect-bitten faces warned their leader of trouble to come should he start roaring out orders to continue marching. Badredd forestalled this by sitting down wearily and commenting, \"Ye did well there, mates, let's rest 'ere awhile. Ahoy, Plum, are ye sure this is the right way? Are ye sure that hooter o' yores didn't wobble in the wrong direction, eh?\"\n\nNot even a snigger greeted his little joke. Picking dried mud from his nosetip, the ferret replied dully, \"Dis is duh way h'I went awright.\"\n\nThe vermin gang had no supplies with them and were too tired to forage. Crinktail and Halfchop stretched out and began taking a nap in the warm sunlight. Plumnose, Juppa, Slipback and Flinky sat in a group, conversing in muted tones. Rogg and Floggo slouched nearby, their eyes half closed.\n\nBadredd began feeling dozy in the midday heat, but he forced himself to sit up and look alert. He saw Slipback glance his way, then whisper something to Juppa. The little fox pointed the cutlass at them.\n\n\"Cut out the whisperin', I'm warnin' ye!\"\n\nFlinky grinned impudently and threw a lazy salute. \"Ah sure, they wasn't sayin' ought bad about ye, sir. Wid yore permission, would it be alright if we was to sing?\"\n\nBadredd relaxed, shrugging indifferently. \"Sing 'til yore tongues drop off, if'n ye've a mind to. But none o' that gossipin' an' whisperin' to each other!\"\n\nThe four exchanged sly winks. Flinky began singing a lullaby in a soft soothing voice.\n\n\"All the walkin' today that I've done, done, done,\n\ntrampin' through mud in the sun, sun, sun,\n\nit reminds me of the days when me dear ould mother said,\n\ncome on now liddle feller, time for bed . . . bed . . . bed.\n\nSo hush a-bye, looh ah-lie, baby close yore eyes,\n\nan' dream about the moon up in the starry skies.\"\n\nHe repeated the verse again, even softer, with the other three vermin humming gently in the background.\n\nBadredd's head drooped forward slightly, the cutlass lying limp in his open paw. His thoughts drifted back to his own young seasons. Through a golden haze of memory, he was barely aware of Flinky's singing. It was the same tune but with different words.\n\n\"It looks like the fox has gone to sleep, sleep, sleep,\n\nSlippy now be quiet as ye creep, creep, creep,\n\nan' stick a good sharp spear straight through his head,\n\nthen the moment that he wakes up he'll be dead, dead, dead!\n\nSo hush a-bye, don't ye cry, foxy close yore eyes,\n\nan' ye'll soon make lovely vittles for the ants an' flies!\"\n\nThe murderous scheme might have worked out successfully had it not been for Plumnose. He thought that the altered words were so funny that he clapped his paws and broke out into hearty guffaws.\n\n\"Duh, haw haw haaaw! Dat's a gudd 'un, I like dat, Flink! Haw haw haw, wake up dead, berry gudd!\"\n\nBadredd snapped immediately back to reality. He caught Slipback, brandishing a spear not three paces from him. Grabbing up his cutlass, the fox raised it threateningly.\n\n\"Wot are yew up to, weasel?\"\n\nSlipback veered and went past him. He started jabbing at the shrubbery at the edge of the glade.\n\n\"Thought I saw those bushes movin', Chief. It might've been that otter an' the squirrel, er, Sagroon an' Bando!\"\n\nFlinky interposed. \"I know who ye mean, Bragoon an' Saro. I saw the bushes move, too, Chief. Slipback could be right!\"\n\nThinking swiftly, Badredd turned the situation to his advantage. \"No sense in takin' chances then. We'd best git movin' fast. Come on, up on yore paws!\"\n\nBadredd drove them hard for the remainder of the day by adopting a simple but effective scheme. He ordered Rogg and Floggo to fire off arrows from time to time. The deadly shafts fell just short of the marchers' rear, causing them to hasten forward. Oaths and curses accompanied the arrival of each arrow, but they kept going, knowing they were only getting tit for tat. The plot to rid themselves of the little fox had failed, but they realised that, had it been Burrad or Skrodd in Badredd's place, Flinky and Slipback would have been slain as retribution. They were getting off lightly.\n\nProgress was good. By evening, Badredd was heartened to hear Plumnose calling out, \"Dere's duh path at de end ob the trees!\"\n\nSure enough, they had reached the border of the woodlands. In front of them lay the path, which ran down from the north to the south.\n\nFlinky leaned on an elm trunk, smiling cheerfully as the fox came up to see. \"Ah well, there ye are now, Chief. All we gotta do is follow that road t'the left an' keep goin' 'til we hit Redwall Abbey!\"\n\n##\n\nLarks soared joyfully on the flatlands outside of Redwall, singing their hymns to the newborn day. Chiming a melodious bass line, the Abbey's twin bells boomed out warmly. Indoors, all the young ones were already up and about, anticipating the arrival of Summer Feast.\n\nSister Setiva invariably rose to the tolling bells. Up and dressed, tidy and neat, she rapped on the sickbay door with her blackthorn stick, berating the sleepers within.\n\n\"Oot o' those beds, ye great dozy lumpkins. If your no' out here in a braces o' shakes, ah'll be in there an' haul ye both oot by your tails!\"\n\nBragoon poked a sleepy head from beneath his coverlet. \"Hear that, mate? I think we'd best get up. Huh, I'd sooner face a regiment o' vermin than that ole shrewnurse!\"\n\nReaching out a paw, Saro grasped a bedside stool and rattled it noisily on the floor, calling out. \"We're both up, Sister, just makin' the beds an' tidyin' round. We'll be out there in a tick!\"\n\nSetiva's shrill warning came back loud and clear. \"Och, you're a braw fibber. Ah'll be doonstairs, keeping an eye out for ye. Laggardly sluggards!\"\n\nThe pair sat up at the sound of her retreating stick taps. Saro yawned and thumped her head back on the pillows. \"Just leave me here for the rest o' the season, Brag. I'd forgotten how comfy a real bed feels. Mmmmmmmm!\"\n\nLeaping out of bed, the otter swished water from a ewer on his face and towelled it vigourously. \"Fair enough, me ole bushtail, you stop there. I haven't forgotten how good a Redwall brekkist tastes.\"\n\nWithout bothering to wash, Saro pursued him downstairs. \"I'm right with ye, ole ten bellies. You ain't scoffin' all the vittles afore I gets a crack at 'em!\"\n\nMartha had just finished making up a tray for herself and Old Phredd when she saw the pair rush in and begin loading up two trays from the long buffet tables set up in the kitchen passage. She giggled at the sight of them, helping themselves to some of everything, chuckling with delight at the food.\n\n\"Almond wafers with raspberry sauce, my favourite!\"\n\n\"Oatmeal with apple'n'honey, just the stuff! Granmum Gurvel, me ole beauty, pass me some o' that pastie. Wot's in it?\"\n\n\"Burr, ee mushenrooms an' carrot, zurr, wi' h'onion sauce.\"\n\n\"Onion sauce! Gimme two portions, one for Starvation Saro!\"\n\n\"Hah, lissen to ole bucket mouth! You get us two mint teas, Brag, an' I'll fill two beakers o' Junty Cellarhog's best damson cordial. Oh great, hot scones! Gimme, gimme!\"\n\nLeaving the buffet, they beamed at the haremaid over the tops of their laden trays. \"Mornin', Miss Martha, we're just makin' up for the lost brekkists, ain't that right, Bragg?\"\n\nThe otter winked roguishly. \"Haharr, sleepin' in a real bed gives a beast a powerful appetite.\"\n\nMartha looked up at their heaped trays. \"I'm sure it does. Perhaps you'd like to take breakfast in the gatehouse with Phredd and me, away from all this bustle.\"\n\nBalancing the tray skilfully on his head, Bragoon began wheeling Martha's chair. \"An honour an' a pleasure, miss. Besides, 'twill get us out of Sister Setiva's way. Come on, afore she finds we ain't made our beds or tidied the sickbay.\"\n\nHalfway across the lawn, Abbot Carrul caught up with them. \"Oh dear, Martha, I've brought breakfast for Phredd, too.\"\n\nThe haremaid indicated her two companions. \"Don't worry, Father, it won't go to waste!\"\n\nThe old hedgehog Gatekeeper welcomed them in. He reached for his nightshirt, then shook his head absentmindedly. \"Hmm, must've gone to bed in my daytime habit. Look at me, putting my nightshirt on to start the day. What's it all coming to, eh, eh?\"\n\nPhredd gestured at the volume lying on the table. \"The account by Tim Churchmouse about the route to Loamhedge, when Matthias was searching for his son. If you two read it, you'll learn of how to get there.\"\n\nSaro leafed briefly through the ancient pages. \"Me'n Brag ain't champion readers like you, sir. We'd rather see the map\u2014that'll tell us more.\"\n\nNo sooner had Martha showed them the copy she had made of the map, than the squirrel and the otter glanced at one another and nodded.\n\nBragoon tapped his paw upon the map. \"We've travelled this country afore. I can recall most of it\u2014those high cliffs, the pine forest, river, desert an' the great gorge. Dangerous country, eh Saro?\"\n\nThe aging squirrel held the map this way and that as she studied it. \"Aye, bad territory, though we came to it a different way. I remember those rocks, the ones shaped like a bell an' a badger's head, but I can't bring that tall tree to mind.\"\n\nBragoon tapped his rudder thoughtfully against the floor. \"It prob'ly collapsed with age. This map was made seasons afore we were born. But 'tis the same area alright, riddled with vermin an' all manner o' perils. I was glad to get away from it!\"\n\nMartha looked disappointed. \"Does that mean it's too dangerous to make the journey?\"\n\nThe otter laughed. \"Haharr, wot ever gave ye that idea, me beauty? Danger's wot me an' Saro live on. We'd both end up dead afore our seasons was out livin' at Redwall.\"\n\nThe squirrel nodded mournfully. \"All the good vittles an' soft beds, that'd finish us off. Huh, if Sister Setiva didn't.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul poured mint tea for Old Phredd. \"Then when will you be going?\"\n\nSaro selected a hot scone and bit into it. \"Straight after the Summer Feast, if'n we can still walk. Late noon prob'ly. We'll travel southeast.\"\n\nAfter breakfasting they set off for the orchard to help with the festive preparations. Horty, with his two friends, Springald and Fenna, came out of the Abbey, carrying a trestle board. The young hare hailed Bragoon and Saro.\n\n\"Hello there, you chaps. Well, have you sorted out a jolly old way to Loamhedge for us, wot?\"\n\nBragoon answered him rather abruptly. \"Aye!\"\n\nSpringald bounced up and down eagerly. \"Oh good, when are we leaving?\"\n\nFenna's eyes shone happily. \"A journey to Loamhedge. Great seasons, I've been looking forward to this!\"\n\nHorty looked from Bragoon to Saro excitedly. \"Come on then, you bounders, who's got my copy of the bally map? Remember, I'm the flippin' pathfinder, y'know.\"\n\nBragoon turned to face the trio, his voice stern. \"This ain't no daisy dance! Me'n my mate Saro'll be makin' the journey to Loamhedge . . . alone!\"\n\nHorty's ears drooped. \"But you said . . .\"\n\nSaro interrupted him. \"We never said nothin', young 'un. Yore the one whose been doin' all the sayin'. Bragoon an' me knows the country we got to go through. We can make it alone, but it'd be far too dangerous with three young 'uns in tow.\"\n\nFenna was outraged. \"You mean you aren't taking us?\"\n\nBragoon nodded. \"That's right, missy. 'Tis too much responsibility. We couldn't show our faces back in this Abbey if'n ye were slain by vermin or killed in an accident. We're goin' alone, an' that's that!\"\n\nSpringald tried to make an appeal to the Abbot. \"What's he talking about? We've as much right to go as they have! Martha's our friend, too. Father, you're the Abbot of Redwall. You make all the decisions here, tell them!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul beckoned the three young ones to him. Putting his paws about their shoulders, he spoke kindly. \"Now, now, what Bragoon and Saro say makes sense. None of you has ever been further than the main gate. You're far too inexperienced to make such a trip, trust me. Our two friends are thinking of your own good.\"\n\nHorty pulled away from the Abbot, his ears standing stiffly with indignation. \"Tosh'n'piffle, sah! We're young and strong. We can put up with anythin' those two old fogies can! Bragoon and Saro are old chums of yours. That's why you're blinkin' well siding with 'em. And anyhow, what flippin' right have you to stop us goin', wot?\"\n\nSpringald and Fenna supported him volubly. \"Horty's right, it's not fair. You let us think we were going all along, then changed your mind at the last moment!\"\n\n\"Aye, it's just because we're young, and those two old wrecks want to grab all the glory for themselves. What do you think, Martha? Come on, tell them we're right.\"\n\nMartha shook her head. \"If the message from Sister Amyl, when she appeared in my dream with Martin the Warrior, had mentioned that you should go, I'd be the first to say yes. But only the two travellers, Bragoon and Saro, were included in the rhyme. So I'm afraid I must say no\u2014not that my decision matters. Our Father Abbot has forbidden you to journey to Loamhedge, so you must abide by his word. Also, I trust Bragoon and Saro. They know of the dangers and are far more experienced at things like this than the three of you.\"\n\nHorty exploded. \"It's nothin' but a confounded plot against us. Shame on all of you, shame I say!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul put his footpaw down sternly. \"Enough of this talk! Arguing and casting insults is not the way in which any decent Redwaller should behave. Any more of this from you, Horty, or your two friends, and there'll be three empty seats at the Summer Feast this afternoon!\"\n\nHorty glared back at the Abbot, his temper completely out of control. \"Keep your rotten feast, blinkin' bounders!\"\n\nThe Abbot's paw shot out. \"Go to your rooms and stay there until you are ready to apologise, all three of you!\"\n\nThe trio ran off, shouting, \"Don't worry, we wouldn't be seen dead at your Feast!\"\n\n\"Come on, leave those old greywhiskers to themselves!\"\n\n\"You'll be jolly well sorry, we'll stay in the blinkin' dormitory until we die of flippin' starvation. So there!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul comforted Martha, who had become so upset that she had begun weeping. \"There, there, Martha, don't you waste tears on those three. Could you imagine Horty starving himself to death? 'Tis as unlikely as me trying to leap over the belltower. Give them a day and they'll have changed their minds, trust me.\" Carrul bowed slightly to Bragoon and Saro. \"Please forgive the bad manners of those three young ones.\"\n\nSaro smiled wryly. \"No need to apologise to us, friend. I can recall two, younger'n'Horty an' his pals, two more bad-mannered liddle scuts ye never did see!\"\n\nMartha blinked through her tears. \"Were you really that bad?\"\n\nBragoon shuffled his rudder awkwardly. \"Oh, much worse, missy. Take me word fer it!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul chuckled heartily. \"Aye, now that you've come to mention it, 'tis a wonder you turned out so well!\"\n\nBragoon clapped him on the back. \"An' ye, too, Carrul. Ye wasn't exactly a model Dibbun as I remember!\"\n\nWhipping out a clean kerchief, the Abbot busily wiped away at Martha's eyes. \"Yes, well, that was a long time ago. Now then, missy, are you going to keep weeping and bring on the rain, or are you going to smile for our Summer Feast?\"\n\nShe smiled happily. \"Are you still going to carry on with the feast, Father, I mean after what just took place?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul reassured her. \"Of course I am, no need to halt it because of three surly young 'uns. If they want to join in, all they have to do is apologise for their bad manners. Come on, friends, I wouldn't miss my Summer Feast for anything!\"\n\nSet in the orchard against a background of ripening fruit and summer flowers, complete with sumptuously decked tables, the feast turned out to be a huge success. Freshly washed and dressed, the Redwallers took their places, waiting on the Abbot to start the proceedings. Martha sat between Bragoon and Saro. The three of them stared in awe at the magnificent spread. Salads, pasties and savouries were still being brought on trolleys by the servers. These were placed among the pies, tarts and flans. Jugs of various cordials and fizzes stood between trifles, crumbles, puddings and candied fruits. Loaves of many shapes and types, still fresh from the ovens, were set amid cheeses of different hues\u2014from pale cream to golden yellow.\n\nEverybeast, even the Dibbuns, ceased their chatter as Abbot Carrul stood up and recited a verse, specially written for the event.\n\n\"We celebrate this happy day,\n\nwith fair and right good reason,\n\nin friendship, let us share the fruits,\n\nof this fine summer season.\n\nWe seed and plant the fertile earth,\n\nto use what she may give,\n\nand thank the kindly summer sun,\n\nwhich gives us joy to live.\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel, resplendent in a new floral-embroidered apron, called out. \"You'm never spoked truer wurds, zurr!\"\n\nWith that, the Summer Feast began in earnest. Junty Cellarhog tapped a barrel of strawberry fizz, which he had made the previous summer. Dibbuns squealed with delight as the bubbles tickled their mouths. Carving a wedge from a soft hazelnut cheese, Bragoon added it to his salad. Toran noticed him brushing away a teardrop.\n\n\"Wot's the matter with ye, brother?\"\n\nThe otter looked mournfully at the festive board. \"Nothin' really, I was just thinkin' of all the Redwall feasts I've missed since me'n Saro left the Abbey.\"\n\nToran scoffed. \"Don't fret, it looks like yore makin' up for it with a will!\"\n\nSaro adopted a wheedling tone toward the ottercook. \"Anybeast who can cook vittles like these should be famous. Toran, ole pal, why don't ye come adventurin' with me'n yore brother? You could cook for us an' everybeast we meet.\"\n\nToran lowered his eyes modestly. \"No thankee, marm. I'm a mite too round in the waist for travellin'.\"\n\nSister Portula put aside her plate in mock indignation. \"Take our ottercook, indeed! Mayhaps you'd like to take Junty Cellarhog, too, in case you feel the need of a drink?\"\n\nBragoon chortled. \"Haharr, a capital idea, Sister!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul's eyes twinkled as he joined the conversation. \"I'm with you, Bragoon, a marvellous scheme! Take Toran and Junty, they'd make life much easier for you and Saro. However, I must insist that you take Sister Setiva along. If ever you are wounded, or fall ill, you'll surely need a dedicated creature to care for you both. Agreed?\"\n\nBragoon suddenly became interested in a bowl of plum pudding and meadowcream. He mumbled hastily, \"Me'n' Saro will make the journey alone, thankee Carrul.\"\n\nGood-humoured banter and cheerful gossiping carried on into the warm summer noontide, a perfect accompaniment to the delicious feast. Having eaten their fill, the Dibbuns ran off to play within the Abbey grounds.\n\nAfter awhile, Saro glanced at the sun's position and announced, \"We'll have t'get goin' soon. Best be on the road afore we lose the daylight.\"\n\nHer otter friend patted his stomach. \"Aye, though I reckon we won't need much feedin' for a day or two. That was the nicest food an' the best company I can ever recall. Thankee, friends, for everythin'.\"\n\nThe Abbot smiled. \"It was our pleasure. I knew you'd be going today, so I've had two packs of provisions made up by Granmum Gurvel. They should last you quite a time. Inside them you'll find all you need\u2014the map, the poem telling of the location of Sister Amyl's secret and extra garments to wear. Now, is there anything else you two would like to take, anything?\"\n\nBragoon replied without hesitation. \"I'd like to take with me the memory of a sweet song. Martha, would ye sing us a song to send us on our way?\"\n\nSaro added. \"Aye, go on, missy, put the birds t'shame!\"\n\nThe haremaid's clear voice rang out into the still noon air. She sang for her two friends as she had never sung before. They sat entranced by Martha's beautiful voice.\n\n\"I planted her gently last summer,\n\nall in quiet evening shade,\n\nwithin an orchard bower,\n\nher little bed I made.\n\nAlone I sat by my window,\n\nas autumn leaves did fall,\n\nthey formed a russet cover for\n\nMy Rose of Old Redwall.\n\nThrough winter's dreary days she slept\n\nbeneath the cold dark ground,\n\nwhen all the earth was silent,\n\nwhite snows lay deep around.\n\nBright stars came out above her,\n\nas to the moon I'd call,\n\ntake pity on my dearest one,\n\nMy Rose of Old Redwall.\n\nHow the grass grew green and misty,\n\nsoft fell the rain that spring,\n\nher dainty budded head arose,\n\nand made my poor heart sing.\n\nThen summer brought her just one bloom,\n\nso white, so sweet and tall,\n\nwith ne'er a thorn to sully her,\n\nMy Rose of Old Redwall.\"\n\nBoth the hardy old adventurers were sobbing like babes. Saro scrubbed roughly at her eyes. \"Come on, mate, time to go. We'll push ye as far as the gate, missy, so ye can wave us good-bye.\"\n\nThey were met at the gatehouse by Foremole Dwurl and Granmum Gurvel, each carrying a pack of provisions. Old Phredd emerged from the gatehouse with a long, slender bundle, which he presented to Bragoon.\n\nThe otter stared at the strange object. \"Thankee kindly, Phredd. What is it?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul answered. \"It is the sword of Martin the Warrior. I want you to take it on your quest for Loamhedge. Should you need a weapon to defend yourselves, you could not have a finer one. I trust you both with the sword, and I know when the journey is done, you will bring it back safe to Redwall. May the spirit of Martin go with you, my friends, and the good wishes of all in this Abbey!\"\n\nBragoon bound the still-wrapped sword across his shoulders. \"Ye do us great honour. How could we fail with Martin's sword to keep us company? Go back to yore Summer Feast now, an' don't fret. Me an' Saro'll bring back Sister Amyl's secret\u2014that is, providin' it makes ye walk, Martha.\"\n\nThe young haremaid's eyes shone with resolution. \"Walk? I'll do better than that! One day I'll dance for both of you. I'll dance on top of that wall, right over the threshold, for my heroes Bragoon and Sarobando. I swear it upon my solemn oath in front of you both!\"\n\nBragoon laughed. \"Haharr, that's the stuff, me darlin'!\"\n\nSaro swung her pack up on one shoulder. \"So ye will, beauty, so ye will. Good-bye!\"\n\nThey had only taken a dozen paces down the path to the south when Toran came running up and threw himself upon Bragoon. \"Take care of yoreself, brother, an' look out for Saro, too!\"\n\nBragoon gasped for breath as he tried to pull free of Toran's embrace. \"We've taken care o' each other since we was Dibbuns. If'n ye don't let go of me, I'll get me ribs crushed afore the journey's started!\"\n\nToran released his brother and stood weeping on the path. Bragoon looked away as Saro kissed the ottercook fondly.\n\n\"Go on now, ye great lump, back to yore feast. We'll be just fine. But keep this in mind, Toran Widegirth, when we come back to Redwall ye've got to make us a feast, as good as the one we had today. Promise?\"\n\nToran ran back to the Abbey, shouting, \"That 'un today'll look like afternoon tea to the feast I'll make ye when ye return, I promise!\"\n\nThey watched him go inside, then walked to the south wall gable and struck off southeast into Mossflower.\n\n##\n\nHorty stood at the dormitory window, watching as Toran returned and assisted Old Phredd in closing the main gate. Both beasts then headed for the orchard and what remained of the Summer Feast. The young hare turned to his two companions, who were sprawling about on their beds.\n\n\"Well, chaps, Toran's back an' the gate's closed, wot! That means those two aging relics have finally gone off on the quest. Is everything ready, you blighters?\"\n\nSpringald leaned over and pulled three bulging sacks from under her bed. \"These are going to take some carrying!\"\n\nHorty scoffed. \"Pish an' tush, m'gel, one can't have enough tuck. It's vital, mark m'words, bally vital!\"\n\nFenna gathered their walking staffs and three travelling cloaks from the wall closet. \"But how do we get out of the Abbey without being spotted? It won't be dark for hours yet. Huh, you'd think Bragoon and Saro would've waited until dawn tomorrow.\"\n\nHorty sat down on his bed, ruminating. \"Hmm, you've got a jolly good point there. I'll have to think up a cunning plan. Spring, pass me one of those sacks. A chap can't think on a blinkin' empty tummy, wot!\"\n\nSpringald kept a tight grip on the foodsacks. \"Forget your confounded stomach, Horty! Get thinking, and be quick about it. We can't sit around here until it's dark and we've lost their trail.\"\n\nHorty rose and strode back to the window, muttering, \"Forget one's tum, wot? Easy for you t'say, Miss Mouse. I'm a flippin' hare, y'know. Forgetfulness of the old stomach is bally impossible to types like me . . . Ahah, Dibbuns, the very chaps!\"\n\nFlinging the window open, Horty called down to Muggum and a crew of Abbeybabes who were cavorting on the lawn below. \"What ho there, my pestilential friends!\"\n\nShilly the squirrelbabe looked up and pointed an accusing paw. \"Naughty 'orty, you been sended up t'stay inna dormitee.\"\n\nHorty stared down his nose at the little squirrel. \"Let me inform you, my broom-tailed friend, I am here merely out of choice. I can come down when I flippin' well please. Now listen closely, you little bounders. Would you like to hear a secret, wot?\"\n\nMuggum wrinkled his button nose. \"Ee seekurt? Us'n's gurtly fond o' seekurts. Ho urr aye!\"\n\nFenna called out in a hoarse whisper. \"Horty, what are you up to? Who are you talking to?\"\n\nWaggling his ears at her, the young hare looked secretive. \"I've just thought up a super wheeze, a plan t'get us out unnoticed, wot. Create a diversion, that's the idea. Leave this to Hortwill Braebuck, marm!\"\n\nA hogbabe named Twiglut, having grown impatient, squeaked up at the window. \"Are ya goin' a tell uz dis seekrut? Well 'urry h'up, or we go an' play wiv sticks!\"\n\nHorty waved his paws earnestly to gain the Dibbuns' attention. \"No no, don't go an' play with sticks, my tiny pincushion. I'll tell you the secret. This mornin' we went down to the pond, an' guess what? We saw lots of big fishes . . .\"\n\nMuggum butted in. \"Wurr they'm gurt hooj fishies, zurr?\"\n\nHorty stretched his paws wide, indicating their size. \"Huge? They were blinkin' colossal! Anyhow, they gave us rides on their backs all round the jolly old pond. Oh, it was loads o' fun, I can tell you, absoballylutley top hole an' all that, wot!\"\n\nThe Dibbuns began dancing with excitement.\n\n\"Will ee fishies still be thurr?\"\n\n\"Uz wanna ride on der fishies!\"\n\nHorty scratched his ears. \"Hmm, they said they'd be there late afternoon, just before evenin'. I say, you chaps, it's round about that time now, isn't it?\"\n\nRoaring delightedly, the Dibbuns thundered off in the direction of the Abbey pond.\n\nHorty called after them. \"Have fun, you little savages. Tell the fishies Horty sent you!\"\n\nThe realisation of what was taking place suddenly hit Springald. Leaping up, she hurled Horty away from the window. Cupping both paws to her mouth she yelled. \"No, don't go! Come back this instant, all of you, come back!\"\n\nBut the Dibbuns could not hear because of the din they were setting up. Like a small stampede, they ran out of sight around the Abbey corner.\n\nSpringald turned on Horty. \"You blathering fool, what have you done? Idiot!\"\n\nHorty flapped his ears airily. \"Creatin' a small diversion. No need to get your fur in an uproar, old thing, wot?\"\n\nFenna's tail went stiff as Horty's foolish act dawned on her. \"You puddenbrain! Can't you see that those babes will be drowned if there isn't anybeast responsible to watch over them?\"\n\nThe young hare slapped a paw to his brow. \"Oh corks, you're right! I never gave that a flippin' thought.\" Leaning wide out of the window, he bellowed, \"I say, little chaps, come back this very instant. D'ye hear?\"\n\n\"Dearie me, what's all the shouting about?\"\n\nHorty found himself staring down into the questioning face of Brother Gelf, who was returning some bowls to the kitchen when he heard the commotion.\n\nFenna pushed past Horty, her voice shrill with anxiety. \"Hurry, Brother, the Dibbuns are down at the pond alone. There's nobeast with them. Oh hurry, please!\"\n\nThe mouse sped off as fast as his paws would carry him.\n\nIn a trice, the bells of Redwall were tolling out an alarm. Creatures could be seen hurrying toward the pond. Toran was out in front, shedding his apron as he ran and plunging straight into the water. Luckily, none of the Dibbuns was harmed. Most of them were garnered from the shallows by willing paws, though Toran had to swim for Muggum. The molebabe was well out of his depth, floating about like a ball of downy fur. Foremole Dwurl's resounding bass tone could be heard, calling to the Abbot, as he panted up, pushing Martha's chair.\n\n\"They'm awright, zurr h'Abbot, oanly ee bit wetted!\"\n\nHorty was shaking all over as he turned to his friends and laughed with relief. \"No harm done, chaps. At least my diversion worked, wot?\"\n\nSpringald and Fenna leapt upon him, boxing his ears and kicking his bottom. They were furious.\n\n\"No thanks to you and your bright ideas!\"\n\n\"You great waffling flannel-brained nincompoop!\"\n\nHorty broke loose and seized the travelling gear. \"What's done is done. Sorry, chaps, an' all that. We'd better make ourselves scarce. Let's go while the goin's good!\"\n\nSister Setiva was towelling the babes dry with Toran's apron and her shawl; others were helping, using anything that came to paw. The shrewnurse railed on at the Dibbuns, alternately drying and hugging each one.\n\n\"Och, why wid ye want tae do sich a silly thing, mah babbies? Have ye no been told aboot playin' alone by the water, eh?\"\n\nUnder the stern eyes of Abbot Carrul, Martha and a dripping wet Toran, the whole story emerged. Martha could scarcely believe her ears when she heard that it was her brother who had encouraged the little Dibbuns. Seething with righteous wrath, she turned to Toran.\n\n\"Mr. Widegirth, would you kindly push me up to the Abbey? I wish to have some severe words with that brother of mine!\"\n\nThe ottercook bowed politely. \"Certainly, Miz Braebuck. I'm shore there's one or two wants words with Master Horty, one of 'em bein' me!\"\n\nA procession of Redwallers followed Martha into the Abbey. The Dibbuns were enjoying the affair hugely, seeing some other beast getting blamed for their escapade. They tagged along, muttering darkly of tail chopping and bottom-skelping punishments. Some were even speculating that Horty would be boiled in a soup pan.\n\nTheir delight, however, was short-lived. Sister Setiva and some molewives whisked them off, down to Cavern Hole.\n\n\"Intae the bath, ye filthy wee beasts. Och, there's nae tellin' whit muck'n'mire ye picked up in yon pond!\"\n\nThe Abbeybabes wailed piteously but to no avail.\n\n_Boom! Boom!_ Toran's hefty paw reverberated on the dormitory door. After a moment's silence, his voice rang out harshly.\n\n\"Master Horty, yore sister an' Father Abbot want a word with ye downstairs. Miz Fenna an Miz Springald, ye'd best show yoreselves, too!\"\n\nMartha sat down in Great Hall and waited. Soon she heard the dormitory door slam, followed by the sound of Toran's footpaws pounding down the stairs. Abbot Carrul looked over his glasses as the grim-faced ottercook entered the hall.\n\n\"Don't tell me they're gone?\"\n\nToran sat down on a table edge. \"No trace of 'em, Father. I searched that dormitory from top't'bottom, but I'll wager they're hidin' someplace. You leave it t'me, I'll find those villains.\"\n\nThe Abbot began pushing Martha's chair toward the kitchens. \"I don't think you will somehow. Follow me, please.\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel met them as they entered the kitchen. Clearly in a proper tizzy, the poor old molecook began chattering angrily. \"Foive gurt h'apple puddens, ee gurt meadow-creamy troifle, strawbee scones, celery an h'onion flans, pasties full o' carrut'n'gravy. They'm all be gonned? Burrrrrooooh! Wait'll oi get'n moi paws on ee Dibbun rarscalls. H'all moi luvverly arternoon bakin' furr tomorrers lunchen an' supper. Varnished!\"\n\nMartha kept her eyes downcast as she informed Gurvel, \"It wasn't Dibbuns, Granmum. It was my brother Horty and his friends, Fenna and Springald. They're the thieves who raided your kitchen. Now they've run off to join Bragoon and Saro on the quest.\"\n\nToran's rudder rapped loudly on the floor. \"Of course, that's it, Martha! But why'd they have to cause so much upset to everybeast\u2014us, an' the Dibbuns, an' Gurvel? Why?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul raised his eyes and sighed. \"Sadly, that's the way most young 'uns behave at that age. Forbidding them to do something is like encouraging them. Unfortunately, they do things without thinking.\"\n\nOld Phredd shuffled in, bowing creakily to the Abbot. \"I just found my main gate open, but me and young Toran barred it shut this afternoon. How did that happen, eh, eh?\"\n\nCarrul patted the Gatekeeper's bony paw. \"No doubt you've closed it again, Phredd. It was Horty, Fenna and Springald\u2014they've gone off adventuring.\"\n\nPhredd chuckled drily. \"Just like Bragoon and Saro when they were younger, eh, eh?\"\n\nJunty Cellarhog, who had just come into the room and heard Phredd, thrust his big paws into his apron belt. \"No, ole feller, not like Saro an' Bragoon at all. Them two was born tough, rovin' was in their blood. But young Horty doesn't remember anytime afore comin' to Redwall, an' both maids was borned 'ere. They don't know wot 'tis like out there in the big world. I think they'll 'ave to learn t'grow up fast.\"\n\nMartha felt a pang of alarm at Junty's words. \"What does he mean, Toran?\"\n\nThe ottercook explained. \"Well, miss, look at their vittles. Apple puddens, strawberry scones an' a meadowcream trifle? No proper travelbeast'd take such stuff along. Huh, it'd be smashed t'bits afore they got a day's march in, eh Gurvel?\"\n\nThe old molecook nodded wisely. \"Aye, et surpinkly wudd, zurr. Oi maked speshul marchin' vikkles furr ee uther two. Lots o' cheese, ee h'oatbreads, summ candied fruits an' canteens o' moi gudd dannelion'n'burdock corjul furr drinken.\"\n\nMartha grasped Toran's paw. \"You don't think they'll come to any harm, do you?\"\n\nThe ottercook's eyes softened. \"Don't ye fret yoreself, Martha. If'n they picks up my brother an' Saro's trail, they'll be safe enough. Mind, though, they won't get no special treatment. Horty an' his pals will learn the hard way. Now, if'n they lose the trail, Redwall's stickin' up in plain view for a good distance. Once yore brother gets hungry, he'll dash back to this Abbey like a scalded toad. The others are sure to follow. If'n ye pardon me sayin', Martha, Horty's a natural glutton. He won't stray too far without vittles\u2014starvation's a hard taskmaster!\"\n\nThe haremaid fiddled with the fringe of her lap rug. \"I'd feel happier if somebeast could overtake them and bring them back, so they don't get lost or hurt.\"\n\nThe Abbot looked at Toran and Junty Cellarhog, both big, stout beasts and very competent. \"Perhaps our Martha is right. Do you think you two could catch up with them before it gets too dark?\"\n\nJunty took off his canvas apron and nodded to the ottercook. \"We'll give it a try, Father. Are ye ready, mate? Come on!\"\n\nThey left the Abbey by the main gate. No sooner had Carrul and Old Phredd closed and barred it then Junty and Toran were pounding on the timbers to get back in.\n\nToran's voice was loud and urgent.\n\n\"Open up quick! There's vermin comin' down the path from the north! They're headin' this way. Hurry and let us in!\"\n\n# [BOOK TWO  \n\"If only they were back here  \nat Redwall\"](Loamhedge-toc.html#TOC-18)\n\n##\n\nLate that same afternoon, the vermin gang had been keeping to the woodlands. On Badredd's orders they followed the path. Stopping for a breather, the little fox sighted Redwall Abbey in the distance, showing above the trees. He scurried out onto the path, pointing and yelling.\n\n\"Aharr, there 'tis, mates, the Abbey place! I told ye I'd find it, 'twas me who saw it first!\"\n\nAs he ran forward, the cutlass, which he had pushed into his belt, tangled in his footpaws, causing him to trip. He lay sprawled on the path, still shouting. \"Wait'll I gets me paws on that magic sword!\"\n\nHalfchop sneered. \"Look at 'im, willyer, the flamin' fool. I swear, Flinky, dat stoopid oaf'll get us all killed!\"\n\nThe crafty stoat chuckled. \"Ah, sure enough, he's a grand, brave beast. I'd sooner serve under Badredd than Burrad or Skrodd. Those two would have made us march in front, an' led from the rear. Let the fearless chief run an' meet the foe. Us pore ould pawsloggers will just keep our heads down an' follow from a safe distance.\"\n\nCrinktail was in agreement with her mate. \"Aye, whoever's inside o' that place will prob'ly see us comin' from their walltops. Wot was it that Burrad said, that those Abbey creatures was all peaceable Woodlanders? So we may as well put on a show o' force. The sight of a vermin gang might make 'em open up those gates to us\u2014providin' they knows wot's good for 'em!\"\n\nThe crew strolled out onto the path, deliberately setting a slow pace, keeping Badredd well ahead of them. Flinky sang a quiet ditty as a warning to his mates. The little fox could not quite hear the words, but he assumed it was some sort of song for marching into battle. He swaggered along, a good half-spearthrow in front, waving the unwieldy cutlass with regained dignity, feeling every inch the great Badredd, commander of a vermin crew. The others followed at a safe distance, sniggering at the words of Flinky's song.\n\n\"When the clouds of arrows fly,\n\nkeep yore heads down.\n\nLet the brave ones charge on by,\n\nkeep yore heads down.\n\nWhen the heroes' blood runs red,\n\nan' yore scared to raise yore head,\n\njust be glad that you ain't dead,\n\nkeep yore heads down!\n\nYe won't win no medals here,\n\nkeep yore heads down.\n\nDon't be fools who know no fear,\n\nkeep yore heads down.\n\nWe can all lay low an' sing,\n\nduckin' spears an' stones from sling.\n\nLet 'em chuck most anything,\n\nbut keep yore heads down!\"\n\nAmid smothered giggles and hoots, Slipback and Juppa made disparaging remarks behind their leader's back.\n\n\"Haw haw, lookit the way 'is bottom waggles when 'e puts on a swagger. Looks like two sour apples in a sack!\"\n\n\"Aye, an' if'n 'e don't stop wavin' that blade around, 'e'll chop 'is own tail off. Wot d'ye reckon, mate, does that liddle smidge look like a vermin warrior who'd terrify those Abbeybeasts?\"\n\n\"Maybe they'll laugh theirselves to death at the sight of 'im. Heeheeheee!\"\n\nFlinky gazed up in awe as the impressive red sandstone Abbey loomed closer. He muttered to Rogg and Floggo. \"Huh, if Badredd gives the order to charge that place, well, I'll be chargin', shore enough. I'll be runnin' the other way, like a duck wid its tail on fire!\"\n\nThe weasel brothers were not much given to merriment, but Flinky's remark tickled them so much that they guffawed loudly.\n\nBadredd came running back brandishing his cutlass. \"Wot's so funny, eh, can I share the joke?\"\n\nFlinky shrugged disarmingly. \"Ah now, we wasn't laughin' at ye at all. 'Twas just that we're 'appy for ye. Yore a good chief, an' soon the magic sword'll be yores. Ye deserve it fer bein' a grand ould leader, so ye do. Ain't that right, mates? Badredd's the best boss we've ever 'ad!\"\n\nHalf believing Flinky's flattery, Badredd eyed the gang and nodded approvingly. \"Lissen, mates, we could be a good crew if'n we tried. Now wipe the grins offa yore gobs an' form up in twos. We'll march straight up to that Abbey an' put the fear o' Hellgates into those peaceable bumpkins. Try t'look more like a gang o' killers. Wave yore weapons about an' snarl loud, as if yore ready t'do murder!\"\n\nFlinky glanced up at the high battlements. Already he saw heads poking up over them in the gathering gloom. Thinking quickly, the stoat slid down into the ditch on the path's opposite side. He beckoned Badredd. \"A nighttime charge might go wrong, Chief. D'ye not think we oughta figger out some kind of ould plan, afore we go rushin' at a buildin' that size?\"\n\nThe little fox turned his attention to the walltops. Lots of heads were beginning to appear there. He climbed down into the ditch, alongside Flinky, knowing that what the stoat said made sense. \"Aye, let's, er, make up a scheme. . . . Everybeast down 'ere!\"\n\nThe remaining gang members obeyed promptly. Flinky patted Badredd's back. \"Sure, that's wot I likes about ye, Chief, yore a true fox, a born slayer, but a grand an' crafty ould planner. Hoho, those creatures in there'll get the shock o' their lives when we turns up outside their doorstep tomorrer!\"\n\nBadredd was puzzled. \"Tomorrer?\"\n\nCrinktail caught on, knowing her mate was trying to put off invading Redwall for as long as possible. She backed Flinky up. \"Haharr, clever move, Chief. Tomorrer's the best time t'do it!\"\n\nBeyond a straight charge, Badredd had no real plan. He decided to hear Flinky out, knowing the stoat was no fool.\n\nFlinky explained eagerly. \" 'Tis dark now, y'see, an' we're in strange territory. The gang can get a good night's rest down 'ere. When you've thought up yore scheme, we'll be ready fer a fresh start, an' catch 'em nappin' at dawn! Now that's wot I calls a smart move, thought up by a smart fox!\"\n\nUnaccustomed to compliments, Badredd enjoyed the feeling of having everybeast waiting on their leader's word. Flicking his tail round slowly, he stroked it as foxes do when they are pleased. \"Right, we rest 'ere, gang, that's my orders!\"\n\nHe missed the nudge exchanged between Crinktail and Flinky as they lay down and closed their eyes. Flinky murmured but loud enough to be heard by all. \"Ain't we the lucky ones, havin' a gangleader like Badredd.\"\n\nStarlit darkness had fallen as Abbot Carrul made his way up the north wallsteps onto the ramparts. A frown creased his brow when he saw the throng of Redwallers crowding the parapet.\n\n\"Friends, listen to me, please. There's no need for all of you up here. With vermin about, it's not safe to stand looking over the battlements. Anybeast who is not required up here, please go down now. Sister Setiva, Sister Portula, will you see those Dibbuns down the stairs, it's time they were in their beds anyhow.\"\n\nToran and Junty, who had already joined Foremole Dwurl and Brother Weld, were at the northwest wall corner. Carrul hastened to join them. \"Is there really a vermin band out there? Where are they now?\"\n\nToran answered reassuringly. \"There's no great army o' them, Father, I only counted about eight. Might be more to come, but I ain't spotted 'em yet.\"\n\nJunty made way for the Abbot to look between the battlements as Toran pointed. \"Look, they've lit a small fire, in the ditch, just further up the path there. Wonder wot they're up to?\" A red-gold glow showed from the ditch, where Toran was pointing.\n\nForemole blinked. \"Oi aspeck they'm cooken ee supper.\"\n\nThe Abbot looked to Toran. \"What do you think?\"\n\nThumping his rudder thoughtfully against the wallside, the ottercook speculated. \"Well, there's no way a crew that size could attack Redwall. I think we'd best do nothin' for the present, Father. But let's watch every move they make. We'll post sentries on the walls, just a few who can watch 'em, while keepin' low. Who can tell\u2014maybe they're only passin' by this way. Per'aps they're bound someplace else. I wish Bragoon an' Saro would've stayed a day or two longer\u2014we could really do with 'em right now!\"\n\nForemole smote the wall with a heavy digging claw. \"Boi 'okey we'm cudd, they'm udd know wot to do abowt ee varmints. But thurr bee's h'only us'n's, yurr!\"\n\nToran could sense that the Abbot was waiting for him to take charge. He waved down to Martha, waiting in her chair on the lawn, then spoke. \"Father, maybe ye an' Martha could get a few helpers an' search around for anythin' that would be useful as a weapon. I've got a feelin' they won't make a move 'til tomorrow. We should be ready for 'em by then, though it prob'ly won't come to that. I'll stay up here with Junty, Weld an' Foremole on watch.\"\n\nThe Abbot went down to the lawn and pushed Martha back to the Abbey, explaining what was happening and what he had seen. The young haremaid could tell by Abbot Carrul's face that he was very worried.\n\nWirga was long past her best seasons, a wrinkled, toothless old Searat, yet Raga Bol kept her with his crew. She was useless as a fighter or a forager, but she possessed other skills. There was little that Wirga did not know about wounds and the treatment of injuries. Her powers as a healer and her knowledge of herbs, nostrums and remedies made the old vermin invaluable to the ignorant crewrats. But there was yet another art Wirga practiced\u2014that of a Seer. Raga Bol, as captain, was the only one she allowed to consult her, and then only in times of crisis.\n\nWirga crouched by the fire, watching Bol. They were camped among some wooded hills where the red sandstone rocks of Mossflower jutted out in shelflike formation. It was twilight. The Searat crew had slain a small colony of woodmice, and were leisurely plundering their shattered dwellings. Raga Bol and Wirga sat on a hilltop, isolated from the noisy rabble below.\n\nThe old Searat knew that her captain wished to consult her. He had given her half a roasted dove and a goblet of his personal grog\u2014this was always a sign that she was needed. Wirga took out her pouch of charms and selected half a large musselshell. It was edged with yellow on the inside, glistening grey at the centre, with three partially grown purple mussel's pearls protruding from its broad end.\n\nFilling the shell with water, she gazed into it. \"Thy appetite is not good of late?\"\n\nRaga Bol licked the sharp tip of his silver pawhook in silence as Wirga continued.\n\n\"Sleep eludes thee, thou are weary. None can rest easy in thy presence. Even I fear to speak of certain things\u2014aye, things that trouble thee.\"\n\nWith a curt nod, the Searat captain dismissed the four guards who attended him from twilight to dawn. When they had gone off to join the others, he took a furtive glance over his shoulder.\n\nDrawing close to the Seer, Raga Bol dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. \"Fear not, speak openly to me, ye won't be harmed.\"\n\nKeeping her eyes on the water-filled shell, the old Seer proceeded, her voice now a sibilant hiss. \"If thine enemy lives, he must die. Only then can Raga Bol find peace of mind. Thy foe's death will release thee.\"\n\nThe Searat captain's eyes shone feverishly. \"Does the stripedog still live? Tell me!\"\n\nWirga turned away from the shell, confronting him. \"When did thou last see this stripedog?\"\n\nBol's red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. \"This very noon, aye, in full sunlight. 'Twas when we stopped to rest. I was so tired that I dozed off awhile. The sun beat through my closed lids, makin' everythin' go red. That's when I saw the stripedog. Gettin' off a strange craft he was, where that broadstream from the nor'east bends away from the trees an' woodlands. Ye recall the spot, 'twas where we slayed those two shrews. The stripedog pointed to the bodies an' looked straight at me. 'They will be avenged, I am coming for ye, Raga Bol!' Those were his very words.\"\n\nWirga went back to contemplating the water in the shell, then continued. \"Thee told him to go away and join the deadbeasts at Hellgates, because he was already slain by thee. But the giant stripedog kept coming. He was frightening to look upon, with his face cleaved wide, but scarred an' stitched together by somebeast. Do I not speak truly?\"\n\nRaga Bol gasped, in awe of the Seer and her powers. \"Aye, true, but how did ye know? Did ye see the beast, too?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"Wirga sees many things unknown to others.\"\n\nWhat she did not say was that she had been observing her captain for days\u2014listening, watching, taking all in. Every nightmare, every time Raga Bol called out, in the brief times he did sleep, were memorised by Wirga. She had a complete picture of it all\u2014from the moment Raga Bol had struck the badger to every event since.\n\nThe Searat captain brought his face even closer to the Seer. His breath was hot on her jaw, his voice half threat and half plea. \"I can't fight a dream, so I'm waitin' on yore word. Tell me wot t'do, I must be rid of the stripedog!\"\n\nWirga replied. \"Knowest thou my three sons?\"\n\nBol knew the ones she spoke of, though not too well. They were a furtive trio, a bit undersized for Searats, always last to fight but first to grab the plunder. He was not impressed with them, and saw the three as background vermin who never put themselves forward or appeared bold, like proper Searats often do.\n\nThe captain shrugged. \"Aye, I know 'em, they ain't no great shakes as fighters. That big stripedog could eat the three of 'em!\"\n\nWirga rocked back and forth on her haunches, chuckling. \"Heehee, well said. But give 'em a skilled tracker, one who could lead 'em to the place of thy dream, an' my sons will make an end of thy stripedog, believe me!\"\n\nRaga Bol drew his scimitar, allowing the firelight to gleam across its lethal blade. \"If'n' I never finished the bigbeast with a blow o' this, how could three runts like that do the job?\"\n\nWirga drew from her pouch a section of bamboo, cut off near the joint and sealed at one end with beeswax. Carefully, she broke away the wax and upended the cylinder. Six long thorns spilled out, each one tipped with crimson dye and plumed with the short feathers of some exotic bird. She stayed Raga Bol's paw as he reached to pick one up.\n\n\"Keep away from such things. They can kill ten times more swiftly than the most venomous snake!\"\n\nThe Searat captain pulled back his paw. \"Poison?\"\n\nUsing her long pawnails, the Seer divided the thorns into three groups of two. \"Once one of these little beauties pricks the skin, even the greatest warrior cannot stand. Poison, from far isles across the southern seas. My three sons know how to use these darts. Warriors they may not be, but assassins they surely are. Give 'em a tracker to lead 'em to the streambend. They will seek out thy stripedog an' slay 'im.\"\n\nRaga Bol stood abruptly, peering over the hilltop rocks at his crew below until he saw the one he required. \"Ahoy, Jibsnout!\"\n\nA big, competent-looking Searat saluted. \"Cap'n?\"\n\nRaga Bol called back to him. \"Bring Wirga's three sons up 'ere. I've got a task for the four of ye.\"\n\nNight had fallen as the sons of Wirga left the hilltop, following Jibsnout. The tracker had a blanket with some food rolled into it thrown over his shoulder, and a well-honed dagger dangling from a cord around his neck.\n\nOnce they were off the hill and bound back along the trail, Jibsnout halted and glared contemptuously at the three smaller rats. It was obvious he did not enjoy their company. He pointed the dagger at each of them in turn.\n\n\"Lissen t'me, slimesnouts. I don't like yew three one liddle bit. But I gotta do the job wot Cap'n Bol gave me\u2014to take ye back to where the broadstream bends at the edge o' this forest. Wot ye do then is carry out the cap'n's orders. 'Tis up to ye how y'do that, an' nought t'do wid me. But get this straight: Ye do yore job an' I'll do mine. So stay outta my way an' mind yore manners around me. Step on my paws or look the wrong way at me an' I'll gut all three o' ye wid this blade o' mine! Unnerstood?\"\n\nThe sons of Wirga never answered; they merely looked at one another and exchanged sly leers. This did not improve Jibsnout's opinion of them. Turning on his paw, he set off at a rapid pace into the dark woodlands, growling back to the odd trio.\n\n\"Move yoreselves! We'll be marchin' night'n'day, an' only stoppin' for a bite or a nap when I says so. If'n ye don't keep up, I'll leave ye behind. Hah, try explainin' yoreselves to Raga Bol when ye get back then, I dare ye!\"\n\n##\n\nThree days earlier, Lonna had bid farewell to Garfo Trok at the broadstream bend. The last he saw of the otter was Garfo singing loud ballads about food, or the lack of it, paddling back upstream to the northeast country. Lonna had enjoyed his time with the garrulous otter aboard his boat _Beetlebutt._ The big badger felt lonely as he trudged off into Mossflower, but soon his loneliness was replaced by rage, as he remembered the pitiful bodies of the two dead shrews. Before they parted, he and Garfo had buried them on the bankside.\n\nAll that day the scar across Lonna's face felt sore and tight. His head ached whenever he thought of Raga Bol and his murderous crew, and his back wound began bothering him, causing him to limp as he pressed doggedly onward. The woodlands were quiet and peaceful, with sundappled green light cascading through the overhead foliage. Distant birdsong sounded muted, bees droned lazily in the midday calm. Lonna ignored the beauties of nature, his eyes constantly darting from side to side, paws ever ready to seek bow and shafts.\n\nAt midnoon the big stripedog halted by a rippling brook in a mossy sward. Resting awhile, he ate sparingly from the sea otter's food pack\u2014a crust of nutbread, some fine ripe cheese and a few scallions he found growing nearby\u2014and drank deeply from the brook. Still sitting with his footpaws in the water, Lonna washed his head and face, then, leaning forward, immersed his face and head for several long intervals. The cold, clear brookwater refreshed him greatly. He stood up to leave, rubbing the small of his back and swaying from side to side, testing the limp in his footpaw, to judge how it was feeling.\n\nA sense that he was being watched came over Lonna. Continuing his exercises, he spoke out in a voice loud enough for any eavesdropper to hear.\n\n\" 'Tis not good manners to spy on a beast. Come out and show yourself. Don't be afraid, you can see I'm no Searat!\"\n\nAn elderly female squirrel, clad in a russet and yellow tunic, dropped out of the trees, landing right in front of him. She was a perky, cheerful-looking creature, but he could see by the way she toted a small javelin she was ready for anything.\n\nLooking him up and down, she chattered boldly away. \"Chahah! Me could tell ya wasn't Searatta. Warramarrer bigbeast, ya back be hurted?\"\n\nCompletely disarmed, Lonna smiled ruefully. \"Just a bit, marm, but 'tis getting better by the day, thank ye. My name is Lonna Bowstripe.\"\n\nThe squirrel bobbed him a neat curtsy. \"Me's Figalok Twigbenda, pleasin' t'meetcha. I fix ya back, Lonna, folla me!\"\n\nLonna took an immediate liking to Figalok, following her without question. She was so very swift that he had to hurry to keep up. Figalok halted alongside a big, ancient hornbeam tree and began giving rapid orders.\n\n\"See da branch stickin' out up above? Me wancha t'jump up an' grab it tight. Chakahoo! Berra take offa dat bigbow an' arrers. Cheeh! Howcha make dat\u2014cut a yewtree down an' purra string on it? Dat a big bow, sure 'nuff!\"\n\nLonna smiled at her observation. When he took off his bow, it stood near three times the height of Figalok. Placing his quiver of arrows to one side, he leaped up, grabbed the hornbeam limb and hung there, dangling. The branch was quite stout enough to hold his weight.\n\n\"Is this alright, marm? What do I do now?\"\n\nFigalok walked around him. \"Ya jus' hang there like a h'apple. Are ya plenny strong, Lonna?\"\n\nHe stared down at her. \"Aye, strong enough.\"\n\nFigalok jumped up and sat on Lonna's footpaws, facing him. She grabbed his legs to steady herself. \"Keep ya paws still now, bigbeast, don't ya kick me off!\"\n\nFigalok began jerking Lonna back and forth, using him like a swing. \"Chahah, dis do ya good, keep tight hold!\"\n\nFor what seemed like an eternity she continued the swinging motion, back and forth, forward and back. Lonna's own bodyweight, with the added burden of the squirrel, began to tell after awhile. She stared up at his clenched jaws.\n\n\"Ya wanna leggo now? Dat was a good ride.\"\n\nLonna gasped. \"Aye, I'd best come down before I drop!\"\n\nFigalok leapt to the ground, skipping to one side. \"Rightee, ya can leggo, Lonna!\"\n\nHe dropped gingerly, expecting the fall to jolt his back. Surprisingly, it did not.\n\nThe squirrel gave his back a thump. \"Wassamarra witcha? Walk round, jump 'bout! Chahah, ya back be good as new now. Me fixed lotsa backs!\"\n\nLonna's back felt easy and relaxed, he was not getting a single twinge from the footpaw, which had been bothering him. He walked, then trotted, jumping up and down forcefully, putting all his weight on back and footpaw. Revelling in the newfound freedom of movement, Lonna dashed at Figalok, meaning to embrace her.\n\n\"I'm better, there's no more pain! Figalok, you marvellous creature, how can I thank you?\"\n\nShe shot up the trunk of the hornbeam, protesting, \"Keep ya big paws offa me, or I be crushed flat! Betcha hungry, eh? Bigbeasts must get plenty hungry. Folla me!\"\n\nFigalok scuttled through the woodlands, with Lonna hard on her tail. She halted at the base of a three-topped oak, which grew in close proximity to a beech, an elm and a sycamore. The upper limbs of all three trees intertwined with the oak, forming a wide platform.\n\nThe squirrel twitched her tail at Lonna. \"Ya wait der, me send ya rope down!\" She shot lightly up the oak trunk, vanishing into the foliage.\n\nA moment later Figalok reappeared, surrounded by a crowd of tiny squirrelbabes. They squeaked and squealed at the size of Lonna, pointing and giggling.\n\n\"Cheehow, nanny, wherecha find dat 'un?\"\n\n\"Weehoo, must be da biggest beast in alla lands!\"\n\n\"Choowhee, never see'd not'ink like 'im in me life!\"\n\nShoving them out of her way, Figalok pushed a thick rope down. It was knotted at close intervals to make climbing easy. Shouldering his bow and quiver, Lonna began scaling the rope. Figalok was hard put to keep back the press of little squirrels.\n\n\"Chahah, gerra ya back an' make way for me friend. Take no notice a dese likka pesters, Lonna, up ya come!\"\n\nLonna found the climb quite easy. The squirrelbabes shrieked and scurried off as he joined Figalok on the bough. She nodded approvingly.\n\n\"Not'ink wrong wirra dat back now. Me make a squirrel outta ya, bigbeast. Berra get vikkles quick, afore they alla gone!\"\n\nThe squirrels' dray was an amazing sight. Branches were cunningly woven twixt the network of bows and limbs between the four trees. Lonna found it safe to walk upon, though he trod carefully. At the oak's centre was a wide platform with a charcoal oven set on slabs of slate. Upward of a dozen older squirrels were preparing a meal there. Literally scores of babes and young ones festooned the place, hanging by their tails or balancing nimbly on the slenderest of twigs.\n\nFigalok proudly introduced her newfound friend to the assemblage. \"Ya see this 'un, he be Lonna bigbeast. Figalok finded 'im. Lonna be hungry, berra give 'im lotsa vikkles!\"\n\nFour older squirrels hurried to serve the big badger, plying him with huge portions of a thick, sweet porridge. It was a mixture of wild oats, fruit and nuts boiled in honey and rhubarb juice. Lonna was given a full flagon of elderflower and pennycress cordial. Both the food and drink tasted delicious. Figalok sat beside him, watching in awe as he satisfied his considerable appetite.\n\n\"Cheehoo! Betcha mamma was glad when ya leaved home!\"\n\nLonna chuckled. \"Who knows, maybe she might have been, but I don't ever remember having a mother.\"\n\nGradually the squirrelbabes had been inching closer to the big badger. When he mentioned that he had never known a mother, their sympathy was instantly aroused. They surrounded Lonna, sitting on his lap and shoulders, climbing on his back and paws. He was totally engulfed by the babes, one of them even perched upon his head.\n\nTheir tiny paws patted him as they squeaked sorrowfully. \"Aaaaah, never haved no mamma, pore bigbeast!\"\n\n\"Must bee'd tebbirle, not 'avin' no mamma!\"\n\n\"Didya cried an' weeped alla time for ya mamma?\"\n\nFigalok waved her paws at them. \"Chachafah! Shooshoo! Gerroffa 'im, leave Lonna alone!\"\n\nBut the badger defended them. \"Let them be, marm. I like the little 'uns, they're so small and friendly. Besides, they're not at all afraid of my face, the scars and stitching.\"\n\nFigalok shrugged. \"Chaaaah, why be they 'fraid? Likkle 'uns never see'd a bigbeast afore. They know ya be a goodbeast, me see dat, too. Not matter what ya lookin' like.\"\n\nBefore he could express his gratitude for the kind words, a tubby squirrel mother, with a fine bush of tail, took the empty bowl from Lonna and called to the little ones. \"Hachowa! Sing for a bigbeast, sing 'im Twing Twing.\"\n\nThe elders stood by, smiling fondly as the squirrelbabes sang their simple song for Lonna. What they lacked in melody, they made up in raucous enthusiasm, some of them performing dancing leaps and hops in time to the tune.\n\n\"Twing twing up inna trees,\n\ntwirlin' me tail around,\n\nlighter'n fevvers onna breeze,\n\nnever not fall to a ground!\"\n\nThese were the only words they seemed to know, but they carried on singing the verse again and again, with the renewed gusto of babes enjoying themselves. Lonna held both paws wide, his face wreathed in a happy grin. The little ones swung on him, squeaking away lustily.\n\nThey were well into the seventh repetition of their song when one of the elders gave forth a piercing whistle. Like lightning, both infants and elders vanished into the foliage. A massive black shadow flew low overhead.\n\nLonna looked around, but not a squirrel could be seen anywhere. He called out into the densely leafed treetops. \"Figalok, where are you, what's going on?\"\n\nThe elderly squirrel popped her head out from behind a branch, her eyes wide with fright as she chattered. \"Bad, bad! Rakkaw Ravin badbird! Look ya uppina sky!\"\n\nGlancing upward, Lonna beheld a raven of startling wingspread, circling high in the bright afternoon sky. Reaching for his bow, he picked an arrow from the quiver and laid it on the string, keeping his eyes on the raven.\n\n\"Don't worry, marm, that bird won't harm you while I'm here.\"\n\nFigalok stayed under cover, shaking her head sadly. \"Rakkaw Ravin after babes, ya watch 'im, he soon be down. Steal likkle 'un, take what he want. Badbird, bigga strong an' fast. Nobeast stoppa Ravin!\"\n\nAs Figalok spoke, a tiny squirrel panicked. Squealing shrilly, she hopped out on a long branch. There she stood, covering her face, rigid with terror, and in clear sight of the foe. Sensing a quick kill, the raven folded its wings and dropped down like a thunderbolt.\n\nInstinctively, Lonna stretched the bowstring tight against his clenched jaw. Closing one eye, he aimed at the bird and loosed his shaft. With a sound like an angry wasp, the arrow zipped upward, taking the raven through its glossy, plumed body. Instantly slain, its huge wings spread wide open, the raven cartwheeled through the air like a dark, tattered cloak, landing with a thud on the woodland floor beneath the oak, transfixed by the badger's well-aimed arrow.\n\nChattering madly, the squirrels started pounding the body. The older ones used small slings, from which they hurled small pebbles. Emerging from cover, the babes tossed down pawfuls of leaves and pieces of twig, all the while screeching insults at their slain enemy.\n\n\"Yaa yaa, not eat us no more, Rakkaw!\"\n\n\"Yeeheeee, eata dis twig if ya be hungry, bigbird!\"\n\n\"Hahaaay, Rakkaw, we burn ya, burn ya, burn ya!\"\n\nSome of the older squirrels threw down glowing charcoal from their oven. The smell of charring feathers reached Lonna's nostrils. Shocked by the frenzy of hatred the squirrels were working themselves into, he called out in a stern voice.\n\n\"Here now, stop that, you'll cause a woodland fire!\"\n\nSensing the danger, Figalok joined Lonna. \"Chahah, ye heara bigbeast, stoppa throwin' fires!\"\n\nThey obeyed reluctantly. Figalok sent some older squirrels down to fetch water and quench the smoking embers. She touched the big badger's taut bowstring.\n\n\"Dat a good bigbow, me thank ya, Lonna. Rakkaw Ravin gone'd forever now, thank ya!\"\n\nHanging up his bow and quiver on a nearby branch, Lonna sighed. \"I wish that had been a Searat!\"\n\nFigalok pointed west and slightly south. \"Searatters over data way.\"\n\nThe badger became immediately alert. \"Where, over that way, have you seen them?\"\n\nSmiling slyly, the elderly squirrel nodded. \"Ho, me see 'em, awright! Lotsa Searatters marchin' through. Chahah, they no see us, though. Squirrel know how ta hide.\" She tapped her paw four times against the oak tree. \"Me see dat many Searatters a-comin' back thisaway though.\"\n\nLonna grabbed up his bow and quiver. \"Where, when?\"\n\nFigalok explained. \"Yistaday. Me was far from this place, lookin' for a h'almind nuts. See dem, one bigbeast.\"\n\nShe tapped her paw on the oak three times. \"Dis a many smalla Searatters comin' disaway. No worry, Lonna, dey not see ya, we hide up here plenny good, eh? Asides, dey still more'n a day 'way, not travel fast like squirrel.\"\n\nLonna seized the thick, knotted rope and began clambering down to the woodland floor. \"Searats at last! I've got a score to settle with those murdering scum. Figalok, will you show me where they are?\"\n\nThe squirrel made it down to the ground before him. \"A course me will\u2014least I can do for ya, bigbeast. We go now, catch 'em around at dawn, travel alla night, eh?\"\n\nLonna shook her small paw gratefully. \"Thank you, my friend!\"\n\nThe squirrels appeared much upset at Lonna leaving, particularly the little ones. \"Don't go bigbeast, ya stay here wid us for longa time!\"\n\nOne bold little maid thought she knew the reason for the badger's departure. She shook her head at the others. \"Gorra let Lonna go, he gotta find 'is mamma.\"\n\nLonna ruffled her downy little brush. \"That's right, miss. Now take care of your mammas, and watch out for ravens.\"\n\nFigalok kicked the dead bird's carcass scornfully. \"No more Rakkaw Ravin come here. We hangin' dis one up inna tree, dat scare 'em off. Chahaah, you betcha!\"\n\nFollowing the agile Figalok, Lonna trotted off south and west into the thickness of Mossflower. As they went, he envisioned the evil face of Raga Bol\u2014concentrating hard on it, as only a creature of fate and destiny like a badger can.\n\n\"I'm coming, Raga Bol! I am Lonna Bowstripe, and I'm coming!\"\n\n##\n\nAfter marching all night on what he had fondly imagined was a southeast course, Horty was totally fatigued. In dawn's pale light, he slumped down in a fern grove, grumbling.\n\n\"It's no blinkin' use, you chaps, I've got to take a jolly old snooze. Ahah! But first we must deal with the inner hare. Brekkers beckons the poor lad's slim stomach, wot?\"\n\nFurious, Springald grabbed the provision sack from his paw, ranting on at him. \"Food, food, food, don't you ever think of anything else? Here we are, in the middle of nowhere, and you're yowling about brekkers after eating all night as we marched! We're lost, you lop-eared oaf, lost!\"\n\nHorty tried unsuccessfully to tug the sack back from her. \"Lost? Don't talk piffle'n'woffle, m'dear gel, we're merely restin'. Now don't be so flippin' moody, an' pass the scoff!\"\n\nSpringald dealt him a wallop with the soggy ration sack. \"You've no idea where we're going. You've completely lost Bragoon's and Saro's tracks, and we could have been walking in circles for all you know! You're an idiot, d'you hear me?\"\n\nHorty twiddled his ears and smiled at Fenna. \"Rather pretty when she's angry, ain't she? Spring, me old beauty, why don't y'give your face a rest. We'll find the right track sooner or later. Or would you prefer to toodle back to the Abbey an' face the blinkin' music, wot wot?\"\n\nFenna sat down wearily beside Horty, then closed her eyes. \"Good grief, I'm bone worn-out. He's right y'know, Spring, arguing isn't going to get us anywhere. Let's have a bite to eat and a rest. Give him the bag.\"\n\nSpringald threw herself moodily down amid the ferns. \"Here, take your confounded food. I wish I'd never left Redwall in the first place.\"\n\nThe gluttonous young hare seized the sack eagerly. \"I wish you hadn't, either\u2014there'd be more scoff for me an' Fenn, wot. Hawhawhaw!\"\n\nFenna looked into the sack to select her breakfast. She drew back with a look of disgust. \"Yukk, I'm not eating any of that mess. Look at it, pie and trifle squashed up with onion gravy pastie. Just the sight of it makes me sick. Nobeast could stomach that!\"\n\nHorty dipped his paw in and came up with an unappetising lump of sludge. \"Well tut tut, little miss fussy apron. What's wrong with the flippin' scoff, it's good food ain't it? Please yourself, marm, but I'm jolly well starved.\"\n\nHe began eating with evident relish. \"Mmmmm, you bods don't know what you're missin'. Nothin' like a spot o' tucker to settle the old tum for a good sound snooze, wot!\"\n\nThis time it was Fenna who lost her temper. She tugged Horty's ears sharply. \"Listen to me, you great ten-bellied buffoon, you were supposed to be supplies officer, remember? You appointed yourself in charge of provisions. There'll be no naps or snoozes for you while us two are still hungry, so shift yourself and get us some breakfast, right away!\"\n\nHorty made a languid gesture. \"There's two other sacks there, or ain't you blinkin' well noticed? You can open 'em yourself!\"\n\nWhere Fenna upended one of the sacks, a great splodge of squashed pastie and meadowcream trifle splattered among the ferns.\n\nSpringald inspected the contents of the other sack. \"Ahah, scones and cheesebread. But guess what, pals? Our genius packed 'em along with a flask of mint tea and one of strawberry cordial. Of course he never made sure the stoppers of the flasks were on tight, so we've got another sackful of sludge. Oh, Horty, how could you?\"\n\nThe gluttonous hare was munching pawfuls of the mixture from the second sack. He smacked his lips loudly. \"Sorry about the blinkin' flask stoppers, chaps, but I didn't want to make too much noise, y'see. Mmmm, rather good this stuff. Hawhaw, I've just invented apple'n'rhubarb'n'gooseberry surprise. Hmm, there's some soft white celery cheese in here, too . . . excellent mixture. I must give old Gurvel the recipe when we return t'the jolly old Abbey, wot!\"\n\nSpringald peered into the third sack, wrinkling her nose in distaste. \"How could anybeast even think about eating that?\"\n\nHorty took the sack and sampled a pawful. \"An' what, pray, is the matter with it? 'Tis perfectly top-hole scoff! Trouble with you two is y'don't know how to blinkin' rough it. You've become spoiled by Abbey life, too picky by far!\"\n\nSpringald took hold of a sack. \"Go and get a bath, Horty.\"\n\nThe young hare grinned at her. \"Not right now, thanks, I don't need a bath.\"\n\nShe upended the sack over his head. \"You do now!\"\n\nHorty rose slowly, making two eyeholes in the mess of flan and pudding, then sucked his paws. \"Gettin' a bit touchy, aren't we?\" He saw Fenna take hold of another sack and fled. \"Hello out there, any frogs or tadpoles know a good stream where a chap can get a wash an' brush up, wot?\"\n\nFenna sat down and rested her head between both paws. \"We should've known better than letting him go for supplies. 'Tis our own fault, I suppose. The fool never even thought of bringing a flint along to make fire.\"\n\nSpringald produced a chunk of crystal from her belt pouch. \"That's no trouble. I got this off Old Phredd. He told me how to use it . . . watch this.\"\n\nShe held the crystal close to some unlit twigs and moss, focussing until it caught the sunrays and concentrated them in a small bright point. Instantly, the moss began smouldering. After a short while, a single puff of the mousemaid's breath caused a slim column of flame to rise.\n\nFenna was both delighted and astonished. \"That's marvellous! At least we can boil some water and pick mint leaves to make tea. There's plenty of wild mint growing round here. What's the matter, Springald?\"\n\nThe mousemaid kicked the sack she had upended. \"Guess what? Horty forgot to bring anything along to boil it in.\"\n\nFenna sat down beside her friend. \"Right, that's the last time I listen to the mad plans and stupid ideas of a hare. We'd best go back to Redwall!\"\n\nSpringald did not relish the suggestion. \"Redwall? Imagine having to face the Father Abbot, and Sister Setiva, and Granmum Gurvel and all the rest! I'd sooner sit out here for a season or two and starve, until they've forgotten about us drowning those Dibbuns, plundering the kitchens and disobeying the Abbot. Lack a day, we'd be scrubbing floors and washing pots until we were old and grey!\"\n\nSpringald's despairing thoughts were interrupted by Horty's voice. \"Yowch ouch, I say, leggo me blinkin' ears, you bounders!\"\n\nHorty appeared, dripping wet, with six big, mottled rats dragging him along. Their garb was a curious mixture of leaves, shrubbery and purple tattoos. All of them were armed with cudgels and long knives.\n\nSpringald let out a cry of alarm, Fenna seized an old kitchen knife and leapt up. Soon they were surrounded, as more rats stepped out from the trees.\n\nTheir leader\u2014a tall, brownish-white mottled vermin carrying a long spear\u2014growled warningly. \"T'row down der knife, or you're deadbeasts!\"\n\nSomething about his bleak stare told Fenna it would be wise to obey the order. She let the knife fall.\n\nHorty indignantly took up his case with the tall rat. \"I say, d'you mind tellin' these chaps to stop swingin' on me blinkin' ears? They'll pull 'em out by the flippin' roots, tuggin' at 'em like that, wot!\"\n\nA sudden jab of the tall rat's spearbutt jolted into the young hare's stomach, leaving him doubled up and gasping for breath. The rat turned the point swiftly, covering Fenna and Springald as they leapt forward to intervene.\n\n\"Be still or die! I am Birug, High Kappin of de Darrat. You be prisoners for invadin' our lands!\"\n\nSpringald protested. \"We're not invading anybeasts' land, only passing through. We are innocent travellers!\"\n\nBirug sneered. \"Shut you mouth, shemouse, you not talk to High Kappin like dat. Bring dem along!\"\n\nFenna was shocked to see that they were surrounded by at least a hundred rats. Horty regained his breath, but before he could speak he and his two friends were gagged with thick pieces of rope. Darrat rats swarmed over the trio, binding their forepaws tightly and linking their footpaws together on a long rope. They were helpless. The squirrelmaid barely had time to cast a frightened glance at her companions before sacks were pulled roughly over their heads. Cudgels prodded them, none too gently.\n\nBirug's voice rang out. \"March now!\"\n\nStumbling and bumping into one another, they were hauled swiftly along, dragged upright and cuffed soundly whenever they fell by the wayside. The unhappy trio bumbled along in the midst of their captors, terrified witless and ruing the day they had set paw outside of Redwall Abbey.\n\nSarabando and Bragoon lay in the treeshade, out of the shimmering midday heat. They sipped dandelion and burdock cordial and nibbled at oatcakes, supplemented by some watercress they had found near a stream. Saro tootled a small reed flute and played a melody. Bragoon sang the tune quietly.\n\n\"I know not young 'uns or a wife,\n\nno scolding tongue I fear,\n\nI live a carefree traveller's life,\n\nfrom yon to hither and here.\n\nO'er mountain hill and lea,\n\nI'm bound to wend my way,\n\ncross river lake or sea,\n\nwith never a beast to say,\n\nSit down! Stand up! Stay here!\n\nO ring a lairy lay.\n\nStand back! Be still! Just wait!\n\nFarewell my dear, good day!\"\n\nSaro began piping the tune to a second verse, when Bragoon ceased singing and held up a paw. \"Ssshhh! Did ye hear somethin', mate?\"\n\nEars cocked, the squirrel looked around. Silently she nodded, pointing over to the dense growth of trees on her left. Putting aside the flute, Saro pointed to her friend, indicating that he should stay put. In a flash she was gone, nimbly scaling a beech trunk and vaulting away through the foliaged upper terraces of Mossflower.\n\nBragoon sat perfectly still, his eyes roving from side to side as he searched the woodlands. Several minutes elapsed before Saro somersaulted back to earth from the high treetops. She picked up a twig, then snapped it and flung it away, muttering darkly to herself.\n\nBragoon raised his eyebrows. \"Wot's upset ye, matey?\"\n\nThe squirrel began gathering up her possessions. \"Upset? I ain't upset, buckoe, I'm steamin' fit t'burst! Those three young fools from Redwall, Horty an' the two maids\u2014they've got themselves captured by a hundred or so big spotty rats!\"\n\nBragoon sighed heavily. Buckling the sword across his back, he dusted himself off and made ready. \"You shore 'twas them?\"\n\nSaro checked her sling and pouch of stones. \"Aye, I'm sure enough. They was bound t'gether an' had sacks over their heads, but it's got t'be them. Wot other young hare, squirrel'n'mouse would be wanderin' willy-nilly through these woodlands, eh? They've sneaked out o' Redwall an' come searchin' for us, to share the adventure. Huh!\"\n\nBragoon shook his rudder in disapproval. \"Fivescore o' big spotty rats, ye say? Well, they'll get their share of the fun\u2014that's if'n the three idiots live long enough. Ye recall those spotty rats we battled with last time we was up this way?\"\n\nThe squirrel nodded grimly. \"Aye, they were flesh eaters!\"\n\n##\n\nEvening was crimsoning the sky over the western reaches as Birug led his Darrat vermin into camp. The Darrat tribe gathered around to see what he had captured. A huge old rat\u2014almost white, with a few brown flecks\u2014pulled himself out of a hammock which was slung under a rocky ledge. Bulling his way through the crowd, he indiscriminately kicked babes, young ones, females and males out of his way. Studying the bound and hooded creatures lying exhausted on the ground, he addressed Birug in a shrill voice totally unsuited to his bulk.\n\n\"Lemme see dem!\"\n\nHorty felt the sack being pulled from his head and a knife slitting the rope gag in his mouth. He spat out the gag and found himself looking at the huge, fat one. Immediately the young hare began complaining.\n\n\"Y'don't mind me sayin', sah, but this is all a bit bally much! Is this the way y'treat jolly peaceable wayfarers, wot?\"\n\nA slap from the huge rat silenced him. \"Shutcha face, rabbert, d'great Hemper Figlugg don' like talky rabberts!\"\n\nHe glared at Springald and Fenna, who had been unhooded and had their gags removed. \"Don' like talky mouses or squirrels either!\"\n\nA shrunken and incredibly ugly female pushed her way through to Hemper Figlugg's side. Ignoring him, she began pinching the three captives, nodding approvingly as she did so. Hemper Figlugg whispered something in her ear.\n\nShe nodded, replying aloud. \"Burcha Glugg!\" The Darrat tribe nodded in agreement and laughed.\n\nAlways ready to take advantage of a situation, Horty winked at his two companions. \"At least they seem happy, must be a good joke, wot! Burcha Glugg, wasn't it? Watch this.\"\n\nHe grinned at the assembly and repeated the words, \"Burcha Glugg!\"\n\nThe Darrat tribe howled with laughter at Horty's remark. A tiny ratbabe wrinkled his nose at the young hare and squeaked, \"Burcha Glugg!\"\n\nHorty favoured him with a kindly smile. \"Aye old lad, Burcha Glugg, indeed, wot! Yowhoooo, y'little savage. Gerroff!\" The ratbabe, who had bitten Horty's footpaw, clung on grimly. High Kappin Birug pulled the ratbabe off and cuffed it.\n\nHemper Figlugg nodded at his prisoners. \"Glugg cayjizz!\"\n\nThey were picked up bodily and borne to two large cages, formed of thick branches lashed together, one of which was open. Into this the three companions were thrown. The Darrat tribe dispersed and went about their business. Seeing they were being ignored, Springald began loosing herself from the ropes binding her forepaws and the running rope about her right footpaw. The other two did likewise.\n\nFenna watched the fat Hemper Figlugg settling himself back into the hammock. \"What now, I wonder?\"\n\nSpringald answered hopefully. \"Well, we're still alive, aren't we? Where there's life there's hope, they say.\"\n\nHorty rubbed his stomach\u2014as usual, his mind was on food. \"I won't be alive much longer if somebody doesn't feed us. Chap gets hungry, bein' captured an' all that, wot?\" He called out to a passing rat. \"Hi there, I say, me old vermin, how about somethin' to jolly well eat?\"\n\nHe pantomimed eating and pointed inside his mouth. \"Eat! Y'know, just like starvin' chaps do. Grub, food or whatever you savages call it.\"\n\nThe rat grinned and pointed to his own mouth. \"Glugg!\"\n\nHorty clapped his paws together. \"Hoho, that's the stuff. Glugg!\"\n\nSomething suddenly dawned on Fenna. \"Glugg, that must be their word for food. Oh, great seasons!\"\n\nHorty winked. \"Leave it to me eh, wot! I can translate any bally thing when it comes to food!\"\n\nSpringald understood all too well. She clapped a paw to her brow. \"Glugg, that's what we are. Food!\"\n\nHorty patted her reassuringly. \"No no, old gel, you've got it all wrong. They said Burcha Glugg\u2014that prob'ly means feed them, or give these bally prisoners some food, they look hungry.\"\n\nJust then, four Darrat males bore a big cauldron to the cage. They placed it outside the bars, within the captives' reach. It was filled with a form of porridge, full of berries and sliced fruit.\n\nOne of the rats indicated they should eat. \"Burcha Glugg, you eat all up.\"\n\nHorty smiled. \"Told you so!\"\n\nFenna asked the rat, \"What does Burcha Glugg mean?\"\n\nThe rat shrugged. \"Old Darrat way of saying good food.\"\n\nSpringald's worst fears were confirmed. She whispered in a shaky voice. \"They're fattening us up before they eat us!\"\n\nHorty dipped a paw into the cauldron and scooped some up. \"Oh, don't be silly! Nobeast'd dare to eat us, shockin' idea. I say, this tastes rather good, wot. Come on, you two!\"\n\nThey shrank to the back of the cage, shaking their heads. \"I couldn't bear to touch it!\"\n\n\"Oh Horty, how could you eat at a time like this?\"\n\nOne of the rats unwound a whip from about his waist, gave it a sharp crack and shouted at the pair. \"Eat or whip!\" They were forced to dip their paws in and eat. However, with the prospect of what they were being fed for, the food, as good as Horty said it was, turned to ashes in their mouths.\n\nFenna and Springald could only manage a small mouthful apiece, but Horty bolted the porridge down until his snout and whiskers were crusted with it.\n\n\"Mmmch, no sense in a chap bein' eaten, grmmfff munch, on an empty stomach. Capital stuff, wot!\"\n\nNight fell, bringing a cloudless vault of carnelian blue, dusted with stars. Bragoon lay alongside Sarobando, among some rocky hillocks that skirted the Darrat camp. The otter watched as campfires glimmered low.\n\n\"Let the vermin settle down, they prob'ly outnumber us by a couple o' hundred to two.\"\n\nSaro chewed on a dandelion stalk. \"What then?\"\n\nBragoon raised his head, risking a glimpse of the camp area. \"They're in a cage, over by that long rocky ledge. We'll have to work out a plan to break 'em out an' escape without bein' seen.\"\n\nThe squirrel lay back and closed her eyes. \"Yore good at schemin', mate. What's the plan?\"\n\nThe otter lay down and closed his eyes also. \"First a short sleep, wait'll the camp's quiet.\"\n\nSaro opened one eye. \"An' then?\"\n\nBragoon stuck Martin's sword into the ground, close to paw. \"I don't know just yet, but ye'll be the firstbeast I tell when a good idea comes along. I'm goin' to sleep, wake me in an hour. Otters get good ideas when they take naps.\"\n\nSaro rolled over onto her side. \"No, you wake me, 'tis your turn.\"\n\nHer companion watched the starlight playing along the swordblade. \"How can I wake ye when I'm makin' the plan? You wake me!\"\n\nThe squirrel grumbled. \"Huh, 'tis always me. Alright, you take a nap an' do all the plannin', I'll wake ye in an hour.\" The only answer she received was a pretend snore from the otter.\n\nThe midnight hour had just passed. Silence reigned over the Darrat camp, broken only by protracted snores mingled with nighttime woodland sounds.\n\nIn the cage, Horty sat clasping his stomach and grimacing. Fenna came over to sit by him. \"Tummyache, eh?\"\n\nThe young hare answered dolefully. \"Absolute agony, doncha know. No use upsettin' you an' Springald, so a chap's got to be brave an' silent, even though he's dyin'. It must've been somethin' I ate.\"\n\nSpringald overheard him and snorted. \"Something? You great glutton, 'tis not something, but how much of that something you ate. That big cauldron's almost empty!\"\n\nHorty winced. \"Ah me! Maids can be beautiful but cruel. I only scoffed that porridge because you two wouldn't touch it after the first mouthful. Ha, 'twas me that saved you a jolly good whippin'. Sacrificed meself for your rotten sakes, that's all the gratitude a chap gets, wot?\"\n\nOne of the three guards in front of the cage snuffled and grunted at the sound of Horty's raised voice. The captives sat in frozen silence until he settled back down with the other two rats. The three guards snorted in soft unison.\n\nSpringald whispered, \"Look at them\u2014not a care in the world. We'd be that way, too, snoring in the dormitory. Huh, that's if we'd had the sense to listen to the Abbot and your sister Martha. Wish we were back at Redwall now.\"\n\nFenna murmured, \"Wishing isn't much use. What we should be doing now is escaping while the guards are asleep.\"\n\nHorty forgot his pains for a moment. \"By jingo, you're right, old gel. Escape, that's the bally idea! Right, chaps, anybeast got a scheme or a plan of some type, wot?\"\n\nThey sat racking their brains for a while, until Fenna admitted limply, \"We've got no chance, locked in a cage and surrounded by armed guards. They'd cut us down before we managed to get two paces!\"\n\nNumbly they stared at one another. A tear trickled down Springald's cheek; Fenna's lower lip started quivering. Horty blinked and sniffed.\n\n\"We've really gone an' done it now, haven't we, chaps, wot!\"\n\nThen a rope fell from above, close to the cage. Attached to it was a sharp knife and a piece of bark that had charcoal writing scrawled on it: \"Hush, take knife, escape. Tie rope to pot. Wait.\"\n\nHorty peered up through the bars at the overhead rock ledge. Bragoon's tough-lined face was staring back at him. The otter held a paw to his mouth, signalling silence. Working feverishly, Springald took the knife and tied the rope to the cauldron handle. At a wave from Fenna, the cauldron rose upward, halting just above the cage.\n\nGripping the rope firmly, Bragoon began swinging the iron cauldron from side to side until it moved back and forth in mighty sweeps like a giant pendulum. Horty watched it as it swung, lower and lower, whizzing close to the cage front, until it reached the level of the three snoring Ratguards. Then the cauldron jerked outward. _Kurblunggggggg!_ It struck two of the rats, laying them out senseless. The remaining one sat up, rubbing his eyes.\n\n\"Wot was th . . .\" _Podongggg!_ The cauldron caught the third rat on the return swing, knocking him head over paws.\n\nSpringald was sitting on Fenna's shoulders, slashing at the ropes which kept the wooden roof bars in place. The sharp knife made short work of them.\n\nHemper Figlugg awoke. He heard the cauldron toll like a muted bell as it hit the last rat. Waddling out of his hammock, he went to investigate the noise. Seeing Fenna's head poking out of the cagetop, he hastened forward, shouting wheezily, \"Burcha Glugg 'scapin'! Wakey wakey, Darrats!\"\n\n _Borlongggggggg!_ The swinging cauldron biffed him on the back of his great fat head. Hemper Figlugg performed a somersault, raising a big puff of dust as his back hit the ground. His shout, however, had roused the Darrat horde, who came staggering from under the ledges and thick bushes, grabbing for weapons.\n\nBragoon roared down to the escapers, \"Cut that pot loose an' grab on to the rope!\"\n\nSpringald slashed the cauldron free, and they took hold of the rope.\n\nSaro's head appeared above the high ledgetop. \"One at a time, we can't pull ye all up t'gether!\"\n\nHorty grabbed the spear from a fallen Ratguard. Taking charge, he rapped out orders like a veteran sergeant. \"Steady the buffs, chaps! Spring, you go first, Fenna next! I'll hold these bounders off, wot!\"\n\nThe Darrat had just realised what was taking place. Around half a dozen of the boldest came at the young hare.\n\nSpear at the ready, Horty challenged them bravely. \"Step up there, laddie bucks, meet a flippin' Redwall warrior, wot! Two or ten at a time, doesn't blinkin' matter to Bonebreaker Braebuck. Have at ye, scurvy nosewipes! Come on, don't be shy, ye wiltin' wallflowers. Wot!\"\n\nA big broad mottled rat charged at him, waving a hatchet. A slingstone flew from above, and the rat stood still, tottered, then collapsed in a heap.\n\nHorty threw himself at the other five rats, who had been advancing on him slowly. He was in his element.\n\n\"I'm the son o' the roarin' buck! D'ye want to visit your ugly ancestors, eh? Well, I'm the one who'll send ye to Hellgates. Yaaaaaaah!\"\n\nAt the top of the ledge, Fenna and Springald stood with their rescuers. Bragoon shook his head. \"Is he mad? Look at 'im!\"\n\nHorty was like a whirling demon, lashing out with his long hind legs as he thwacked wildly about with the spear. Rats went down like ninepins before his onslaught.\n\nSarobando nodded in admiration. \"That young 'un's got the makins of a powerful warrior, but he's still a hotheaded learner. Soon as he tires they'll overpower 'im an' bring 'im down.\"\n\nSpringald yelled down to her friend. \"Horty, get to the rope, hurry!\"\n\nThe young hare looked at the pack of rats charging toward him. \"Right away, marm, cover me jolly old back, chaps!\"\n\nSaro used her sling, while the others pelted the rats with rocks from the ledge as Horty ran for it. He reached the rope and looped it about his waist.\n\n\"Haul away!\"\n\nKappin Birug flung a wooden club that caught Horty square between both ears, before bouncing off his head.\n\nHorty grinned. \"Yah missed me!\" Then he fell unconscious.\n\nDucking slingstones and a few arrows, the rescuers\u2014along with Fenna and Springald\u2014hauled Horty's limp figure up onto the ledgetop.\n\nBragoon peered anxiously down as more archers began appearing. \"Better get goin' an' move out o' range. They mean business!\"\n\nThey struck off into some thick pinewoods, carrying the senseless figure of the hare between them.\n\n##\n\nIt was a long and wearying night, but the Redwallers kept going. Pines grew thick about them, obscuring even the stars in the sky. Stumbling on through the dense carpet of rotting pine needles, Springald bumped into a tree trunk.\n\n\"Oof! There won't be a part of me that's undamaged if we go on at this rate. A torch would help us to see where we're going.\"\n\nBragoon urged her on. \"Just keep goin', missy, there'll be no torches. One spark can start a fire among pine trees, an' the whole woodland'd be ablaze bafore ye could blink. Besides, a torch would be like a beacon for those vermin to follow.\"\n\nSpringald felt foolish. \"I'm sorry, I didn't realise.\"\n\nThe otter said nothing, but he was exhausted and bad-tempered after having to run all night, burdened with Horty. He snapped at the mousemaid. \" 'Tis not much good bein' sorry now, Miss Mouse. If'n you three would've stayed put at the Abbey, we wouldn't be in this fix!\"\n\nFenna came to her friend's defence. \"We only came after you because we thought we could help. Besides, now that we're free, we can get on searching for Loamhedge.\"\n\nBut Bragoon was not to be appeased. \"Free, eh, don't make me laugh! You think those rats won't come after us? Lissen, I know rats, they won't rest 'til they've got us all in the cookin' pot. Ask Saro, we've fought flesh eaters like them afore. The only way to make 'em give up is to kill 'em, an' there's too many of the scum for that!\"\n\nA quavery voice echoed out of nowhere. \"Oh, far too many! They've eaten most of us, you know.\"\n\nBragoon stood stock still, his eyes scouring the night woods. \"Who said that?\"\n\nFrom a small hillock of pine needles built up round the base of a trunk, the voice answered, \"If you remove your great heavy rudder from my neck, I'll tell you!\"\n\nThe otter leaped to one side as an old rabbit shoved his head through the mound.\n\n\"Sorry to startle you like that, I'm sure. If the Darrat are hunting you, I'd be pleased to hide you. Only for awhile, though\u2014they eat anybeast who harbours fugitives.\" The ancient rabbit shrugged. \"But Darrat will eat a creature for no reason at all. So, d'you want me to hide you?\"\n\nSaro indicated the unconscious Horty. \"Just until this 'un's fit for travel agin, thankee.\"\n\nThe rabbit's name was Cosbro. He took them to the hollow log in which he lived. It was a cunningly contrived dwelling, a great elm trunk overgrown with all manner of moss and nettles. One end of it backed against a standing rock, the other was artfully concealed by thistles and wild lupins. Cosbro carefully parted these, creating a little gap which allowed them to squeeze through one at a time. Once they were all inside, the old rabbit rearranged the outer thistles and lupins, rendering the entrance invisible to the casual observer.\n\nSpringald looked about: it was a very neat little home. Lit by four lanterns containing fireflies, its illumination dim but adequate. They sat down on a carpet of dried grass and springy moss.\n\nFenna made Horty comfortable, remarking, \"I've never heard of a rabbit living inside of a tree before.\"\n\nCosbro preened his meagre whiskers. \"Neither have the Darrat, young 'un. That's what makes it such a perfect place. I've often sat in here, listening to them digging holes as they searched for rabbits\u2014they dig out anything that looks like a burrow. Clods, they have no imagination at all.\"\n\nBragoon smiled at the old one. \"But where do the other rabbits around here live?\"\n\nCosbro shook his head sadly. \"There are no other rabbits left. Only me, sitting inside this log, poor fool that I am.\"\n\nSaro patted his paw gently. \"You ain't no fool, me friend. It takes a clever beast to survive in this country. How many rabbits were there, an' how'd ye come to be livin' here?\"\n\nCosbro shrugged. \"We were too many to count one time, long ago. Our families had no written history. All I have to remember my ancestors by are ancient poems and ballads passed down by word of mouth. Woe is me, sometimes I think I must be the last rabbit left in all the land.\"\n\nSaro felt sorry for the pitiful old creature. She passed him a flask of dandelion and burdock cordial.\n\n\"Wet yore whistle with this, ole mate. Maybe ye'd like to tell us one of yore poems from the ole days, eh?\"\n\nCosbro sipped the cordial, closing his eyes blissfully. \"Ahhh, dandelion and burdock, tastes like nectar to me. Aye, 'tis many long seasons since I tasted ought as good as this. Have you ever heard of a poem called 'The Shadowslayers'?\"\n\nHe looked from one to the other, but they shook their heads. Helping himself to a longer sip, Cosbro licked his lips. \"When I was younger, I could skip through such verses. But, alas, the weight of seasons has descended upon me. My mind forgets a lot of things these days. So, my friends, here is the poem, as best as I can recall it.\n\n\"Lo the golden days are gone,\n\nthe happy laughter long fled,\n\nnow silence falls o'er Loamhedge walls,\n\nlone winds lament the dead.\n\nThe Shadowslayers sent us forth,\n\nsome south and east, some west and north.\n\nThe wise ones said 'twas vermin foul,\n\ntheir blood, their teeth, their fur,\n\nwhich brought the plague that laid us low,\n\nwith more than we could bear.\n\nWhen families die before our eyes,\n\nwe learned, 'tis folly to be wise.\n\nLeave everything ye own now, flee,\n\nrun if ye can, go far and wide,\n\nlinger not here, to grieve and weep,\n\nthose tears have all been cried.\n\nThe mouse Germaine said, 'Woe, 'tis true,\n\nThe Shadowslayers will come for you.'\n\nThe mice went first, escaped their fate,\n\nthey traversed north and west;\n\nwhat was left of us remained,\n\nto lay our dead to rest.\n\nWe travelled then, us piteous few,\n\nwho'd seen what Shadowslayers could do.\n\nMy father's father spake these words,\n\nas had his kin, from time untold,\n\nwand'ring exiled o'er the land,\n\ngrowing up, and growing old.\n\nRecalling to their dying breath,\n\nhow once the Shadowslayers brought death.\"\n\nCosbro took another drink and sighed wearily. \"I myself wrote that final verse, though there were many more. They told of our family names and histories. But I've forgotten the words, shame on me!\"\n\nFenna thought it was the saddest thing she had ever heard.\n\nSpringald spoke comfortingly to the ancient hare. \"I hope that if ever I live to your age, I would remember the half of it, sir.\"\n\nHorty chose that moment to waken from his stupor. \"Remember what, wot? I say, did we escape those blighters? Jolly good show, chaps, where are we now? Someplace far a-blinkin' way, I hope. Owch, my flippin' head's given me jip!\"\n\nHe tried to stagger upright and banged his head on the log. \"Yowhooyooch! Who left that up there, confounded oaf!\"\n\nSaro threw herself across his face, stifling further cries. She whispered fiercely. \"Shuttup, addlebrain, I can hear somethin' goin' on outside!\"\n\nKappin Birug and a crowd of Darrat rats halted alongside the log. Those inside held their breath in frozen silence. Sounds of the vermin poking about with spearbutts and slashing at shrubbery could be heard by those in the log. Outside, Birug climbed up and sat upon the log. Dawning sunlight slanted through the trees as he glanced down at the Darrat rats resting upon the grass.\n\n\"Any of you be High Kappins, eh?\" They stared owlishly at one another, then shook their heads. Birug jumped up, performing a dance of rage upon the log. Pointing his spear at them, he screeched.\n\n\"Den why you not searchin', mudbrains? Search! Search! Find dem, y'want me to do everythink, eh? Search!\"\n\nThey dispersed hastily, trying to look busy and diligent as they probed amid the woodland trees. Birug laid about with his spear shaft, spittle going everywhere as he took out his bad temper on anybeast standing close.\n\n\"Hemper Figlugg got bad sore skull, big lump onna 'ead! Dose beasts die slow when I catch 'em. Only make Burcha Glugg out of wot be left of dem!\"\n\nBirug hurried over to a rat who had returned to investigate the fallen log. Dealing the unfortunate several hard kicks to the rump, the Kappin screeched hoarsely at him. \"Wotcha be doin', dumbum\u2014y'think they be beetles, hidin' inna falled treelog? You never be High Kappin, that be sure!\"\n\nAs Birug chased the rat back to search with the others, Cosbro crept to the log opening and called out in excellent imitation of the gruff Darrat dialect. \"Der dey goes! Ober dat way, quick!\"\n\nThere followed a stampede of pounding Darrat paws, with Birug bellowing as he hastened in pursuit. \"Not kill 'em, catch 'em priz'ner, that a h'order!\"\n\nAs the sounds retreated, the fugitives breathed easier. Springald was visibly shaken. \"Good grief, that was a bit close for comfort!\"\n\nSaro removed herself from Horty's face. He was the picture of sputtering indignity.\n\n\"Pshaw, phoo! I'll be spittin' wodges of your bally tailfur for days t'come, marm. No blinkin' thanks to you, I was near smothercated, wot! But who am I to complain, chaps? Me flippin' head's poundin', achin' to blue blazes. There's a lump like a duck egg on me young skull. The poor old stomach is painin' an' swollen from savin' the ungrateful comrades. An' to top it all jolly well off, a great lump of a squirrel has been layin' on my tender young mouth for absolute ages. Phwaaaw, phutt! Never feed your young on squirrelhair, tastes vile!\"\n\nBragoon's paw shot out, pinching Horty's nose in a viselike grip. \"Are ye finished moanin', after ye nearly got us all captured, young sir?\"\n\nHorty tried to nod. \"Yith, juth leggo ob be dose pleathe!\"\n\nThe otter released his grip, growling threateningly. \"One more whimper an' I'll pull it right off, so keep quiet!\" He turned to question Cosbro. \"Ye mentioned Loamhedge in yore poem, mate, an' Abbess Germaine, too. She ruled there, from wot I've 'eard. Loamhedge is where we're bound for. Any idea which way it lies?\"\n\nThe ancient rabbit pointed in a general southeast direction. \"I can't be sure, but I've always imagined it being somewhere over that way. I've heard 'tis savage country\u2014deserts, chasms, wide rivers, and numerous foebeasts.\"\n\nSaro nodded. \"Aye, me'n Bragoon have seen a bit of it, though that was quite a few seasons back. Over that way, eh?\"\n\nCosbro began moving the vegetation from his log entrance. \"When you see a great line of very high cliffs, you'll know you're on the right track. Er, by the way, have you any of that excellent cordial to spare? I'm too old to travel now.\"\n\nBragoon passed him a fresh flask. \"Take this, friend, an' thankee kindly for yore help!\"\n\nThey emerged into calm morning sunlight and fresh, green woodlands.\n\nSaro waved to Cosbro. \"Good fortune be with ye, matey. We'll travel now, while the coast's clear. You take it easy!\"\n\nCosbro brought something out of his dwelling and gave it to Bragoon. It was a large coil of rope\u2014thin but incredibly strong, with big knots every three pawlengths.\n\nThe otter inspected it closely. \"Haharr, 'tis a climbin' rope, an' a fine one, too. If'n I ain't mistaken, this'll come in useful at the high cliffs. Where'd ye get it?\"\n\nCosbro explained. \"I made it myself, when I was a lot younger. Never got round to using it, though. I've forgotten my dreams of high cliffs long since. You take it.\"\n\nBragoon drew Martin's sword and held it up in a warrior's salute. \"A gift from a friend is somethin' to be valued. Thankee, sir, an' may the seasons be kind to ye!\"\n\nTo avoid bumping into the Darrat, they set off at a southerly tangent through the woodlands. Cosbro stood watching until they were out of sight. Wiping a paw across his rheumy eyes, the ancient rabbit murmured wistfully to himself, \"And may the seasons be kind to you, friends. May the breeze be at your backs, and the sun never in your eyes. Ah me, I wish that I were young enough to go with you.\"\n\nThe lonely rabbit shuffled back to his home, thinking of the high mysterious cliffs and the lost opportunities of his earlier seasons, now that old age leaned heavily upon him. Cosbro took one last look at the far horizon as he bent to enter the log dwelling.\n\n\"Ah well, at least my rope won't be wasted\u2014if they live long enough to use it.\"\n\n##\n\nMartha did not sleep a wink on the night that the vermin were sighted. It was as if some unreasoning panic was welling up in her. Vermin, at the very gates of her beloved Abbey! Restlessly she roamed Great Hall, propelling the little cart which held her chair, by pulling it along with the crutch that Toran had made for her.\n\nMoonlight sent pale shafts of light in varied hues as it shone through the stained-glass windows onto the worn stone floor. Travelling through the patches of dark and light, the young haremaid arrived at the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. She gazed up at the figure of the heroic mouse. It was illuminated by a small lantern on either side.\n\nMartha voiced her fears and worries to her friend. \"Oh Martin, what shall we do? Sarobando and Bragoon have left the Abbey, and all on my silly little behalf. Abbot Carrul gave Bragoon your great sword to take with him. I'd stay in my chair forever, if only they were back here at Redwall. The safety of this Abbey and all my friends here is far more important than foolish dreams of being able to walk. With my brother and the other young ones gone, who will help us against the vermin? The very thought of those cruel, murderous vermin getting inside our gates is horrible!\"\n\n\"Here now, young Martha, what's all this?\"\n\nShe gave a start as the Abbot loomed up out of the shadows. \"Father Abbot, I thought you'd gone to your bed.\"\n\nCarrul sat down on the edge of the cart and looked over the top of his glasses at her. \"And I thought you had, too, miss.\"\n\nThe sound of the main abbey door opening caused them both to pause. The Abbot's loud whisper echoed around the hall columns.\n\n\"Who's there?\"\n\nToran's voice replied. \" 'Tis only me an' Foremole Dwurl, Father. We just been relieved o' wallguard by Junty Cellarhog an' Weld.\" The pair joined Martha and Abbot Carrul.\n\nDwurl tugged his snout politely. \"Wot bee's you'm a-doin' settin' daown yurr? Shudd be snorin' abed, 'tis orful late.\"\n\nThe Abbot put on his wise face. \"Oh, we were just discussing a few things, weren't we, Martha?\"\n\nThe haremaid managed an important little cough. \"Ahem, yes, just small bits of business. What's it like out there, Toran? Any more news of the, er, vermin?\"\n\nThe ottercook sat back on his rudder. \"No, miss, they ain't up to much. Their fires are burnt low, I think they're sleepin'. We've been watchin' the ditch outside the front gate, t'other side o' the path, makin' sure they don't try t'sneak along it.\"\n\nMartha asked the question she had been anxious to have answered. \"Aren't you afraid?\"\n\nToran rubbed his wide midriff thoughtfully. \"Bless yore 'eart, pretty one, o' course we are. Only a fool'd say he wasn't. We're afraid as any sensible beast should be, but we ain't scared. Wot I mean is, we're only afraid for the safety of others\u2014Dibbuns, an' young 'uns like yoreself. But if'n we got to do somethin' about it, we ain't scared o' vermin.\"\n\nForemole licked his lips. \"Oi'm a-feared.\"\n\nToran raised his eyebrows at this remark. \"You, afeared?\"\n\nA huge grin creased the mole leader's homely face. \"Aye, zurr, afeared oi'll fall asleep an' miss ee brekkist. Oi'm a-thinken oi'll go to ee kitchens an' get a h'early wun!\"\n\nMartha laughed at the mole's comical logic. \"What a great idea, sir, I think we'll join you!\"\n\nThe kitchen was crowded with Redwallers of a like mind, even Dibbuns. Nobeast could sleep with the excitement of the night. Granmum Gurvel and three young moles were busy filling baked apples with honey and chopped hazelnuts.\n\nGurvel curtsied to the Abbot as she bustled by. \"Coom in an' sit ee daown, zurr, an' you'm h'others, too. Et bee's a gudd job moi ole bones can't be a sleepen, so oi'm a keepen moiself bizzied.\"\n\nThey found seats around the kitchen table and began pouring a sauce of meadowcream and rosehip over their baked apples. Everybeast was watching the Abbot as he paused before eating to address them.\n\n\"What we need are some good contingency plans, my friends. Seeing as most of us are here, I'll take any suggestions.\"\n\nMuggum was sitting up on a shelf, among the spice jars, with his cohort of Dibbuns. The molebabe raised his spoon. \"Oi says chop ee vermints tails offen wi' a gurt rusty knoife, an' barth 'em in 'ot soapy watter. Hurr, they'm soon bee's glad to run away arter that. Ho urr aye!\"\n\nThis met with hearty applause and much sneezing from the Dibbuns, two of whom had opened a hotroot pepper jar. Amused by this, Abbot Carrul tried to keep a straight face as he spoke to Sister Portula, who was recording the meeting. \"Not a bad idea! Write it down, Sister, and don't forget the bit about hot soapy water. We'll keep it in mind.\"\n\nSister Setiva, after wiping several noses and glaring the Dibbuns into silence, held up a paw. \"As soon as ah've finished eating, ah hope some o' ye will join me tae search around for more things tae use as weapons.\"\n\nMartha was among those who volunteered. But Toran had other plans for her. \"You'd never be able to search the attics upstairs, me beauty. I think ye should be in charge of the Dibbuns' safety. Seasons forbid that anythin' should happen to the liddle 'uns with vermin camped next to our gates. Will ye do it, Martha?\"\n\nImmediately the haremaid agreed. \"I'd be glad to. Right, come on you villains, off that shelf and up to bed. Last one up washes all the pots and dishes, eh, Granmum Gurvel?\"\n\nGurvel picked up her big ladle. \"You'm said the vurry thing oi wuz abowt t'say, Miz Marth!\"\n\nAn almighty scramble followed as Dibbuns climbed down from the shelves and fled upstairs squealing.\n\nAbbot Carrul waited until the noise subsided. \"Next suggestion please!\"\n\nBadredd lay awake down in the ditch, trying to ignore the stentorian snores of those around him. He longed for the dawn, when he could take possession of his magic sword. What did it look like? He imagined it as a solid gold blade with a crosshilt and grip crusted with rubies, pearls and emeralds. Of course, he would not mind too much if it were made from silver with jetstones and sapphires for adornment.\n\nMentally he went through a speech he had prepared for the woodland bumpkins who lived behind the wall. Badredd silently practised it, making sweeping paw movements to emphasise its drama. \"Throw wide your gates! Tremble at my name, for I am Badredd, commander of a vermin horde.\"\n\nHe paused here, wondering if his scruffy little band could constitute a horde. No matter, those woodland oafs had probably never seen a horde, much less taken a head count of one. He continued his oratory. \"You are looking at death, all of ye! Unless you deliver unto Badredd the magic sword that is rightfully his.\"\n\nHe questioned the last phrase\u2014it needed something, a word or two to prove that the sword's ownership was never in doubt. Hah, that was it! He embellished his flowery recitation thus: \"For did not my father, Reddblade, Warlord of the Northern Mountains, proclaim it so? 'Give unto my son Badredd his sword. It lies within Wallred, I mean, Redwall. To the mighty warrior goes the magic sword!' \" He flung out his paw and caught Halfchop a smack on the chin.\n\nThe rat awoke, holding his chin in his good paw. \"Mmmph, wot did ye do that for, Chief?\"\n\nBut Badredd was too fired up to waste time with arguments. \"Get further along that ditch an' see if'n ye can make it so that yore level with the big gate!\"\n\nHalfchop peered at him in the predawn darkness. \"Wot for?\"\n\nBadredd shoved him forward. \"If'n ye make it safely, give me a signal. I'll follow up with the rest o' the crew. That way we'll be in place when it gets light. They'll get the shock o' their lives when they see me climb out o' the ditch an' demand the magic sword. Go on, don't hang about!\"\n\nBlundering forward, Halfchop stepped on a thistle and banged into the ditch's sidewall. \" 'Tis no good, I can't see a thing. Why don't ye wait 'til dawn?\"\n\nBadredd drew his cutlass. \"Because I want it done now. There'll be one less in the crew if'n ye stand there rubbin' yore chin an' makin' excuses. Now get goin'!\"\n\nHalfchop picked up a red-ended branch from the embers of a fire. He went off, blowing it back to burning light and muttering, \"Alright, then, but I ain't goin' without a light!\"\n\nUp on the northwest rampart corner, Brother Weld nudged Junty Cellarhog. \"Is that somebeast coming along the ditch carrying a light?\"\n\nThe burly hedgehog watched as a small burning beacon grew closer. \"Aye, so 'tis, Brother. I wager that's a vermin, up to no good, I'll be bound. Better stop the rascal afore he sets fire to our front gate.\"\n\nThere was always a variety of things in Junty's big apron pocket. He dug a paw in and rummaged about. A slow smile lit up his heavy features as he produced a big barrel bung made from a knot he had gouged out of an oak log. \"This should do!\"\n\nThough ponderous and not given to quick flings, Junty was accurate and very powerful.\n\nHalfchop was never very sure of what fractured his muzzle and wrecked his nose. But he never forgot the sound as it hit him. _Kachunk!_\n\nBadredd saw the rat's light snuffed out with a gentle hiss as it fell into some stagnant water. He went and shook the weasel brothers, Floggo and Rogg, awake. \"Rouse yore bones there. Go an' fetch ole Halfchop back 'ere. He went wanderin' off up the ditch. It looks like the idiot's fallen over. Go on, move! It'll soon be dawn.\"\n\nWhen they returned, hauling the senseless rat, Badredd blew on the embers and stirred the fire. He winced as he saw the damage to Halfchop's face. Awakened by the commotion, Flinky dug some dried herbs out of his pouch and lit them so that they smouldered. The weasels held the rat's head steady as Flinky pushed the smoking herbs under his nose. Halfchop's eyes opened immediately when the pungent fumes got to him.\n\nBadredd squatted beside him. \"What happened?\" Halfchop looked at the fox quizzically as he repeated the question. \"Who did that to ye, what happened?\"\n\nHalfchop spoke . . . just one word\u2014\"Kachunk!\"\n\nFlinky put aside the smouldering herbs. \"Wot did ye say, mate?\"\n\nHalfchop looked at Flinky as if seeing him for the first time. He looked at Badredd the same way and spoke the word again. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nLosing his patience, Badredd pawed the cutlass edge menacingly. \"Talk sense! I asked ye wot happened. Keep sayin' that stupid word an' I'll kachunk ye, good an' proper!\"\n\nHalfchop leaned close and whispered in the fox's ear. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nAs Flinky saw the cutlass beginning to rise, he stepped in and stayed his crew leader's paw. \"Ah now, leave him alone, Chief. The pore ould rat's not in his right mind at all. How d'ye feel, matey, better now?\"\n\nHalfchop smiled foolishly over his swollen muzzle. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nDawn crept in from the east, pale pink and lilac in a creamy haze. Dewdrops bedecked the flatlands beyond the ditch. Redwall Abbey's twin bells tolled out the opening of a new summer day. Martha watched Toran, Abbot Carrul and several others mounting the gatehouse steps. Frustration tinged the haremaid's plea to them.\n\n\"Let me come up on the ramparts, I want to see what's happening. Oh please, I feel so helpless down here!\"\n\nToran shook his head. \"It might get a bit dangerous up here, me pretty. Best ye stop down there an' look after the Dibbuns.\"\n\nLittle Shilly the squirrelbabe made a scramble for the steps. \"Cummon, we all go up onna wall. Then Miz Marth' gotta be up dere wiv us'n's!\"\n\nSister Setiva ran down and blocked the Dibbuns' way. \"Och no ye don't, mah wee babes. Ah'll come o'er tae the orchard wi' ye an' Martha. We'll see if any blackberries are ripe enough tae be picked yet. A guid idea, eh?\"\n\nSqueaking with delight, the Abbeybabes pushed Martha's chair across the lawns so fast that the haremaid was forced to hold on tight to the arms.\n\nSister Setiva chased after them, shouting in her thin, reedy voice, \"Slow down, ye naughty creatures, go easy wi' Miss Martha!\"\n\nJunty and Brother Weld kept an eye on the ditch as they made their way along to the threshold over the main gate. Throwing a brief salute, the Cellarhog made his report to the Abbot. \"Looks like they're makin' a move, Father. Comin' this way!\"\n\nThe wall party was armed with a variety of window poles, kitchen utensils and tools. Apart from one or two slings and bags of pebbles, there were no real weapons to be found within the bounds of the peaceable Abbey. Toran gave Junty a sling and some stones. He tossed a long ash stave to Brother Weld.\n\n\"These ain't much, but they're better'n nothin', friends.\"\n\nNow the vermin crew had reached the spot directly below where the Redwallers stood. They halted, only the tops of their heads visible. Silence fell as they waited, standing in a muddy pool of ditchwater.\n\nToran whispered to Abbot Carrul. \"Let them state their business first.\"\n\nThe silence from below became rather protracted, then a voice spoke out. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nThis was followed by Badredd hissing, \"Somebeast, shut that fool up!\"\n\nCuriosity overcame Old Phredd the Gatekeeper, who called out, \"What do ye want? Speak up!\"\n\nBadredd had envisioned himself leaping boldly from the ditch to state his demands. However, he was far too short for such a thing, so several of the crew had to lift him up and boost him onto the path. It was a totally undignified procedure. The little fox landed, sprawling on the dust and gravel. He sprang up quickly, took a swaggering step forward and tripped over his cutlass.\n\nHaving heard a few stifled giggles from the walltop, Badredd glared up frostily at the assembled Redwallers, putting on his toughest snarl. \"Ye'll laugh the other side of yore faces afore this day's done!\" Puffing himself up to his full height, he continued. \"I'm Badredd, Warlord of the Vermin Horde. Nobeast can stand against me. I come from the Northlands where we drink our enemies' blood!\"\n\nThe Abbot bowed his head politely. \"I bid you a good morning, Sir Badredd. I am Father Abbot Carrul of Redwall. Is there any way I can be of service to you? Mayhaps you might need food or supplies to continue your journey?\"\n\nAt the mention of food, the rest of the vermin crew climbed out of the ditch eagerly, but the little fox forestalled them by answering the Abbot scornfully. \"We don't want yore food, mouse. Our journey's end is here, at this Wallred place. You've got a magic sword here. I want it\u2014bring it t'me now!\"\n\nThe Abbot stared coolly down at him. \"There is no such thing as a magic sword at Redwall Abbey.\"\n\nBadredd drew his cutlass with a swish, pointing it at Carrul. \"You lie! Bring that sword out to me, old fool, or it will go badly with ye!\"\n\nToran stepped up to the Abbot's side, roaring down at the fox, \"Don't ye dare call the Abbot of Redwall a fool or a liar! If he says there's no magic sword here, then you'd best get the mud out o' yore ears an' listen. Now shift yoreself, vermin. Get up the road with that raggedy-bottomed bunch. Quick, or I'll come down there and kick yore tail back t'the Northlands!\"\n\nShaking with rage, Badredd turned and nodded to his two archers, the weasel brothers. \"Fire!\"\n\nTwo arrows zipped from their bows. Toran flung himself upon the Abbot, knocking him down below the battlements. One arrow flew harmlessly overhead, the other grazed the ottercook's shoulder.\n\nToran winced as he yelled, \"Down, everybeast!\"\n\nThe Redwallers immediately dropped below the parapet. Junty Cellarhog fitted a stone into his sling and whirled it. He popped up and let fly. Though it was a speedy shot, and not too accurate, it did hit Badredd on the footpaw. He screeched out in pain as Crinktail and the rest of the crew jumped back into the ditch, taking him with them.\n\nThere was an uneasy silence. Then Flinky called out in a wheedling voice. \"Ah, look now, friends, why don't ye just throw the ould magic sword to us an' we'll be on our way, I promise!\"\n\nThis was followed by a tirade from Badredd. \"Sword or no sword, I vow I'll slay ye all an' take yore Abbey from ye. This is war, d'ye hear me?\"\n\nTwo broken halves of the arrow which had struck Toran were flung into the ditch. The ottercook sat watching Sister Portula bind his wound with her apron. He laughed and shouted back contemptuously to the fox, \"War, eh? Go on then, let's see ye take Redwall from us. A dirty liddle band o' vermin scum, ye'd have no chance!\"\n\nDown in the ditch, Flinky gazed levelly at Badredd and nodded. \"Sure an' I believe the big riverdog's right. How could a crew as small as ours take that fine big place? 'Tis all made o' stone an' locked up tight.\"\n\nBadredd nursed his footpaw, shooting a hateful glance at the stoat. \"Whose side are ye on, theirs o' ours?\"\n\nFlinky spread his paws expressively. \"Ah now, Chief, I'm with you. But ye got to admit, things ain't exac'ly goin' our way, are they now?\"\n\nBadredd narrowed his eyes, well aware that Flinky could be a sly one at times. \"So, what d'ye suggest?\"\n\nThe stoat winked secretively. \"Make 'em think we've gone away. I'll wager we could catch 'em off guard after a day or two.\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel came panting up the wallsteps, carrying a big wooden pail of kitchen rubbish with the arrow that had missed the Abbot sticking out of it. The old mole blinked indignantly. \"Yurr, see wot appinged? Oi wurr just crossin' ee lawn to put ee rubbish on moi compost 'eap. That thurr h'arrer comed roight out'n ee sky an' stucked in moi pail!\"\n\nJunty Cellarhog took it from her. \"Don't fret, marm, it missed ye!\"\n\nBack in the ditch, Badredd was mulling over Flinky's idea. \"How many days do we wait?\"\n\nJunty's voice interrupted further conversation. The Cellarhog was whining piteously. \"Sir, we've got somethin' here for ye.\"\n\nBadredd leaped up. \"Lend a paw 'ere, get me outta this ditch. We won't be waitin' any longer. Hah! They've seen sense at last, that'll be my magic sword!\"\n\nThey boosted him up out of the ditch. He was back a moment later\u2014dripping with leftover oatmeal, potato peelings, onion skins and old cooking oil. Laughter and hoots of derision rang out from the walltops. Badredd was speechless with rage. The crew backed off from him, holding their noses at the odour from yesterday's kitchen rubbish.\n\nHe clawed at the mess. \"I don't care how long I got to wait, they're deadbeasts, all of 'em. They can't treat Badredd like that!\"\n\nHalfchop smiled at him. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nToran sat in the orchard, surrounded by the Dibbuns, telling the tale to them whilst Sister Setiva and Martha tended his wound. The incident, while being humorous, worried Martha.\n\n\"I wish Sarobando and Bragoon were here now.\"\n\nThe ottercook patted his newly bandaged shoulder. \"Don't upset yourself, young 'un. Those vermin'll leave when they find there's nought here for 'em except the ole pail o' rubbish. Ain't that right, Sister?\"\n\nSetiva knotted off the bandage neatly. \"Aye, like as not. Ye say there's but ten o' the rogues altogether. Hmm, they shouldnae be much trouble. Aye, but 'twould be fine if we had some otters or shrews aboot the place.\"\n\nToran stood up and flexed his paw. \"Huh, ye'll not find otters around here, save for me. They've gone off to camp on the seashores all summer. As for shrews\u2014well, they go wherever the streams an' rivers take 'em. I know we ain't got many at Redwall of fightin' age, but we'll do at a pinch.\"\n\nMartha folded the rug across her lap. \"I hope you're right. I'd hate to see vermin get into Redwall. What would happen to these little ones?\"\n\nMuggum picked up a stick. \"Uz foight 'em, miz, we'm gurt fierce Dibbuns. B'ain't that roight, Shilly?\"\n\nThe squirrelbabe, and all the other Dibbuns, set up a fearful clamour. Brandishing sticks, wooden spoons and stones, they paraded up and down, scowling, growling and shouting dire threats.\n\nThough Martha could not help smiling inwardly, she covered her ears and looked shocked. \"Dearie me, I wouldn't like to be a vermin with all these great rough warriors around. Would you, Toran?\"\n\nHer friend nodded. \"Aye, miss, thank the seasons we can sleep safe in our beds. These liddle 'uns are reg'lar terrors!\"\n\nThe smallest of the Dibbuns, the tiny shrew called Buffle, picked up a stone which was far too big for him. He fell over backward and sat there muttering unintelligible sounds.\n\n\"Gurrumvurbilbultumcuchachukchuk!\"\n\nToran removed the stone from Buffle's stomach. He picked the babe up with one paw and set him on Martha's lap. \"Well, I wonder what that's all about?\"\n\nYooch, who seemed to be the only one who could understand Buffle, translated. \"Buffle sez he eat vermins all up!\"\n\nSister Setiva cleaned a few dandelion seeds from the shrewbabe's whiskers. He tried to bite her paw. Setiva raised her eyebrows. \"Och, ye wee terror, don't ye dare tae eat me all up!\"\n\nBuffle clenched his tiny paws and came out with a long torrent of garbled baby talk.\n\nMartha turned to Yooch. \"What's he saying now?\"\n\nYooch giggled. \"Buffle sayin' lotsa naughty fings!\"\n\nSister Setiva looked shocked. \"Time for your nap, young shrew!\" She swept him off protesting loudly. Setiva was a no-nonsense shrewnurse and ignored Buffle's tirade. \"Och, ye can stop all that gobbledygook\u2014ah'm no' impressed!\"\n\n##\n\nBadredd and his crew had left the ditch and crossed back into Mossflower Wood. With all manner of fruit, berries and wild vegetables to be had there during this summer season, the vermin had no difficulty finding food. Crinktail and Juppa gossiped as they prepared food for the others. Neither was very optimistic.\n\nJuppa plucked away at a moorhen, which Rogg had brought down with his bow. \"I tell ye, 'twill be a long time afore we see the Northlands again. Badredd's more determined than ever now.\"\n\nCrinktail chopped away at dandelion roots and wild celery with a thin-bladed dagger. \"Aye, that's true enough. Where is our fearless chief? I ain't seen him round lately.\"\n\nSlipback strolled in and threw down a sizeable bunch of watercress. \"Who, Badredd? That 'un's takin' a bath in the stream, tryin' to get the smell o' that rubbish off 'im. He ain't too pleased, I can tell ye, two baths in two seasons is hard on a beast. He only took a bath last spring.\"\n\nFlinky emerged from the undergrowth, his tunic full of pears. \"Ah sure, any vermin knows that bathin' weakens ye. How's the vittles comin' along, me ould darlin'?\"\n\nCrinktail winked fondly at her mate. \"They'll be ready soon enough, ye great starvin' stoat. Sit by the fire here an' stir the pot awhile. Ye can give us a song while yore at it.\"\n\nFlinky knew more vermin songs than all the crew put together. He sang aloud, hoping the strains might reach Badredd whilst he was taking his bath in the stream not far away. The rest of the crew drifted in to listen, sniggering and nudging a bit at the words.\n\n\"Oh hear my song, young vermin,\n\nand take heed to wot I say,\n\nI had a fine young son like you,\n\nwho bathed most every day.\n\nWhenever he saw water, straight off he'd dive right in,\n\na-scrubbin' an' a-washin' of himself, then he'd begin:\n\nOooooooohhhhhhh! I smell just like a rose,\n\nfrom me tail up to me nose,\n\nwhy, even all the blossoms envy me.\n\nAn' all I'll ever lack,\n\nis a mate to scrub me back,\n\nI'm the cleanest vermin that you'll ever\n\nsee . . . eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!\n\nI'm clean as a weasel's whistle,\n\nshiny as a stoat's best coat.\n\nJust pass the scented essence,\n\nin camomile I'll float.\n\nAll lathery suds an' lilac buds an' pine tree fragrance, too,\n\nwith me teeth so white an' me fur so bright an' eyes of baby blue.\"\n\nThe last verse was sung sadly and with great feeling.\n\n\"But then one summer dawn,\n\nI had to weep an' mourn,\n\nI went down to the bathing pool that day.\n\nThere was not one poor young hair,\n\njust a sweet aroma there.\n\nAlas, he'd gone an' washed himself away.\n\nAwayeeeeeeeeeee!\"\n\nBadredd strode to the fire, dripping wet. Jiggling a claw in one ear, he gave Flinky a frozen stare. \"Get them vittles cooked an' shut yore stupid gob. When we've eaten, we're movin' on, fast!\"\n\nFlinky returned his stare blankly. \"Ah sure, an' wot's the hurry, yore 'onour?\"\n\nThe little fox buckled his cutlass on. \"I want to take a look round the back o' that Abbey, there's got to be a way in!\"\n\nFlinky passed a secret wink to Crinktail, who tried to fob Badredd off with an excuse. \"But, Chief, by the time we've finished the meal and got round there, it'll be dark.\"\n\nBadredd picked up a bowl and held it forth to be filled. \"Good, that'll be the ideal time to get the job done!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul felt much relieved as he surveyed the path and the ditch from the west walltop. \"Thank goodness there's no sign of the vermin. What do you think, Toran, have they gone for good?\"\n\nThe ottercook had lashed sharp kitchen knives to the tops of two window poles. He and Junty each had one. Toran peered up the path into the gathering darkness.\n\n\"Looks like they have, Father, but I'm takin' no chances. Me an' Junty'll stay guard up here an' keep a weather eye out. If the things are still all clear tomorrow, we'll do a patrol around the outer wall just to make certain.\"\n\nCarrul patted his friend's stout back. \"As you wish, I'll have food sent up to you.\"\n\nIt was a fine warm night. Cavern Hole was packed with Redwallers, all happy and relaxed since hearing the news their Abbot brought, that the vermin fear had passed. Granmum Gurvel and her molemaids served a celebratory supper of mushroom and barley soup, harvest-baked loaves and a dessert of apple and blackberry crumble made from fresh ingredients, which the Dibbuns had gathered from the orchard.\n\nForemole sat down next to Sister Portula, digging into his bowl of crumble and smiling happily. \"Gudd arpatoit to ee, marm, ee trubble bee's gonned naow!\"\n\nPortula raised a beaker of October Ale. \"Good appetite to you, sir. Hmm, look at young Martha, she doesn't seem to be enjoying herself. I wonder what's the matter with her.\"\n\nForemole pondered the situation for a moment, then pronounced his judgement. \"Oi 'spec Miz Marth's missin' urr bruther.\"\n\nSister Portula called across to the haremaid. \"Don't fret about Horty, he'll be back soon, eating us out of house and home, no doubt. You'll see!\"\n\nMartha smiled wanly. \"I'm sure he will, Sister, but I can't help feeling concerned about him.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul put aside his supper and stood up. \"What you need is a jolly song. Shall I sing you a little ditty I once learned from a sea otter?\"\n\nThis surprised Martha. \"You singing, Father Abbot?\"\n\nCarrul raised his eyebrows. \"What's so odd in that, may I ask, miss? Gurvel once said I had a voice like a bird!\"\n\nBrother Gelf chuckled. \"Aye, a dying duck. Come on then, Carrul, let's hear ye.\"\n\nThe Abbot took a deep breath. \"Right, here goes. But you must sing this line at the end of each verse. _Heave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaah!\"_\n\nAll the Redwallers wanted to see their Abbot singing, so they agreed readily. Carrul tapped the tabletop until he had the rhythm, then launched into the song. For an old mouse, he had quite a strong, ringing baritone.\n\n\"On the good ship _Leakylea,_\n\nthe captain was a frog,\n\nthe mate was a bumblebee,\n\nand the cook was an old hedgehog.  \nHeave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaah!\n\nI was born at an early age,\n\nand sent straight off to sea,\n\nwith a flea in an iron cage,\n\non the good ship _Leakylea._  \nHeave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaah!\n\nWe sailed the seas so rough,\n\nand never washed the dishes,\n\nate pans o' skilly'n'duff,\n\nand laughed at all the fishes.  \nHeave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaah!\n\nWe ate all we could chew,\n\nmy flea grew bigger'n me,\n\n'cos he'd ate more'n all the crew,\n\naboard the _Leakylea._  \nHeave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaah!\n\nThe the ship sank in a gale,\n\nI was rescued by my flea,\n\nwe're all that's left to tell the tale,\n\nof the poor old _Leakylea._  \nHeave haul away, twice around the bay. Yaaaah!\"\n\nMartha applauded, laughing along with the other Redwallers.\n\nAbbot Carrul bowed modestly and winked at Brother Gelf. \"Not bad for a dying duck, eh?\"\n\nRemembering her responsibility to the Dibbuns, Martha called to them. \"Bedtime, little 'uns, come on now!\"\n\nStrangely, the three who were most likely to protest\u2014Muggum, Shilly and Yooch\u2014went quietly. The other Abbeybabes made their usual loud protest, but to no avail.\n\nSister Setiva wagged a severe paw at them. \"Up tae your beds, this verra instant, or ye'll have me tae reckon with!\"\n\nMartha watched the last one\u2014Buffle the shrewbabe\u2014scamper through the doorway, where he turned and glared at everybeast. \"Kumfuggleworragarrumbubbub . . . Kurch!\"\n\nSetiva picked up a ladle and made as if to chase him. \"Ah cannae tell what you're sayin', ye wee rogue. But, like as no', 'tis somethin' verra naughty! Ye'd best get toddlin' afore I catch up wi' ye!\"\n\nBuffle stood his ground long enough to twiddle a paw to his nose at the shrewnurse, then he bolted off, giggling.\n\nMartha tried hard not to laugh. \"Perhaps we'd better go up and tuck them in, Sister?\"\n\nSetiva waved a dismissive paw. \"Och no, we can do that later. Ah've got tae go an' take supper tae Toran an' Junty first.\"\n\nThe haremaid pushed her chair away from the table. \"I'll come and help you. Poor old Toran, I'd forgotten about him. Never mind, there's plenty of crumble left.\"\n\nBadredd halted his crew at the east wickergate. There was a small door set in the centre of the Abbey's rear wall. He held up a paw for silence. Gently pressing his weight against the timbers, the small fox tried the circular iron ring handle. It was firmly locked shut.\n\nPlumnose held up a little lantern close to the door. \"Huh, id's shudd, Chief!\"\n\nBadredd had difficulty controlling his voice. \"Is it now! Thanks for lettin' me know, bouldernose!\"\n\nPlumnose grinned. \"T'ink nodding ob it.\" He turned to Halfchop. \"Duh likkel door's locked, I t'ink.\"\n\nThe rat wiped a ribbon of drool from his chin. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nBadredd rounded on the pair, hissing viciously. \"Shuttup, you two, an' get back into the trees\u2014go on! Flinky, are ye any good at openin' locks?\"\n\nThe stoat scratched his grimy cheek. \"Ah, well, there's locks an' locks, if ye get my meanin', yer 'onour!\"\n\nBadredd whipped out his cutlass and thrust it under Flinky's nose. \"I never asked ye for a lecture about locks! I said, are you any good at openin' 'em\u2014well, are ye?\"\n\nFlinky heaved a sigh and took the cutlass from his chief's paw. \"Sure an' I don't know until I try. Shall I give it an ould go?\"\n\nBadredd waved him to the door impatiently. \"Well, put a move on, we haven't got all night!\"\n\nFlinky wedged the swordblade between the door jamb and the wall. He slid the blade down until it clinked dully against something.\n\n\"Hah, there's yore problem, Chief, 'tis a bolt. D'ye want me to try an' chop through it?\"\n\nThe fox exhaled irately. \"Anythin', just get on with it!\"\n\nFlinky requested the aid of Floggo and Rogg. \"Come over t'this door, buckoes. Now put yore shoulders to it. Push now. That'll widen the gap so I can get a grand swing at the bolt. Push, put those ould bows down an' push!\"\n\nThe door moved slightly under the pressure, creating a thin space. Flinky took the cutlass in both paws, raising it within the gap. Then he struck, whipping the blade down with all his might.\n\n _Piiing!_ As it struck the iron bolt, the blade snapped in half.\n\nBadredd stared in silent horror at the stoat, who\u2014still holding the handle and half a blade\u2014was hopskipping in agony, both paws numbed by the reverberation of metal upon metal.\n\nThe vermin leader's voice rose to a disbelieving squeak. \"Me sword! Me luvly cutlass! Ye've ruined it! Idiot!\"\n\nTears squeezed from the corners of Flinky's eyes as he flung the half cutlass on the ground. \"Aarh, it broke its stupid self. Yore s'posed t'be the chief, why didn't you have a go?\"\n\nBadredd seized the broken weapon. \"Have a go? I'll have a go at you if ye ain't careful, idiot! An' you lot, a fine crew I've got, sittin' round scratchin' yerselves among the trees. Up on yer paws, doltheads, we'll have to find someplace else where we can get in. Jump to it!\"\n\nAs Badredd strode off in foul mood, Plumnose called to him. \"Chief, me an' Halfchob hab got de door oben!\"\n\nBadredd dashed back to where Plumnose and Halfchop stood in the small doorway. Finding the door still closed, he fumed at them. \"Ye blither-brained, wobble-nosed, broken-snouted loafheads! Get goin', afore I carve cobs off'n ye with what's left o' me sword!\"\n\nBut then, as Plumnose pushed the wicker door gently, it swung inward. \"Duh, hawhawhaw, oben!\"\n\nHalfchop walked through the open door and grinned. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nFlinky inspected the wall alongside the door. \"Well now, ain't I the clever beast! I must've hit the bolt so hard that it broke through the ould soft sandstone it bolts into. See, there's a chunk of it missin'. Oh, here's the rest of yer grand cutlass, Chief.\"\n\nHe presented the fox with the other half of the blade. Flinging it from him, Badredd turned on the crew and hissed, \"You lot, keep yore mouths shut, not a sound out of ye. Foller me, don't go cloghoppin' all over the place. We're goin' to take a look around. Next move is t'get inside the big buildin'. Quietly now . . .\"\n\nAfter taking food out to the west walltop for Toran and Junty, Martha and Sister Setiva returned to the Abbey. Martha stayed in her chair below stairs whilst Setiva went up to the dormitory to check up on the Dibbuns. The shrewnurse was away only for a brief space of time when a dismayed cry reached Martha. Setiva came hurrying back downstairs carrying little Buffle, who was imprisoned in a pillowcase with only his head sticking out.\n\nThe Sister's voice shook with barely controlled anger. \"Och, jist let me get mah paws on those rascals. Ah'll give 'em somethin' tae remember me by!\"\n\nBuffle strained against the pillowcase knotted at his neck. \"Goourr, 'ascals!\"\n\nA look of fear crossed the haremaid's face. \"What's happened, Sister?\"\n\nSetiva began trying to release Buffle. \"Ooh! Those Dibbuns, Muggum, Shilly an' Yooch. They've gone missing. All the rest o' the wee ones were fast asleep, except Buffle. D'ye see what they did? Trapped 'im in this auld pillowslip so he couldnae follow 'em. Where in the name of all fur have they got to?\"\n\nBuffle pulled a paw free and pointed out the Abbey door.\n\nJunty Cellarhog ran his paw around the inside of his bowl and licked it. \"Ah, apple'n'blackberry crumble, mate, nothin' like it!\"\n\nToran gazed longingly back toward the Abbey. \"Aye, pity we're on wallguard all night. If the Abbot sends out a relief, there might be some left when we get off duty.\" Toran's keen eye suddenly noticed three small, white-clad figures trundling across the lawn in his direction. Two were waving sticks and one swinging a ladle. He peered hard.\n\n\"Look there, mate, that ain't no relief!\"\n\nIt was at that moment when things began happening fast.\n\nFramed in a shaft of golden light from the Abbey door, Martha and Sister Setiva were pointing to the Dibbuns and calling aloud to them. \"Come back here this instant, or you're in real trouble!\"\n\nThe trio split, Muggum running south and the other two hurrying off to the north.\n\nToran saw them and chuckled. \"Escapin' Dibbuns, eh? They won't get far . . .\"\n\nJunty interrupted him roughly. \"Look, vermin!\"\n\nBadredd and his crew were sneaking quickly out across the lawn, trying to grab Muggum, who was heading for the pond where he planned on hiding in the reeds. The little mole was completely unaware of the enemy. Sister Setiva had come out onto the Abbey steps. As soon as she saw the vermin crew, she began dashing to save Muggum.\n\nJunty was already hurtling down the gatehouse wallsteps, calling back to Toran, \"Get the other two little 'uns inside!\" He shouted at the shrewnurse. \"Stay where ye are, Sister. I'll bring that Dibbun in!\"\n\nWith his paws, Toran swept up the giggling Shilly and Yooch\u2014this was all one big game to them\u2014then the ottercook turned and pounded toward the Abbey door.\n\nSlipback came within a paw's length of grabbing Muggum, when Junty fetched him a massive whack to the chest, laying the weasel out flat. Then the big Cellarhog seized the molebabe and ran as fast as his footpaws would carry him, with Badredd and the crew hard on his heels. Without stopping, Junty snatched up Sister Setiva from where she had been standing in his path, rigid with fright.\n\n _Thud! Thud!_\n\nTwo arrows from the bows of the ferrets buried themselves in the Cellarhog's broad back. He staggered slightly but kept running. Muggum was screeching, the hedgehog's sharp spines were sticking in his paws as the molebabe tried to struggle free.\n\nToran sped into the Abbey, dropped both of the other Dibbuns into Martha's lap. \"Get ready to slam the door shut!\" He panted as he turned and ran back outside to help Junty.\n\nOne arrow grazed Toran's cheek, another hit Junty in his right shoulder. Toran shot past the Cellarhog, whirled hard, and caught Crinktail across the face with a huge smack of his rudder. He turned and pushed Junty, with both his burdens, up the steps and into the Abbey, roaring, \"Bar the door!\"\n\nRedwallers, who had come pouring out of Cavern Hole to see what all the commotion was about, assisted the haremaid in slamming and barring the door in the face of the charging vermin crew. Two more arrows made a hollow sound as they flew into the strong oak timbering. A crash and a tinkle sent Foremole and Brother Weld hurrying to the lower windows.\n\nToran urged others along with him. \"Get tables an' benches! Barricade the lower frames before they get in!\"\n\nBadredd waved his broken cutlass. \"Keep at it there, crew, we've got 'em on the run!\"\n\nFlinky watched a dining table blocking a broken window. He muttered out the side of his mouth to Juppa. \"Keep slingin' rocks, but let 'em barricade those windows. They'd eat our liddle gang if'n we got inside. We'd be well outnumbered, mate.\"\n\nJuppa looked puzzled. \"Well, if'n we ain't goin' in, wot's the next move?\"\n\nFlinky had served under lots of different vermin chiefs, all a lot smarter than Badredd. He winked confidently at the weasel.\n\n\"Lissen t'me. If'n we ain't goin' in, well they ain't gettin' out. Did ye see that great orchard we passed as we came through?\"\n\nBadredd came marching around, prodding Flinky with his broken blade. \"Wot's that sling doin' empty? Keep chuckin' rocks at those windows until I tell ye to stop. Both of ye!\"\n\nFlinky loaded a large pebble into his sling. \"Ah, we'll be doin' that, yer 'onour, right away. I was just tellin' ould Juppa here what a clever move ye made.\"\n\nBadredd was eager to know just what the clever move was. \"Aye, well that's alright. You explain it to 'er, she was never too bright. Go on, tell the long-tailed oaf.\" The small fox stood listening to Flinky's explanation.\n\n\"Hoho, we've got the sillybeasts locked up tight now. Prisoners in their own Abbey, 'tis called a siege. There's only a limited supply o' food an' drink in there. Take us now, the chief knows we got the orchard an' the pond. They'll either starve t'death in the Abbey or surrender after awhile. Ain't that right, Chief?\"\n\nOnly a moment before, Badredd thought he had lost the encounter, but the realisation of what Flinky had just said made him shudder with delight. So that was what a siege was all about.\n\nKeeping a straight face, the fox nodded wisely. \"Aye, 'tis a siege, sure enough. Now you two keep slingin'.\" He swaggered off, shouting orders to the other vermin. Juppa watched him go. \"A siege, eh? What a clever idea!\"\n\nFlinky launched another stone but missed. He jumped neatly aside as it bounced back at him. \"Ah sure, the ould chief is full o' clever ideas, especially when some otherbeast thinks 'em up for 'im. Little fool, he couldn't find his bottom wid both paws!\" The weasel and the stoat loaded their slings again, laughing hilariously.\n\nMartha had pulled herself from her chair. She sat on the floor, both eyes shut tight, clutching Junty's paw to her cheek as she rocked back and forth. The Cellarhog was lying where he had fallen, face up. Muggum was wailing as Sister Portula pulled spikes from his side and paws.\n\nSister Setiva was similarly engaged. \"Och, ye've got some fine sharp quills on ye, mah guid Cellarhog. Ah'll be with ye soon as I've got them out o' me. Hauld him still, Martha, how is he?\"\n\nWith her eyes still shut, Martha kissed his limp paw. \"He's dead, Sister. Junty is dead!\"\n\n##\n\nA squabbling flock of starlings, disputing rights to an ants' nest, woke Jibsnout in the hour following daybreak. With a cavernous yawn, the big Searat heaved himself upright. He cast a jaundiced eye over the three sons of Wirga who were curled up together, sleeping beneath a wych hazel.\n\nJibsnout cuffed the trio roughly, stirring them into wakefulness. \"Up on yer hunkers, whelps, we're on the move again!\"\n\nThe three smaller rats rose reluctantly, one of them glaring balefully at the Tracker and hissing. \"We only lay down an hour afore dawn.\"\n\nJibsnout smirked. \"Aye, 'tis a shame, ain't it? Move yerself, snotty snout, an' don't argue wid me. If'n I say ye march, then ye march, so button yer lip!\"\n\nQuivering with anger, the smaller rat picked up his little spear\u2014each of his brothers carried one, too. Jibsnout had seen them use the deadly weapons, but not as spears. Although they were actually hollow rods, the spearpoints could be removed, transforming them into blowpipes through which poisoned darts could be shot with lethal accuracy. The big Searat stroked his long dagger fondly and moved closer to the sons of Wirga. He fixed the angry one with a cold stare.\n\n\"Go on, mamma's liddle rat, use it, I dare ye. Think yore brave enough t'slay me, eh?\"\n\nLashing out swiftly, Jibsnout knocked the spear from the smaller rat's paws. Whipping out his blade, he menaced the other two. \"Just try raisin' one o' those things against me, an' poison or not, I'll rip yer throats out! Well, come on, ye gutless wonders, who's ready fer a fight t'the death?\"\n\nThe sons of Wirga stood silent, their eyes cast down. Jibsnout curled his lip scornfully, turning his back on them. \"Hah, I thought so! There's more backbone in an egg than in youse three put t'gether. Scringin' cowards!\"\n\nEach of the three blowpipes was already charged with a poison dart. Silently slipping the head from his spear, the rat whom Jibsnout had insulted placed the hollow rod to his mouth. His cheeks bulged as he prepared to propel the dart.\n\n _Zzzzzzip!_\n\nA long arrow struck the little rat, driving him back a full four paces. He was dead before he hit the ground.\n\nDiving to either side, the remaining two sons of Wirga sought cover. Lonna emerged from out of the trees, fitting another shaft to his bowstring. The badger's eyes were red with the light of vengeance, the snarl on his scarred, stitched face transforming him into a terrifying apparition. Frightened though he was, Jibsnout, a seasoned fighter, acted swiftly. Wielding his dagger, he dashed forward, hoping to get so close to his adversary that the bow and arrow would be rendered useless.\n\nLonna was in a dilemma: he could see one of the Searats glancing around a treetrunk, ready to fire a blowpipe, and Jibsnout thundering toward him. With lightning speed the badger acted. Falling into a crouch, he fired his arrow, but only narrowly missed being shot himself as a poison dart whipped by overhead. Jibsnout roared in pain as the arrow transfixed his paw to the ground. As Lonna rose, taking another shaft from his quiver, the Searat who had fired the dart fled off into the woodlands.\n\nThe remaining son of Wirga came from behind a fir tree, certain that he could not fail to hit a target as big as the badger. As he placed the blowpipe to his mouth, Figalok the squirrel appeared directly in front of him, hanging by her tail from an overhead branch. She grabbed the opposite end of the vermin's blowpipe and blew hard. Clutching his throat, the horrified rat fell writhing to the ground, choked on his own poison dart.\n\nFigalok dropped out of the tree, nodding to Lonna. \"Chahaah, gotta be plenny quick wirra Searatta!\"\n\nThe big badger put up his bow, striving to master the Bloodwrath that was coursing through him. \"You saved my life, friend, but I'll have to thank you some other time. One of the Searats got away. I must hunt him down now while his trail is still fresh.\"\n\nThe squirrel gestured at the wounded Jibsnout. \"Warra 'bout dissa one, ya goin' to slay 'im?\"\n\nJibsnout crouched over, his face creased in agony. The arrow that had pierced his footpaw was buried half its length into the ground. He glanced up at Lonna, expecting no mercy from him.\n\n\"If'n yore gonna finish me off, make it quick, stripedog!\"\n\nThe badger strode over and grasped the arrow. With a sharp tug he pulled the arrow out, growling at Jibsnout. \"I'm no Searat, I don't kill defenceless beasts!\" Ripping the sleeve from the rat's frayed tunic, Lonna grabbed a pawful of damp moss and dockleaves.\n\nThe puzzled rat watched his enemy binding the wound up tight. \"Ye mean yore lettin' me live?\"\n\nThe badger hauled him upright, slamming him against a tree. \"My name is Lonna Bowstripe. Take this message to Raga Bol. Tell him that he and all his crew of murderers are walking deadbeasts. I will find them and slay them, one by one. Even you. Now begone from my sight and deliver my message to your captain. Tell him I am coming, nothing will stop me!\"\n\nLonna and Figalok watched Jibsnout limping painfully off until he was obscured by the trees, then together, the two friends took a brief meal. The squirrel wielded a blowpipe spear and poison darts taken from the slain Searats.\n\n\"Chahaah! Me betcha dis keep Ravin away from squirrel. Lonna Bigbeast, ya goin' after dat Searatta who runned away? Me go witcha, we find 'im afore tomorra.\"\n\nBut the badger would not hear of it. \"No, my friend, you have your own home and kinbeasts to protect. This is something I must do by myself. I am sworn by my own oath to rid the earth of Raga Bol and all his vermin. But I thank you for saving my life, Figalok!\"\n\nThe elderly squirrel took his paw. \"Chahaaw, so be't, Lonna, ya are d'true warrior. Ya saved us fromma Ravin, glad Figalok could save ya, too. Me no ferget ya alla me life, always think of ya!\"\n\nAverting his eyes, Lonna inspected the long dagger he had taken from Jibsnout, pleased that it was a good blade. When he looked up again, Figalok had gone, vanished into the treetops.\n\nThe Searat's trail had gone off to the southeast. Lonna picked it up and followed the tracks. As he walked, the badger fashioned a holder for his dagger, fitting it to his upper left arm close to the shoulder. By late afternoon, the dense woodlands thinned out into pine groves and sandhills. In the distance, Lonna could make out a dark shape to his left on the horizon. The trail of Wirga's remaining son was running parallel to the mysterious mass. Just before sunset, the badger crested a rise which afforded a clear view of the country he was travelling through. On the one side, the hills bordered a vast, dusty plain, almost like a desert wasteland. On the other side, the odd dark mass reared up into a towering line of forbidding cliffs. After awhile it grew too dark for tracking. Reaching the cliff face, Lonna sighted what he knew was a cave. He climbed up and made camp there for the night.\n\nThere was no need for a fire. The night was still and warm, with heat waves drifting in from the plain. Knowing he could pick up the Searat's tracks at dawn, Lonna sat in the cave entrance, eating an apple and some dried fruit. He gazed up at the night sky, where a sliver of moon, resembling a slice of russet apple, was surrounded by myriads of stars twinkling in the firmament. The words of an old song rose unbidden to his mind.\n\n\"When weary day does shed its light,\n\nI rest my head and dream,\n\nI ride the great dark bird of night,\n\nso tranquil and serene.\n\nThen I can touch the moon afar,\n\nwhich smiles up in the sky,\n\nand steal a twinkle from each star,\n\nas we go winging by.\n\nWe'll fly the night to dawning light,\n\nand wait 'til dark has ceased,\n\nto marvel at the wondrous sight,\n\nof sunrise in the east.\n\nSo slumber on, my little one,\n\nfloat soft as thistledown,\n\nand wake to see when night is done,\n\nfair morning's golden gown.\"\n\nSince Lonna had no recollection of his parents, he surmised that the lullaby had been taught to him by Grawn, the old badger who had reared him.\n\nLonna stayed that night in the cave on the cliffside. As day dawned he spotted a tiny puff of dust, on a hilltop off to his right. The big badger knew instantly that it was his quarry. The Searat must have spent the night amid the hills, not far from the cave. Pausing only to grab his bow and quiver, Lonna set off in pursuit.\n\nHe had travelled no further than the base of the first foothill when he was faced by a small patrol of ten Darrat rats. Their leader eyed him insolently up and down.\n\n\"Dis be Darrat land. You give me bow'n'arrers, stripedog. We take ye to Hemper Figlugg!\" He grinned at the other rats, murmuring to them, \"Much Burcha Glugg, eh?\"\n\nHad it been ten rats or twenty, Lonna did not like either their manner or their disposition, so he charged them without warning. They went down like ninepins under the giant badger's onslaught. Seizing the leader of the patrol, Lonna hurled him bodily into the other rats. Then the big badger was among them like a whirlwind\u2014punching, kicking, butting, thrashing them with their own spears. So surprised were the Darrat that they fled in panic, kicking up sand widespread as they scuttled off amid the hills.\n\nLonna picked up his bow and quiver. Then, throwing back his great striped head, he gave vent to the fearsome warcry of hares and badgers. \"Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!\"\n\nHowever, with much more urgent business to attend to, he let the Darrat be, and didn't give chase. Instead, Lonna set off swiftly on the trail of the Searat.\n\nWhen the Darrat saw they were not being pursued, they halted on the plain beside the foothills. The patrol leader limped up, carrying half a broken spear. He watched the big badger crossing a hilltop, some distance off.\n\nTurning to his subordinates, who were sitting licking their wounds, he snarled, \"We was sent to catcher rabbert, mouse an' squirri', not stripedog! Huh, let High Kappin catcher that 'un\u2014'e be over dat way wid many Darrat!\"\n\nThe Searat saw Lonna coming after him. Deserting the hills, he dashed out onto the dusty plain. It was a mistake, the last mistake he was ever to make. The badger's arrow found him. Once Lonna had the range, nobeast could outrun a shaft from his big bow. Though Wirga did not know, she had lost all three of her sons.\n\nLonna sat down in a hollow amid the hills and made breakfast from the food in his pack.\n\nOut on the flatlands the five travellers pushed forward, keeping the distant cliffs in view. They marched shoulder to shoulder because, as Saro had pointed out, that way they would not be eating one another's dust. Since their rescue, Springald and Fenna were paying more attention to Bragoon and Saro. Seasoned campaigners both, the squirrel and the otter were ever ready to share their knowledge with the younger, less experienced trio.\n\nHorty was feeling rather chipper now that any immediate danger was past. He struck up a jolly marching song, to which he himself had written the lyrics. As was usual with hare songs, it dealt mainly with food.\n\n\"Oh wallop me left an' stagger me right,\n\nan' buffet me north an' south,\n\nif I could teach a stew to walk,\n\nit'd march right into me mouth!\n\nTo pasties an' pies of convenient size,\n\nI'd beat a tattoo on me drum,\n\nso jolly forceful, each tasty morsel,\n\ntramp over me gums to me tum!\n\nAs each of 'em trips in through me lips,\n\nall skippin' along to the beat,\n\nwhy all of a sudden I'd grab a fat pudden,\n\nan' leave it no way to retreat!\n\nForm up in line, you vittles so fine,\n\nwatch y'dressin' that salad back there,\n\na quick salute to trifle'n'fruit,\n\nthen charge down the throat of the hare!\n\nQuick march! One two! Scoff 'em all! You an' you!\n\nLeft right! Left right! Here comes supper for tonight!\"\n\nA grey, black-flecked Darrat scout came loping into the camp in the foothills of the high cliffs. He threw himself flat in front of High Kappin Birug, the Darrat leader. Pointing back to the scrubland, the rat scout shouted, \"Burcha Glugg!\"\n\nBirug dashed past him to the top of a hill. He crouched, peering at the small dust cloud with the travellers marching in front of it, not half a mile away. Smirking with satisfaction, Birug turned to the others who had followed him.\n\n\"Hemper Figlugg, trus' me, ho yar, I know dey only go one way. Run for bigrocks. We wait, they be come to us. Burcha Glugg!\"\n\nDarrat vermin shook their heads in admiration of Kappin Birug's cunning. One of them piped up. \"Hemper be 'appy to see Burcha Glugg come back.\" The more excited of the Darrat leaped up and down, waving spears.\n\nBirug growled a warning at them. \"Keepa 'eads down, idjits!\"\n\nHorty glanced up at the sky. \"Cloudin' over up there, chaps. We might have a spot of jolly old rain before nightfall, wot?\"\n\nBragoon sniffed the light breeze. \"Bit more'n a spot, matey. Looks like we're in for a downpour afore dark. Keep movin', step the pace up. Mebbe we'll find shelter in the lee of those big cliffs.\"\n\nFenna let out a gasp and sat down. \"Ouch, my footpaw!\"\n\nThey gathered around her, crouching down to take a look. The squirrelmaid spoke through lips that hardly moved. \"Stay down, all of you, don't look toward those foothills!\"\n\nBragoon kept his eyes on Fenna. \"Why, what's goin' on?\"\n\nShe quickly responded. \"Rats ahead, they look like those flesh-eating ones!\"\n\nSpringald automatically began to look up, but Sarobando pressed her head back down. \"Listen to Fenna an' keep yore eyes down, miss. How many d'ye reckon there are?\"\n\nBragoon interrupted. \"Plenty, I'll wager. Too many for us to fight off. I told ye, those vermin don't give up easily. They've been waitin' in the foothills for us to show up. Well, mates, wot's t'be done, eh?\"\n\nFenna shrugged. \"I suppose we'll have to run for it.\"\n\nBragoon shook his head. \"Bad idea! They'd outcircle us.\"\n\nHorty began shrugging off his backpack. \"Does any chap mind me makin' a suggestion, wot?\"\n\nSaro saw that the young hare looked serious. \"As long as 'tis sensible. Go on then, wot's yore idea?\"\n\nHorty shed his backpack. \"Give me some old, dead brush, an' I'll decoy the rotters. A hare can jolly well outrun 'em if anybeast can. I'll take the villains off one way, while you lot go runnin' off the bally opposite way. See that black hole up there, about halfway along the cliffs? I'll meet y'back there after dark. Well, what d'you think?\"\n\nSpringald objected. \"It's far too dangerous. You'll be caught.\"\n\nSaro stared at Horty. \"I say give it a try, it might work. Otherwise, we'll just stick together and get nabbed.\"\n\nBragoon winked at the hare. \"Right, go to it, young 'un. Good luck!\"\n\nTwo Darrat spies peeped over the hilltop, to where the dust cloud had stopped. One whispered. \"Warra dey do now, jus' lay dere?\"\n\nThe other one leaped up as the dust plume started again, moving swiftly north. \"Musta see'd us, dey runnin' now, fast!\"\n\nHe waved his spear, calling to Birug, who had the rats standing ready, \"Kappin, dey go lef' plenty fasta!\"\n\nHorty pelted along with a bunch of dead bracken tied to his tail, raising a dust cloud that stood out light brown against the lowering clouds. Glancing sideways, he saw the Darrat rats pouring over the hill, veering in his direction. He muttered between clenched teeth.\n\n\"Ahah! That's the way, you vile vermin. Come on, you shower, follow Hortwill Braebuck, skimmer of the scrublands!\"\n\nFenna raised her head. In the distance she could see the dust cloud off to her left. \"Good old Horty, he's whipping along like a whirlwind!\"\n\nStill crouching low, they watched their friend's progress, comparing it to the crowd of Darrat vermin chasing him. Horty was indeed a Redwaller, brave and courageous. Springald felt elation and pride surging through her. She clenched her paws.\n\n\"Go on, mate, there's none faster than you! Flesh eaters, hah! All those scum will eat is the dust in his wake! Run them, Horty, show those rats what a hare from our Abbey can do!\"\n\nAs soon as Bragoon saw the two dust plumes, he realised that the Darrat had come out of the hills and hit the scrubland. Their intended quarry was far and away out in front. The otter's eyes shone with admiration.\n\n\"I said that young 'un has the makins of a real warrior. He'll lead 'em a merry dance alright. Oh, drat, here comes the rain!\"\n\n##\n\nLarge drops began falling, slow at first, sending up small puffs of dust as they struck the dry plain. A distant thunder rumble echoed from the high cliffs, followed by a faroff flash of lightning that illuminated the southeast horizon. Then the deluge fell in earnest. Saro stood upright, blowing water from her nosetip as she blinked at the sheeting curtains of heavy rain.\n\n\"Nobeast can see us now. Let's head straight for the cliffs!\"\n\nJoining paws, they jogtrotted toward the foothills, battered by the relentless downpour. Lightning ripped over the dark skies in blinding sheets, while thunder boomed and banged overhead. Dust turned quickly to mud, their paws squelched into it. Springald tightly gripped the paws of Fenna and Saro. The intensity of the storm was frightening, she had never been out in open country at such a time before. At Redwall, it had been relatively easy to run inside and shelter from the elements, but out here it was different.\n\nThey gained the foothills, slipping and sliding up the wet grass. Bragoon shielded his eyes as he glanced upward.\n\n\"Keep goin', it ain't too far now. Yonder black hole that Horty spotted looks like it could be a cave of some sort. Let's make it up that far an' shelter.\"\n\nHorty's wet paws slapped down in the sludge and mud. Wiping water from his eyes, he chanced a backward glimpse at his pursuers. Although the main body were still a respectable distance off, three fast runners had broken away and were coming doggedly onward, closing the distance considerably. The young hare bit his lip. The trio were armed with spears; if they got within throwing range, he would be finished. It was time for a change of plan. Still with stamina in reserve, Horty shot off to the right, back among the foothills, where he stood a chance of losing the Darrat mob.\n\nBirug panted, squinching his eyes against the rain as he saw the hare change course and dart into the dunes. The High Kappin urged his rats on. \"Catchim, or Hemper Figlugg make Burcha Glugg outta you!\"\n\nTopping a rise, Horty spotted the barely discernible hole in the cliffside, far along to his right. He tripped and went rolling downhill. Spitting grit and coated with sand, he swiftly picked himself up and pounded on to the next dune, muttering to himself, \"Ears up, old lad, keep pickin' 'em up an' puttin' 'em down, wot. Huh, if only the young skin'n'blister could see her handsome brother now\u2014a blinkin', gallopin' sandbeast!\"\n\nA spear buried itself in the sand, not far behind him.\n\nBirug appeared at the top of the hill that Horty had just come over. Two others trailed behind him. He seized the spear from one of them and flung it. The Darrat leader's aim was bad\u2014he watched the spear strike the hillside flat and slide back down. Birug rested a moment on all fours, fatigued.\n\nHorty gained the next hilltop and turned. Holding a paw to his nose, he wiggled it and called out cheekily, \"Bloomin' old flesh scoffer, go an' boil your own head an' eat it, wot wot!\"\n\nStung by the hare's jibe, Birug hauled himself upright and came after the hare with renewed energy. Horty scuttled off, chiding himself for his momentary foolishness.\n\n\"Have to keep the old lip buttoned, wot! Seems a jolly determined type o' cove for a rat, full of the old vermin vinegar. Curse his caddish hide!\"\n\nAfternoon passed, without the rain slackening its intensity. It was humid, without a trace of breeze. Rivulets gathered into swollen streams, racing down the cliffside in floods of umber-hued water.\n\nBragoon was first to reach the black hole. His prediction had been correct: it was a cave\u2014large, dark and deep. He helped Springald and Fenna enter first, while Sarobando brought up the rear. Once inside, all four flopped down, exhausted. The otter shook himself like a dog and shrugged off the packs he had been burdened with.\n\n\"Whoo! Wretched weather, wonder when this rain's due to stop?\" He sat up against the right wall, peering out. \"Come on Horty, mate, where've ye got to?\"\n\nFenna joined him. \"I hope he's alright!\"\n\nSpringald rose and began to wander off to explore the big cave, but Bragoon pulled her back.\n\n\"You stay close up here, miz. We don't know wot might be back there. Can't risk a fire, either\u2014too dangerous. Break out some vittles, if'n they're still dry enough, and a drink, too. Funny how ye can be out in the rain all day an' still be thirsty.\"\n\nThe mousemaid found dry oatcakes and some crystallised fruit, which they washed down with some home-brewed cider. Fenna stared out into the persistent downpour, then jumped slightly as thunder boomed out overhead.\n\nSaro patted her shoulder. \"Nought t'do but sit an' wait, matey. Don't fret now, that young rogue'll make it.\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid forced a smile. \"If he's not here soon, I'll light a fire and make a pot of soup. Horty can smell vittles a league away. He'll show up then, I wager.\"\n\nShe sat miserably, pondering the foolishness of her statement. Horty could be lying slain out there in the rain.\n\nHorty staggered gamely on, the three rats not more than six paces behind him. They had picked up their spears again and thrown them at him several times. With the courage of desperation, the young hare, having managed to avoid the throws, remained unscathed. Birug and his two rats had left the spears where they fell, and carried on, stubbornly pursuing the fugitive. It was only a matter of time now, and they would have him. As the High Kappin blundered forward, Horty moved out of his reach.\n\nWith his tongue lolling, the rat gasped out, \"We . . . catcha!\"\n\nHorty stumbled, tripped and wriggled out of his reach. Gaining his footpaws, he stood panting. \"Couldn't . . . catch your old . . . grannie . . . Slobberchops!\" He blundered on another pace or two, then collapsed.\n\nBirug nodded to the other two rats. \"Gerrim . . . now!\"\n\nAll three crawled forward on their bellies, reaching out to lay paws on the fallen hare when, without warning, the hillside gave way, sliding down a tremendous avalanche of wet sand. It enveloped the three rats completely, burying them under a huge mound.\n\nHorty lay at the edge of the mass, covered right up to his neck. He was trapped fast. A paw, almost the size of his own head, seized both of the hare's long ears and yanked him out with one mighty pull. Horty revived with the pain, his eyes flickering open. He stayed conscious just long enough to see a lightning flash illuminate the head of a giant badger with a scar running lengthwise down its striped muzzle.\n\nThe young hare blinked. \"Nice weather, wot . . . Oh, corks!\" Then he passed out.\n\nOnly the Dibbuns slept upstairs in their dormitories that night, while every other Redwaller guarded the barricades. It was the longest, saddest night Martha had ever witnessed. The still form of Junty had been wrapped tenderly in blankets and borne down to the place he loved best, his cellars. Clearing the barrels and lifting some floorstones, Foremole Dwurl and his crew dug a grave for the good Cellarhog. Junty was laid to rest. Once the grave was filled in and the flooring stones replaced, Abbot Carrul took a charcoal and wrote words upon it. At some later day the moles would chisel the words into the stones as a permanent epitaph for a beast whom all Redwallers loved dearly. Tears often smudged the charcoal letters as Carrul wrote:\n\n\"Here lies a fallen warrior, slain by vermin whilst helping his fellow creatures. Hard working, good and faithful. A credit to his kind. Always a kind word or smile to all. Junty Cellarhog, Keeper of Redwall Abbey cellars. His October Ale was the best. Rest peacefully, old friend.\"\n\nAbove stairs, Martha rolled her cart around Great Hall, relieving those who were wearied. When she was not doing that, the tireless haremaid helped Granmum Gurvel to ferry food from the kitchens.\n\nToran watched Martha\u2014she was never still, always finding something to do for the common good. He halted the little cart with his rudder. \"Come on, beauty, time ye took a nap or ye'll be worn out.\"\n\nMartha protested. \"I'm fine, honestly I am!\"\n\nBut, deaf to her pleas, the ottercook opened the lap rug and tucked it beneath the haremaid's chin. \"No arguments now. I'll wake ye if'n yore needed, miss. You stay out the way here, in this quiet corner away from broken glass an' slingstones. I'll have t'go an' get more stuff to barricade those windows.\"\n\nHe hurried off to assist Brother Weld, who was struggling with a door he had taken from its hinges. \"Here, Brother, you take one end an' I'll take the other.\"\n\nWeld sighed thankfully. \"We're getting a bit old for this sort of thing. D'you think we'll hold them off, Toran?\"\n\nGritting his teeth, the big otter growled. \"Filthy scum, if they get in this Abbey, 'twill be over my dead body. Don't worry, Brother, we'll keep 'em out!\"\n\nOld Phredd helped them to shore the door up against the windows. \"Huh, the way I see it, we're under siege. 'Tis those vermin who are keeping us in!\"\n\nToran clenched his paws tightly. \"That's right. Strange ain't it, bein' kept prisoner inside yore own home.\"\n\nOld Phredd added miserably, \"Aye, what do we do if the food runs out?\"\n\nToran's clenched paw wagged under the ancient Gatekeeper's nose. \"Quit that kind o' talk now, d'ye hear me? There's vittles aplenty for all, so don't go scarin' everybeast!\"\n\nBadredd watched the dawn wash the skies in rosy hues. The small fox was in his element. \"Flinky, Crinktail, c'mere. I got a plan o' me own at last!\"\n\nBoth stoats, stuffing themselves on orchard produce, continued eating as Badredd explained his scheme.\n\n\"Load up a couple o' sacks an' take a stroll through the woods south of here. Eat what y'like as ye go.\"\n\nFlinky tossed away a half-eaten pear. \"Sounds like a good ould job, Chief, but what're we supposed t'be doin'?\"\n\nThe little fox grinned craftily. \"Recruitin' more vermin. We need more beasts to take this place. Tell 'em that Redwall is bein' conquered by Badredd an' a vermin crew. Aye, an' tell 'em there'll be plenty o' vittles an' booty for anybeast who'll serve under me. Have ye got that?\"\n\nFlinky saluted elaborately. \"Leave it to us, Chief. We'll bring ye back a gang o' the best, so we will. No old or feeble ones, just grand fightin' vermin. But wot about all this ripe ould fruit?\"\n\nBadredd snorted impatiently. \"Use yore head, give it away to any vermin ye come across. Show 'em we got plenty of vittles. Say there's lots more where that comes from, if they'll come an' serve under me. Do I have to tell ye everything?\"\n\nCrinktail touched the side of her nose knowingly. \"We unnerstand, Chief, leave it to me'n Flinky.\" The pair hurried off to the orchard to load up sacks of fruit.\n\nBadredd began issuing orders to his depleted crew. \"Floggo, Rogg, watch that big door, an' the windows, too. Keep yore bows'n'arrows at the ready. Kill anybeast wot pokes his nose out!\"\n\nThe little fox was glad he had the weasel brothers to serve him. They never argued and usually obeyed all orders.\n\n\"Juppa, Slipback, Plumnose, Halfchop, keep slingin' stones at those windows. Whatever ye do, don't stop!\"\n\nJuppa was pawsore and weary of slinging stones. \"But we've smashed all the windows. Wot else is there t'keep slingin' stones at?\"\n\nBadredd could feel his temper fraying. His voice gained a squeak as he shouted in the weasel's face. \"The idea of breakin' the windows is so that ye can hurl stones through an' hit anybeast inside the place. Or are ye too stupid to realise that?\"\n\nJuppa stood her ground, arguing back swiftly. \"No, I ain't stupid, but I'm hungry an' tired! Us four've been chuckin' stones at that Abbey all night. Oh, an' there's one more thing we ain't too stupid to realise. We're runnin' outta stones to throw, while yore marchin' about givin' orders out an' doin' little else!\"\n\nBadredd waved his broken cutlass about threateningly. \"Don't ye dare talk t'me like that, I'm the chief around here!\"\n\nSlipback muttered loudly. \"Wot're ye goin' t'do, run 'er through wid a broken sword?\"\n\nThe little fox threw his half cutlass aside and stamped his footpaw down so hard that it hurt. \"I heard that, Slipback. Do? I'll tell ye wot I'm goin' to do. I'm goin' t'show ye three how to sling stones properly! Throw down wot stones ye got left an' give me yore slings. Plumnose, Halfchop, start slingin' alongside me. Come on, move yoreselves, take these slings an' load up!\"\n\nHalfchop picked up a sling and loaded it with an apple he had been munching on. He grinned at Badredd. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nThe little fox glared speechlessly at the hapless rat. He shouted to Plumnose, \"Teach that idjit to throw stones!\"\n\nFuriously, Badredd began slinging at a mad rate. The slingstones went everywhere\u2014a few through the window spaces, some backward across the lawns when he released them too early. Others bounced back off the solid sandstone walls.\n\nSlipback dodged a ricochet, grinning slyly. \"Hah, let's see 'ow long the mighty chief can keep that pace up!\"\n\nJuppa started moving out of range, ducking a pebble that had gone the wrong way. \"Let's get out of 'ere afore we get slain!\"\n\nShe raised her voice, calling to Badredd, \"We're goin' to get somethin' to eat an' take a rest!\"\n\nThe fox kept hurling stones like a madbeast, panting. \"Get out o' my sight, ye useless lumps! When y'come back, bring more stones, a lot more!\"\n\nPlumnose, who was slinging at a much steadier rate, called happily to Badredd. \"Huhuh, we'b godd lots ob stones, me'n my mate!\"\n\nThe fox screeched back at him. \"Sharrap an' get slingin'!\"\n\nHalfchop had found a black-and-red banded pebble among his stones. He polished it on his fur and spoke to it. \"Kachunk!\"\n\n##\n\nAbbot Carrul and Granmum Gurvel were going around Great Hall, distributing beakers of hot barley and leek soup to the defenders. Martha was wakened by a stone pinging off a nearby column. Gurvel ladled soup from a cauldron standing on a trolley. The Abbot served it to Martha. Then Carrul called Toran over and gave him some.\n\nToran accepted it gratefully. \"Well, Father, the windows are barricaded tight now. There's only the odd stone comin' through. Let the vermin wear themselves out. Apart from broken panes, there ain't much damage\u2014unless they try burnin' the window barricades.\"\n\nCarrul tried to remain calm, though he could not help sounding anxious. \"Have you a plan in mind, Toran?\"\n\nScratching his rudder, the ottercook stifled a yawn. \"I wish I had, but I'm far too tired an' upset about pore Junty.\"\n\nMartha straightened the rug across her lap. \"We'd do better if we went upstairs to the dormitories. Perhaps up there we could retaliate against the vermin.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul nodded. \"Sounds sensible to me, Martha. Carry on.\"\n\nWarming to her own idea, the haremaid explained. \"We could make slings and throw stones at them. I'll wager Foremole and his crew could provide us with rubble.\"\n\nGurvel sighted Foremole Dwurl coming up from the cellars. She beckoned him to join them. \"Coom over yurr, zurr.\"\n\nDwurl waved a heavy digging claw. \"Wutt can oi do furr ee?\"\n\nMartha made her request. \"Would it be possible to get a load of rubble and pebbles up to the dormitory windows, please?\"\n\nThe mole nodded his velvety head. \"Surpintly, miz! Oi take ett ee bee's goin' t'give yon varmints a gudd peltin', hurr hurr!\"\n\nImmensely fond of Foremole Dwurl, Martha took his work-lined paw in hers. \"Great minds think alike, my friend. We need lots of stones, and some rubble, to tip on the vermin if they start lighting fires. Water is too precious to waste in our present position.\"\n\nToran looked at his young friend with a new respect. \"Hear that, Carrul? Our Martha certainly has a wise head on her shoulders, eh?\"\n\nMartha turned to the ottercook, her eyes shining fiercely. \"Aye, and I don't intend to lose it to a band of murdering vermin. It was vermin who slew my family when I was a babe and too young to do anything about it. This time 'tis going to be different. No matter what happens, those evil scum are not going to take Redwall Abbey from us. We'll defeat them!\"\n\nThey all clasped paws on the arm of the haremaid's chair. Her resolution ran like wildfire through them all.\n\nFather Abbot Carrul's voice echoed around Great Hall. \"Everybeast upstairs to the front dormitories. We're going to fight them. Redwaaaaaaalll!\"\n\nA great cheer went up as Martha had united them in a common cause: taking the attack to the foebeast. The Redwallers thundered upstairs, shouting and roaring.\n\n\"We'll teach 'em a lesson they won't forget!\"\n\n\"Aye, they'll regret the day they came to our Abbey!\"\n\n\"No vermin's goin' to bully us!\"\n\n\"Blood'n'vinegar, that's what they'll get!\"\n\nSister Setiva was minding the Dibbuns as the dormitory door was flung open wide. Redwallers crowded in, still shouting. The Abbeybabes did not quite know what was going on, but they joined in lustily, issuing dire threats against the enemy.\n\n\"Cutta tails off wiv rusty knifes!\"\n\n\"Boil ee varmints in roasted baffwater!\"\n\n\"Gurr, smack ee bottoms wi' gurt sticks!\"\n\nLittle Buffle stuck out his stomach and bellowed, \"Yukkumbumgur!\"\n\nSetiva was becoming able to translate Buffle's baby language. She raised her eyebrows in horror. \"Och, ye wee scallywag, I'll wash your mouth out wi' soap if ye even think o' sayin' that again!\"\n\nMartha was carried up, chair and all, by Brother Weld, Toran and several stout moles. Immediately she related her plan to all the Abbeybeasts.\n\n\"Sisters Setiva and Portula, could you set about making lots of slings? Good, strong braided ones. Brothers Gelf and Weld, I want you to check the downstairs barricades as often as you can. Make sure they're still holding firm, and report back to me each time. Foremole, sir, can you bring up as much stone and rubble as you can lay your paws on?\"\n\nDwurl saluted. \"We'm got loads o' rubble an' rock frum our diggin's in ee basement, miz. Oi'll bring et roight aways.\"\n\nThe haremaid nodded to Toran. \"Can you search about, friend, to find anything we can use as weapons? Anything!\"\n\nMuggum and the Dibbuns clung to the chairarms, pleading, \"Uz 'elp ee, Miz Marth', give us'n's summ jobs!\"\n\nSister Setiva turned in the dormitory doorway, shaking her blackthorn stick and berating the Abbeybabes. \"Och! Ah'll give ye jobs. Get straight intae yon beds an' stay oot o' Miss Martha's way, this verra instant!\"\n\nMartha saw the sad little faces on the Dibbuns and interceded on their behalf to the strict Infirmary Keeper. \"Please, Sister, they only want to help. Let me find a job for them. Granmum Gurvel, have you any sieves or riddles? We'll need them to sift out slingstones from Foremole's rubble when it arrives up here. Could you find some?\"\n\nMuggum brightened up. \"Oi'll tell ee a riggle, Miz Marth'.\"\n\nGurvel took the molebabe's paw. \"Gurr, liddle pudden 'ead, that bee's ee wrong sort o' riggle. Cumm to ee kitchens, an' oi'll foind ee sum proper riggles.\"\n\nEverybeast hurried to their tasks, while Martha tried to keep some organisation amid the ensuing chaos.\n\nMolecrews trundled in and out of the dormitory, bearing stretcherloads of rubble. Sister Portula and some elders ripped old fabric into strips and began weaving slings. Redwallers on kitchen duty came scurrying up with drinks and meals. Martha wheeled her chair about, giving directions, calling encouragement and keeping the constant traffic moving back and forth.\n\n\"Don't block the doorway, please. Bring that stretcher right in and empty it there, by the window.\" She seemed to be everywhere at once. \"Oh, that's a nice strong sling, put it over there with the others. Don't leave that cordial and soup by the rubble, it'll get dust all over it. Shut it inside that wardrobe for the present.\"\n\nBadredd soon grew tired of slinging stones. His paws were aching: more than once, a stone had stayed in the sling, causing it to wrap around his paw and strike it sharply. That, plus the fact that he was an abominable shot, made him toss the sling away angrily.\n\n\"Blood'n'skulls, I've got better things t'do than stand here chuckin' stones all day. Where's the rest o' this lazy lot, eh? Stuffin' vittles or layin' about sleepin', I bet. Well, I'll soon liven their ideas up, the dirty layabouts!\" He stalked off in high dudgeon.\n\nPlumnose and Halfchop dropped their slings and trailed after him. The little fox turned on them furiously. \"Where are you two deadbrains goin'? Did I tell ye t'stop slingin'? Get back there afore I flay ye both!\" The pair went back wearily and continued slinging.\n\nPlumnose complained resentfully to his companion. \"Huh, he'd inna bad mood, iddent he?\"\n\nHalfchop nodded in agreement. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nMartha kept track of Badredd from her position at the front dormitory windows. \"I wonder where he's off to now.\"\n\nToran stood behind her chair. \"Who knows, miss. He's up t'no good, though, an' jumpin' mad by the look o' him.\"\n\nForemole gestured at the considerable mound of earth and stone piled up close to the windowsills. \"Hurr, ee vurmint can jump all ee looikes, we'm ready for 'im!\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel staggered in, dragging a bulging sack. \"Yurr, lookit oi finded, ee gurt sack uv 'otroot pepper. Ee ' hotters leaved it yurr afore they'm go'd off. Oi'm b'aint a keepen it in moi kitchens, no zurr, orful sneezy stuff!\" Gurvel dumped it next to Martha's chair. The haremaid quickly pulled out her kerchief as dust rose from the sack. \"Kerchoo! Aah . . . Aah . . . Achoo! Beg your pardon, dearie me!\"\n\nBaby Buffle stared down at the sack from the top of the rubble mound. \"Sumakivalikkasaccasaccavurgimchoochoo!\"\n\nMartha dabbed at her nose with the kerchief. \"What's he chunnering on about now, Sister?\"\n\nSetiva translated the shrewbabe's language. \"Och, pay no heed tae the rascal. He says we should throw et at yon vermin. 'Tis a silly idea\u2014we'd be sneezed tae death doin' a thing like that. The breeze'd carry et right back in 'ere.\"\n\nGurvel spoke up. \"Nay, marm, not if us'n's makes ee likle sacks uv pepper, boi 'okey. We'm cudd frow slingers at ee varmints.\"\n\nMartha clapped her paws delightedly. \"What a great plan! Thank you, Buffle and Gurvel. Let's try it!\"\n\nThe ancient molecook took charge of the operation. Soon, she and several Dibbuns donned bandannas of wet cloth to protect their noses and mouths against the fiery hotroot pepper. Carefully, they ladled measured portions of the pepper onto flimsy squares of thin, birch-bark parchment. Each of these was fashioned into a tiny bundle, tied at the top with thread. Toran weighed one in his paw. \"Just right for throwin'. Hoho, these'll cause a few sneezes if they land on some scummy noses!\"\n\nYooch the molebabe had scrambled up onto a windowsill. Jumping up and down, he waved his tiny paws and squealed, \"Look out, look out, d'vermints bee's cummin'!\"\n\nBadredd kept a paw on the broken cutlass in his belt, not drawing the weapon lest they see it was only a half-bladed thing. Behind him stood the rest of the available vermin crew\u2014Halfchop, Floggo, Rogg, Slipback, Plumnose and Juppa.\n\nThe little fox shouted boldly. \"Where's yore chief? I wanna talk!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul showed himself at the dormitory window. \"Say what you have got to say, fox!\"\n\nBadredd puffed out his narrow chest. \"Lissen, we've got ye well boxed in up there. You ain't warriors, ye can't fight back or hurt us. So I'll tell ye what I'll do. Open yore doors, we won't attack. Just let me'n one o' my crew come in. When we've found yore magic sword, an' other bits o' loot that we fancy, we'll leave ye in peace an' go.\"\n\nThe Abbot shook his head firmly. \"Never! You'll not set paw in Redwall Abbey, none of you!\"\n\nBadredd passed a paw signal to Rogg from behind his back. The weasel casually notched an arrow to his bowstring.\n\nKeeping his temper in check, the fox replied, \"Never? We'll see about that. Wot ye got to unnerstand is that yore under siege\u2014we could starve ye out or keep attackin' until one by one yore all slain. Oh, I've got lots o' bright ideas, mouse, take yore pick. Either that or just do as I command. 'Twill save ye a lot o' grief.\"\n\nCarrul stood his ground. \"No matter what you say, you will not enter this Abbey. Now, let me make a suggestion. Take your vermin, plus all the fruit you have stolen from our orchard, and leave here. If you do this, you will save yourself a lot of grief. Take my word for it!\"\n\nBadredd shrugged. \"Ain't no use of talkin' to ye, mouse.\"\n\nAs the vermin leader stepped aside, Rogg hurried forward and let fly. Inside the dormitory, some of the pepper dust had got to the Abbot, causing him to sneeze. \"Yaachooo!\"\n\nAs Carrul's head went down with the force of the sneeze, the arrow tipped his headfur, ending up quivering in the dormitory ceiling.\n\nCursing inwardly, Badredd forced himself to stay nonchalantly calm, even to smile. \"Saved by a sneeze, eh? Yore a lucky mouse!\"\n\nSuddenly Toran appeared at the window, a pepper bomb in each paw. \"You won't be so lucky. Sneeze on this, snottynose!\"\n\nIn quick succession, two bags of pepper struck Badredd's face. Then the dormitory windows were packed with Redwallers, hurling their new weapons and shouting.\n\n\"Try a sniff of this, uglychops!\"\n\n\"Yurr, stuff this'n oop ee nose, zurr vurmint!\"\n\n\"Och, take a whiff o' this, ye wicked rabble!\"\n\n\"Sorry we ain't got no salt, so here's a little more pepper for ye!\"\n\nLiterally peppered by bags of the stuff, the vermin crew fled\u2014spitting, sneezing and rubbing at their burning eyes as the fierce hotroot pepper did its work. Between sneezes, they bumped blindly into one another, wailing and screeching.\n\nMartha held up a paw. \"Stop now, no use wasting pepper. They've learned their lesson, a good hot one!\"\n\nA rousing cheer went forth from the Abbeybeasts. \"Redwaaaaaallll!\"\n\nMartha hugged Toran's waist from her chair. \"We did it, friend, we defeated the vermin!\"\n\nThe ottercook stood watching the vermin as they hurled themselves into the Abbey pond. He stroked the haremaid's head absently. \"Aye, beauty, we did it for now. But they'll be back, an' next time they do, those vermin will try to slay us all.\"\n\nSister Portula was in agreement with him. \"Right, Toran, so what'll we do then?\"\n\nMartha surprised herself by shaking a clenched paw. \"We'll just have to give back as good as we get. Don't forget, there's more of us than them. I'd risk my life willingly any day if it meant defeating those scum!\"\n\nGrowls of agreement rang out, even from the Dibbuns. Abbot Carrul was taken aback by the warlike mood of the Redwallers, and even more so by Martha's fighting spirit. He held up his paws until order was restored.\n\n\"You are right, of course, my friends, but let us not do anything haphazard. There has to be a proper plan to rid our Abbey of these vermin!\"\n\nFlinky and Crinktail were in no special hurry to run about seeking recruits for Badredd's gang. The pair wandered deep into Mossflower, glad to be away from the bickering and squabbling of the small vermin gang. They rambled onward, consenting with each other to desert their fellow vermin and find a new life together, far away from it all.\n\nUnfortunately, they walked right into trouble and ambled straight into the camp of Raga Bol. A huge, fat Searat with one milky, sightless eye grabbed the luckless pair by the scruffs of their necks. Both their stomachs churned in fear at the sight of the savage Searat crew. For the first time in his life, Flinky was rendered speechless as he beheld a real Searat captain.\n\nRaga Bol was the complete picture of a barbarian chieftain\u2014from his hooped brass earrings and tawdry silk finery, to his silver hook, gold teeth, curved scimitar and the lethal stiletto he was using to pick at a roasted pike. He spat a fishbone into the fire and picked at his teeth with the hook. Looking both stoats up and down, Raga Bol consulted the fat rat.\n\n\"Who are these two barnacles, Glimbo?\"\n\nFlinky began stammering out an answer. \"If it please, yore 'onour, we was just . . .\"\n\n _Splat!_ Raga Bol leaned forward and struck Flinky a slap across his mouth with the pike. \"Did I speak to ye, stoat?\"\n\nThe hook shot out, catching Flinky's jerkin. He was yanked forward, under the cold glare of the wickedest eyes he had ever looked into.\n\nHe felt the Searat's hot breath on his face as the rasping voice growled out, \"Guard yore tongue, mudbrain, or I'll carve it out an' feed it to ye. Speak now, wot's in those sacks?\"\n\nFlinky's throat bobbed as he gasped out, \"F . . . f . . . fruit, sir!\"\n\nRaga Bol stuck his stiletto in the sack Flinky was holding. He booted the stoat backward, causing the blade to rip through the sack. Flinky went sprawling amid the fruit which spilled out onto the ground.\n\nThe Searat scowled. \"Fruit? Is that all ye brought? No booty, weapons, not even a brace o' birds or a decent fish. Just fruit!\"\n\nGlimbo wrenched the sack from Crinktail. He emptied it over Flinky, who lay cringing on the ground. \"Sink me! This 'un's brought fruit as well, Cap'n. They must be both stoopid in d'brain!\"\n\nGripping hold of Crinktail, Glimbo shook her until her teeth rattled, bellowing in the hapless stoat's face. \"Yore stoopid in d'brain, wot are ye?\"\n\nCrinktail gabbled out something that sounded like \"Stooballainnabrab!\"\n\nThe Searats crowded round laughing. They tore the jerkins from both stoats, and robbed them of their belts and knives.\n\nStripped to the fur, Flinky and Crinktail huddled together, eyes wide with terror as the Searats licked their knifeblades and winked wickedly at them.\n\nRaga stroked under his chin, with the polished curve of his pawhook. \"The woodlands round here are packed with fruit, an' ye bring me two sacks o' the stuff? Right then, me beauties, I'll tell ye what we'll do. What'd ye like, an apple or a pear?\"\n\nCrinktail spoke, her voice quivery with terror. \"Apples, sir.\"\n\nRaga smiled, showing several gold-capped fangs. \"Haharr, apples it is then. Ferron, jam an apple apiece in their gobs, 'twill stop 'em singin' out while they're roastin'!\"\n\nFerron, a tall, gaunt-faced rat, sorted through the fruit until he came up with two large, rosy apples. He strode over to the two victims, but before he could start, Flinky yelled, \"Loot! Treasure! Booty an' magic swords!\"\n\nRaga's long blade rasped out of its scabbard. Resting the point against Flinky's nose, the captain spoke just one word\u2014\"Where?\"\n\nThe stoat answered speedily, knowing his life depended on it. \"Sure, 'tis at the Abbey o' Redwall, sir, only a good ould march from here. All the plunder yore 'eart could desire!\"\n\nThe swordtip lifted as Raga looked around the ugly faces of his leering crew. \"Give 'em back their stuff. Come 'ither, mates. Sit 'ere by me, where I can carve cobs off'n ye if yore tellin' me fibs. I can't abide fibbers, can you, messmate?\"\n\nFlinky shook his head vigourously. \"Sure those fibbers are the worst ould kind of beasts ever born, ain't that right?\"\n\nCrinktail hastened to agree with him. \"Fibbers are villains!\"\n\nRaga Bol narrowed his frightening eyes and glared at his prisoners, who sat as if hypnotised. Suddenly he threw back his head and roared with laughter. \"Aharrharrharrharr! That's wot I like to 'ear, me liddle fishes. Avast there, Blowfly, bring grog fer our messmates!\"\n\nBlowfly, a malodourous, greasy-looking rat, brought three gigantic pottery jars and a keg of grog, which he rolled along by kicking it. He filled the jars brimful, issuing one to each of them. Both stoats quailed at the sight of the fearsome-smelling brew. Bol drained half of his at one huge swig, smacked his lips and winked broadly at them. \"Good 'ole seaweed'n'fish'ead grog, ain' nothin' like it! Aharr, Raga Bol can't abide prissy liddle creatures wot don't like grog. Drink 'earty now!\"\n\nGagging and spluttering, Flinky and Crinktail tried to sup the fiery liquor. The Searat crew gathered round, grinning and guffawing as they watched the stoats trying to cope with the grog. Finishing his swiftly, Raga observed his victims closely. \"Cummon, buckoes, no shilly-shallyin' there, bottoms up, an' don't ye leave none for the fishes!\"\n\nGrog was dribbling down Flinky's chest fur by the time he finished. Something odd was happening to his eyes. In front of him sat three Raga Bols. His head was whirling, and his tongue felt as though it belonged to someone else. He hiccupped. \"Heeheehee, hic! Sure, that was a prime ould, hic, droppa grog, hic hic! Ain't that right, hic, eh, Crinky, hic!\"\n\nCrinktail gazed woozily at her empty jar and giggled. \"Sh'marvelloush! Makesh y'feel like a battlin' badger, heehee, whoops!\"\n\nShe was knocked flat on her back. Raga, who had kicked her over, stood glaring down at the stoat, his sabre drawn. \"Badger, wot badger? Is there a badger 'ereabouts? Have ye sighted a great giant of a stripedog? Tell me!\"\n\nCrinktail attempted to rise, but fell flat. She looked up at the Searat captain with owlish solemnity. \"Wot badgersh? Heehee, we ain't seen no shtripedogs around 'ere. Don' worry, Bragger Roll, we'll fight 'em all for ye, me'n Shlinky!\"\n\nShe giggled again, then passed out, senseless. A fleeting glimpse of relief crossed the Searat's face. He turned his attention to Flinky, who was swaying from side to side, and blinking drunkenly. \"Ahoy, buckoe, let's talk, me'n you. I'll ask the questions, an' ye give me all the answers. The right ones if'n ye value yore skin! This Abbey o' Redwall, tell me everythin' about it. An' worrabout yore crew, 'ow many strong are they, who's yore leader, wot's 'e like? No lies, now, c'mon!\"\n\nRaga Bol's crew listened avidly as Flinky related the entire sorry tale to their captain. The stoat was drunk, but not so drunk that he didn't know what would please the murderous Raga Bol. A good portion of his story was outright lies. He told of witless Abbeybeasts, and a fabulous treasure, laying great emphasis on the magic sword. Flinky was good at what he did, having spent most of his life lying and pleasing others. The captain and his crew believed the yarn. There followed much winking, nudging, whispering and gleeful rubbing of paws, even from Raga Bol. This was going to be a picnic, an orgy of looting and slaughter. A real Searat's dream come true!\n\nThe Searat crew made ready to march. Raga Bol delayed moving, since there was one thing still bothering the captain's mind\u2014the fate of the giant stripedog. Giving orders for the crew to stand ready, he marched back along their trail alone, looking for signs of his assassin's return.\n\nAfter an hour or so, Raga Bol glanced up at the sky. Dark rolling clouds, coupled with the distant rumble of thunder, presaged the arrival of a sizeable storm. He turned his gaze to the path ahead, where the foliage was swaying in the hot wind. The Searat's keen eyes and ears missed nothing. He saw the shrubbery moving the wrong way at one point and heard the moans and laboured gasping of somebeast coming slowly up the trail toward him.\n\nIt was Jibsnout, leaning heavily on an impromptu crutch he had fashioned from a branch. Raga Bol hastened to intercept him, frowning with false concern. \"Jibsnout, matey, are ye wounded? Have ye news of the stripedog? Where are those sons of Wirga, 'ave they deserted ye?\"\n\nThe stolid Searat slumped wearily down, his tongue licking the first fat drops of rain that fell through the woodland canopy. He looked up at Raga Bol kneeling at his side.\n\n\"Cap'n, we stood no chance! That stripedog 'ad a squirrel wid 'im, they ambushed us! Two of Wirga's sons were slayed. The other one ran away, though 'e wouldn't'a got far, I wager. I was shot through the footpaw by the stripedog, then 'e took my blade. I thought 'e was gonna kill me, but 'e tended to the wound an' sent me back to ye wid a message, Cap'n. The stripedog sez to tell ye that 'is name is Lonna Bowstripe, an' that 'e's comin' after ye, Cap'n Bol. Aye, yoreself an' all the crew, me too. We're all deadbeasts, d'ye hear me, walkin' deadbeasts! That big Lonna beast is goin' to slay us one by one, every ratjack of us! Take me word fer it, Cap'n, 'e's a mighty warrior but a real madbeast! I saw it in 'is eyes, they was red as fire. The stripedog'll finish us, all of us, I believe wot 'e said!\"\n\nA jagged lightning flash lit up the gloomy woodlands; thunder rattled closer and the rain came in earnest. Raga Bol held Jibsnout close to him, murmuring softly. \"Hush now, mate, no stripedog's goin' to harm ye. This storm'll wash out all our tracks, nobeast'll find us then. Besides, we'll be snug inside of a big stone fortress, wid vittles to spare an' more loot than ye've ever clapped eyes on. Hahaarr, 'ow'll that suit ye matey, eh?\"\n\nJibsnout blinked rain from his eyes. \"That'll suit me good, Cap'n.\"\n\nBol held him closer, whispering in his ear, \"Ye won't breathe a word about no stripedog to the crew now, will ye, me ole mate?\"\n\nJibsnout smiled at his captain. \"You know me, Cap'n Bol. None of 'em will 'ear a word from my mouth!\"\n\nRaga Bol smiled back at Jibsnout. \"So they won't, mate, yore right.\"\n\nHe slew Jibsnout with a single thrust of his stiletto. Shoving the body into the bushes, Raga Bol sloshed back through the battering downpour, muttering to himself. \"They all talks sooner or later, but you was right, Jibsnout. Nobeast'll 'ear a word from yore mouth.\"\n\n##\n\nThe storms which had been battering the high cliffsides slackened off to a steady downpour. Fenna popped her head outside the cave, shielding her eyes. \"It's hard to see anything properly on a rainy night. No sign of Horty yet, I do hope he's alr . . .\"\n\nA monolithic shape loomed out of the darkness, silent as a moonshadow. The squirrelmaid staggered backward as a badger of massive proportions padded in. Over his shoulder lay Horty, draped like a limp rag. The badger carried on past them, to the back of the cave, his deep growl echoing.\n\n\"I found your friend, never fear, he'll come to his senses before too long. Be still now until I get a fire going.\"\n\nBragoon's paw stayed Springald from rising. \"Be still, Spring, do as our friend says.\"\n\nThey heard steel strike flint, as the badger's soft breath coaxed flame from the sparks that fell onto the tinder. Soon a pale light flickered. It became a proper fire when the badger added dried grass and twigs to it. He banked it up with broken pine branches, waited a moment, then turned to face the travellers. Bragoon had encountered a badger or two before, but none like this one. Warrior was written all over this giant beast\u2014from the great bow he carried, to the long quiver full of arrows, to the lethal dagger strapped below his shoulder. He wore a simple smock of rust-hued homespun, belted with a woven sash.\n\nBut it was his face that denoted his calling. A deep, jagged scar ran lengthwise across the broad-striped muzzle, with stitchmarks pocking either side. The dark eyes remained impassive, reflecting the firelight. The otter judged him to be one of those fated creatures cursed with that malady called Bloodwrath\u2014the red tinge mixed with the creamy eye whites betrayed it. Bragoon had heard tales of such badgers that described them as terrible to behold and unstoppable in battle. The otter held out his paw, flat, with the palm upward, a sign of peace. The badger did likewise. Then he placed his paw on top, making Bragoon's look like the tiny paw of a Dibbun. He introduced himself.\n\n\"I am Lonna Bowstripe. This is not my cave, but you are welcome to stay here until the hare recovers. I saw you escape those rats today and knew you would shelter up here. I watched from the hills what a brave thing your friend did. I killed those three rats who tried to capture him\u2014vermin are bullies and murderers, they are no great loss to anybeast. Who are you, why are you in this country?\"\n\nThe otter bowed respectfully. \"I am Bragoon. This is Saro, Fenna and Springald. The hare is named Horty. We are travellers.\" He gestured upward toward the plateau on top of the cliffs. \"We are seeking a place called Loamhedge. It lies somewhere up there.\"\n\nLonna began stringing his bow. \"A dangerous quest, friend. There are many Darrat rats out there still. Their captain was one of the three I slew. You need to reach the clifftops without interference from them. Your journey will be hard enough without rats following you. Perhaps they are camped in the area. I will warn them off. Pass me an arrow, Fenna.\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid took a shaft, nearly as long as she was, from the badger's quiver. They watched Lonna blunt the point by jamming an old pinecone over it. He held it to the fire until it was blazing and crackling. Testing the air outside the cave, the badger seemed satisfied.\n\n\"It's not raining too heavily now, the shaft should burn for a bit before it goes out.\" With a single graceful move, Lonna set the blazing arrow on his string, drawing the shaft back until the burning end almost touched the bow. _Whooooosh!_ It shot off like a rocket, into the night sky above the dunes.\n\nThrowing back his head, the big beast roared out in a thunderous voice that echoed around the cave and along the cliffsides. \"I am Lonna Bowstripe! I eat rats! I will taste the blood of any who are here by dawn! Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!\"\n\nHe returned to the fire as they took their paws from ringing ears and began tending to Horty. Lonna smiled and shook his head as Horty began to stir. \"He looks hard to kill\u2014I've heard it said that hares are perilous beasts. This one will be a warrior one day.\"\n\nThe giant badger looked so large and ferocious in the firelight that Springald could readily understand how the rats would fear him. She enquired politely, \"Sir, you didn't really eat three rats, did you?\"\n\nThe smile still lingered on Lonna's lips. \"Nay, little maid, don't believe all you hear. The language of death and violence is all that vermin understand. I'd sooner devour a crushed toad that was four seasons dead than eat rat. I eat only the same food as you do.\"\n\n\"Eat? I say, did some chap mention eats? I'm famished!\"\n\nBragoon assisted the incorrigible hare to sit upright. \"Oh, this 'un's awake, sure enough. Well, how d'ye feel, young famine belly? Oh, ye'd better thank the beast who saved ye. This is Lonna Bowstripe.\"\n\nHorty did an exaggerated double take at the huge badger. He winked cheekily. \"Good grief, sah, bet you can pack the jolly old provisions away, wot wot?\"\n\nThey pooled the resources of their packs and were soon toasting yellow cheese and oat scones over the fire. Saro poured dandelion and burdock cordial for the company. Springald split some loaves of nutbread and spread them with honey.\n\nLonna glanced sideways at Horty, taken aback by the young hare's appetite. \"Great seasons, talk about packing provisions away! Where do you put it all? You're a bottomless pit!\"\n\nThey all burst into laughter at the sight of Horty's indignant face.\n\nOver the next few hours, they exchanged their stories. The five friends told Lonna all about Redwall and its creatures. They also explained Martha's situation and the reason for their quest. When the giant badger related his own personal history, they were greatly saddened and angry, too. There was a hushed silence when he came to the end of his narrative. Lonna ran his paw down the fearsome scar, tracing it across his still face.\n\n\"They will pay with their lives, Raga Bol and all his vermin crew. As sure as the days break and the seasons turn!\"\n\nThe five travellers did not doubt a word that he uttered.\n\nLonna rose and replenished the fire. \"You must sleep now. Tomorrow will be a hard day's climbing. I think the plateau above the cliffs is no place for the fainthearted. Take a good rest tonight, I'll guard the cave entrance.\"\n\nBragoon uncovered his sword. \"I'll keep ye company, Lonna. Two guards are better'n one, an' four eyes can see more than two.\"\n\nThey sat together at the cave entrance. Lonna could not take his gaze from the otter's sword, drawn to it like a magnet to metal. \"That is indeed a wondrous weapon you carry, Bragoon.\"\n\nThe otter let the firelight play along the blade. \"Aye, 'tis so, though it don't belong t'me. Abbot Carrul of Redwall loaned it t'me the day we left. I think he did it not just for our protection, but as a sort o' good-luck charm for the journey. This sword belongs at the Abbey. 'Twas owned in the far olden seasons by a mouse. His name was Martin the Warrior, one o' the founders of Redwall. I was told stories of Martin an' his sword when I was nought but a Dibbun. They say it was forged an' made by a great badger lord, a warrior himself, an' a very skilled swordsmith, as ye can see. He made it from a lump of ore that fell from the sky, a piece of a star, I was told. This badger, he was Lord of Salamandastron, a mountain fortress. Did ye ever hear of that place, Lonna?\"\n\nThe dark eyes of the giant flashed. \"Every badger knows the name of Salamandastron. I will go there myself someday. I feel my days will end there\u2014but only when my score with Raga Bol is settled.\"\n\nBragoon sat up with a start, realising that he had dropped off to sleep during the night, something he would never have done in his younger seasons. Dawnlight was filtering into the cave, and Lonna Bowstripe was gone. As Saro was rekindling the fire from its embers, the three young ones were just waking.\n\nShe gave Bragoon a beaker of hot mint tea. \"Mornin', matey. Well, our bigbeast left while it was still dark. I saw 'im go, y'know.\"\n\nFenna poured tea for herself. \"Lonna's gone?\"\n\nSaro nodded. \"Aye, you lot were all asleep. Horty's snorin' woke me, sounded like a tribe o' stuffed-up frogs.\"\n\nThe young hare huffed indignantly at her, but Saro carried on. \"I was lyin' there wide awake, watchin' Lonna in the fireglow. He'd picked up the sword o' Martin to admire it. Well, next thing that badger went stiff as a frozen pike, sittin' there starin' at the blade as if it was speakin' to 'im. I watched for a while, then Horty started snorin' agin. So I gave 'im a good kick an' settled back to catch a nap.\"\n\nHorty interrupted. \"Blinkin' cadess, kickin' a chap in mid slumber? Rank bad manners, I'd say. Hmph!\"\n\nThe elderly squirrel shrugged. \"When I woke up agin, he'd gone.\"\n\nBragoon slapped his rudder against the rock floor. \"I'll wager 'twas Martin the Warrior, speakin' to Lonna through the sword. He told the badger where t'find Raga Bol, an' Lonna took off after the villain!\"\n\nBragoon wrapped the sword up reverently as Horty chuckled. \"I bet old Raggaballoon wotsisname wouldn't be too pleased with Martin, if he knew. Snitchin' about him to that bally great hulk. I'd hate to be in his way when he feels peevish. Frazzlin' frogs, imagine what old Lonna'll do to that vermin when he catches up with him, wot wot!\"\n\nBragoon began packing his belongings. \"I wouldn't like to imagine, mate. That's Lonna's business, an' I'm sure he can take care of it well. But we've got our own problems to tend. Up an' on to Loamhedge, mateys!\"\n\nMorning boded bright as they left the cave and began climbing the cliff to its top. It was hard going until the two squirrels, Saro and Fenna, went ahead. Soon they were on top of the cliff. Lowering down a rope, they heaved up all the packs, then secured the rope around a rock, allowing the other three to haul themselves up.\n\nIt was a breathtaking panorama from the plateau. Horty's keen eyes spotted a small dark smudge, moving across the scrublands in the distance. He pointed. \"I say, you chaps, that could be thingummy, er, Lonna!\"\n\nSpringald shaded her eyes. \"So it could! He's headed northwest, that's the direction we came from. Saro, d'you suppose he's going to Redwall?\"\n\nSarobando felt they were wasting time sightseeing. \"I couldn't really say, missy, but one thing's shore, we ain't goin' to Redwall. 'Tis Loamhedge we want. So stop lookin' backwards an' let's go for'ard. Quick march!\"\n\nShimmering flatlands, devoid of vegetation or shade, rolled out before them. Small swirls of dust eddied in spirals on the hot breeze. Sarobando squinted her eyes against the distance.\n\n\"Miss Fenna, yore in charge o' the drinks, we'll have t'be stingy with liquid. It might be some time afore we run across water by the look o' things.\"\n\nImmediately after the squirrel mentioned drinks, Horty began feeling thirsty. \"I say, Fenna old gel, pass me that canteen, there's a good little treebounder. I'm parched!\"\n\nFenna marched right on past him. \"We'll drink at midday and not before, so forget about it and keep going.\"\n\nThe young hare appealed to his comrades. \"Wot? Did you chaps hear this heartless curmudgeon?\"\n\nBragoon grinned pitilessly at Horty. \"Aye, loud an' clear, mate. Wot's the matter, are ye thirsty already?\"\n\nThe incorrigible hare clapped a paw to his throat dramatically. \"Me flippin' mouth's like a sandpit, an' the old tongue feels like a bally feather mattress. A drink, for pity's sake, marm!\"\n\nSaro levelled a paw at him. \"Ye drink when Fenna tells ye. Now get a slingstone pebble an' suck it. That'll keep the thirst off as y'march, 'tis an old trick.\"\n\nHorty pulled a pebble from his pouch, looked at it in disgust, then put it back. \"Permission to sing, sah!\"\n\nThe otter waved a paw in the air. \"Sing y'self blue in the face for all I care, but forget about drinkin'.\"\n\nHorty had to dig through his store of ballads and ditties, but he soon came up with an appropriate one.\n\n\"I knew a jolly old spider, and she always used t'say,\n\nshe could dive in a bath of cider, an' swim around all day.\n\nOh I would like to be that spider,\n\nfloatin' round in sparklin' cider,\n\nshe'd drink an drink, 'til she started to sink,\n\nthere'd be so much cider inside o' that spider!\n\nI once knew a friendly flea, to whom I used to chat,\n\nhis favourite drink was ice-cold tea, what d'ye think of that?\n\nOh I would like to be that flea,\n\nsippin' cups of ice-cold tea,\n\nall in fine fettle from a rusty kettle,\n\n'til I drank as much tea as that flea!\n\nO cider spider, tea an' flea,\n\n'tis all good manner o' drinks for me.\n\nI'm an absolute whizz for strawberry fizz,\n\nI'll sup old ale 'til I turn pale,\n\nI'd never bilk at greensap milk.\n\nGive this ripsnorter some rosehip water,\n\nor cordial fine made from dandelion,\n\ngive me a barrel it's mine all mine,\n\njust tip me the nod or give me a wink,\n\nan' I'll drink an' drink an' drink . . .\n\nan' dri . . . hi . . . hi . . . hiiiiiiiink!\"\n\nSaro covered her ears with both paws and roared, \"Enough! I can't stand no more o' that caterwaulin', give that hare a drink. Give everybeast a drink!\"\n\nFenna passed the canteen around, allowing each of the group one good mouthful. Horty was onto his second swig when the otter snatched the canteen from him and stoppered it. \"Ye great guzzlin' gizzard, don't ye know when t'stop?\"\n\nHorty gave him a hurt look and belched. \"Beg pardon, sah. Miserable blinkin' bangtail, I barely wet me lips, wot!\"\n\nBragoon grabbed the young hare by his fluffy tailscut and tugged hard. \"One more word and ye'll be wearin' this as a bobble twixt yore ears. Now belt up an' march!\"\n\nIt was hard, hot and dusty out on the flatlands, but they trekked doggedly onward. Even the breeze was like the heat from an open oven door. With neither shade nor shadow to shelter from the ruthless eye of the blazing sun, it soon became an effort to walk.\n\nBragoon licked his dry lips. Dropping his pack, he crouched down on his hunkers. \"Phew! I tell ye, mates, I never knew a day could get so hot. We'll rest here awhile.\"\n\nThe aged squirrel set about making things comfortable. She laced their cloaks together and made a lean-to. Weighting one end of the cloaks with their supply packs, she propped up the other end with two travelling staves. \"That'll give us a bit o' shade. Get under it, an' we'll take another drink. Mebbe we'll have a nap 'til it gets cooler. Then we can travel in the evenin'.\"\n\nThe otter dug a beaker out of his pack. \"Good idea, mate. Fenna, pass me the canteen. I'll measure our drinks out, so nobeast gets any less.\" Here he glanced at Horty. \"Or more than the others!\"\n\nThey were each allowed one half-beaker, which they sipped gratefully.\n\nHorty quaffed his off in a single gulp. \"Bit measly, wot! Where's the food?\" He was the only one who felt like eating; the others stretched out and tried to rest.\n\nFenna watched the hare stuff down candied fruits. \"That will make you even thirstier. The sweetness will start you wanting to drink more.\"\n\nHorty waggled his ears at her. \"Oh pish tush an' fol de rol, miss, I like eatin', doncha know!\"\n\nBragoon opened one eye, remarking ironically, \"Ye like eatin', really? I'd never have known if'n ye hadn't told me so! Put that haversack back on the cloak ends, or the wind'll blow our shelter away.\"\n\nSpringald dreamt she was back at Redwall, paddling in the Abbey pond. Cool, wet banksand slopped between her footpaws as she splashed happily about. Sister Portula and the Abbot came strolling across the dewy lawn. Although the mousemaid could hear what they were saying, their voices sounded different.\n\n\"All gone! Every flippin' thing is confounded well gone, wot?\" Springald wakened to see the reddish evening light through clouds of dust. Horty was stamping about outside the lean-to entrance, sobbing hoarsely. \"Every blinkin' drop t'drink, an' every mouthful of scoff. Gone, gone, we've been robbed, flamin' well looted!\"\n\nBragoon grabbed the hare and shook him. \"Stop that bawlin', calm down an' tell us wot 'appened.\"\n\nSpringald gathered round with Fenna and Sarobando to hear Horty's woeful tale.\n\n\"Couldn't sleep, y'know, too bally hot, wot. I was jolly thirsty, too, so I got up an' went outside t'get the canteen out of the haversacks. Some blighter's filched the lot. They've left rocks in their place. Go an' see f'y'self!\"\n\nIt was true: five rocks sat holding down the rear of the lean-to, where the five packs of food and drink had been stowed.\n\nSaro held up her paws. \"Be still, there may be tracks, pawprints or dragmarks!\"\n\nShe went down on all fours, eyes close to the dusty earth, nose twitching as she sniffed. A moment later, she stood up with a look of disgust on her face. \"Nothing! Not a single trace. Must've been an experienced thief who did it.\"\n\nBragoon commented wryly. \"A beast would have t'be clever to survive in this wasteland. Well, that's it! No good weepin' o'er stolen supplies, we'll just have t'get on with it. While 'tis dark the weather's cooler, so we'll travel by night, at the double. Right, Saro?\"\n\nThe old squirrel nodded and began issuing guidelines. \"Aye, mate. March fast an' silent, no talkin'. We don't know wot's out there in the darkness. 'Tis strange territory, so stick together an' hold paws. There'll be no time for restin'.\"\n\nShe wagged a stern paw at the young hare. \"Listen good, Horty, this ain't a game anymore, see. If you start yammerin' on about food'n'drink, or causin' any upset, ye'll be riskin' our lives. Just march, do as yore told an' shut that great mouth o' yours, d'ye hear?\"\n\nHorty placed a paw over his own mouth and drew the other paw across his throat in a slitting motion.\n\nSpringald nodded. \"I think he's gotten the idea. Quick march!\"\n\nOff they went into the day's last crimson-tinged twilight\u2014without food, drink or any hope of rest. The five small figures were dwarfed by the immensity of a dust-blown, trackless desert. Hidden eyes watched their departure, and sinister shapes rose from the earth to follow the questors.\n\n##\n\nThe storm broke over Redwall at about the same time that Raga Bol killed Jibsnout. Foremole Dwurl gazed gloomily out of the dormitory window at the windswept deluge outside. He blinked as lightning illuminated the room and thunder barraged overhead.\n\n\"B'aint no use a throwen pepper at vurmints in ee gurt rainystorm. Bo urr, nay, zurr!\"\n\nMartha wheeled her chair to the window and peered out. \"Hmm, I wonder how the vermin are coping with this downpour.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul sighed. \"Who knows? Martha, please keep an eye on them. Right, let's get on with this Council Meeting.\"\n\nOutside, fat raindrops beat a deafening tattoo on the walls of the Abbey, its lawns nearly underwater. Badredd and his gang had commandeered the gatehouse. They lay about, wrapped in sheets, blankets and window curtains, using the material to dab at their sorely inflamed nostrils. Sneezing had become pure agony, with the membranes of their nostrils and throats red-raw from the bombardment of hotroot pepper.\n\nPlumnose was having the worst of it. Each time he sniffed, his pendulous nose wobbled and vibrated. Throwing off the bedspread he had been wearing, the suffering ferret made for the gatehouse door.\n\n\"Duh, I'b goin' oudd inna rain tuh lay dowd an' ledda rained water clear be node. Id mide wash idd out!\"\n\nHalfchop sneezed painfully as he volunteered to accompany him. \"Kachuuub!\"\n\nThe Abbey Council had decided on a desperate scheme. Twoscore of the most able-bodied Redwallers would storm the gatehouse and make an end of the vermin. They stood ready to go, each armed with some form of homemade weapon: kitchen knives tied to window poles formed spears, long-handled garden spades, forks and hoes, together with coopering mallets and stave hatchets from the cellars.\n\nToran, serving as commander of the group, leaned against the windowsill, going over the scheme for a second time. \"Listen, friends, 'tis no use barricadin' 'em in the gatehouse. We've got to make an end to it, invade the place, break in an' slay every last one o' them. No half-measures if we want a peaceful life for us an' the little 'uns. I'll go through the door first, the rest o' you follow me. Show no quarter once yore inside! Sister Portula, Foremole Dwurl an' yore two moles there, Burney'n'Yooler, you stay outside an' get any who tries to break out an' run off. Any questions?\"\n\nMuggum saluted with a copper ladle he had brought from the kitchen. \"No, zurr, oi'll do moi dooty, doan't you'm wurry!\"\n\nMartha lifted him onto her lap and took the ladle. \"Your duty is to stay here with the rest of us and guard the Abbey door. This storm has set in for a good while yet. Once it goes dark, Toran and his friends will have the advantage of night cover and rain. The vermin won't be expecting them to attack. Meanwhile, we'll guard the door and make sure only Redwallers get back inside. It's a very important job, Muggum. Can you do it?\"\n\nThe molebabe narrowed his eyes, glaring suspiciously at Toran's attack party. \"Ho, oi can do et, Miz Marth', doan't ee fret. They'm b'aint a-getten back in yurr iffen they'm b'aint theyselves!\"\n\nToran shook the molebabe's paw. \"Well said, matey!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul stood up on one of the truckle beds and delivered a homily to his beloved Abbey creatures. Everybeast fell silent, respectfully bowing their heads as he spoke out.\n\n\"Fortune and fates be with you all,\n\nyou who fight for the right,\n\nsome will stand, others fall,\n\nnever to return this night.\n\nBut fear ye not, my loving friends,\n\nbe strong of limb and heart,\n\nknowing that peace depends on you,\n\nlet courage play its part.\n\nTranquillity and calm spread wide,\n\nthrough this our dear homeland,\n\njustice and truth go by your side,\n\nwhich evil cannot withstand.\"\n\nThough Martha did not say it, she wished now more than ever that her two friends, Sarobando and Bragoon, had stayed.\n\nThunder exploded overhead; jagged forks of lightning tore through the fading light. Raga Bol and his Searats pounded on Redwall Abbey's main gate. Hearing the noise, Halfchop and Plumnose padded soggily to the gate.\n\nPlumnose placed an ear against it, calling out, \"Who'd dat?\"\n\nA sabre was at Flinky's neck as he answered. \"Sure, 'tis only me'n me mate Crinktail. We're gettin' drowned out here. Open up an' let us in, Plummy!\"\n\nThe two crewbeasts lifted the wooden bar, allowing the door to swing inward. Flinky and Crinktail were flung in, landing face down in the mud as the Searats poured through. Raga Bol seized the ferret's nose and twisted it, bringing Plumnose up on his pawtips, squealing in agony.\n\n\"Yeeee! Ledd go!\"\n\nThe captain let go and kicked Plumnose flat in the mud. \"So yore the big bad warrior wot put this place to siege, eh?\"\n\nHe roared with laughter as the ferret held a paw tenderly around his bruised nose and pointed to the gatehouse. \"Nodd me. Badredd's in dere, he did idd!\"\n\nThe little fox was half asleep as the gatehouse door crashed off its hinges. He was dumbstruck at the sight that greeted him. Raga Bol strode forcefully in, squinting one eye as he glared ferociously around.\n\n\"Which one of ye is Badredd?\"\n\nThe crew, terrified out of their wits by half a hundred Searats leering through the doorway at them, pointed quickly at the fox. Raga's polished pawhook latched into Badredd's belt, jerking the fox face-to-face with him. The barbaric captain's murderous eyes bored into the fox's numbed gaze. \"So then, liddle laddo, yore the mighty Badredd?\"\n\nSpeech deserted him, Badredd could only stammer. \"Y . . . Y . . . Yu . . . Ya . . . y-y-y-\"\n\nRaga Bol shook him like a rag doll, covering the little fox with spittle as he roared into his face. \"Don't stan' there makin' noises like an idjit! Are ye or aren't ye Badredd, ye runty buffoon?\"\n\nThe fox nodded furiously, as he heard his own voice squeak out, \"Yis!\"\n\nThe sea captain turned to his crew, gold fangs asparkle as he grinned at them. \"Well now, ain't that nice. Say 'ello to our new cap'n, buckoes!\"\n\nThere was loud guffawing and shouts of ridicule from the Searats.\n\n\"Pleased t'meet yer, I'm shore!\"\n\n\"Mercy me, 'e do look fierce, don't 'e?\"\n\n\"I'd watch 'ow ye talk to ole Badredd. Looks like an 'ard master t'me, a cold 'earted killer!\"\n\n\"Hawhawhaw! Aye, lookit 'is sword. Hawhawhawhaw!\"\n\nThe Searat captain wrenched the broken cutlass from his victim's belt. He held it under Badredd's nose. \"Does your mamma know ye've been playin' wid this? Dearie me, yew could cut yerself. Naughty fox!\"\n\nRaga Bol's crew laughed until tears ran down their cheeks. When the fox's own crew began smiling and chuckling, the big Searat turned on them savagely.\n\n\"Wot are you lot laughin' about, eh? Stupid clods, lettin' yoreselves be ordered about by a liddle oaf with a busted sword. Gerrout of 'ere, all of ye, clear out!\"\n\nThe vermin scurried to obey, cringing and ducking as they had to pass Raga Bol, who was partially blocking the doorway. Still dragging Badredd along by his belt, Raga strode out into the sheeting rain, issuing orders to his Searats.\n\n\"Glimbo, Ferron, Chakka, you stay in the liddle 'ouse wid me. Ringear, lock that big gate, nobeast gets in or out. Post a watch on it. The rest of ye, take shelter where ye can find it. Blowfly, take a rope's end an' keep an eye on this lot.\"\n\nHe indicated the fox's crew with a nod. Finally, Raga turned his attention to the hapless Badredd. Thrusting the broken cutlass into the fox's shaking paws, he snarled, \"Now then, me laddo, yew'd better be a good cook, or ye'll find yoreself bein' served up as vittles. D'ye hear me?\"\n\nBadredd nodded miserably as Raga Bol continued barking out orders. \"Git yoreself down t'that pond an' take yore crew along. I wants fish fer me brekkist, a good fat 'un, an' no excuses. Just 'ow yer catches an' cooks it is yore bizness. But if'n it ain't on the table, done perfectly, when I wakes up . . . then ye'd best cut yore own throat wid that toy sword, 'cos ye won't wanna face Raga Bol. Now get to it sharpish!\"\n\nHe flung Badredd face first into the mud. Then, turning on his paw, the big Searat strode inside the gatehouse.\n\nThe little fox raised his head, weeping and spitting out wet soil, thankful he was still alive. But for how long? The barbarous rat had set him a near impossible task. How was he going to catch a big fish and cook it in the midst of a thunderstorm, with rain pounding furiously down?\n\n _Thud!_ A blow from a knotted rope's end made him arch his back. Blowfly landed another one, this time across Badredd's rump.\n\n\"Up on yore hunkers, foxy! Yew 'eard wot the cap'n said. Step lively now. Youse others, bring that blanket t'make a tent fer me. I ain't sittin' round in the rain watchin' ye makin' Cap'n Bol's brekkist. All down t'the pond now, at the double!\"\n\nHe drove them forward with the rope's end.\n\nA horrified silence had fallen over the Abbey dormitory. One word from Old Phredd cut the air like a knife. \"Searats!\"\n\nShilly followed this up with a question. \"Wot bee's a Searat?\"\n\nToran bent down to the small truckle bed and pulled up the covers to the squirrelbabe's chin. All around the dormitory, Dibbuns were sleeping peacefully. The ottercook wrinkled his nose at Shilly.\n\n\"A Searat, me dear? Just some naughty ole beast. Nothin' for ye to get upset about, go t'sleep now.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul sat down on a hill of slingstones in the middle of the floor. \"How many of them are in the grounds of our Abbey?\"\n\nMartha replied from her seat at the window. \"Hard to count in the dark and rain, Father, but there's certainly more than twoscore of them, all rats, and armed to the fangs. Surely we can't overcome that many!\"\n\nAn old mousewife called Mildun began sobbing in a panic. \"We'll all be dragged out of our beds and murdered, I know we will, us and those poor little babes. Ooooooohhhhhhh!\"\n\nThe haremaid immediately issued a harsh scolding. \"Stop that right now!\"\n\nShocked into silence, Mildun shrank from the sharp reproof, listening intently as Martha continued in a stern voice. \"There's no call for that behaviour, marm, all you'll do is cause worry to everybeast. Don't let me hear an outburst like that from you ever again. Now if you've anything to say, then make it helpful. Don't be a beast of ill omen, and keep your voice down. We don't want the little ones taking fright. Do you hear me?\"\n\nMildun sniffed and mumbled into her kerchief. \"Sorry, Martha.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul turned grateful eyes to the haremaid. \"Thank you, miss. Well, the whole situation has changed now\u2014for the worse, I'm sad to say. An attack against such numbers of those savage rats is out of the question. So what do we do now? I'm open to helpful suggestions.\"\n\nForemole Dwurl raised a powerful digging claw. \"Tunnels owt, zurr, me'n moi moles can make ee gurt tunnel. Uz'll all be safe frumm ee vurmints then, oi reckerns!\"\n\nAs hope sprang anew in the Redwallers, they began chattering and clamouring aloud.\n\nToran silenced them with a sudden bark. \"A fine idea, sir, but let's not be too hasty. Yore plan calls for a bit o' discussion. Now one at a time\u2014you first, Father Abbot.\"\n\nCarrul folded both paws into his wide sleeves. \"Thank you, Toran. First, let me say this. Our Foremole's plan is a sensible one. The Dibbuns, and anybeast who chooses to go with them, will be safe from harm. As for myself, I must remain here where my duty lies. I could never desert my beautiful Abbey.\"\n\nThe ottercook seconded him. \"Nor I, Carrul. It ain't right leavin' Redwall wide open to Searats an' vermin. I stay!\"\n\nMartha struck the arm of her chair resolutely. \"Redwall Abbey is my home, the only home I've ever known. I'm not moving from here!\"\n\nEvery voice in the room was raised. \"We stay! We stay!\"\n\nForemole Dwurl wrinkled his nose apologetically. \"Oi bee's sorry oi menshunned et naow.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul placed a paw about the faithful mole's shoulders. \"You've no need to be sorry, friend, it was a good idea. The trouble is that nobeast wants to go now. So what do we do next?\"\n\nMuggum would not be denied his say. The molebabe waved the copper ladle, which had become his chosen weapon. \"Us'n's foights, zurr, that bee's wot us do. Foight!\"\n\nSister Setiva relieved Muggum of the ladle to stop him from giving anybeast a whack as he waved it about. \"Och, ye wee terror, hush now an' pay heed tae yore elders!\"\n\nToran picked up the molebabe and made an announcement to the assembly. \"This liddle feller's right, we must fight. But it won't be no kill-or-be-killed sort o' last stand. Oh no, mates, we'll fight an' defend the Abbey, stave off any attacks. Even if that means we'll have t'fight all summer long, until the Skipper brings his ottercrew back 'ere from the Northshores. Then together we can deal with those savages outside.\"\n\nSister Portula brandished the hooked window pole she had armed herself with. Normally a quiet and reserved old mouse, she surprised everybeast by calling out, \"Well spoken, Toran. That's the most sensible thing I've heard so far. We can be what we are, not warriors but defenders! We can stick it out and delay them all summer until help arrives from Skipper and his crew. But it will be no easy thing. Remember that we are under siege. Food will run short, drinks will have to be rationed, water cannot be used freely anymore. . . .\"\n\nBaby Buffle interrupted the good sister by piping up, \"Nonomorragerrabaffinwirrawater!\"\n\nMartha gave Shilly a puzzled look. \"What did he say?\"\n\nThe little squirrel grinned from ear to ear and did a somersault. \"Iffa water bee's short, Dibbuns can't not get baffed. Yeeheeheehee!\"\n\nNobeast could resist laughing along with the overjoyed babes.\n\nThe storm finally subsided to a light drizzle. Scratching the back of his neck with his silver hook, Raga Bol rolled out of Old Phredd's bed and exited the gatehouse. Swigging from a flask of grog, he listened to the whimpers and wails from the pond. Blowfly was keeping Badredd and his little gang hard at it. The Searat captain gazed up at the majestic grandeur of Redwall Abbey. What a sight! Anybeast would be mad to bother with ships when he could own a place like this. Smiling wolfishly, he shouted toward the Abbey.\n\n\"Yore goin' to meet Cap'n Raga Bol tomorrer, mousies!\"\n\n##\n\nMarching all night was a harrowing experience for the younger creatures. Saro and Bragoon, being used to such hardships, plodded doggedly on in silence. Fenna stumbled alongside them, her eyes constantly drooping shut. The squirrelmaid sorely regretted ever leaving Redwall and all its comforts. She did not know which she yearned for most\u2014sleep, food or water. Springald was of a like mind, trudging onward in a straight line with her four companions, keeping quiet and trying not to inhale too much dust.\n\nIt was a cruel and forbidding outlook, the wasteland stretching all around, flat, silent and gloomy in the nighttime darkness. After what seemed like an eternity, daylight showed on the eastern horizon, a pale, misty mixture of dove-grey and orange.\n\nBragoon watched the faint apricot edge of morning sun slowly rising. He spoke softly. \"That's a pretty sight, ain't it, mates?\"\n\nHorty hardly gave it a second glance. \"Pretty, y'say? Pretty bloomin' awful if y'ask me, wot. I'd swap the blinkin' lot for a drop of water! Can't we stop now? You said march by night an' sleep durin' the day. Well, there's the jolly old day, an' I'm pawsore an' weary. So let's lay the old heads down, eh chaps?\"\n\nSaro pushed him onward. \"Not just yet, we've got to keep goin' while 'tis cool. When the day gets hot, that's the time for sleep. The more ground we cover, the sooner we'll be out o' this wasteland. Keep marchin', don't stop now.\"\n\nNone of the travellers wanted to, but they carried on, knowing that it was the only sensible thing to do.\n\nBy midmorning, the sun was beating down remorselessly as small dust spirals danced on the hot breeze. There was still no sight of trees or streams amid the dun-hued wastes.\n\nBragoon finally halted. \"We'll rest here until late afternoon!\"\n\nSaro began setting up a lean-to with cloaks and staves, weighting the cloak edges down with pieces of rock.\n\nHorty raised a dust cloud as he slumped down. \"If I could only lay paws on the rotters who swiped our grub'n'water. By the left! I'd kick their confounded tails into the middle o' next season, wot!\"\n\nBragoon rested on his stomach in the small patch of shade. \"Don't think about it, mate, yore only makin' things worse.\"\n\nSpringald looked back at the ground they had covered. \"Funny how the land seems to wobble and shimmer out there.\"\n\nFenna curled up and closed her eyes. \"That's just the heat on the horizon. It's a mirage, really.\"\n\nSaro shielded her eyes, peering keenly at the spectacle. She nudged the otter, directing his attention to it. \"Don't look like no mirage to me, wot d'ye think, Brag?\"\n\nBragoon squinted his eyes and watched intently. His paw strayed to the sword which lay by his side. \"It might be just the heat waves, but it seems t'be movin' closer toward us. Then again, it could be the earth dancin'. Remember the ground shakin' like that the last time we was in this territory, Saro?\"\n\nThe squirrel never let her gaze waver from the shimmering. \"Aye, it made a rumblin' sound, too.\"\n\nHorty laughed wildly. \"Hawhawhaw! Just listen to 'em, chaps. We're in the middle of bally nowhere, bein' baked alive, not a flamin' drop t'drink or eat. Now what, the ground has to start bloomin' well dancin'! Am I goin' off me flippin' rocker, or is it those two ramblin' duffers, wot?\"\n\nBragoon and Saro exchanged glances, then went back to their watching.\n\nHorty, however, would not be ignored. Gesturing with his paws, he flopped his ears dramatically.\n\n\"They're tellin' me the ground's doin' a jig. An' here am I, without a pastie to shovel down me face or a bucket o' cordial to wet me parched lips! Ah, lackaday an' woe is the handsome young hare, languishin' out here an' losin' me mind! I'm goin' mad, mad I tell ye! Stark bonkers an' ravin' nuts! 'Tis the dreaded thirstation!\"\n\nSpringald shook her head. \"Thirstation? Shouldn't that be thirstiness, or just thirst?\"\n\nBragoon whispered to Saro. \"That couldn't be the earth dancin', or we'd have felt the rumbles.\"\n\nHorty continued with his tirade. \"Rumbles, rumbles? How could benighted buffoons such as you know about the rumblings of a sad tragic hare, whose life is bein' cut short by the contagious thirstation an' tummyrumbles?\"\n\nThe otter's tail caught him a firm thwack across the rear. \"Shuttup, young 'un, get to sleep an' quit yore shoutin'!\"\n\nHorty subsided meekly, but still muttered to have the last word. \"Beaten by the bullyin' Bragoon into shallow slumber. Goodnight, fair comrades, or is it good day, wot?\"\n\nWithin a short time, the three young ones were asleep. Sarobando was dozing, too, but Bragoon lay on his stomach, chin resting on both paws. Through slitted eyelids he scanned the wastelands to the rear of the lean-to. They drew closer. Now he could distinguish them, not as heat shimmers but as small, patchy bumps. Moving silently, betrayed only by odd puffs of dust, they edged nearer. Then they halted. One bump detached itself from the pack and advanced.\n\nSaro came awake as Bragoon touched her ear. He nodded toward the moving object, twitching his tail against the squirrel's footpaw. Saro prepared herself, knowing the signal well. One . . . Two . . . On the third twitch they both attacked. Springing in the air and leaping forward, both beasts threw themselves bodily on the thing. It squeaked aloud. Immediately the ground came alive. Squeaking and whistling, hundreds of small shapes raised an enormous dust cloud as they fled. The captured one wriggled and bit madly, but it could not escape its captors. It was disguised by a cloak woven from tough, coarse grass. Bragoon and Saro swiftly wrapped it into a bundle, trapping the beast within.\n\nSaro drew a small blade. \"Haharr, got ye, thief, be still or I'll slay ye!\"\n\nBragoon crouched with his sword poised, defending his friend's back against attack. Saro dragged the bundle inside the lean-to, rapping out orders to the trio, who were now awake.\n\n\"Grab ahold o' that. Jump on it if it tries to escape!\"\n\nSpringald and Fenna held the thing tight. Horty pulled off the covering. It was a small, goldish-brown mouselike beast with a long tail and a white-furred stomach. Temporarily stunned, it lay gazing up at them through huge, dark eyes.\n\nThe otter came bounding in; sword upraised he menaced it. \"Our food'n'water, where is it? Speak or die, robber!\"\n\nThe creature gave vent to a piercing cry. \"Feeeeeeeeeeee!\"\n\nThis was followed by a sound from outside, like hundreds of tiny drums.\n\nSaro stepped out of the shelter. \"Curl me bush, come an' take a look o' this, mates!\"\n\nA billowing dust cloud was rising from footpaws drumming the earth. When it settled, a hundred or more of the mouselike beasts stood facing them. They all wore grass cloaks about their shoulders.\n\nFenna whispered to Saro. \"Good grief, what do we do now?\"\n\nThe older squirrel answered quietly out of the side of her mouth. \"Say nothin'. Leave this to me, mate.\"\n\nBragoon emerged from the shelter, dragging his prisoner by the tail. Hoisting the creature up, he swung the sword of Martin. The otter's voice roared out. \"Give us back our food'n'water, or this 'un's a deadbeast! D'ye understand me? I'll slay 'im if'n ye don't obey!\"\n\nFor an answer, they once again set up a loud drumming with their footpaws: _Brrrrrrrrrrr!_ Then they stood silent, watching Bragoon as the dust settled.\n\nThe captive one glared fearlessly up at the otter. \"Chiiiiiiirk\u2014kill me! We of the Jerbilrats give nobeast water. Chiiik, sooner give our blood than water!\"\n\nSpringald was surprised. \"Rats? They're handsome little things. They've got beautiful, big dark eyes. They look far too nice to be rats!\"\n\nSaro turned fiercely on the mousemaid. \"Just shut yore mouth, miss, I don't care 'ow nice they look. They've told ye wot they are\u2014a rat's a rat, an' that's that. Hold yore tongue, an' leave the talkin' to Brag!\"\n\nThe otter yelled back at the massed Jerbilrats. \"Hah, so ye can unnerstand me. D'ye think I'm foolin'?\"\n\nHe struck with the sword, snipping a whisker from the Jerbilrat. As the drumming resumed, Bragoon raised his sword. \"Next one takes this robber's head off. Give us our supplies!\"\n\nFenna whispered urgently to Horty. \"He's not really going to chop off a defenceless creature's head, is he?\"\n\nHorty shrugged. \"Simple case o' survival out here. Either we get the rations back or we peg out an' perish, wot!\"\n\nThe Jerbilrat actually smiled at Bragoon. \"I die, one less mouth to feed\u2014that saves water. Kill me, riverdog.\"\n\nSaro sighed. \"Don't give us much choice, does 'e?\"\n\nThe otter let his sword drop. \"I never slew a helpless beast.\"\n\nSaro winked. \"I know, mate, we ain't murderers. Let me try.\"\n\nHauling the Jerbilrat up by its ears, she dealt it a slap. \"I know ye ain't givin' us our supplies back, but I'll slap ye round 'til sunset if'n y'don't tell me where water is.\"\n\nSaro made a wavy motion, describing a stream or river. \"Water, like this.\" She gave the beast a heavier slap. \"Talk!\"\n\nThe Jerbilrat shrugged. \"Two days southeast maybe, don't know.\"\n\nSaro struck again. \"Then find out, 'cos yore comin' with us!\"\n\nThe creature snarled. \"I'm Jiboa the Jerchief. I'll kill you\u2014I'm not afraid to kill, like that riverdog is!\"\n\nSaro took a length of rope, knotting it firmly around Jiboa's neck. She smiled grimly. \"Ole Bragoon's the merciful one, I ain't so soft 'earted. I don't take no lip from cheeky-faced rats. Now take us to the water, or I'll make ye wish my mate had killed ye!\"\n\nA swift kick to the rear set Jiboa moving. \"Your water might be gone now. Dancing earth can shift streams down great cracks in the ground.\"\n\nSaro flicked the rope against the back of his neck. \"Ah, go an' tell that t'the frogs. Ye just get us there.\"\n\nCancelling all plans to sleep by day, the travellers broke camp and set off into the dry, hot morn. They kept glancing back as the entire Jerbilrat pack continued to follow them. When Jiboa thrummed his footpaws, the rats drummed back in answer. He smirked at Saro.\n\n\"Feeeeeee! Old toughbeast, eh? Jerbilrats can go without water longer than you and the others. You'll weaken sooner or later. Then my rats will slay you all, you'll see.\"\n\nSaro jerked the rope sharply, causing Jiboa to fall on his own tail. She winked craftily at him. \"Funny 'ow ye can't do two things at once. Seems every time ye try, then ye fall over.\"\n\nJiboa scrambled upright. \"Stupid treejumper, I can walk'n'talk!\"\n\nSaro tugged the rope and pulled him over again. \"Wrong! Every time you say somethin' nasty, bump, down ye go. But if'n ye was to shout out that y'can see water, ye'd regain yore sense o' balance right away. Unnerstand?\"\n\nThere was neither shade nor shadow when the sun was directly overhead. Horty began complaining once more. \"Oh shed a tear for a thirsty young hare, an' if it's wet I'll drink it, wot. I say, you chaps, wouldn't you just love to wet the old whistle at a cool runnin' stream? If the odd fish swam by, then one could eat an' drink at the same jolly old time, wot. Phew, I'm so hot'n'dry that you could make a blanket of my tongue!\"\n\nFenna gave him a sharp nudge. \"You're showing us up in front of those Jerbilrats, moaning and whining like that. They'll think we're soft and weak. Now try to behave like a Redwaller, and stop all that nonsense!\"\n\nHorty stiffened his ears, saluted and stepped out smartly. \"Right, old gel, leave it to Hortwill Braebuck, Esquire. I'll sing t'the clod-faced old savages, wot, here goes!\"\n\nHorty, with his talent for making up songs as he went, launched into an insulting ditty about Jerbilrats. Fenna and Springald giggled as they joined in the refrain at the end of each verse.\n\n\"Oh a Jerbilrat's a creature,\n\nwithout one redeemin' feature,\n\nbeware of him, pay heed to what I say.\n\nHe'll sneak up on one quite sudden,\n\nand devour one's pie or pudden,\n\nan' he'll rob your bloomin' water anyday . . . Anyday!\n\nIf one ever meets a jerbil,\n\none must be extremely careful,\n\nan' keep one's drinks tight under lock and key,\n\nfor 'tis a widely held belief,\n\nthat the scruffy little thief,\n\nwill sup every single drop quite happily . . . Happily!\n\nFor a jerbil's just a rat,\n\nwho has never had a bath,\n\nso be careful that you stay upwind of him.\n\n'Cos the smell would blow one's hat off,\n\nor put any decent rat off,\n\nan' kill all the flies around a rubbish bin . . . Rubbish bin!\n\nJerbil manners are disgraceful,\n\nthey're so spiteful an' ungrateful,\n\nso arrogant an' sly an' so unjust.\n\nEvery ugly son an' daughter,\n\nis a stranger to bathwater,\n\njerbils wallow round all day beneath the dust . . .  \n'Neath the dust!\"\n\nHorty waved to the Jerbilrats, who were squealing and drumming their footpaws angrily. \"What ho, chaps, sorry I can't warble anymore for you. The old tongue's all swollen.\"\n\nSaro halted Jiboa until the others caught up with her. \"This sun is gettin' too much, let's take a rest, mates.\"\n\nShading their heads beneath the cloaks, they squatted on the hot earth. Dozing off was unavoidable in the intense heat. Late afternoon shadows were lengthening as Saro was jerked awake. Jiboa had gnawed through the rope. He sped off in a wide arc, trying to get back to the other Jerbilrats.\n\nThe squirrel chased after him, shouting out, \"Grab 'im, Horty, he's loose!\"\n\nQuick off the mark, the young hare gave chase. He was reaching out to grab Jiboa, when a piercing shriek came from above. _\"Kyeeeeeeeeee!\"_\n\nJiboa threw himself flat, but Horty was knocked ears over scut by a massive shape. A great buzzard\u2014chocolate-and-white plumed\u2014snatched Jiboa up in its fierce, hooked talons. It bore him off squeaking, high into the blue. Three more of the deadly predators swooped down on the Jerbilrat pack, each one seizing a victim, as the rest tried vainly to burrow into the dust. Then they were gone. The rest of them fled westward, thrumming and wailing fearfully.\n\nThen there was silence. Horty sat up, dusting himself off. \"Stifle me whiskers! Did you see the size o' those birds? That's a pretty awful thing to happen to anybeast, even a Jerbilrat. Fancy bein' scoffed by a flippin', flyin' feather mattress, wot!\"\n\nSpringald gazed around at the dusty, deserted plain. \"Those poor creatures, no wonder life in this area makes them hostile to others. I hate this dreadful place!\"\n\nFenna's voice sounded small and frightened. \"How are we going to find water now that we're completely alone?\"\n\nBragoon shouldered his sword wearily. \"Just press on. Jiboa knew there was water over this way. We've got t'keep goin'!\"\n\nThey staggered onwards, but as evening arrived Fenna collapsed. Saro rushed to her side, fanning her brow and rubbing her paws. The aging squirrel looked up at Bragoon. \"Pore young thing, the heat an' thirst have got to 'er. We don't even have a damp cloth t'wet 'er lips. Fenna'll die if'n we don't get some water soon.\"\n\nThe otter covered the little squirrel with his cloak. \"Right, mates, that's it. Horty, ye come with me! Spring, ye stay 'ere with Saro an' Fenna. Me'n Horty will find water, or die tryin'. If'n' we ain't back by tomorrer noon, ye'll know we never made it. But don't fret, we'll be long back by then with water!\"\n\nSarobando and Springald shook their friends' paws.\n\n\"Good luck, an' fortune go with ye!\"\n\n\"We'll be alright here, hurry back now!\"\n\nHorty bowed gallantly. \"To hear is to jolly well obey, marm!\"\n\nThe two comrades struck off into the gathering dark.\n\nSaro and Springald settled down to their vigil. After awhile, Fenna began murmuring as she tossed and turned feebly. \"A beakerful, is that all, Father Abbot? I'm thirsty . . . so very thirsty, Father.\"\n\nThe mousemaid cradled her friend. \"Hush now, Fenn, lie still.\"\n\nSoftly, Springald began singing an old lullaby, from when they were Dibbuns together at the Abbey.\n\n\"Peace falls o'er vale and hill,\n\nsilence fades the light,\n\nmoon and stars watch over\n\nlittle ones by night.\n\nDawn will send the day bright,\n\nlarks will sing for thee,\n\nstreams of slumber flow now,\n\nround this babe and me.\"\n\nSaro smiled. \"That's a pretty song, I remember it from Redwall long ago. Ol' Sister Ormel used t' sing it in the dormitory. Happy days, Ormel was a good ol' mouse.\"\n\nSpringald sniffed. \"I learned it from her, too. Sister Ormel passed on three winters back. She was well loved.\"\n\nAs they nursed Fenna, in hostile country, far from their beloved Abbey and its friendly creatures, Saro and Springald sat silent with their thoughts of Redwall.\n\nHorty staggered gamely onward, though his paws were wobbling and his body bent with fatigue. Bragoon was in slightly better shape, but every step he took was an effort. Side by side they stumbled along through the night. Then the young hare tripped and fell, bringing the otter down with him.\n\nThrough cracked and swollen lips, Horty mumbled, \"Beg your pardon, old lad, tripped over a confounded bush. Wonder what oaf left it there, wot.\"\n\nHe grunted as Bragoon scrambled over him and grabbed a pawful of leaves. Thrusting his nose into them, the otter whooped. \"Wahoo! This ain't no bush, mate. 'Tis a big clump o' comfrey. There's water nearby, I'm sure of it. Water!\"\n\nLeaping up, they plunged forward with renewed hope and energy. The otter suddenly ground to a halt, pulling Horty back. He pointed ahead, to where a soft glow emanated from behind the bulk of a widespread willow tree. Beyond that, the trickle of running water could be clearly heard.\n\nDrawing his sword, Bragoon thrust the young hare behind him, uttering a quiet caution. \"Stick close t'my back, an' don't do anythin' foolhardy. There's a fire burnin', t'other side o' yon tree. I 'ope there's friendly beasts sittin' round it.\"\n\nHorty snorted. \"Fat chance in this neck o' the woods, pal. All we've met is bounders'n'cads since we climbed those cliffs. Huh, friendly y'say, prob'ly so friendly they'll chop off our blinkin' heads on sight, wot?\"\n\nThe otter's paw clamped over Horty's mouth. \"Stow the gab an' stay behind me, we'll soon see!\"\n\nThere were six reptiles in all\u2014two large frilled lizards, three fat toads and a grass snake\u2014lounging around the fire. They were grilling a mess of bleak and minnow on green twigs. Having made a bit of noise as they approached, both travellers were expected. One of the lizards stood barring their way to the water, which appeared to be a small streamlet flowing away into a dense pine forest. The rest of the reptile crew crouched, ready to back the lizard up.\n\nBragoon nodded civilly to them, noting that all eyes were on his sword. \"Evenin' to ye, we've come for water.\"\n\nOne of the lizards sniggered nastily, trying to imitate the otter's voice. \"H'evannin' to ye, we've a-come f'waterrrr!\"\n\nHorty noticed several large gourds of water nearby. \"That's the jolly old stuff, water, you know, that pleasant liquid which is rather nice t'drink. I say, those tiny fish smell rather toothsome, wot. Don't suppose you'd like to donate a few to a worthy cause, a hungry but honest hare, eh?\"\n\nThe reptiles edged around, circling the pair. The largest of the lizards picked up a crude, flint-tipped spear, pointing it at Bragoon.\n\n\"Watersss not a free, iz all oursss. You wanta fisssshes an' drrrrrink, give usss bright a blade!\"\n\nIgnoring him, the otter turned to Horty. \"I don't know wot it is wid the beasts in this country, but they seem t'think we're dim-witted. Our stream, our water, our fish. While pore young Fenna's dyin' for a drop o' water. I've taken about enough of all this claptrap, mate. Ye take my sword, don't do anythin', just stay there, that's an order!\"\n\nHorty took the weapon and saluted. \"As y'say, sah! An' pray, what d'you intend doin', if one may ask, wot?\"\n\nA slow, savage grin spread across the otter's tough face. \"Nothin' much, I'm just goin' t'get us some water.\"\n\nRoaring out a warcry, Bragoon launched himself at the reptiles. \"Make way fer Bragoon o' Redwaaaaaallllll!\"\n\nHorty could not have moved if he had wanted to. He stood wide-eyed with shock, watching six reptiles take the most fearsome beating he had ever witnessed.\n\nBragoon broke the spear of one of the lizards over its head, then picked the reptile up and hurled it into the stream. He went at the others like a madbeast. Flinging himself through the air, he butted a toad heavily in its enormous stomach. As air shot out of the toad in a whoosh, he rudderwhipped it hard, thrice across the head, laying it senseless. He turned and grabbed the other lizard, running it forcefully, snout on, into the willow trunk. Seizing the grass snake, he used it like a flail, cracking the jaws of the other two toads with the snake's head. Bragoon leaped high. Still holding the grass snake, he landed on the two toads' stomachs, then booted all three toads into the stream. The other lizard sat facing the tree trunk, nursing its broken snout. Knotting the snake around its neck, the otter looped them both to a low branch.\n\nDusting off his paws and breathing heavily, Bragoon took the sword from the astounded young hare. Putting the swordpoint at the lizard, he growled, \"In the future, mind yore manners an' be polite to visitors!\"\n\nThe lizard clutched onto the coils of the senseless grass snake around its neck. The snake was looped to the branch above, keeping the lizard on tip-paw. Bragoon put his face close to the reptile and roared thunderously, \"Yore all deadbeasts if'n I clap eyes on ye agin! D'ye hear me, slimeguts?\"\n\nDipping a paw into one of the gourds, the otter tasted the water and spat it out in disgust, then called to his companion. \"Git yore gob out o' that stream, young 'un. Wash these things out an' fill 'em wid fresh water. I'll get the fish.\" He stowed the sword over his shoulder. \"Don't dillydally, mate. Fenna an' the others'll be waitin'. Put a move on!\"\n\nHorty hurried to do Bragoon's bidding, holding a conversation with himself as he rinsed and filled the containers. \"Seasons o' soup'n'salad, 'pon my word! That crackpot must've been a right terror in his younger days, wot? Curl me crusts! A chap'd do well to stay the right side o' that otter, he's a bloomin' one-beast army!\"\n\nBragoon's voice cut sharply into his meanderings. \"Stop chunnerin' an' get 'em filled, ye great gabby windbag!\"\n\nHorty filled the last gourd with one paw, saluting furiously with the other. \"Chunnerin', sah, who, sah, me, sah? No, sah, not never, nohow. Last one filled, sah, all correct, wot wot!\"\n\nBragoon had chopped branches with his sword. He and Horty carried the gourds, strung on the wood and yoked across their shoulders, two to each of them. They had drunk sufficient water and chewed on the cooked fish as they trekked back to their friends.\n\nSighting the lean-to in dawn's pearly light, they dashed forward, slopping water, with Horty yelling, \"Toodle pip there, you idle lot, here come two handsome water carriers. I say, we've got fish, too! Jolly good, eh?\"\n\nThere was no reply from the shelter. Bragoon hurried forward, only to find it deserted.\n\n# [BOOK THREE  \n\"We lived one summer  \ntoo long\"](Loamhedge-toc.html#TOC-32)\n\n##\n\nMorning sunlight filtered like molten gold through the gatehouse. Raga Bol picked his teeth with the silver pawhook, spitting a bone back onto the remains of a well-grilled fish, which he had breakfasted on.\n\nThe Searat captain was in a expansive mood, having slept dreamlessly without any giant stripedog nightmares. The whole incident surrounding Lonna had faded into the background since his arrival at the Abbey. He felt a sense of power, sheltered by the monumental red walls which he knew would be his new home. No more scouring the cold northeast seas. This was a place of fair weather, a fortress from where he could rule all Mossflower. Lord Raga Bol, he liked the sound of his new title.\n\nBadredd quaked with pent-up tension as he awaited the Searat's verdict on his cooking. Blowfly stood behind him, twirling his knotted rope's end. Relief flooded through the small fox at the sound of the captain's coarse but satisfied chuckle.\n\n\"Haharr, I've eaten worse an' lived! Wot kinda fish was that 'un, matey? Wot 'erb did ye use on it, eh?\"\n\nBadredd answered promptly. \" 'Twas a grayling, sir, grilled with button mushrooms an' dill. I did it special.\"\n\nBol patted his stomach. \"Graylin', that's a nice-soundin' name. Blowfly, wot are we goin' t'do wid this cook\u2014flog 'im to a jelly wid yore rope's end or gut 'im wid this 'ook?\"\n\nBlowfly smiled, not a pretty sight. \"Gut 'im, Cap'n, go on!\"\n\nThe hook lunged out, capturing Badredd around his neck. He was dragged forward until Bol was breathing in his face.\n\n\"Make yoreself useful round 'ere, me liddle graylin'. Clean this place up, scrub it out an' make the bed. Blowfly, you stay 'ere, tickle 'im up wid yore rope's end if'n 'e slacks!\"\n\nThrusting both scimitar and stiletto in his sash, the captain swaggered out onto the sunlit lawn. \"Glimbo, rally the crew. 'Tis time we went for a parley wid our new friends!\"\n\nAll night long, Foremole and his molecrew had been carrying rubble up to the dormitory to be used as extra defence material. Martha sat close to the window with Toran and Abbot Carrul.\n\nGranmum Gurvel laid breakfast out on the windowsill for them. \"You'm bee's h'eaten ee brekkist naow, 'tis gudd furr ee!\"\n\nThe trio had already laid their plans. Toran poured honey and beechnut flakes over his oatmeal, pointing to the gatehouse. \"Stand ready, everybeast, they're comin'!\"\n\nRaga Bol sauntered up with twoscore of Searats, as though he was out for a morning stroll. He waved up at them.\n\nToran grunted. \"Don't look like they're goin' to attack right now.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't pay to!\" Martha muttered grimly, reaching for one of Redwall's latest pepper bombs. Abbot Carrul stayed silent, polishing his glasses nervously on his habit sleeve.\n\nA Searat brandishing a rusty axe snarled up arrogantly at the dormitory windows. \"Get yerselves out 'ere, or we'll come in an' drag ye down!\"\n\nDrawing his scimitar, Raga Bol dealt the Searat a swinging blow to the jaw with its bone handle. He placed a sea-booted footpaw on the sprawled-out rat and spoke reprovingly. \"Tut tut, I'm surprised at ye, mate. Is that anyways to be addressin' gennelbeasts?\" Returning the blade to his sash, the Searat captain lectured the rest of his brutish crew. \"Mind yore language when ye talks to the goodbeasts up there, that's an order!\"\n\nHe winked broadly and turned away from them, performing a flourishingly elegant bow. His gold fangs glinted as he smiled up at the dormitory windows. \"My 'pologies, an' a good day to ye all, messmates. Me name's Raga Bol, fer want of a better 'un. I'm 'ere to parley wid yore cap'n. 'Twould be a kindness if'n 'e'd speak t'me.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul showed himself. \"I am Father Abbot Carrul of Redwall. What exactly do you want, sir?\"\n\nRaga Bol put his head to one side, almost managing to look coy. \"Ho, a bit o' this an' a bit o' that. Nothin' fer you to bother yore dear old grey 'ead about, Father Abbot. I'm nought but a simple beast who likes pretty trinkets.\"\n\nToran felt that Carrul had taken enough verbal fencing. Recalling the arrow which had been shot to slay his Abbot, he came forward, placing himself in front of Carrul. In one paw he held a long cook's knife; in the other, a pepper bomb.\n\n\"Wot would ye like, silvertongue\u2014a bit o' this or a bit o' that?\" He indicated both weapons as he spoke. \"Make yore choice, 'cos that's all ye'll get from us. Redwallers aren't born fools. We know scum, even when they try to talk fancy!\"\n\nRealising that the otter could not be cajoled or wheedled, Raga hurled himself at the Abbey door, hacking at it with his sabre and knife and yelling to his Searat crew, \"Attack! Break this door down!\"\n\n\"Redwaaaaaallllll!\" A warcry rang out as the defenders fired slingstones and pepper bombs down upon the foebeasts. A slingstone pinged off Raga's jaw, leaving it gashed.\n\nHe retreated from the door, bellowing, \"Back! Out o' their range. Back!\"\n\nThey stumbled back across the lawn to where they could see missiles coming and better dodge them.\n\nMartha was shocked but elated. It had all happened so fast: one moment she was listening to the talk going back and forth, the next moment she was screeching like a wildbeast and madly launching off slingstones. She held her trembling paws up to her eyes, willing them to be still.\n\nToran winked at her. \"Well done, beauty!\"\n\nHis attention was distracted by Raga Bol, shouting, \"Ahoy there! Is that the way ye treat creatures wot comes in peace? Aharr, ye wretches, I'll show ye the Searat way o' fightin' back. I'll burn ye out!\"\n\nThe Searat captain marched off, back to the gatehouse. Some of his crew were nursing wounds, while others fled blindly, their eyes streaming as they sneezed uncontrollably and headed for the pond.\n\nMartha could feel panic welling inside her. She clasped Toran's paw. \"Will they really try to burn us out?\"\n\nSeating himself on the windowsill, the ottercook stared down at the Abbey's main door, directly below. \"Aye, I thought they'd get around to that, sooner or later. But the Searats' plan won't work. How much of that soil an' rubble is there, Dwurl?\"\n\nSpreading his hefty digging claws, Foremole shrugged. \"Much as ee loikes, zurr. We'm gotten gurt 'eaps o' durt'n'rubble, hooj marsess uv ee stuff!\"\n\nThe Abbot looked over his glasses at Toran. \"What are you thinking of, friend?\"\n\nThe ottercook turned from the window. \"Our Abbey is built o' stone, Father. Ain't many ways they can burn an entrance in. The big Abbey door is the one way. If that went afire, we'd be lost, sittin' on the other side of it, waitin' for the door to burn down. So I plan on blockin' it completely. We'll do it right now. Ain't no sense in losin' time, so we'd best work hard'n'fast. Pay attention, everybeast, this is the plan. . . .\"\n\nRaga Bol's mood had turned sour. He had supposed that his show of force would have gained him an easy victory rather than a shameful retreat. But it had become apparent that the Abbeybeasts were not afraid to fight, no matter how great the odds. He retired to the Abbey pond where he sat sullenly watching those of his crew who had been struck by pepper bombs dousing their heads in the shallows. Flinky and the rest of Badredd's gang were there, ineptly trying to catch another grayling. The captain took his spleen out on them, booting Flinky headfirst into the water.\n\nThe stoat rose spluttering, as he tried to placate the irate Searat. \"Sure we was only tryin' to catch a fat ould fish for yer 'onour's supper. Ain't that right, mate?\"\n\nHalfchop nodded enthusiastically. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nRaga Bol drew his scimitar menacingly. \"Gerrout o' me sight, ye witless idiots, make yoreselves scarce. Now!\"\n\nAvoiding the keen blade, Flinky and the rest fled the scene.\n\nFerron, the gaunt rat, slung a flat pebble, bouncing it over the pond surface. \"I wouldn't give 'em 'til sunset, Cap'n. I'd burn those beasts out now!\"\n\nBol was loath to destroy any part of his new home. He looked to Wirga, his Seer. \"Wot say ye, old one?\"\n\nWirga was drawing patterns in the banksand with a stick. She shrugged. \"If the sons of Wirga were here, they could use their darts on anybeast who showed at the windows.\"\n\nRaga Bol glared at her. \"But they ain't 'ere, are they? So do we burn 'em out, or have ye got a better way?\"\n\nThe Seer sensed the danger in his tone. She made her reply diplomatically. \"Set a fire in full view of the windows. Then send a messenger to give them one last warning. The sight of flames should alter their minds.\"\n\nThis was the answer the captain desired. He gave orders. \"Ferron, Glimbo, gather wood an' get lamp oil. Then set up a blaze on the lawn, where they kin see it. Wirga, take Chakka wid ye. Go an' warn those fools wot'll 'appen if'n they don't surrender t'me!\"\n\nBadredd had just finished mopping the gatehouse floor clean and was about to unbend when Blowfly slapped his rump smartly with the rope end.\n\n\"Yew missed a corner be'ind the door!\" The fat Searat caught Flinky peering in through the open window at him. \"Now then, slysnout, wot do yew want?\"\n\nThe stoat smiled apologetically. \"Beggin' yore pardon, sir, but 'tis the cap'n, 'e wants ye down by the pond.\"\n\nBlowfly gave Badredd another sharp rap. \"This place better be shipshape when I comes back, or I'll flay the back offa ye. Ahoy there, stoat, lend 'im a paw. I kin find me own way t'the pond.\" Blowfly waddled off, twirling his rope end skilfully.\n\nThe small fox tossed Flinky a damp rag. \"You start on the windows, I'll see t'the floor.\"\n\nThe stoat pulled him upright, whispering urgently. \"We're gettin' out o' this place. Come on now, while they're all at the pond we can make a run fer it!\"\n\nBadredd gazed dumbly at Flinky, as if not understanding what he had said. The stoat grabbed the cleaning rag from him and flung it away. \"Don't stand there wid yore jaw flappin'! Are ye comin' wid us, or d'ye like bein' a slave? The rest o' the gang are hidin' by the gate, waitin'. All the Searats are down by the pond, there's not a sentry on guard at all!\"\n\nBadredd's limbs began trembling. \"But wot if they catch us?\"\n\nFlinky could not keep the contempt out of his voice. \"Huh, some grand ould leader ye turned out t'be. Yore better off stayin' here if'n yore too scared. We're goin'!\"\n\nHe ran from the gatehouse to where the others were waiting. \"Get that gate open, quick now!\"\n\nSoon Badredd came running from the gatehouse to join the escapers, shouting out, \"Wait for me, mates. I'm comin', too!\"\n\nA moment later they were off, dashing south down the path and cutting off east into Mossflower Wood, leaving the main gate swinging lazily in the summer breeze.\n\nRaga Bol was putting an edge to his blade on a stone he had found on the pond's edge. He glanced up sourly at Blowfly's approach. \"Wot do y'want, eh?\"\n\nThe fat Searat saluted with his rope's end. \"Dat liddle stoat, the gabby one, 'e said yew wanted ter see me, Cap'n.\"\n\nBlowfly dodged a swipe from the silver hook as Bol roared, \"I never said no such thing. Get back to that gate'ouse an' see wot they're up to. Go on, move yer fat bum!\"\n\nHe glanced up despairingly at the sight of Wirga and Chakka arriving back from the Abbey building. Both were caked from eartips to tails in a mixture of soil, rubble and sloppy debris, which clung to their bodies. The Searat captain shook his head in disbelief. \"Well, make yore report. Wot 'appened to youse two?\"\n\nWirga spat out grit. Pawing soil from her ears, she hawked and coughed to clear her mouth. \"They didn't give us a chance to speak. We went round there like thee told us, but they wouldn't listen, would they Chakka?\"\n\nShe waded into the pond and began washing the mess off as Chakka continued. \"They was pourin' muck outta the winders, Cap'n. We tried to give 'em yore warnin', but a crew o' those moles lobbed a big 'eap o' rubble down on us. Not only that, but they kept tippin' stuff down until we was knocked flat. We 'ad to dig our way out afore we was buried. It looks like they're coverin' the Abbey door, so we can't put a light to it, Cap'n. Those beasts are killers, we was near suffocated!\"\n\nRaga Bol put aside sharpening his scimitar. \"Have the others lit the fire on the lawn yet?\"\n\nWirga emerged dripping from the pond. \"Aye, the wood is burning.\"\n\nRaga Bol hurried up from the pond, past the orchard and out onto the lawn at the front of the building where he could take in the full scene. He could see the top few timbers of the Abbey's main door. The rest had disappeared under a heap of debris, which was still pouring out of the window, forming a great hill of rubble, which completely blocked the doorway.\n\nQuivering with rage, Bol strode up to the fire, which his crew was fuelling with logs, branches and planks. He smote at the blazing wood with his scimitar, scattering it onto the lawn. \"Glimbo, git yoreself over 'ere! Stop burnin' the wood, we'll need it to pile up agin that load o' rubble!\"\n\nThe one-eyed Searat, who had been enjoying the blaze, saluted his leader quizzically. \"Ye don't want a fire then, Cap'n?\" He recoiled, his face now splattered with spittle from the captain's furious rant.\n\n\"Can't ye see they've blocked the doorway, fool? Rubble won't burn, we need that wood to pile up agin that 'eap. We can climb up on it through the winders!\"\n\nRaga Bol sat down on the lawn, chopping at the grass with his blade and shouting out, \"Can't ye use yore brains? 'Ave I got to do all the thinkin' round 'ere?\"\n\nBlowfly came plodding up from the gatehouse. \"Cap'n, the vermin gang are gone. The gate's open, they must've escaped!\"\n\nBol gritted each word out slowly, as if he was speaking to a dim-witted infant. \"Well, go an' bring 'em back! Glimbo, you go wid 'im, an' don't show yer ugly faces back 'ere widout every last one of 'em. Go!\"\n\nMartha had heard every word. She smiled at the Abbot. \"Well, that's a few less to bother us.\"\n\nSister Setiva ducked her head aside as a stretcher load of debris hurtled out of the window space. \"Och, but did ye hear yon Searat? They're goin' tae make a ladder tae scale the heap o' muck. Whit are we to do now?\"\n\nJust then, Foremole Dwurl clumped into the dormitory, his face wreathed in a happy smile as he announced, \"We'm no need to wurry o'er water nomores, zurr. Moi molers h'un-covered a gurt well, daown in ee cellars!\"\n\nSister Setiva pursed her lips. \"Och grand, but ah don't see how that's goin' tae help us fight Searats off!\"\n\nToran shook Dwurl by his muddy digging claw. \"That's a spot o' luck, me ole mate! Keep throwin' rubble out o' the windows, an' tell yore crew to start bringin' up pails o' water, as much as they can!\"\n\nThe ottercook winked roguishly at Martha. \"We'll see 'ow far the rats get, tryin' to scale a mudhill.\"\n\nThe haremaid clapped her paws gleefully. \"Very good, Toran, what a splendid idea! Gurvel, keep making those pepper bombs. In a day or two those Searats will wish they'd never heard of Redwall Abbey!\"\n\nLittle Muggum flung a pawful of debris moodily out the window. \"Hurr, they'm founded watter. Oi 'speck uz Dibbuns bee's a getten barthed agin.\"\n\nSister Setiva patted the molebabe fondly. \"Och aye, but ye can throw the soapy bathwater oot o'er the rats!\"\n\nWithin the hour, Old Phredd had penned a poem about what he envisaged. Martha laughed along with the rest as the ancient Gatekeeper read it aloud to the defenders.\n\n\"They won't leave this Abbey, all filthy and scabby,  \nwhen this war is done.\n\nOur foes will retreat, looking clean nice and neat,  \nevery Searat's son.\n\nOh won't it be splendid, when this siege is ended,  \nlike roses they'll smell,\n\nwashed by bathwater sweet, looking fresh in defeat,  \nas away they run.\n\nCome one and come all, dirty vermin we'll call,  \nshould you need a scrub,\n\ndon't worry or fear, we've got bathwater here,  \nyou may take a tub.\n\nWash the mud out your ears, so you'll hear us my dears,  \nfor 'tis truth to tell,\n\nyou will know how it feels, with a clean pair of heels,  \nfrom a Redwall Farewell!\"\n\nRaga Bol watched as Ferron and Rojin barred and shut the big wallgates. Wirga followed him inside the gatehouse, waiting silently on his command. The Searat slumped down on Old Phredd's bed, speaking his thoughts as he gazed up at the ceiling.\n\n\"Tonight, once 'tis dark, we attack. You stay 'ere wid a few o' the crew. Light a fire, make lots o' noise, they'll think we're all round by this gate'ouse. I'll take the rest an' storm the Abbey by surprise. Tell Ferron to gather all the wood that ain't burned. We'll need it to get up the rubble. I'll be inside afore that ole Abbotmouse knows it. I'll teach those bumpkins to defy Raga Bol. The floors in there'll be awash wid blood by the time I'm done!\"\n\nWirga ventured some questions. \"Do I leave the gates locked, Cap'n? What if Blowfly an' Glimbo return with the prisoners? Or my three sons, what if they return with Jibsnout?\"\n\nRaga Bol looked sideways at his Seer. \"They got paws'n'voices, ain't they? Let 'em bang on the gates or call for ye to open up.\"\n\nWirga humbled her tone, knowing she was touching on a delicate subject. \"Jibsnout and my sons are gone overlong now, they should have returned. Thou wouldst know then if the big stripedog still lives.\"\n\nBol snapped up off the bed. \"Wot do I care about yore whelps, or Jibsnout, eh? I gave 'em a job to do, they should be doin' it. As fer the stripedog, mention 'im agin an' I'll let daylight through yore skinny carcass. Now get out an' give my orders to Ferron an' the crew. We attack tonight!\"\n\n##\n\nHorty looked around blankly, spreading his paws. \"Gone? Where in the name o' seasons have they gone to? They were supposed t'wait here, wot!\"\n\nBragoon held up a paw. \"Quiet, mate, don't move, stay still!\" He cast around, starting in a small circle and going wider. \"If ye go shufflin' about with those big paws o' yores, this dusty ground'll get disturbed. Ahah! Here's their tracks, aye, an' one other, too. Quick, mate, grab all the gear an' foller me!\"\n\nHorty gathered up the cloaks and staves which had formed the lean-to. Burdened by this, plus the two gourds of water on his yoke, he staggered after the otter. Bragoon, having shed his share of the water, was forging ahead swiftly.\n\nHorty protested. \"I say, old bean, that's a bit wasteful, ain't it, leavin' behind good water that you had to carry half the blinkin' night?\"\n\nBragoon kept his eyes on the trail as he answered. \"Can't stop now, got t'get to our mates fast\u2014'tis a matter o' life an' death. Keep up as best ye can!\" Hurrying forward, the otter began emitting an odd, piercing whistle.\n\nHorty plodded on, twitching his ears in disapproval. \"Huh, matter of life'n'death, an' the bounder's whistlin' if y'please? Wouldn't mind, but it's not even a flippin' catchy tune. The bally beast's brains have gone to his rudder if y'ask me, wot!\"\n\nEventually Bragoon spotted the three figures, out on the arid plain. Springald and Saro were shuffling along facing backwards, supporting Fenna. Closely following the otter and his three companions, an adder was slithering, its forked tongue flickering out, sensing prey, the fatigued trio ahead of it. Hearing the sound of Bragoon's high-pitched whistle, the snake turned, bunching its coils and hissing viciously. Not as big as some serpents the otter had encountered, it was a male, just beginning to get its growth. But angry and deadly enough to deal a fatal bite with one speedy strike of its venomous fangs. Continuing to whistle, Bragoon drew his sword and moved closer, making ready to fight if necessary. The otter smiled grimly. His ploy had worked: the hunting adder had now become the hunted, its fate sealed.\n\nBefore the old warrior could strike, the young hare bawled out a warning. \"Look out, pal, here come those blinkin' buzzards again!\"\n\nLike thunderbolts out of the blue vaults of morning, two large adult birds whizzed down. With total disregard for the snake's venomous fangs, they struck their quarry with lightning speed. The murderous beaks and talons of both buzzards snuffed out the adder's life with savage skill and ferocity. The dead snake was still writhing in the dust whilst they continued their frenzied attack. Then it went still, and the hawks screeched out their victory cry.\n\nShielding her eyes against the sun, Saro watched the predators bearing their limp prey off into the cloudless sky as Bragoon and the hare approached her.\n\nShe shook her head ruefully. \"I wish I'd learned t'do that whistle. Never could get the hang of it, though. Burn me brush! Is that water you've got there, Horty?\"\n\nShedding all his trappings, the young hare sank wearily down. \"Indeed it is, marm, but I'm afraid you'll jolly well have to com'n'get it for yourselves. I'm whacked out!\"\n\nBragoon took the yoke from him and sat it across his shoulders, then lifted the two gourds. \"Ye did well, mate, take a rest now.\"\n\nThe elderly squirrel and the two Abbeybeasts sat amid the wasteland dust, gulping down the life-giving liquid. The otter soaked a cloth, allowing it to dribble into Fenna's mouth. He wiped her face with the damp material, cautioning them, \"Drink slower, or ye'll be sick. This young un'll be right as rain soon. So, wot 'appened, mate?\"\n\nSaro looked up from the gourd. \"Just afore dawn, I scented the adder. Huh, I can sniff those things a mile off!\"\n\nShe continued drinking as Springald took up the tale. \"We knew it was somewhere close, stalking us. It was too dangerous to stay inside the lean-to, the snake would've found us. So we sneaked quietly off, but the adder saw us and came right on our track. I've never seen an adder before\u2014horrible beast! I was scared clean out of my wits. Good job you found us in time, we couldn't have carried Fenna much further. And, Bragoon, will you teach me that whistle? It saved our lives!\"\n\nThe otter lifted Fenna onto his back. \"Some other time, miss. Let's get this 'un into the pineforest shade. We found a stream over that way. I'll take ye to it.\"\n\nSaro closed her eyes dreamily. \"A pine forest an' a whole streamful o' beautiful babblin' water. Lead on, mate!\"\n\nThey entered the pines when it was midday. Horty raced ahead until he found the stream. He ran toward it, turning his head to shout, \"This is the place, chaps! Hawhaw, wait'll I tell you what old Brag did to a gang of bullyin' reptiles last night. He gave 'em the towsing of their lousy lives, he . . . nunhhhhh!\"\n\nWithout paying attention, Horty had run full head-on into a thick, low pine branch. He was laid flat out, unconscious.\n\nSaro ran to him and lifted his head. \"Stone-cold senseless! That makes two we got to nurse now. Why didn't the lop-eared gallumper look where he was goin'?\"\n\nThe remainder of the afternoon was spent beside the stream. Springald looked after her two friends whilst the older pair went foraging for food. It was so pleasant in the shade of the tall pines. Besides tending the invalids, the mousemaid had time to paddle and wash in the stream. It was a cool and peaceful spot with sunlight and shadow dappling everywhere. Fenna was recovering nicely when Bragoon and Saro returned. The two old campaigners brought with them wonderful chestnut-coloured mushrooms, wild onions, dandelion buds and a variety of edible roots and berries.\n\nBragoon was heartened by the sight of the squirrelmaid. \"Feelin' better, eh, beauty? Well, we can't light no cookin' fires in a pine forest like this, 'tis too risky. Do ye fancy a nice salad, miss?\"\n\nFenna watched the otter chopping everything finely with his swordblade. \"Salad would be perfect, thank you!\"\n\nThe moment the aroma of freshly cut food assailed his senses, Horty revived. \"Oh goody! I say, you chaps, please pass the salad. Owchowchoooh! Me flippin' bonce is splittin'. Can y'see any of me brilliant young brains leakin' out, wot?\"\n\nFenna could not stifle a giggle. \"Oh, poor Horty, you've got a lump like a boulder, right twixt your ears. I'm sorry for laughing, it must be very painful.\"\n\nThe young hare winced when he touched the large swelling. \"Painful ain't the word, Fenn old gel, it's absobally agonisticful. Don't think I'll last the day out, actually. Don't shed too many bitter tears when I turn me paws up an' peg out. 'Twas all done bravely in the line of duty. Wot!\"\n\nSaro inspected the injury. \"Hah, it looks like a duck egg growin' out o' yore skull. Don't worry, though, you'll live. I've got just the thing for that. Sit still an' eat yore salad while I go an' make a poultice.\"\n\nShe spent some time at the stream, gathering certain things and soaking them in the water. On her return, the aging squirrel tore strips off a cloak for binding.\n\nHorty pulled back apprehensively. \"Don't hurt a dyin' young beast in his final moments. Be merciful, marm!\"\n\nBragoon held the hare's paws as Saro worked. She tweaked Horty's whiskers whenever he moved. \"Be still, ye great ninny! This is a compress of duckweed, dock, watercress, sainfoil an' streambed mud. Twill do ye a world o' good!\"\n\nWhen she had finished, the others had to turn away their faces to keep from bursting out into laughter. Horty sat dolefully munching salad. Atop his head sat a high turban of cloak strips, herbs and mud, secured with a tie beneath his chin. Both of Horty's ears flopped out at the sides. He glared at Bragoon, who was biting down on his lip to contain a guffaw.\n\n\"What's the flippin' matter with your face, chucklechops? D'you find somethin' funny about a wounded warrior, wot wot?\"\n\nThe otter brought himself under control. \"Who, me? No, mate, but I wouldn't go near any bumblebees if'n I was ye. They might be lookin' fer a new hive! Hohohohoho!\"\n\nSeeing there was no salad left, Horty rose regally and stared down his nose at the mirth-struck quartet. \"Tut tut, I shall be carryin' on alone, without any aid from those I once called friends. Huh, bunch of whinnyin', witless woebetides. Fie upon you all, say I!\" He stalked off in high dudgeon, his turban dressing awobble as he stooped to avoid branches.\n\nFenna grasped her sides, tears of laughter rolling down both cheeks as she gasped out, \"Heeheehee, come on, I'm, haha, well enough to travel now. Ohahahahhh! We'd better go along with him just in case he, heeheehee, backs into a sharp branch, and we, hahahahaaaa, have to tie a turban to his tail. Whoohoohoohoo!\"\n\nThe pine forest was a vast area. As evening fell, it became dark, swathed in a gloomy, green light. Horty was still not talking to anybeast, but the urge to utter some noise was so great that he struck up a mournful dirge.\n\n\" 'Tis a sad lonely life, I have oft heard it said,\n\nto go wanderin' about with this wodge on one's head,\n\nfor I travel alone o'er desert an' lea.\n\nWhy, even the midges and ants avoid me,\n\nwhile the ones I called pals an' the comrades I know,\n\nall laugh 'til their rotten, cruel faces turn blue.\n\nThere's a grin on the gob of each pitiless cad,\n\nas they scoff at the plight of a poor wretched lad,\n\nbut I'll carry on bravely, I won't weep or cry,\n\nan' I'll have my revenge on 'em all when I die.\n\nMy ghost will sneak up while they're laid snug in bed,\n\nan' I'll hoot spooky whoops through this thing on my head.\n\nThen they'll cry out 'Oh Horty, forgive us, please do'\n\nas my spirit howls loudly . . . 'Yah boo sucks to you!' \"\n\nWhen night fell, Horty broke down and wept inconsolably. Springald crept through the gloom and found him sitting on a log, feeling sorry for himself. She put a paw around him.\n\n\"Horty, don't cry. What's the matter? This isn't like you.\"\n\nHe shoved her paw away. \"Yaaah, gerroff me, you don't care, no flippin' one bally well bloomin' cares about me!\"\n\nBragoon took a firmer approach. \"Come on now, mate, wot's all this blubberin' about, eh?\"\n\nHorty snapped a small twig and flung it at the otter, but it missed. \"You ain't no mate o' mine, none of you lot is! I'm starvin' t'death, I've got a molehill growin' out me head, my poor skull aches like flamin' thunder, an' now I'm goin' blind. I can hardly see a paw in front o' me!\"\n\nFenna took over, grasping the weeping hare's shoulders. \"Don't be silly, Horty Braebuck, and listen to me. What's all this carrying on for, eh? You're hungry, right? Tell me when you _aren't_ hungry! What then, your head's aching? Stands to reason, you've suffered a nasty bang on it. But as for going blind, that's nonsense! It's so dark in this forest at nighttime that none of us can see much. Here, take hold of this stick and follow me. Don't keep fiddling with that dressing on your head or it'll never get better. Saro, have you any food left?\"\n\nThe squirrel produced a few mushrooms. \"I saved these.\"\n\nFenna gave the mushrooms to Horty. \"Eat them slowly, take small bites and chew each mouthful twenty times. Come on, up you come, we've still got a lot of ground to cover yet.\"\n\nThey marched all night, with Bragoon scouting ahead and Saro keeping them on course. The otter returned in dawn's first glimmer, bringing with him a heap of ripe bilberries in his cloak.\n\n\"Lookit wot I found! I think there must be a river ahead, I could hear the sound of running water in the distance. Sit down an' get yore gums round a few o' these, Horty mate, they're nice'n'ripe. We'll rest 'ere awhile.\"\n\nHorty was considerably less sorrowful when there was food in the offing. \"Mmmm, better'n those measly mushrooms. I say, you chaps, I can see better. Flippin' bandage must've fell down over me eyes last night, wot. Oh corks, now everything's gone flippin' green! Why's it all green?\"\n\nSpringald explained. \"Because it isn't properly light yet, it's the day breaking over the treetops. Pines grow so thick in here that it makes the light look green.\"\n\nBut Horty would not be convinced. \"Fiddlesticks, you're only sayin' that t'make a chap feel better. Ah well, I don't mind spendin' the rest o' me life in a green fug. Hawhaw, lookit old Brag, sour apple face, an' you, too, Spring, little lettuce features, an' you Fenn, young grassgob!\"\n\nSaro stared at him pointedly. \"Ye missed me out?\"\n\nHaving devoured all the available berries, Horty lay back and closed his eyes. \"Hush now, let a chap get some rest, cabbage head!\"\n\nThe squirrel chuckled. \"That's more like the ole Horty we all know an' dread.\"\n\nMidmorning found them back trekking once more, eager to be out of the oppressive pine forest. The further on they went, the more pronounced came the sound of flowing water.\n\nSaro stopped to listen. \"Sounds like a fairly wide river. Have ye got that ole map from the Abbey, mate?\"\n\nBragoon produced the map, which had been made during the journey of Matthias of Redwall in search of his son Mattimeo. He scanned it closely. \"Aye, we're on the right course, though I think we took a different route t'get to it. This is the high cliffs, here's the wastelands an' this is the pines we're in now. There should be some sort of open area ahead, then a big river. We'll soon see, mates. Press on, eh!\"\n\nThey emerged onto the edge of a deep valley, the hill below them thickly dotted with smaller pines and lots of shrubbery. Below it was the narrowest strip of bank. Beyond that, a wide, fast-flowing river glimmered in the sunlight. Halfway down, the travellers halted on a shale ledge. They still had some way to go, and the descent looked fairly steep. Horty sat down, yawning in the heat. He rested his face in both paws.\n\nSaro prodded him. \"Are ye alright, head achin' is it?\"\n\nThe young hare nodded. \"A bit, but I'm more tired than anything.\"\n\nSaro indicated an overhang that was screened by bushes. \"Tuck yoreself in there young 'un an' take a snooze. I'll call ye when we're ready to move.\"\n\nThe four travellers slithered and bumped down the steep hillside, grasping trees and bushes to slow their descent. They were about halfway down when Bragoon sighted the reptiles. He halted, pointing.\n\n\"Down yonder on the riverside below us. Those reptiles I dealt with last night are waitin' for us. Trouble is, they've brought a pile o' their gang with 'em!\"\n\nSaro counted the assorted lizards, newts, toads, smooth snakes and grass snakes awaiting them on the shore. There were about thirty in all, with another twoscore camped on the opposite bank of the river.\n\nA thin reed lance zipped upward, narrowly missing Fenna's cheek. She stumbled, almost overbalancing, but Bragoon managed to grab her. \"Take cover quick, they're throwin' lances!\"\n\nTo one side of the slope, a fallen pine had lodged flat between two standing trees. Crouching behind it, Saro fitted a stone to her sling and launched it off at the reptiles. Cautiously, she peered over the log, noting that a toad had hopped out of the way of her stone. \"They ain't movin', just waitin' for us down there. Let's give 'em another couple o' slingstones, mate!\"\n\nBoth she and Bragoon slung more stones as Springald and Fenna threw lumps of shale. They were forced to duck fast as a half dozen of the sharp, thin lances came back at them.\n\nThe otter thumped his rudder down irritably. \"Well, this ain't goin' t'get us to Loamhedge. Those cold-blooded scum 'ave got us pinned down 'ere!\"\n\nSpringald picked up one of the lances and threw it back. \"It's a stand-off, what are we going to do?\"\n\nSarobando passed her sling to the mousemaid. \"Ye can use this, 'tis a good sling. But I'll want it back later. This is wot we'll do. While you three keep slingin' stones, I'll slide off through the trees an' take a scout round downriver. I'll find a good quiet spot where the river narrows for an easy crossin'. Then I'll slip back 'ere an' let ye know. Once 'tis dark, we can all sneak away an' escape. Right?\"\n\nFenna nodded. \"Sounds like a good idea!\"\n\nBragoon raised his eyebrows. \"Sounds like? Let me tell ye, missy, when my ole mate gets an idea, 'tis always a good 'un!\"\n\nSaro gave him a quick grin. \"Thankee, Brag. Now let's give 'em a good rattlin' volley to keep their 'eads down while I pop off unnoticed. One . . . Two . . . Three!\"\n\nSlingstones and lumps of shale peppered down at the foebeasts below. When Springald looked up, Saro had gone. Bragoon shoved the mousemaid's head back down as more lances came.\n\n\"Always duck fast once ye've throwed, Spring. There's more pore beasts been injured or slain in fights by lookin' up to see where their stones went. Ready agin, come on, let's give 'em a spot o' blood'n'vinegar. Yahaaar! Try some o' this, ye scum-backed, bottle-nosed crawlers!\"\n\nHorty slept on beneath the overhang, blissfully unaware of what was taking place.\n\n##\n\nSaro put some distance between herself and the skirmish. Ahead lay a sweeping bend in the river. Making her way down to the bank, she skirted the bend and began jogging steadily along the shore. It was peaceful and quiet, with only the crunch of pebbles beneath her footpaws mingling with the murmur of riverwater, echoing off the high, wooded slopes on either side. As she got round the bend, Saro caught the sound of deep, gruff voices singing a river shanty. She pressed on toward the singing. It was a song she knew, and she was fairly certain who the singers would be. The aging squirrel joined in with the melodious music.\n\n\"Wally wally dampum dearie,\n\nI'll sail back home next spring.\n\nKiss all the babies for me,\n\nan' teach the lot to sing.\n\nToodle aye toodle oo, me daddy's a shrew,\n\nwhose face I can't recall,\n\nbut I'll stay home all season long,\n\nuntil I hears him call.\n\nLogalog Logalog Logalog Oooohhhh!\n\nRinga linga ling me darlin',\n\nthere's ribbons for yore hair,\n\nI'll bring to ye a bonnet,\n\nan' a fine red rockin' chair.\n\nToodle oo toodle ay, just wait'll the day,\n\nDaddy comes paddlin' in.\n\nI'll grow up big'n'strong then,\n\nan' sail away with him.\n\nLogalog Logalog Logalog Ooooooooohhhhhh!\"\n\nCupping both paws to her mouth, Saro bellowed for all she was worth. \"Logalogalogaloga looooooog!\"\n\nSix shrew logboats hove into view, sailing upriver. The lead craft was by far the largest, carved from a mighty oak trunk and fitted with a single square sail of scarlet with an ornate letter _B_ emblazoned on it. All the logboats were packed with shrews, about a hundred of the small, fierce beasts. Each spiky-furred shrew wore a multicoloured headband and a kilt held up by a broad, copper-buckled belt into which was thrust a short rapier. Their leader, a solid old patriarch, with a thick, silver beard, stood in the prow of the front craft. He signalled for the rowers to pull into the shore.\n\nNo sooner had the vessel nosed in to land than the shrew chieftain leaped ashore and seized Saro in a viselike bear hug. He roared cheerily, \"Sarobando, me ole squirrelcake, where've ye been a-hidin' yoreself? Oh, it does me eyes a power o' good to see ye agin! Belay, where's that rip-ruddered rascal Bragoon? Is the ole villain still alive? Haharrharrr!\"\n\nSaro tugged the shrew's big beard and kissed both of his cheeks. \"Log a Log Briggy, ye barrel-bellied ole riverroarer, I knew 'twas you as soon as I 'eard yore song. Let go o' me, mate, while me ribs are still in one piece. Lissen careful to wot I got to tell ye!\"\n\nAfter loosening Saro, Log a Log Briggy listened as she told him the facts. \"There's trouble upriver. Bragoon an' some young mates of ours are pinned down on the 'illside by reptiles. There's about thirty o' the scum on this side o' the water, an' more on the other side. We need yore 'elp, Briggy!\"\n\nThe shrew chieftain's brows lowered menacingly as he gritted out the words. \"Reptiles, eh? I can't abide the creepy, cold-eyed scum. They think they rule the roost up that end o' the river. Don't fret, matey, I'll put my oar in an' show 'em who the real bigbeast is in these waters. No reptile's goin' to mess wid good mates o' mine!\"\n\nHe began issuing orders to the captains of the other five logboats. \"Moor those vessels on the other bank, we'll come back for 'em later. Jigger, take twenty goodbeasts an' go wid Saro. Bring extra clubs along wid ye. Raffu, Fregg, Scordo, Fludge, you an' the rest foller me along the far bank. Keep 'idden among the trees, an' don't make no noise. Bring me Aggie Frogslapper, look lively now!\"\n\nOne of the shrews passed Log a Log Briggy a hefty carved sycamore war club, which he wielded lovingly. \"Ole Aggie's slapped a few frogs in 'er day. Hah, there'll be a lot o' reptiles won't be comin' back for a second kiss from ye, Aggie me old gel!\"\n\nBriggy introduced Saro to a young shrew who was the model of himself in bygone seasons. \"This is me eldest, Jigger. 'Tis only his sixth season out as a Guoraf warrior, but he's shapin' up well. Jigg, me darlin' son, go wid Saro. When ye get yore fighters set up, wait for yore dear ole dad's call afore ye charge the scurvy foe.\"\n\nJigger shook Saro's paw. \"Let's make tracks. I hate bein' late fer a fight, marm!\"\n\nArmed with clubs, rapiers and slings, the shrews set off with Saro and Jigger at a swift trot around the riverbend. Log a Log Briggy took his logboat with the other five craft across the river to the opposite bank. He was first ashore, stroking his club, Aggie Frogslapper, and murmuring fondly, \"Aharr, 'tis a long time since ye had a good outin', me dearie!\"\n\nNight had descended over Redwall Abbey. Brother Gelf and Brother Weld sat by the dormitory window with Toran and Martha. The vermin had extinguished the fire on the Abbey lawn. Only the glow from a fire by the gatehouse could be seen. Abbot Carrul came up from the kitchens, threading his way through the Redwallers, who were resting on the dormitory floor. He pushed a trolley along to Martha and the watchers.\n\n\"I thought you might like some leek and chestnut soup. There's freshly baked cheesebread here, too.\"\n\nToran nodded admiringly. \"Ole Granmum Gurvel's a treasure. All the strife we're goin' through, but she still finds time to cook good vittles for us. Thankee, Father!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul stared out the window. \"Pretty calm out there. I imagine the vermin are taking their supper by that fire near the gatehouse. You can hear their voices when the wind drifts this way. Do you think they'll bother us tonight?\"\n\nBrother Weld exchanged glances with his friend Brother Gelf. \"Well, you heard them say they'd attack us when it got dark. Don't let that little decoy by the gatehouse fool you, Abbot, they'll be coming shortly.\"\n\nCarrul poised his ladle over the soup cauldron. \"You'll excuse me saying, but we don't look exactly ready to stand off an attack, with everybeast sitting about on the beds and the floor. How will you know if the Searats are stealing up on us under cover of darkness?\"\n\nBrother Gelf chuckled. \"Oh, we'll know sure enough, Father.\"\n\nFrom out on the lawn, shrieks and curses rent the air, together with the clatter of falling wood. Martha said calmly, \"That'll be them now. Right, friends, all to the windows and take up your positions.\"\n\nThe Abbot ducked to avoid a hooked window pole that Foremole Dwurl was carrying. \"Will somebeast pray tell me what is going on out there?\"\n\nMartha patted the paws of the two brothers beside her. \"It was their idea. We knew Raga Bol and his Searats would come once night fell. So Brother Weld and Brother Gelf had the bright idea of throwing broken glass, from the windows of Great Hall, out onto the lawn. Then, if the Searats tried to sneak up in the dark, they'd naturally let us know. It worked rather well, Father. Just listen to them!\"\n\nRaga Bol lurched about on the darkened lawn. He grabbed one of his crewrats, cuffing him about his ears. \"Silence, ye fool, wot's all the yowlin' about?\"\n\nThe Searat limped this way and that, trying to dodge the blows. \"Somethin' sharp is stickin' right into me footpaw. I couldn't 'elp it, Cap'n, I swear!\"\n\nBol shoved him away scornfully. \"Somethin' sharp, eh? I'll give ye somethin' sharp if'n ye don't shuttup. Any chance we 'ad of a surprise ambush is long gone now. Never mind yore footpaws, get some fire in yore bellies an' try t'be like real Searats. Avast there crew . . . Charge!\"\n\nKeeping his voice low as he heard the captain bellowing, Toran the ottercook gave his own orders. \"Up t'the winders, mates, let go the water!\"\n\nSturdy moles trundled forward to the windows. They hurled out the contents of bowls, pails, pots, pans, cauldrons and buckets. Water cascaded over the rubble heap, which piled outward, protecting the Abbey door.\n\nThe first ranks of Searats flung tree limbs, planks and long branches against the heap. Raga Bol dashed about, shouting encouragement. \"The fools won't stop us wid a drop o' water! Up ye go, buckoes. Board the place like it was a ship an' slay 'em all!\"\n\nCrewrats began scaling up the timbers. Unfortunately for them, the wood started sinking into the rubble, which had turned into a big mudheap, owing to the water drenching it. However, three of the longest planks spanned the mess, their ends resting on the sandstone lintel above the door.\n\nWhen Raga Bol saw this, he waved his scimitar about wildly. \"Ferron, Hangclaw, Rinj, gerrup those long bits. Come on, all paws t'the planks. Get through those winders, look sharp!\"\n\nClenching blades in their fangs, the Searats clambered skilfully up the wooden lengths. The planks bellied under their combined weight but held.\n\nRaga Bol laughed like a madbeast. \"Haharr, keep goin'. We'll make it, mates!\"\n\nBut they never quite made it. Hotroot pepper bombs burst on the heads of the lead climbers. Vermin wobbled on the planktops, trying to hold on whilst fending off the searing packages that pelted them.\n\nToran and the Redwall defenders appeared at the window spaces bringing their long, hooked window poles into play. The ottercook and four others latched on to a centre plank and heaved it out from the wall.\n\n\"Push, friends! Put yore backs into it an' shove!\"\n\nUnder the concerted effort of the Abbeybeasts, the plank was forced outward. Searats clung shrieking to it, as the pole moved it away. With nothing to support it, the plank teetered for a moment, then toppled over backwards with vermin clinging to its underside.\n\nWilling paws plied more window poles. Sister Setiva, Sister Portula and a crowd of elders pushed the left plank. Brothers Weld and Gelf, assisted by Gurvel, Foremole and three of his crew, pushed the one to the right. They strained and grunted, leaning their weight against the bending window poles.\n\nMartha gripped the arms of her chair, lifting her body forward. She could hear herself roaring. \"Push hard as you can. Push!\"\n\nThe planks fell, one to either side of the windows. Wood scraped against stone as they plunged sideways. Wailing Searats threw themselves clear\u2014some going headlong into the mudheap, others thudding on the paving stones below.\n\nThe defenders fell in a heap on the dormitory floor, yelling out a great victorious cry. \"Redwaaaaalllllll!\"\n\nMartha was about to drop back into her chair when an awful sight froze the breath in her throat. The Searat Ferron was crouching before her, framed in the window. He had leaped from the first plank before it had begun its backward journey. Latching on to the sill, Ferron had hauled himself up onto the windowledge. Now he perched there, snarling, a long dagger in one paw, ready to kill. In front of him, the Abbot had risen from the jumble on the floor and was standing with both paws raised wide, joining in the joyous shout of Redwall, with his back to the window.\n\nTime stood still, Martha's voice had deserted her. She was holding herself up, with her paws still gripping the chair arms. In front of her, Abbot Carrul stood, smiling at the haremaid and cheering lustily. Behind him, the Searat raised his dagger, preparing to stab at the Abbot's unprotected back. Alarm bells were clanging furiously in Martha's brain, coupled with the voice of Martin the Warrior, thundering at her, \"Save your Abbot!\"\n\nIt was over in a flash! Martha stood upright. Charging past Carrul and pushing him to one side, she hit the Searat, knocking him right out of the dormitory window.\n\nToran came bulling forward. He grasped the haremaid's waist, pulling her back into the room. \"You walked, Martha! You walked! You walked! You walked!\"\n\n##\n\nDown on the lawn, Raga Bol turned and strode away from the scene of his defeat. The Searat Rojin limped up to him. \"Cap'n, there's no way we kin get at 'em. Those beasts ain't as simple as they look.\"\n\nBol carried on walking without even looking back at Rojin. \"Have ye only just realised that? Call the crew off. There's got t'be a way into that Abbey, an' I'll find it. Ye can take my oath on it, 'cos I ain't movin' from Redwall. 'Tis mine, d'ye hear me? Mine!\"\n\nSomewhere southeast, deep along a woodland trail in Mossflower Wood, Flinky stopped running. Breathless and shaking, he collapsed to the ground. The little gang of escaped vermin flopped down beside him. Badredd slunk at the back of the group, with nobeast paying him the slightest attention. Gone were his days as gangleader. Now all the vermin looked to the stoat, Flinky, as their saviour. He had taken them out of the Searats' clutches.\n\nPanting hard, Crinktail clutched her mate's paw gratefully. \"We did it, we got away!\"\n\nHalfchop grinned fondly at Flinky, his new hero. \"Kachunk!\"\n\nUnderstanding what his pal meant, Plumnose nodded in agreement. \"Wodd duh we doo's now, Flink?\"\n\nThe triumphant stoat was never stuck for words, despite trying to regain his breath. \"Ah well, Plum, we can't run anymore tonight. Let's just stow ourselves under those bushes an' take a good ould rest while we lay low there an' 'ide. Tomorrer we'll 'ead south, where nobeast will ever find us agin. Sure, we'll find a comfy spot where there's plenny o' vittles growin', clean water an' grand weather. That'll do fer us, a good plan, eh?\"\n\nJuppa's voice was full of admiration. \"Aye, that it is. We're with ye all the way, Chief!\"\n\nRolling beneath the bushes, Slipback settled down amid the leaf mold. The rest joined him, with Flinky still chattering on.\n\n\"Ah, sure, we musta bin mad, lettin' greedy ould fools an' oafs lead us. Ferget all the magic swords, sieges an' great abbeys. Wot more could a body want than layin' round in the sun all day, fillin' yore stummick wid vittles an' never an argument twixt the lot of us anymore. After wot we bin through, I reckon we deserves a taste o' the good life, mates!\"\n\nOwing to the size of his nose, Plumnose was gifted with a keen sense of smell. His voice carried a note of disgust as he called out in the darkness beneath the bushes. \"Duh, sumthink smells h'awful round 'ere!\"\n\nJuppa gave vent to a horrified gurgle. \"Yurgh, wot's this?\" She shot out of the bushes on to the other side of the trail. Wringing her paws, the weasel performed an anguished little dance.\n\n\"There's a deadbeast in there! Yukk, I put me paw on its face. Creepy crawlies were all over its eyes!\"\n\nA mad scramble ensued as the gang ran out from beneath the bushes, shuddering and dusting themselves down.\n\nFlinky was the first to express an urgent desire. \"Let's get outta 'ere, run mates! We'll keep goin' 'til it's light, then I'll pick a better spot. Keep goin', don't stop fer nothin'!\"\n\nTheir sounds receded south into the distant woodlands, until everything was still and silent once more. The only things that moved were the insects crawling over the lifeless carcass of Jibsnout\u2014lying stretched beneath the bushes where Raga Bol had flung his slain body.\n\nAround the midnight hour, two others came along that same path. The Searats, Glimbo and Blowfly. It was the latter who searched the ground closely for signs of the fugitives.\n\nSceptical of ever finding them, one-eyed Glimbo complained volubly. \"Wot'n the name o' Hellgates do ye expect to find in this forest at night? We ain't even got a lantern!\"\n\nBlowfly wheezed as he heaved his bulk upright. \"I got good blinkers, don't need no lantern. I've tracked 'em this far, an' I'll keep on 'til I lays paws on dat scurvy liddle crew!\"\n\nHe unwound a long whip from about his flabby waist and cracked it. \"I'll teach 'em t'run away. They'll be lucky to 'ave a hide to their backs by the time they git back to the Abbey!\"\n\nGlimbo watched him track on a piece, then come to a halt. Blowfly inspected the ground carefully, going back and forth over the same piece, muttering and cursing.\n\nGlimbo relaxed, leaning against a tree. He scoffed sarcastically, \"Ye've lost our liddle pals, I thought ye would. Nobeast kin track anythin' at night through 'ere. Give up, mate, let's git back t'the crew. They're prob'ly inside that Abbey now, grabbin' the loot an' plunderin' the place. Yore wastin' time out in a forest when we could be back there snatchin' our share.\"\n\nBlowfly gave him a surly glare. \"Huh, 'tis alright fer you, I'm the one t'blame for lettin' them escape. 'Tis me who Cap'n Bol will take it out on. I can't go back empty-pawed!\"\n\nHis companion did not agree. \"Aw c'mon, Bol won't be frettin' over a few runaway fools. The cap'n 'as other things t'think about. A kick in the tail an' a few 'ard words is the most we'll get. Huh, we've 'ad plenny o' those afore now. Belay there, shipmate, wot are ye doin'?\"\n\nBlowfly looked up from his task of striking flint to steel. \"Wot I shoulda done awhile back, makin' a torch. I'll find these runaways, just ye wait'n'see!\"\n\nGlimbo seated himself with his back against the tree trunk. \"Well, ye can find 'em on yer own, 'cos I ain't goin' anywheres. When ye come back this way widout 'em, gimme a shake. I'll be right 'ere, takin' a nap.\"\n\nBlowfly held up the burning torch he had fashioned. Silent and stubborn, he trudged off alone into the night.\n\nLonna Bowstripe saw the glow from between the trees where he sat resting. It appeared like a small floating island of light in the darkness. Silent as a wraith he arose, becoming one with the forest as he stood motionless against the elm trunk. Blowfly walked by within a paw's reach of the big badger. Staring at the ground, the Searat mumbled bloodthirsty curses as to the fate of the lost fugitives. Lonna saw his face in the torchlight, and a trigger went off in his mind. He recalled brief flashes of the night he had been attacked by the Searats. Blowfly's coarse, ugly features were instantly identifiable. Swiftly, the badger strung his bow and stole up behind the unsuspecting Searat.\n\nBlowfly was jerked back as the tightly strung bow trapped his neck between wood and twine. The big badger managed to catch the torch before it fell.\n\nCraning his head around painfully, the Searat caught a glimpse of his captor and spoke almost indignantly.\n\n\"Yore dead!\"\n\nLonna drew him in until they were face-to-face. Only the pressure on the bow held the Searat upright, his limbs having turned to jelly.\n\nWith torchlight flickering over his scarred features and the light glinting in his vengeful eyes, the giant badger resembled some beast straight out of a nightmare.\n\nBlowfly's tongue suddenly ran away with him. \"It was Bol . . . it wasn't me . . . I wasn't nowhere near ye. I swear me oath on it, I never did nothin' . . . Gurgg!\"\n\nA sharp tug on the bowstring silenced him. Lonna's voice left the Searat in no doubt that lies would not save him. \"So you never did anything, you were nowhere near, it all had nought to do with you, you are innocent of everything?\n\n\"How many times has that same excuse been made? Think of every bully, cheat, plunderer or murderer before you who has lied with those same words. Once a villain is caught with no pack around him, then everybeast is to blame, except himself, of course. He will lie, betray and cheat to save his hide. But sometimes there is justice in the world, and fate catches up with him. So speak truly to me, or you will die slowly. You have my word on it\u2014and I never lie.\"\n\nBlowfly sighed with relief. He told Lonna all he needed to know, and he spoke truly. The big badger kept his word: the Searat did not die slowly. A single, mighty jerk of the bow, and Blowfly died quicker than he had ever expected to.\n\nAwakened by flaring torchlight, Glimbo yawned and stretched his paws. \"Betcha never caught 'em, I told ye afore y . . . Ukkk!\" The Searat's paw shot to his neck. Blowfly's long whip was tied around it, holding him fast to the tree he was sitting against.\n\nA deep, forbidding voice warned him, \"Be still, vermin!\"\n\nAutomatically he raised his other paw, trying to free his neck. There was a hissing sound, like an angry wasp. An arrow of awesome length buried its point deep in the tree trunk, a hairbreadth from his neck. Glimbo froze.\n\nLonna revealed his face in the torchlight, laid another shaft on his bowstring and unhurriedly explained his purpose to the petrified Searat. \"You will take me to the Abbey of Redwall. I am going to release you, but play me false, you'll wish you hadn't. Is that understood? Speak!\"\n\nGlimbo's good eye rolled about alarmingly in its socket\u2014he was completely terrified. \"Unnerstood!\"\n\nThe badger drew a long knife from his arm sheath and severed the whipcoils with a swift stroke. The Searat shot off like a hare at top speed. Lonna drew back the bowstring, homing in on the fleeing figure.\n\n\"Never mind, I'll find my own way.\"\n\n##\n\nFenna lowered her head quickly. More thin, sharp reed lances whipped viciously by. \"Don't they ever run short of those things?\"\n\nWithout raising himself, Bragoon hurled off a slingstone. \"There's always reeds aplenty on riverbanks. They just cut 'em an' point one end\u2014it makes a good throwin' lance, sharp an' dangerous. I've used 'em meself in the past.\"\n\nSaro suddenly rolled in beside Springald. \"Aye, but ye weren't much good with lances, too 'eavy pawed.\"\n\nThe otter scratched his rudder. \"Where did you come from, mate?\"\n\nSaro smiled, secretly enjoying the surprise she had in store. \"I found a bend in the river down that way, an' guess wot else I found?\"\n\nShe signalled with her paw. Suddenly Springald found herself being jostled by a score of shrews who had crept out from behind trees and bushes to join them in the shelter of the log.\n\nThe otter uttered a delighted growl. \"Guoraf shrews . . . Great!\"\n\nSaro pointed to Jigger. \"Aye, Guoraf shrews, an' who does this 'un remind ye of, Brag?\"\n\nThe otter inspected Jigger's face, noting the beard he was starting to cultivate. \"Wait, don't tell me, are ye a kinbeast to Log a Log Briggy, young 'un?\"\n\nJigger expertly caught a reed lance as it flew by. As he cast it back downhill, he was rewarded by a reptile's scream. \"Briggy's me old daddy. You must be Bragoon, the mad otter. Daddy's tole me about you. Pleased t'meetcha!\"\n\nFenna whispered to Saro. \"What's a Guoraf shrew?\"\n\nThe squirrel explained, \"That's just the first letters of their tribename. _G_ uerilla _U_ nion _o_ f _R_ oving _a_ nd _F_ ighting _S_ hrews. They're good friends an' fearsome warriors. Sometimes I think that they do all their far rangin' just lookin' for fights. Me'n Brag have battled alongside of 'em once or twice through past seasons.\"\n\nWhen everyone was acquainted, Jigger outlined the plan. \"We've got to 'old on, 'til me dad an' the others get set on the far bank. Then when we 'ears the signal, we charge an' cut loose at those reptiles on our side.\"\n\nBragoon mulled it over. \"Sounds like good sense t'me, mate. This crowd down below ain't goin' anyplace. They're tryin' to outwait us, an' slay us all when we makes a move t'leave.\"\n\nJigger peered over the log and ducked a few lances. He thudded the ground with his club, chortling eagerly, \"Reptiles'll stan' about waitin' fer ages in the sun. Well, I 'ope they enjoys their sunbath, 'cos we'll be givin' 'em a different kind o' tannin'. Hahaha!\"\n\nSaro spotted slight movements in the bushes on the far hillside. \"Looks like ole Briggy's gettin' the lads into position. Won't be long now.\"\n\nWithout any prior warning, Horty came skipping blithely out from beneath the overhang. He ran by the log, speeding downhill and calling back to them, \"Shrews, eh? Where'd ye meet that flippin' lot? I feel much better now, chaps. Who's for a jolly old paddle in the shallows, wot?\"\n\nWhen three lances came zinging at him, the young hare stopped, but the weapons had pierced his ridiculous headdressing. He ground to a halt, only paces from the dumbfounded reptiles.\n\n\"Great blinkin' seasons, have a flamin' care where you're chuckin' those things. A chap could get injured by them!\"\n\nKnowing that the plan had been ruined, Bragoon, Saro and Jigger, followed by their fighting force, came bounding downhill. At the bottom they found, to their shock, that the reptiles were lying prostrate, facedown in front of the young hare. Horty stood posing majestically, the three lances transfixing his turban.\n\nSaro glared at him. \"Wot were ye thinkin' of, ye great idiot? Lollopin' off right into the middle of the enemy like that!\"\n\nHorty gave her a scathing glance. \"Hold your tongue, marm. These chaps are just showin' their respect to me. Hawhaw, they must think I'm the Great Hortyplonk, descended from out the bloomin' sky, wot!\"\n\nSpringald scoffed in his face. \"Then they must be bigger idiots than you! D'you realise you could've been killed?\"\n\nAs she spoke, there was a whooping warcry from the far bank. _Logalogalogalooooooog!_ Briggy had commenced attacking the reptiles over there.\n\nThe reptiles laid out in awe of Horty lifted their faces. When they saw the score of shrews brandishing their clubs, they rose, backing off into the shallows.\n\nHorty took a few paces toward them. \"I say there, old scaly-skinned chaps . . .\"\n\nHissing and squeaking, the reptiles fled into the water.\n\nThe young hare turned to Jigger, who was looking rather crestfallen. \"Oops, sorry about that, old lad. Were you goin' to give those bounders a good drubbin'? I didn't realise. Oh well, never mind. Come on, we'll pursue 'em into the river an' deal 'em a few severe whackin's, wot!\" He trotted into the shallows but was immediately set upon and hauled back by four shrews.\n\nHorty protested vehemently. \"Wot the . . . ? I say, unpaw me, little sirrahs, I'm not scared of a few mangy reptiles, by the left, I ain't!\"\n\nJigger remarked caustically. \"Oh, we know ye ain't, lop-ears. But it's not the reptiles that's the danger on this stretch o' the river. Watch!\"\n\nHe picked up a lance and went into the shallows, holding the weapon out into the water at paw's length. Suddenly it began to shake and vibrate. When Jigger pulled it out, the tip was ripped and ragged. A small fish, which seemed to consist of only big, needlelike teeth, was clinging doggedly to it. Jigger flicked the creature back into the water.\n\n\" 'Tis the fish that are the slayers 'ere!\"\n\nThe reptiles were being swept downriver, shrieking unmercifully as the water about them reddened.\n\nHorty sat down in a collapse on the bank, looking pale about the gills.\n\n\"Oh corks, I feel quite ill all of a sudden!\"\n\nOn the far bank, the reptiles were taking a colossal walloping from Briggy and his command. They had tossed a big logboat sail over their foes, capturing most of them beneath the spreading canvas. Some of the Guorafs held the ends down, while others galloped about on the sailcloth, dealing great whacks with their war clubs to any bump that appeared\u2014be it head, tail, back or limb. Gradually the canvas subsided and was still.\n\nLog a Log Briggy waved over to them, his stentorian bass voice booming over the waters. \"Stop there, friends, I've sent a crew to git the boats. They'll pick ye up an' bring ye over!\"\n\nIt was a glorious evening on the far bank. Six logboats lay prow on to the bankside, as the travellers sat among their shrewfriends.\n\nHorty sniffed the air appreciatively, his whiskers atwitch at the aromas of cooking. \"I say, old Briggathingee, is that supper I detect? Jolly nice of you chaps, wot!\"\n\nBriggy pulled a mock glare at Bragoon. \"So, ye had t'bring a starvin' hare along with ye this trip. I'll wager that lollop-lugged young famine maker can shift a tidy few platefuls, eh?\"\n\nHorty smiled primly. \"Oh, I just nibble a bit here'n'there, y'know, sah. Actually I've not been feelin' too chipper of late. But if the scoff's as good as it smells, well, I might persuade myself to try it, wot.\"\n\nJigger looked askance at him. \"Lissen, mate, if'n ye want to sail wid the Guorafs, ye've got t'be a big eater an' a great bragger, like Drinchy 'ere. Ain't that right, Drinch? Show the harebeast 'ow 'tis done.\"\n\nA fat, powerful-looking shrew stood up, smirking, then launched into Riverbraggin, an art much admired among the longboat crews. Drinchy thumped the ground with his club and commenced roaring, \"I wuz borned on a river in a thunnerstorm, an' wot did I do? I ate the bottom outta the boat an' fought six big pike who tried to eat me! Though I wuz on'y a babe, I scoffed three of 'em, an' tossed the rest on the bank an' fried 'em for me brekkist! Aye, mates, I'm Drinchy Wildgob, the roarin' son of a roarin' son who killed 'imself tryin' to feed me. I can outeat, outchew an' outswaller anybeast alive\u2014includin' long-pawed, flop-eared, fancy bunnies!\"\n\nFinished with his mighty brag, Drinchy bowed as the shrews cheered him raucously.\n\nSaro nodded to Horty. \"I think you're bein' challenged, young 'un. Think you can do better than Drinchy?\"\n\nHorty stood up, bowing elegantly to Saro. \"Marm, my dander has risen since the remarks that chap made about me. We of the Braebucks are not backward in coming forward. I shall accept this curmudgeon's braggin' challenge, forthwith!\"\n\nWithout further ado, Horty bounded up, spreading his paws dramatically and yelling like a madbeast. \"I'm the son of the howlin' hare! I was born on a winter's night in a gale. My parents took one look at me, chewin' on the chimney, an' left home! There ain't a cauldron big enough to hold my dinner, not one in all the land! I've ate every jolly old thing\u2014fried frogs, toasted toads, boiled badgers, roasted reptiles, an' shrews, too! Shrew stew, shaved an' shrivelled shrews, shrew soup an' simmered shrew! I've got a stomach of iron an' a mouth like a steel trap! I'm the Horrible Hortwill Braebuck, an' nobeast steps over my line! Even little fat wretches with bellies like balloons an' spiky fur an' names like Drinchy! D'ye know what the Horrible Horty likes for supper? Daintily diced Drinchy . . . with lots o' gravy. Yaaaaaah!\"\n\nThe Guoraf shrews battered the ground with their war clubs, a mark of the highest honour they could show anybeast. Then they hoisted Horty up on their shoulders, cheering him twice around the camp.\n\nWith a look of thorough humbleness, Drinchy shook the young hare's paw fervently. \"Well, I more'n met me match there, mate. Ye must be the best bragger ever born, ye made me look like a beginner.\"\n\nThe triumphant Horty was gallant, even in victory. \"No hard feelins, Drinch old lad, but mind your language in the future, wot!\"\n\nA magnificent supper was served, as befitted shrewcooks, who were renowned across the waterways for their culinary skills. Huge portions were served up to Horty. The shrews gathered round, gazing in awe as he downed one dish after another.\n\n\"Mmmm yum! This is top-hole tucker, wot wot. Pass some more o' that skilly'n'duff, please. Oh, an' lob more honey over it, I like it that way. I say, is that actually rhubarb'n'blackberry crumble? . . . Where's me blinkin' spoon? Drinch, old scout, would y'be kind enough to fetch more shrewbeer\u2014not that little beaker, gimme the jug!\"\n\nBragoon chuckled. \"Look at young Horty, he's in 'is element there. They'll get tired o' servin' before he does of eatin', mark my words, Briggy!\"\n\nThe shrew chieftain watched Horty admiringly. \"That 'un should've bin a shrew, mate. I saw 'im march straight inter that reptile crowd widout turnin' a hair. They'd already throwed three javelins an' spiked 'is hat. I tell ye, Bragoon, it takes a brave beast to do that!\"\n\nThe otter poured himself another beaker of shrewbeer. \"Or a ravin' idiot! I'll tell ye the truth of it all someday.\"\n\nHorty was on to a wild grape and almond pudding. \"Never had this before. My word, it's rather toothsome, wot. Send the old cook out, an' I'll give her a kiss!\"\n\nA small, toothless, grizzled male shrew stumped out from behind the cauldrons hanging over the fire. He grinned. \"H'I'm the cook round 'ere. Wot was it ye wanted, sir?\"\n\nHorty choked on a mouthful of pudding. \"Wot, er, oh nothin', granddad. Excellent scoff, wot. Top marks, well done an' all that. Back to the old fire an' keep on cookin'. Eh, wot!\"\n\nLog a Log Briggy called to his shrews. \"Ye can let those reptiles free now, I reckon they've learned their lesson. If any of the slimy-skinned lot give ye any bother, give 'em another drubbin' an tell 'em you'll sling 'em in the river. That should scare 'em!\"\n\nHe sat down with Bragoon and Saro, winking fondly at them. \"Now then, mateys, wot brings you two t'these parts, eh?\"\n\nThey explained the mission for Martha's cure and their quest for Loamhedge.\n\nBriggy stroked his beard. \"Hmm, Loamhedge eh? I've 'eard tell o' the place. But ye'd 'ave to cross the great gorge to git anywheres near where the stories say the lost Abbey o' Loamhedge lies. Did ye bring some kind o' chart along to 'elp ye find it, or are ye just trustin' to fortune?\"\n\nBragoon produced the chart from Matthias's journal. \"It's been mostly luck to date, but we do 'ave this.\"\n\nBriggy rummaged a battered single eyeglass from his belt pouch and held it to his eye. \"My ole peepers ain't wot they used t'be, I got to use this monocle t'see. Right, wot've we got 'ere?\"\n\nHe perused the dilapidated parchment thoroughly. \"Hah, I know this country, 'tis sou'east o' where we are now. I've seen these two rocks an' all. They're called the Bell an' the Badger's 'ead, great big lumps o' stone they are. Wot's this, a large tree called the Lord o' Mossflower? Huh, that was long gone in the seasons afore my father's grandfathers. Blowed down, or collapsed more likely, when the earth trembled.\"\n\nSaro looked anxiously at the shrew chieftain. \"But ye do know where the two big rocks are?\"\n\nBriggy stowed his monocle away. \"Ho, I knows that place sure enough. East along this river for a day or so, then cut south when ye leave the bank. Wicked country, 'tis.\"\n\nBragoon patted his swordhilt. \"That don't worry us, we've travelled wicked country afore. So will ye take us upriver to the Bell an' the Badgers 'ead, me ole mate?\"\n\nBriggy held out his paw. \"Course I will, 'ere's me paw an' 'ere's me heart on it. But afore ye gets to the big rocks, ye've gotta cross the great gorge. I never knew of anybeast who's done that yet.\"\n\nSaro winked at him. \"You leave that to us. We've done lots o' things nobeast 'as ever done, me'n my mate.\"\n\nJigger joined them, taking a great interest in Bragoon's sword. \"That's a fine-lookin' blade ye carry, mate.\"\n\nThe otter drew the sword, holding it out to let the firelight play along its blade in the gathering twilight. It shimmered and glinted like a live thing. \"Aye, a fine blade it is, young 'un. My friend, the Abbot o' Redwall, loaned it t'me for the journey. 'Tis the sword of Martin the Warrior!\"\n\nThe shrews had evidently heard of Martin. As word ran through the camp, they crowded around Bragoon, straining to catch a glimpse of the legendary weapon.\n\n\"So that's the sword o' Martin. 'Tis a sight to be'old!\"\n\n\"They say 'twas made at the badger mountain from a piece of a star wot fell out the sky!\"\n\n\"Blood'n'fur, fancy ownin' a blade like that!\"\n\nJokingly, Jigger drew his own short rapier and waved it. \"Would ye like to challenge me to a spot o' swordplay?\"\n\nThere was a twinkle in Briggy's eye as he nudged the otter. \"Go on, mate, show 'im wot a real swordbeast kin do.\"\n\nBragoon rose casually, then moved like lightning. Jigger stood aghast, rooted to the spot as the sword encircled him in a streaking pattern of light. It clipped one of his whiskers and tipped the bandanna from off his forehead. The young shrew closed his eyes tightly.\n\nBragoon whirled the blade as he roared. \"Yahaarrr, ssssss'death!\"\n\nThe rapier flicked from Jigger's paw. It whipped through the air, then quivered pointfirst in the prow of his father's big logboat which was drawn up on the bank.\n\nJigger gasped. \"Scuttle me keel! How'd ye do that, mate?\"\n\nBragoon winked roguishly at him. \"That's a secret, young 'un!\"\n\nThe Guoraf shrew greatly admired the otter's prowess. \"Could I see yore sword, sir, just fer a moment?\"\n\nBragoon held the blade about a third of the way up. Raising his paw, he did a short hop and threw it. It turned once in the air, almost lazily; then, with a solid thud, buried its point into the logboat, next to the rapier.\n\nThe otter nodded. \"Aye, 'elp yoreself. But take care, yon's a sharp blade.\"\n\nJigger retrieved his own rapier, but he could not budge the sword since it was too deeply imbedded in the oaken boat. Bragoon went to sit down with Briggy.\n\nThe shrew chieftain stroked his beard. \"Where'd ye pick up swordtricks like that?\"\n\nThe otter shrugged. \"A Long Patrol hare from Salamandastron showed me some dodges with a blade one time. That 'un was wot they called a perilous beast, a real swordfighter, no mistake!\"\n\nHorty looked up from the remnants of a huge pastie. \"A Long Patrol hare, indeed! That's what I'd like to jolly well be someday, wot!\"\n\nSaro patted Horty on the stomach, knocking the wind from him. \"Then ye'll have to scoff less an' exercise more. Long Patrol hares are fightin' fit.\"\n\nThe young hare got quite huffy. \"Fiddlesticks, marm, one's got to get the right nourishment t'grow strong first, wot?\"\n\nBriggy smiled at him. \"Yore right there, Horty, an' ye need a full night's sleep, too. Go an' pick yoreself out a good berth on my vessel. We've got a journey upriver t'make at dawn. I'll put ye to the oars, that'll toughen yore muscles up a bit. You git yore rest now, an' you, too, Jigger.\"\n\nHorty gathered up some bread, cheese and pear cordial. \"Right y'are, Cap'n Briggathingee. I'll just take along a light snack to guard the young body against night starvation. I suffer from it terribly, y'know. I was born with the illness. I say Jigger, old lad, not takin' any rations with you? Well, suit y'self, laddie buck, but don't come pesterin' me durin' the flippin' night.\"\n\nJigger, however, was not listening. He had found a new object for his admiration. The young shrew was all smiles and attention for Springald. Carefully he helped the mousemaid aboard the logboat that he was travelling on.\n\n\"Watch yoreself, Miz Spring, these boats are tricky craft. You take some o' my cushions an' a soft blanket. Sleep up in the prow, that's the best spot aboard!\"\n\nThe pretty mousemaid played him up outrageously, fluttering her eyelashes and allowing him to make up her bed. \"Oh thank you, my friend, that's so kind of you!\"\n\nFenna scooted in and flopped down on the cushions. \"Plenty of room for us both here, Spring. Thanks, Jigger mate!\"\n\nSitting by the fire with Briggy and her otter friend, Saro watched the young ones with amusement. \"Nice to see 'em gettin' on well t'gether, eh?\"\n\nStirring the flames with his rapier, Briggy laughed. \"Haharr, bless 'em, they're only young once. The seasons soon fly by, ain't that right, Brag, ye ole battler?\"\n\nBragoon polished Martin's sword with a piece of damp bark. \"Ye never spoke a truer word, ole pal. Me'n Saro have gotten quite fond o' those three young 'uns, they're made of the right stuff. Now an' agin we gotta yell at 'em, but they learn fast. By the way, on that chart o' mine it says Long Tails an' desert beyond the river. Will that mean danger for us?\"\n\nBriggy looked scathing. \"Huh, Long Tails? My ole Granpa whopped those rats seasons afore I was born. Guorafs drove 'em off into the desertlands south o' the great gorge. They shouldn't trouble ye, though the desert might. 'Tis a long dusty trek to the gorge. D'ye want us t'come with ye?\"\n\nSaro clapped the stout old shrew's shoulder. \"No, mate, you git back to yore river, that's what ye know best. We've managed one desert by ourselves, another one won't make much difference. We'll be fine!\"\n\nBriggy seemed relieved. \"I thankee fer that, Sarobando. I don't like bein' far from runnin' water anytime. But I'll tell ye wot I'll do. We'll bring the boats back to where we drop youse off, say in about six days. I'll pick ye up for the return journey. There's a secret route I know that'll take ye back to the flatlands below the plateau. It means shootin' a mighty waterfall to git down there. But don't fret, my crews kin do it if anybeasts can. 'Twill get ye back 'ome to Redwall much faster.\"\n\nBragoon shook the old shrew's paw heartily. \"Yore a real friend, true blue'n never fail, Log a Log Briggy!\"\n\nThe shrew chieftain rose from beside the fire. \"Think nothin' of it, mate. I'm off t'me bed, if'n that young Horty ain't stolen it. Us old 'uns need sleep as much as the young do. Pleasant dreams, ye pair o' rips!\"\n\nThe aging otter and his lifelong friend sat by the fire awhile. Bragoon stared into the flames. \"We're gettin' too old for this sorta thing, Saro. I think when this adventure's over I'll settle back down at Redwall. Maybe that brother o' mine'll teach me to be a cook.\"\n\nThe squirrel stared levelly at him. \"If'n that's wot ye want, then fair enough, matey. I'll be by yore side wherever ye are.\"\n\nThe otter chuckled drily. \"An' so ye will be, we been together since we was Dibbuns. I wouldn't know where to turn widout ye.\"\n\nThat night they slept by the fire, dreaming dreams of the sunny old days at the Abbey when they were both young tear-aways together.\n\n##\n\nMartha was up at dawn, trying out her newfound skill\u2014walking! At first it was painful and slow, but the progress she was making, holding on to things for support, was remarkable. With the aid of Sister Setiva's blackthorn stick, which the Infirmary nurse had parted with happily, the haremaid wandered joyfully along Great Hall.\n\nMartha laughed inwardly at what Setiva had said: \"Och, take this auld thing an' use it in good heath, ma bonny lass. Ah've only kept it tae threaten Dibbuns with\u2014not that they ever took much notice, the wee villains!\"\n\nThe young haremaid manoeuvred the stairs, pausing every few moments to revel in her newfound freedom. Walking!\n\nAbbot Carrul came up behind her, watching Martha's progress, until she turned and noticed him.\n\n\"Good morning, Father Abbot, it's a fine morning!\"\n\nCarrul beamed back at her. \" 'Tis the finest of mornings, young miss, and all the better for seeing you up and about!\"\n\nAs Toran came out onto the dormitory landing, he waved down to them. \"Now then, you two gabby idlers, why ain't ye bringin' brekkist up to the pore beasts on guard, eh?\"\n\nMartha started eagerly back downstairs. \"Breakfast for how many, sir\u2014one, two, ten? It'll be up there directly!\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel came trundling through Great Hall, heading a small convoy of moles who were pushing four trolleys. She brandished her best copper ladle at Martha.\n\n\"Ho no you'm woant, brekkist bee's ee cook's tarsk roun' yurr. Miz Marth', you'm 'asten oop to ee durmitrees an' set ee on a churr. Rest yore paws naow. Doo ee hurr?\"\n\nBrother Weld had joined Toran on the landing. \"Best do as she says, or old Gurvel'll skelp your tail with her ladle. That's one old molecook who'll stand no nonsense.\"\n\nBreakfast in the dormitory was a makeshift affair, rather inconvenient for most but huge fun for the Dibbuns. The Abbeybabes, who thought everything was a game, perched in the oddest places, singing, playing and eating together. Sister Portula was trying to coax Muggum, and several of his cohorts, down from a shelf, where they were bouncing up and down as they squabbled over hot scones and honeyed oatmeal.\n\nIn a state of despair, she turned to Martha. \"Oh dear, I do wish the Searats weren't here and we were back to normal. Just look at those little ones, they're getting very wild. But with no Abbeyschool, and having to spend all day indoors, who can blame them?\" Portula looked to Martha for comment, but the haremaid was not listening. Her joyous mood dispersed, she stood gazing forlornly out the window.\n\nThe kindly Sister showed concern. \"Martha, dear, is something the matter, what's wrong?\"\n\nToran was close enough to hear his young friend's reply. \"I'm sorry, Sister, but I can't help feeling sad, I've just realised something. What a waste of time it all is. Bragoon and Saro, together with Horty, Springald and Fenna, have gone off questing for Loamhedge. Little do they know that I need no cure or remedy. Suddenly I can walk! My brother and good friends are far away from Redwall\u2014who knows what deadly danger or injury may befall them? There was no real need for them to go. Oh, fate can be so cruel at times. I feel responsible and guilty about the whole thing!\"\n\nSister Portula comforted her. \"You must not blame yourself, Martha. None of this was your doing, was it, Toran?\"\n\nThe ottercook had strong feelings about Martha's supposed dilemma, and he minced no words in telling her so. \"Wot's all this nonsense, don't ye be talkin' that way, Martha! Huh, ye could go on all day, worryin' about this an' that, an' supposin'. Lissen, I'll give ye a suppose. Supposin' yore friends an' my brother an' Saro hadn't gone, eh? Things would've turned out totally diff'rent, fate would've cast other lots for everybeast. You mightn't 'ave been at that window in yore chair last night, but those Searats may've changed their plans. Then where'd ye be now, Martha? I'll tell ye, still sittin' stuck in a chair!\n\n\"So don't ye dare say that there was no point in our good friends undertakin' a mission to find a cure for ye, Martha Braebuck! An' don't talk t'me of danger or injury. If'n Brag an' Saro 'ave anythin' t'do with it, the only ones sufferin' perils an' wounds will be anybeasts who tries to stop 'em! So quit complainin' an' supposin', miss. Be grateful that ye can go runnin', on yore own footpaws, to greet the travellers when they return to our Abbey!\"\n\nMartha had never heard Toran speak so forcefully, or truly. Wiping her eyes, the haremaid clasped her friend's paw fervently. \"Thank you, Toran, you're right. What a silly creature I am!\"\n\nThe ottercook turned away, brushing a paw across his own eyes. \"No you ain't, yore our Martha. Now put a smile on that face, an' get those liddle villains down of'n that shelf afore they fall an' 'urt themselves!\"\n\nSharpening his silver hooktip on the wall, Raga Bol lounged in the gatehouse doorway. Bright summer morn had done nothing to ease his foul mood. Dreams of the big stripedog had begun haunting him afresh, plus he was still smarting from the previous night's shameful defeat. Striving to put thoughts of the badger from his mind, he took out his mean temper on every crewrat in sight, snarling menacingly at them.\n\n\"Belay there, Wirga, ain't there any vittles left, where's me brekkist? Ahoy, you there, stop scrapin' mud off'n yoreself, an' grubbin' at yer eyes like some snotty liddle whelp. Go an' get some vittles for yore cap'n, sharpish!\"\n\nAll four of the Searats, not knowing exactly whom the glaring captain was addressing, ran off to do his bidding. \"Aye aye, Cap'n! Right away, Cap'n!\" they chorused as they tugged their ears in salute.\n\nRaga Bol turned his spleen upon the one called Rojin, who was sitting on the gatehouse wallsteps, poulticing a swollen eye. \"Quit dabbin' at yore lamp, ye've still got a good 'un left. I never got no brekkist, 'cos Blowfly let me servants escape. They're the beasts who should be doin' the cookin'. Git yoreself after Blowfly an' Glimbo. I want t'see ye all back 'ere by noon wid the runaways in tow. 'Cos if'n ye ain't, I'll let the livin' daylights into the lotta youse wid this 'ook. Go on, gerrout o' me sight, ye laggard!\"\n\nThe next to come in for a tongue lashing was the one called Rinj, who happened to stray within earshot. \"Stan' by the big gate there, Rinj, ye useless mess of offal. Keep a weather eye out for Rojin an' the others comin' back. Report ter me the moment ye spot 'em!\"\n\nThe Searat captain stalked back into the gatehouse, slamming the door so hard that its hinges rattled. He slumped into Old Phredd's armchair, trying to banish thoughts of the badger and concentrate instead on his plans to conquer the Abbey.\n\nMorning rolled on into the summer noon. The crew danced attention upon their captain, but he barely glanced at the food they brought. Instead, he ordered them to bring him volumes and scrolls from the shelves. Bol rifled through them, searching vainly for some clues\u2014a reference or a sketch, perhaps. Anything that would help him gain access to the Abbey building. After awhile he tired of this pursuit and banished the crewrats from the gatehouse. Scattering volumes and parchments over the floor, the Searat captain flung himself upon the bed and fell into a fitful slumber, the coverlet draped over his face.\n\nOn waking, Raga Bol saw that the sunlight shafts had shifted across the window. It was late afternoon, merging toward eventide. Rising, he took a mouthful of his favourite grog, swilling it around his mouth, then spat it out sourly. It was silent outside, with no sounds of activity. The Searat captain went swiftly outside.\n\nRinj was standing upright, propped against the gatepost, obviously sleeping. Raga Bol dealt him a savage kick, knocking Rinj flat. He continued to kick the hapless Searat, accentuating his words.\n\n\"Ye scabby-eyed, useless bilge swab! Did I tell ye to go snoozin' on duty? Wot's this door barred for, eh? Yore supposed t'be outside, watchin' for the others t'come back. If'n we was at sea now, I'd tie ye t'the anchor an' sling yore lazy carcass o'er the side!\"\n\nDragging Rinj upright by his ears, Bol knocked the gate bars up with his hook. He hauled the gates open, still shouting. \"I'll learn ye to disobey yore cap'n's orders, I'll . . . Yaaaagh!\"\n\nThe gates swung inward, revealing Rojin, pinned to the timbers by a huge single arrow, head slumped and footpaws dragging in the dust. Dead as the proverbial doornail!\n\nBeyond the outside path and ditch, out on the flatlands, Lonna Bowstripe roared as he fitted a shaft to his bowstring. \"Raga Bol! Death is here! Hellgates await you, Searat! Eulaliiiiaaaaaaa!\"\n\nBol took one glance at the avenging giant and hurled himself at the Abbey gates, slamming them and dropping the heavy baulks that served as locks. The wood shivered under the thud of the badger's massive arrow. Raga Bol leaped back from the gates, as if expecting the shaft to come right through.\n\nSister Setiva was prying the paws of little Yooch from the dormitory windowsill. \"Och, come away from there, ye wee pestilence!\" Attracted by the shouting from the gatehouse area, she peered over to see what was amiss there. Raga Bol's hoarse yells left her in no doubt.\n\n\"All paws to the walltops! Bring spears, slings an' bows. Jump to it, the stripedog's 'ere!\"\n\nSetiva caught Abbot Carrul's sleeve. \"There somebeast oot there, yon Searat's howlin' like a madbeast!\"\n\nToran was out the dormitory door, with Martha close on his heels. Carrul and Setiva followed as Toran called to them. \"Up t'the floor above, mates, ye can see better from there!\"\n\nRedwallers crowded to the second-story windows, which gave them a clear view of all that was taking place. Out on the flatlands, Lonna was raising his bow again. Brother Weld transmitted an excited commentary of what was taking place, for the benefit of those few who could not see. \"Great seasons of slaughter, it's a giant Badger Lord! The Searats are throwing spears, firing slingstones and arrows at him. Haha, their range is too short, their weapons can't touch him. Oh my, oh golly! Did you see that?\"\n\nOld Phredd croaked impatiently. \"See what? I can't see a thing!\"\n\nBrother Weld described what he had seen. \"The big badger fired off an arrow, huh, more like a spear. It struck a Searat, up on the ramparts. Got the vermin dead centre and drove him clear off the wall onto the lawn!\"\n\nSister Setiva shook her head in disbelief. \"Och, what a shot, ah've never seen aught like it!\"\n\nThe Abbeybeasts set up a great cheer. Lonna caught sight of them and waved. Leaning out from the upper windows, the Redwallers waved back furiously, shouting encouragement.\n\n\"Give 'em blood'n'vinegar, well done, friend!\"\n\n\"That's the stuff big feller, keep those shafts coming!\"\n\n\"Hurr, zurr hoojbeast, you'm give ee vurmints ole billyoh!\"\n\nWith her eyes shining fiercely, Martha yelled at Toran, \"Isn't he magnificent! Can't we do anything to help him?\"\n\nThe ottercook bit his lip anxiously. \"We got nothin' to throw that'd span the range twixt this Abbey an' the walltops, 'tis too far off for slingstones. There ain't a single bow'n'arrer in the buildin'. I'd love to 'elp the big badger, but wot kin we do, miss, wot?\"\n\nBrother Gelf, normally a quiet, inobtrusive mouse, spoke out. \"Er, I may be able to help, but I'll need to be down in Great Hall. I think I'll need a long windowpole, some twine, a couple of those pepper bombs and a few stones. Er, make them slightly larger than slingstones, but not much.\"\n\nHis curiosity immediately piqued, the Abbot bowed to Gelf. \"You shall have them, Brother. Let's go down to Great Hall. No pushing there, please, let Gelf go first.\"\n\nUp on the walltops the Searats were lying low, stunned by the accuracy of the bowbeast. Raga Bol was trying to instil some confidence n his crew. \"We're safe be'ind this wall, buckoes. That stripedog's got to stay out of our range. Soon as 'e moves forward we'll get 'im. Ain't been a beast born yet that spears an' arrers can't slay. All's we gotta do is stay inside these walls!\"\n\nWirga shuffled closer to Bol. \"Aye, but while we're on the inside, the stripedog has us pinned down from the outside. No Searat owns a weapon with the range an' power of that big bow, Cap'n.\"\n\nBol did not want to hear this. He stared cold-eyed at the Seer. \"What would ye 'ave me do then, run out an' charge 'im?\"\n\nThe loss of her three sons rankled Wirga, who now did not lose the opportunity to needle Bol. \"We outnumber the bigbeast by about twoscore. I never saw a Searat cap'n back off with those odds on his side!\"\n\nBefore Bol could strike out, or argue against Wirga, a Searat further along the parapet gave out a shout. \"Aaargh, wot the . . . Oooch!\"\n\nHe fell sideways, slain by one of the big arrows. Raga Bol crawled swiftly along and inspected the dead crewrat. \"Wot in the name o' blood'n'thunder 'appened to 'im?\"\n\nCowering fearfully against the battlements, the rat who had been crouching beside the victim babbled out. \"I saw it, Cap'n! Gornat was 'it by summat from be'ind. There 'tis, see, one o' those liddle bags o' pepper, tied on a string, wid a stone at the other end!\"\n\nBol unwound the object from around Gornat's waist. \"From be'ind, this thing got 'im\u2014ye mean from the Abbey?\"\n\nThe Searat nodded vigourously. \"Aye, it came from over that way, I swear it, Cap'n. Pore Gornat got a terrible smack from it, the thing 'it 'im an' wrapped right round 'is waist. It musta cracked a rib, 'cos Gornat shouted an' jumped up. That's when the arrer took 'im, straight through the neck!\"\n\nTurning to face the Abbey building, Raga Bol saw another of the missiles come whirling through the air. It spun round and round on its twine, weighted on one end by the pepper bomb and on the other by the stone. This time it missed and struck the wallside. The pepper bomb burst, sending its load over two rats crouched directly beneath. One had the sense to stay down and do his sneezing. The other leaped up and sneezed once, then an arrow silenced him for good.\n\nDown in Great Hall, the Redwallers had unblocked the shutters from one of the tall windows.\n\nToran took the windowpole from Brother Gelf. \"Can I try yore new slingpole out, Brother?\"\n\nGelf smiled quietly. \"Be my guest, sir.\"\n\nLaying the twine across the hooked metal end of the pole, the ottercook raised it straight up, facing out of the window. Holding the end of the pole in both paws, he let it lean back across his shoulder until it lay flat. Then he whipped it upright with swift force. The missile flew off through the high open window. There was a short interval of silence, followed by an agonized screech.\n\nToran grinned. \"It works!\"\n\nThere was no shortage of the homemade weapons. More window poles were brought, and more volunteers came forward, eager to try out the new weapons. Competition became so fierce that, owing to several of the defenders hurling the missiles at the same time, some of them missed the open window space. These projectiles struck the walls and lintels, bouncing back into Great Hall and bursting. Undeterred, the Abbeybeasts kept going, muffling their faces with towels. Soon, however, the atmosphere proved too much for the onlookers; many fled the scene, sneezing uproariously.\n\nThe Dibbuns thought the whole thing was huge fun. They chortled and giggled, dashing about and bumping into one another, shouting, \"Hachoo! Blesha! Harrachoo! O blesha blesha!\"\n\nMartha helped Abbot Carrul and some of the elders to shepherd the little ones downstairs into Cavern Hole. The haremaid actually carried two Dibbuns down the steps on her back, chuckling and joking with them.\n\nThe Abbot cautioned her. \"Careful, Martha, should you really be doing that? You don't want to put too much strain on those limbs!\"\n\nMartha deposited the Abbeybabes in a corner seat. \"Oh fiddledeedee, Father, I feel stronger than I've ever felt. It's as if I had brand-new footpaws and legs, they're as supple as greased springs!\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel sent down some kitchen helpers to carry baskets of fresh-baked tarts and pastries and jugs of sweet elderflower cordial.\n\nMartha lent a paw to serve the Dibbuns, then went to sit on the stairs with the Abbot. She felt very happy and carefree as they shared the food. \"Oh Father, isn't it wonderful, having that giant badger on our side! I wager things will be different now.\"\n\nThe Abbot seemed somewhat thoughtful, though he agreed with her. \"Yes, indeed, those Searats obviously fear the big badger a lot. Wouldn't it be marvellous if he were inside the Abbey with us? Things would be so much easier.\"\n\nMartha sipped her cordial. \"In what way?\"\n\nThe Abbot warmed to the subject, propounding a theory which had been growing in his mind ever since he had first sighted Lonna standing out on the flatlands.\n\n\"Our badger fires that bow like a mighty warrior, that's for certain. If he were inside the Abbey with us, I guarantee he'd send those Searats packing in short order.\"\n\nMartha thought for a moment about what the Abbot had said. \"Aye, he could stand at the dormitory windows and pick the Searats off at his leisure. They're hemmed in by the outer walls, so it would make it hard for them to avoid him. The badger could use the upstairs windows on all sides.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul put aside his food. \"But the problem is that the badger's outside the walls at the moment. Those Searats aren't stupid, they're not likely to leave Redwall and take their chances outside. Not with that giant and his bow waiting for them.\"\n\nMartha saw the wisdom in her Abbot's logic. \"Hmm, that could make Raga Bol doubly dangerous to us because he'll probably try twice as hard to get inside the Abbey now. It would give him an advantage over the badger, who would have to fight his way into the grounds and take the Searats on from inside the grounds. That would place him in range of their weapons. Oh dear, I wonder what the answer is to all of this!\"\n\nCarrul had already anticipated the problem. Unfortunately, he could not hold out a great deal of hope. \"We need to contact our badger friend and get him inside here, but that's not possible. The Searats are standing between him and us. We'll just have to wait our chance, though there isn't much likelihood of that at present.\"\n\nMartha tried to hide the frustration in her voice. \"But there won't be a much better opportunity than right now. Most of the Searats' attention is on the badger. If only we had somebeast who could slip out unnoticed! Whoever it was could leave by the small eastwall gate. They'd be shielded from any attention by the Abbey building. It wouldn't be hard to steal through the woodlands to the corner of the northwest wall. When it got dark, it would be simple to creep out onto the flatlands and make contact with the badger. Then they could both return the same way.\"\n\nThe Abbot folded both paws within his wide habit sleeves. \"No, 'tis far too risky at the moment, Martha. We'll wait\u2014tomorrow, perhaps. Oh dear, all this worry and strife. I'm longing for the day when those villains are long gone from Redwall and we can all get back to a normal, peaceful life.\"\n\nMartha stood up. \"Don't fret, Father, it'll happen when you least expect it. Do you know, I feel restless. Think I'll exercise my new walking skills. I'll go up to the dormitory windows and see how things are going. Best steer clear of Great Hall, and all those pepper bombs bursting inside.\"\n\nThe Abbot smiled wearily at his young friend. \"Take things easy, Martha, don't go tiring yourself out.\"\n\nShe paused on the stairway. \"Oh, I'll go as slowly as Old Phredd. By the way, Father, could you do me a favour? Will you sit guard on these stairs and make sure those Dibbuns don't go rushing back to Great Hall?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul stretched himself lengthways across the step. \"Certainly. I might doze off a little, but they won't get past me. You go on now, and remember what I said about taking things easy!\"\n\nHowever, taking things easy was the last thing on the young haremaid's mind. Martha had a mission: she would be the one to contact the badger. She went up to the back rooms on the east side, choosing one that was mainly used as a linen store. It was filled with blankets, sheets and tablecloths.\n\nKnotting bedsheets together, she fashioned a makeshift rope, reasoning aloud to herself. \"Finally I can do something useful to help Redwall. Now I can walk, and run, too. After all those seasons stuck in a chair, it would be a crime to waste my new gift!\"\n\nClimbing down the rope was easier than the haremaid had imagined. She had forgotten how strong her grip had become from wheeling a chair about for most of her life.\n\n##\n\nDawn light seeped over the river, casting a haze of pale green-gold mist. Saro lounged in the stern of the main logboat with Bragoon, savouring the new day, and a few scones still warm from early breakfast.\n\n\"Ah, this is the life, mate, save the wear'n'tear on me ole footpaws. There's nothin' like a nice lazy rivertrip, eh?\"\n\nThe otter grinned as Horty approached them, pushing on a hefty oarpole, part of two double lines of shrews. The young hare turned and started to make his way back to the prow, where he would repeat the process of poling the craft upriver.\n\nHe glared at the otter's cheery face and stuck his tongue out insultingly at Saro. \"Blinkin' idle bounders, sittin' on your bloomin' tails, wallopin' down scones, while I slave m'self into an early grave. Huh, should be blinkin' well ashamed of y'selves!\"\n\nBriggy left the prow and strode down the centre of the logboat, between both lines of polers. Exchanging a sly wink with Bragoon and Saro, he clipped Horty lightly across the ears, roaring at him in true rivercraft language, \"Avast there, ye long-legged layabout, quit prattlin' an' git polin'. We gotta build those muscles up t'make a warrior of ye! Ain't it a wunnerful life, nothin' t'do but pole about all day on the river, ye lucky swab! Dwingo, give us a drumbeat there. Come on, shrews, put yore backs into it. Sing out a polin' shanty to speed us on our way. Push, ye shrinkin' daisies. Push!\"\n\nThe drumbeat rolled out, echoing around the forested banks, with deep, gruff shrew voices singing in chorus. The shanty was a totally untrue pack of insults about Log a Log Briggy, but he sang along with them lustily.\n\n\"Barrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\n\nOur Cap'n is a bad ole shrew,\n\nI wish I'd never signed to roam.\n\nHe feeds us worms an mudpies, too,\n\noh ma, let me come sailin' home.\n\nBarrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\n\nOle Briggy is a lazy hog,\n\nwid a belly like a tub o' lard,\n\nif we don't call 'im Log a Log,\n\nhe beats us bad an' treats us hard.\n\nBarrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\n\nOne day our logboat sprang a leak,\n\nan' I gave out an 'earty wail,\n\nthe Cap'n gave me nose a tweak,\n\nan' plugged that leak up wid me tail.\n\nBarrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\n\nWe ran head-on into a gale,\n\nour Cap'n made me cry sad tears,\n\n'cos the wind 'ad ripped right through the sail,\n\nso he patched the canvas wid me ears.\n\nBarrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\n\nYe've heard me story, messmates all,\n\nan' if I spoke a lie to you,\n\nmay me nose swell into a fat red ball,\n\nan' me bottom turn bright green'n'blue.\n\nBarrum, babba, whum! Pole to the beat o' the drum!\"\n\nHorty was astonished; he turned to the shrew behind him. \"By the left! I say, old chap, are you allowed to bandy insults like that about Briggathingee, wot?\"\n\nThe shrew kept poling as he gave Horty a broad wink. \"It ain't serious, mate, 'tis all done in good fun!\"\n\nBriggy saw Horty gossiping and descended upon him. \"Stop jawin' an' keep pawin', rabbitchops, or I'll 'ave yore whiskers for desksweepers!\"\n\nThe young hare gave Briggy a cheeky grin and launched into a barrage of insults. \"Oh shut your blatherin' cakescoffer, y'great bearded windbag! You sound like a duck with a beakache, hasn't anybeast ever told you? Hah, tush'n'pish for all your ilk, sah, you wobble-pawed, twinky-tailed excuse for a barrel-bummed toad. Who d'you think you're jolly well talkin' to, you wiggle-whiskered, bawlin' braggart!\"\n\nHorty turned back to the shrew he had spoken to previously. \"Pretty good, wot! That told old Log-a-pudden a thing or two!\"\n\nThe ashen-faced shrew hissed back at him. \"We only ever does it in songs, all t'gether like. If'n you speak like that, face t'face wid a Log a Log o' Guorafs, that's mutiny, mate!\"\n\nHorty turned round to find Briggy looming over him with a face like thunder.\n\nThe force of the shrew chieftain's roars made Horty's long ears flap. \"Mutiny, eh? I won't 'ave mutineers aboard my logboat! Grab 'old o' this mutinous beast, put 'im to task! No more rations for 'im while he's on this vessel!\"\n\nFour shrews frogmarched the hapless hare off to the stern where he was given a large sack of wild onions to clean and peel.\n\nBragoon made his way to the prow, where he had a quiet word with the shrew chieftain. \"Ye were a bit 'ard on Horty there, mate. The young 'un wasn't wise to yore rules an' reg'lations, he thought 'twas all a bit of a joke. Horty didn't mean ye no real insult.\"\n\nBriggy's eyes twinkled. \"I know he didn't, friend, but I said I'd toughen 'im up. If'n that young 'un ever expects t'join the Long Patrol, he's gotta learn manners an' curb his tongue. Could ye imagine one o' those hare officers from the Long Patrol lettin' a recruit speak to 'im like that? Joke or not, some stiff-eared sergeant would clap 'im on a charge an' use 'is guts fer garters!\"\n\nBragoon agreed. \"Yore right, Briggy, a bit o' discipline wouldn't 'urt 'im. All three o' them young 'uns've been livin' the soft life at Redwall fer too long. The two maids are much better be'aved than Horty, they'll lissen t'reason. But Horty's too wild an' 'eadstrong. One day he'll make a fine warrior\u2014after he's learned a few stern lessons.\"\n\nBriggy stroked his beard. \"Don't fret, mate, I'll knock all the rough edges off'n Horty. My Jigger was the same 'til I showed 'im the ropes. Lookit Jigger now, commandin' his own logboat. There's a young shrew anybeast'd be proud t'call son!\"\n\nThe otter went back astern and sat with Saro. Behind them Horty was weeping buckets as he peeled and chopped the pungent wild onions. He went at it with vim and vigour, though scowling and muttering about the injustices of life aboard a logboat.\n\n\"Bit flippin' thick this lot, wot? A few measly words to old Brigalog an' he treats a chap like a bloomin' vermin marauder! I mean, what did I say? The bearded old buffer should count himself jolly well lucky, wot! Oh, yes indeed, when Hortwill Braebuck Esquire starts really chuckin' insults, he could roast the flamin' ears off a milky-whiskered shrew. I could've called the chap a lot worse! Twiggle-jawed trout! Giddy-nosed toad! Pickled old pollywog! Witless water beetle! Puddle-pawed duck's bottom! Or even Skinnyforlinkee Wobblechops! Huh, I think I let him off lightly, really. Good job one can hold one's temper, wot wot!\"\n\nLog a Log Briggy came striding down between the polers. \"Ahoy there, mates, is that mutineer be'avin' hisself? I might let 'im get a bite o' supper tonight, if'n I 'ears an apology.\"\n\nBragoon nudged Horty. \"Did ye hear that, matey?\"\n\nThe young hare turned a face, still running onion tears, to the Guoraf chieftain and declared dramatically, \"Y'mean you'd restore my scoffin' privileges, sah? Merciful Logawotsyaname, I'll peel every last one of these foul fruits, I swear I will. Good Captain, I'll be the saltiest young riverbeast you ever clapped eyes on. Listen to this. Shiver me sails an' rot me timbers, fry me barnacles, scrape me keel, an' all that nautical jimjam. You, matey sah, are lookin' at a completely reformed beast!\"\n\nBriggy glanced at Saro. \"Wot d'ye think, marm, is that a rogue worth feedin'?\"\n\nThe aging squirrel saw the haunted look in Horty's eyes and took pity. \"Aye, Cap'n, only a moment ago Horty was sayin' wot a good ole Log a Log ye are. Ain't that right, Brag?\"\n\nWith difficulty, the otter kept a straight face. \"Right enough, I'd give 'im another chance if 'twas up t'me.\"\n\nBriggy stroked his beard a moment, before answering. \"Aye, so be it then. Leave those onions now, young 'un, go amidship an' lend the cook a paw in the galley.\"\n\nHorty galloped off, overjoyed at the prospect of working amid food. \"Help the cook, I say, what a spiffin' job! A thousand thanks to you, Captain Briggaboat, an' you, my two chums. You have a handsome young hare's undying thanks!\"\n\nBragoon chuckled. \"Same modest Horty, eh?\"\n\nAboard Jigger's logboat, Fenna and Springald were being treated like royalty. Fenna had also gained an admirer, a stout young shrew named Wuddle. Both he and Jigger could not do enough for the pretty Redwall maids. The shrews brought extra cushions, erected an awning to shade them from the sun and served more delicious snacks than both of them could possibly eat. Then the two creatures vanished momentarily, to reappear grinning awkwardly, carrying with them two accordionlike instruments, which they said were called shrewlodeons. Jigger and Waddle twiddled a few keys, then launched into a song. Springald and Fenna were convulsed with laughter at the faces that both shrews pulled while singing. On verses they would be scowling savagely, whilst on the choruses they adopted expressions of peaceful concern. Both had wonderful bass voices and sang in harmony.\n\n\"When I meets a beast wot ain't polite to laydeez,\n\nI grabs 'im round the throat 'til he turns blue,\n\nI holds him tight in check as I squeezes on his neck,\n\nthen I boots his tail three times around the deck!\n\n'Cos be they sisters mothers aunts or daughters,\n\nall laydeez must be treated tenderly,\n\nthey're dainty an' they're neat, an' they don't have much to eat,\n\nan' they rouses gentle feelins within me.\n\nWhen I'm around an' you insults a laydee,\n\nI'll jump on yore stummick very forcibly,\n\nthen I'll punch you in the snout an' I'll prob'ly knock you out,\n\nan' black both of yore eyes so you can't see!\n\n'Cos be they sisters mothers aunts or daughters,\n\nall laydeez must be treated tenderly,\n\nthey're dainty an' they're neat, an' they don't have much to eat,\n\nan' they rouses gentle feelins within me.\n\nSo mind yore manners an' be very careful,\n\nwhen in the company of laydeez sweet,\n\nor I'll shove you in a sack, after fracturin' yore back,\n\nan' I'll stamp upon yore paws if you gets free!\"\n\nAfter the final chorus, they escorted both maids on a pleasant promenade of the deck, snarling fiercely at any of the poling shrews who dared to look sideways at Fenna or Springald.\n\nSupper on a mossy bank, overhung by weeping willows, was a total success. It was all due to Horty's onion soup. The Guorafs congratulated him on his cooking skills. He lapped up any compliments with a complete lack of modesty.\n\n\"Tut tut, nothin' to it, dear chaps\u2014a pinch o' this, a smidgeon o' that an' a sprinklin' of the other. Plus, of course, blinkin' loads of those confounded onions. I tell you, I shed many salt tears into the recipe, wot! Wild onions? Hah, I wasn't too blinkin' pleased, havin' to tame 'em down for you lot. I'd sooner be skinned me bloomin' self than have to skin another wild onion!\"\n\nLog a Log Briggy watched the young ones cavorting, singing and playing, then lay back and stretched. \"Beats me where they find the energy! Ah well, let 'em be merry while they can, 'specially those three young 'uns o' yores. I reckon we'll make our voyage end by midmorn tomorrer. That's when all the fun'n'games will finish for Horty an' the maids. I'm glad I don't have t'make the slog over desert an' gorge to Loamhedge with ye. That's country I was never fond of.\"\n\nBragoon flicked a twig into the fire. \"They'll do alright, with me'n my mate to look after 'em.\"\n\nSaro smiled. \"Aye, but by the creakin' o' my ole bones, 'tis them who'll be lookin' after us by the time this liddle jaunt is finished!\"\n\nNext morning, they arrived on time at the spot, just as Briggy had predicted. It was indeed hard, arid country. They had been sailing upriver since the crack of dawn. Nobeast could fail to notice the difference in the terrain. Trees, bushes and grass thinned out along the banks, whilst a hot breeze wafted in dust from the wastelands.\n\nBriggy smiled at the young creatures' downcast faces. \"Cheer up, mates, it ain't good-bye just yet. We'll be moored alongside this bank when ye come back wid a cure for Horty's sister. Get goin' now, an' good fortune go with ye!\"\n\n\"Thanks for everythin', ole friend!\"\n\n\"Aye, we'd a-been in a right pickle widout you an' yore crews, matey.\"\n\n\"See ye in six days, eh!\"\n\nLoaded with shrew hardtack biscuits and two canteens of water apiece, the travellers set off into the unknown.\n\nBriggy called out as the logboats pulled away. \"Keep the sun on yore right cheek, ye'll see the Bell an' Badger Rocks afore dark. But y'won't be able to reach 'em until ye figure out 'ow to cross the great gorge!\"\n\nSilence reigned over the searing, dusty flatness at high noon. Bragoon led the party, with Saro bringing up the rear.\n\nIt was not long before Horty began complaining. \"Phew, my ears are roasted, my tongue's parched an' my bally feet are fryin'. My word, it's even too hot to sweat! Walkin' walkin', always flamin' well walkin'. It's the story of m'life, chaps. First I was walkin' up'n'down on a blinkin' logboat, pushin' an oarpole. Now I'm walkin' again through this food'n'drink-forsaken place!\"\n\nSaro tugged the hare's tail. \"We're all walkin', ole gabby gob. We're walkin' t'bring back somethin' that'll make yore sister Martha walk. So stop moanin' an' keep walkin'.\"\n\nThe otter glanced over his shoulder, turning his attention on Springald and Fenna. \"Ahoy there, you two. Keep yore faces like that an' it'll rain afore long, ye mis'rable pair o' mopes!\"\n\nSpringald dragged her paws in the dust, replying sulkily. \"There's nothing at all wrong with our faces, thank you. Anyhow, you wouldn't understand.\"\n\nSaro piped up from behind. \"Why wouldn't we unnerstand?\"\n\nFenna pouted. \" 'Cos you just wouldn't, that's all!\"\n\nHorty could not resist smirking. \"They're jolly miserable because they've been parted from old Jigger an' his pal, wotsisname, Cuddles! Oh lack a day an' woe are they! I expect your little hearts are breakin', wot?\"\n\nKicking dust at the mocking hare, Fenna shouted, \"His name isn't Cuddles, it's Wuddle, and he's far nicer than you, Horty Braebuck. So there!\"\n\nSkipping ahead of the two maids, Horty made an elegant leg and bowed with a flourish. \"Fie upon you, marm, there's nobeast nicer than the charming I. Not in all the lands, or the river. Not like those two spike-headed water whompers who caterwaul songs like stricken ducks!\"\n\nThis time it was Springald who kicked dust at Horty. \"You vain, pompous, floppy-eared boaster!\"\n\nHorty was about to kick dust back, when Bragoon grabbed his ear and tweaked it soundly. \"If'n ye value yore ear, then stop embarrassin' those maids, right now! All three of ye are startin' to try my patience. Come on, Spring, cheer up. You, too, Fenn. It won't be long afore ye see those young shrews agin. Quit bein' so mean to each other, an' no more teasin'!\"\n\nHorty rubbed at the ear that had been tweaked. \"Who, me? I barely uttered a blinkin' word, it was those two who jolly well started it!\"\n\nIt was Saro's shout that put an end to the bickering. \"Look, mates, there's the Bell'n'Badger Rocks!\"\n\n##\n\nFloating above the heat-shimmered distance, the tops of both stone monoliths were just about visible on the horizon.\n\nFenna's keen eyes confirmed Saro's discovery. \"Hooray! You're right, there they are, I can see them!\"\n\nShading her eyes, Springald stood on tippaws. \"They look like one of those mirages that Old Phredd told us about. I wonder how far off they are?\"\n\nBragoon squinted over the wasteland haze. \"A fair bit yet, but if'n we press on 'til they're in plain sight, I'll call it a day an' we'll make camp. I want to look at those parchments from the Abbey. How does that sound to ye, mates?\"\n\nBragoon and Saro watched the three young ones dashing off ahead, their quarrels all forgotten as they shouted to one another.\n\nSaro scratched her bushy tail. \"Ha, lissen to 'em, they're the best o' pals agin!\"\n\nFenna was shouting, \"I'm going to set up camp with the cloaks an' staffs. Where are you off to, Horty?\"\n\nThe young hare had put on a spurt, racing ahead eagerly. \"Gangway, m'dears, I'm your cook this evenin'. Had lots of valuable experience, y'know. Oh yes, a chap learns a thing or three from those shrew coves, wot!\"\n\nSpringald kept pace with Fenna. \"I want to help Brag and Saro to study those parchments.\"\n\nBragoon and Saro followed the young ones at a steady lope. \"Looks like we've lost command o' the quest, mate. Can ye see those rocks clearly yet?\"\n\nThe squirrel looked up. \"Not quite, but it won't be long now.\"\n\nIt turned out that the three front-runners were forced to halt quicker than expected. Horty ground to a stop in a cloud of dust. \"By the left, right, an' knock me blinkin' sideways! How in the name of onion soup do we get across that bloomin' thing? Looks like the end o' the flamin' earth, wot!\"\n\nFenna and Springald joined him, gasping in disbelief at the awesome spectacle that confronted them.\n\n\"Whew! No wonder it's called the great gorge!\"\n\n\"Good grief, it must be miles down to the bottom!\"\n\nBragoon and Saro arrived on the scene. The otter ventured a glance down into the black chasm. \"If'n ye fell down there, that'd be the last anybeast'd see of ye, eh mate?\"\n\nSaro, however, was more concerned with the width of the gorge. \"Hmm, that's a wide ole canyon! Don't matter 'ow deep 'tis, we've got to think 'ow were goin' to cross it. Any ideas?\"\n\nFood was the only idea Horty gave priority to. \"Let's get a fire goin' an' we can figure it all out over a jolly good scoff. How's that for a scheme, wot?\"\n\nThe otter shook his head. \"This is strange country, mate. I don't feel too easy wid the thought of a fire. Pitch the camp an' see wot ye can make from the packs, Horty. I'll go off t'the right along the rim. Spring, you come wid me. Saro, you take the left edge. Fenna'll go wid ye.\"\n\nThey set off, with Horty issuing dire warnings. \"You chaps get back here before dusk, or I'll whomp up somethin' absolutely delicious an' eat it myself!\"\n\nSaro glanced across the gorge as she and Fenna explored along the edge of the precipice. \"Those two big rocks are plain t'see now, they mustn't be more than a couple o' slingshot distances from the other side. We're so near, yet so far, eh Fenn?\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid had noticed something down in the chasm. Suddenly her voice became shrill with excitement. \"There, that's how we'll get across, come and see!\"\n\nSaro lay flat on the edge, staring down at the solution to their problem. \"Well spotted, young 'un. I almost walked right by an' missed that. Let's go an' tell the others!\"\n\nHorty had created a fruit salad from the rations, with elderflower and dandelion cordial to go with it.\n\nThey sat eating as Saro reported, \"There's a tree trunk spannin' the gorge down that way, Fenna spotted it. About the height o' Redwall Abbey's battlement, down it lies. I don't know where it came from or whatbeast put it there, but it bridges the gap alright. 'Tis the longest trunk I've ever seen, lodged twixt a crack on one side an' a narrow ledge on the other. I think we should be able to get down to it on the rope that Cosbro, the old rabbit, gave us.\"\n\nBragoon gathered up the parchments he was about to study. \"Let's go an' take a look at it.\"\n\nThe spot where the tree trunk lay was directly in line with the two rocks across the gorge. Bragoon was thinking hard as he gazed down at the long, old span of timber that bridged the chasm.\n\nSpringald watched him as he studied the whole thing\u2014the twin rocks, and the tree trunk wedged inside the gorge. \"You know something about this, don't you?\"\n\nThe otter spread the map he had brought from Redwall. \"See here, this is the Bell an' the Badger Rocks. Now this spot is where the Lord o' Mossflower once stood. Ole Briggy said that it was a large tree, which had fallen down long ago. I reckon that tree trunk down there is the one that's marked on the map. After it fell down, some creatures must've rolled it into the gorge to make a bridge. I wager it took a lot o' beasts t'do the job, but they didn't know they was doin' us a favour when they took on the task. Is that rope long enough, matey?\"\n\nSaro, who had fetched Cosbro's rope along with her, dangled its length over the side. \"Aye, it falls a bit short o' the trunk, but it'll do.\"\n\nSatisfied, the otter issued orders. \"You three young 'uns, go back an' break camp. Fetch everythin' back 'ere with ye. Make as little noise as possible. There's somethin' about this area I don't like. It might be only a feelin', but I'm takin' no chances. Saro, me'n you'll rig this rope up. Remember now, be quiet!\"\n\nHorty and the two maids did not take long to pack the gear and break camp. Returning to the spot, they found that Bragoon had broken his staff in two pieces and driven them into a crack near the rim. Saro tested the rope she had tied around the wood. Without further ado, she went silently and skilfully down, using her footpaws on the rock walls for balance. She dropped lightly onto the trunk and twirled her tail several times as a signal that everything was alright. One by one they descended into the dark quiet chasm, Bragoon being last to go.\n\nThe five travellers perched precariously on the tree trunk. Saro gave the rope a swift upward flick, bringing it down with them.\n\nHorty peered across the gorge nervously. \"I say, Brag old scout, we could do with a torch to light us over this thing, it looks jolly dangerous t'me, wot?\"\n\nThe otter glared at him. \"Ssshhh, don't talk, yore voice echoes off the side down 'ere!\"\n\nSaro knotted herself and the others into a line, with herself at the front and Bragoon at the rear. Getting down on all fours, the five creatures inched out onto the long trunk. It seemed like an eternity, crawling over the wide expanse with nothing beneath them but empty space and total blackness. Sometimes the big log quivered, as one of them stumbled. At moments like this, they crouched there still, until Saro moved forward again.\n\nBragoon emitted a hushed sigh of relief when they finally made it onto the ledge at the far side. Fenna peered into the gloom, looking fearfully at Saro. The squirrel saw three black holes, which looked like entrances, in the rock face. She nodded and placed a paw to her lips in a gesture of silence. Untying her four friends from the rope, she coiled it about her waist and began climbing up the other side of the gorge. They watched her ascending the rock face with all the grace of a born squirrel climber. Bragoon kept casting anxious glances toward the three dark, forbidding entrances, but no signs of life showed there.\n\nSaro made it to the top in good time. Finding a convenient boulder, she tied a knot about it and lowered the rope to her companions. As they began the upward climb, the otter was still keeping a weather eye upon the dark holes.\n\nOnce all five travellers were safely together on the top of the far side, Horty laughed out loud. \"Hawhawhaw! Well, chaps, that's that! I suppose it's alright for one t'make sounds now. It's almost as bad as bein' hungry, for a brilliant speaker like me not being able to flippin' well talk. Absolute torture, wot!\"\n\nBragoon could not help smiling at the young hare. \"Go on, mate, talk away, even sing if'n ye like.\"\n\nEver willing to oblige, the garrulous hare burst into song.\n\n\"Oh it ain't much fun, when you must keep mum,\n\nan' they tell you not to speak,\n\nstandin' about with a tight-shut mouth,\n\nan' your tongue stuck in your cheek,\n\n'cos being silent, makes me violent,\n\nI want to roar an' shout,\n\nWheehooh! Yahboo! I'm tellin' you,\n\nI've lots to talk about!\n\nHello good day, how are you, say,\n\nthe sky went dark last night,\n\nbut it got bright this morning,\n\nso things turned out alright.\n\nWell there might be rain, but then again,\n\nwe'll face the storm together,\n\nin wind or snow, oh don't y'know,\n\nlet's talk about the weather!\n\nWheehooh! Yahboo! I'm tellin' you,\n\nI'll whisper, yell or shout,\n\nI'll natter'n'blab, or chatter'n'gab,\n\nI've lots to talk about!\"\n\nSaro cast her eyes to the darkening evening sky and sighed. \"We'd better stop for supper soon. That's the only time Horty goes quiet, when he's eatin'.\"\n\nBragoon watched fondly as the young hare did some fancy high kicks and ear twiddling. \"Aye, that rascal's like a weed on a wall, he grows on ye. I'll say this, though\u2014Horty's becomin' a first-rate cook, I like 'is vittles. We'll go as far as the Bell an' the Badgers Rocks afore night comes. I think we could even risk a liddle cookin' fire. Let ole Horty create us one of his masterpieces. Come on, mate, it ain't more'n a mile or two now.\"\n\nAs the laughter and banter of the questers receded into the gathering eventide, a stillness fell over the wasteland.\n\nThree faint screams echoed into the unfathomed depths of great gorge. On the ledge where the tree trunk bridged the space, several cloaked figures turned and padded silently into the three dark holes. These were passages, which led into a single hall-like cavern. The creatures from outside joined masses of others, similar to themselves. A myriad of glittering eyes were riveted on a ledge, where burned a sulphurous, yellow-green column of flame. A huge hunched beast, enveloped in a flowing cloak, stood with its back to them, facing the flame. It turned slowly. Not daring to look upon it, everybeast lay down prostrate, faces to the floor. A concerted moan arose from the masses.\n\n\"Mighty Kharanjul, Master of the Abyss! Great Slayer, in whose veins runs the blood of Wearets! Lord of Life and Death! We live only to serve thee!\"\n\nThe cloak swept back to reveal Kharanjul. He was a gargantuan creature, a primitive and hideous mutation\u2014something between a ferret and a weasel. With neither ears nor any semblance of a neck, his brutal head perched straight onto his hulking shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was a gurgling hiss, forced from between curving, discoloured fangs.\n\n\"Where are the three guards who were sleeping at their posts when strangers entered my gorge?\"\n\nOne of the creatures, who had recently entered the cavern, raised his face and cried out in a reedy voice. \"Lord, they are still falling into the chasm. They felt themselves too unworthy to face thy wrath, O Great Slayer!\"\n\nKharanjul picked up a big iron trident. He ran his long misshapen claws across the weapon's three barbed points. \"Nobeast has ever trespassed in my domain and lived to see the sunset that day. Ye will not fail me again, ye spawn of darkness. If those intruders set paw within a league of my gorge, to return whence they came, ye will let me know of it without fail. Double the guards both night and day. If the interlopers are caught, their suffering will be great. They will plead to be cast into the abyss of eternity. I have spoken!\"\n\nStill facedown, the masses chanted their reply. \"We hear and obey, O Mighty Kharanjul, Great Wearet Lord!\"\n\n##\n\nMartha closed the east wallgate behind her but left it unbolted. Her heart pounded wildly as she stole shakily through the night-shadowed woodlands, hugging the wall. The haremaid knew it had been an ill-advised plan, but she realised that the Abbot, or any sane Redwaller, would have forbidden her to venture on this mission alone. Her footpaws were trembling as she turned the corner to the north wall. Willing them to be still, she strove to gain control of her body. Every once in awhile, she heard weapons clanking on the parapet above. The Searats were patrolling the ramparts. The moment it went quiet, she would inch forward again.\n\nLonna had lit a fire out on the flatlands facing the west Abbey wall. He piled up brush and twigs into a heap, placing it so that from a distance it could be mistaken for himself, seated by the fire in the darkness. Moving off to his left he settled down, accustoming his eyes to the night. Setting a shaft to his bowstring, he watched the battlements. Soon a vermin head poked up cautiously, seeing the decoy by the fire and mistaking it for the badger. The Searat on the wall stood upright. Leaning outward, he peered toward the fire, trying to make sure that it was Lonna who was sitting crouched there. The big bow twanged, and the arrow took the Searat through his skull, sending him slamming backward onto the walkway. Hearing the resultant commotion from the walltop, the badger shifted his position, moving closer to the wall.\n\nRaga Bol's voice was immediately recognisable as he roared directions to his confused crew. \"The stripedog's somewhere out 'ere, on the far west end. Keep yore 'eads down, ye fools, or ye'll end like that 'un. Chakka, get over this way, the stripedog's over 'ere, not on the north side!\"\n\nLonna edged closer, until he could hear Chakka's reply. \"But, Cap'n, there's somebeast down here, sneakin' alongside the wall. It ain't as big as the stripedog, though. Wonder who it could be?\"\n\nCrouching, Raga Bol made his way across to the north wall. He risked a swift peek over the space between the battlements. \"Gimme yore spear! 'Tis an Abbeybeast tryin' to reach the big 'un, I'll wager. Blast yore eyes, gimme the spear afore it gets away!\"\n\nMartha made a break and ran for it, out across the path. She stumbled and tripped, going headlong into the ditch, which skirted the outside path. _Thunk!_ The spear quivered in the ditchside.\n\nRaga Bol saw another Searat getting up from a crouch to pass him a second weapon. \"Ye missed, Cap'n, but only just! Take my spear, 'tis me lucky one . . . Unngh!\"\n\nBol hurled himself flat as the spear clattered to the parapet beside the slain crewrat. \"Down, all of ye, down!\"\n\nLonna was running toward the ditch, firing off arrows with amazing speed, one after another. They pinged off the stonework and shattered against the northwest wall corner, keeping the vermin down.\n\nMartha narrowly avoided the huge bulk that crashed into the ditch beside her. She gasped, \"Sir, I came from the Abbey, my name's Mar . . .\"\n\nA massive paw cut off further explanation, as she was grabbed up and tucked beneath the giant badger's quiver. It bumped against her cheek as he rushed headlong through the ditch going northward, away from the Abbey.\n\nA deep voice sounded close to her ear. \"Time for introductions later, let's get out of range first!\"\n\nMartha felt like a Dibbun's plaything. Everything about the badger was immense\u2014his paw, his long arrows poking from the quiver, the great bow he carried, his colossal frame. Everything! Moonlit spaces flickered past as she and the badger left the ditch and sought the shelter of Mossflower woodlands. Martha saw the badger's face. It was deeply scarred and roughly stitched, giving him a savage and fearful appearance. But his eyes were soft and gentle, friendly, the eyes of a friend.\n\nLonna placed her down gently. \"Now, you were saying?\"\n\nThe haremaid tried not to be intimidated by his size. \"Thank you, sir, I was saying . . . We have need of you inside Redwall Abbey. I stole out to get you . . . Oh, my name is Martha Braebuck . . .\"\n\nThe bigbeast crouched, coming level with her face. \"Braebuck? I met your brother and his friends on the side of the high cliffs. Shouldn't you be in some kind of chair with wheels, miss?\"\n\nMartha found herself babbling. \"You met Horty, oh, is he alright? Bragoon, Saro, all of them, are they safe? Please tell me about them. Have they been ill or injured in any way? Oh, I've been worried out of my mind . . .\"\n\nThe badger's paw covered her face as he placed it over her mouth. \"Hush, little Martha, your friends are fine. I'd like to stand here all night talking with you, but you say they have need of me inside your Abbey. Can you show me the way back in there? By the way, my name's Lonna Bowstripe.\"\n\nMartha bobbed a small curtsy. Then she was swung up and placed upon the badger's shoulder as he moved off swiftly.\n\n\"Point me in the right direction, Martha Braebuck!\" Holding on to his ear with one paw and the bowstring with the other, Martha showed him the way. \"Straight ahead, Sir Lonna, you can see the belltower showing above the trees.\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"Just call me plain old Lonna.\"\n\nShe whispered into his ear. \"Lonna it is, you can call me Martha. I only get the full title when I'm being told off.\"\n\nRaga Bol sought out Wirga. \"Those poison darts, have ye got any of 'em?\"\n\nThe old Searat drew a rod from her cloak. \"Aye, Cap'n, there's one inside this. 'Tis the tube that I shoot 'em through.\"\n\nShe unplugged the ends of the rod, letting a dart show from it. \"See, my little messenger of death!\"\n\nBol murmured to her. \"I'm thinkin' that the stripedog'll try t'get inside the Abbey buildin'. He's got t'be stopped. Do this for me an I'll give ye anythin' y'want!\"\n\nWirga shuffled to the wallsteps. \"My price will be high, I warn thee. I have already lost three sons.\"\n\nThe Searat captain spread his paws wide. \"Anythin'!\"\n\nWirga looked up from the lawn. \" 'Tis as good as done!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul stood at the open window with Toran and Sister Setiva. He covered his eyes at the sight of the knotted linen rope hanging over the sill.\n\n\"I knew it, though it only occurred to me awhile after she'd been speaking with me. Oh Martha, why did you have to go and do it?\"\n\nBut Toran did not stop to argue the point. He was already over the sill, clutching the linen rope and lowering himself down.\n\nSister Setiva leaned out of the window. \"Och, ye'll get caught by yon vermin if ye go out there!\"\n\nThe ottercook dropped to the ground and drew his sling. \"Martha must've gone out by the east wallgate to find the badger. I'm goin' to look for her, you stay by here an' keep watch for us. Pull yoreself t'gether, Carrul!\"\n\nThe Abbot stood by the window with Sister Setiva. \"I should have known, I should have stopped her!\"\n\nPlacing a comforting paw about him, the Infirmary Keeper shook her head. \"Ah'll have a wee word wi' Martha when she returns. Ah thought it was only her brother who acted silly. Don't blame yersel', Father, yer no' a mindreader! How were ye tae know the maid wid do sich a thing?\"\n\nToran was stealing across the back lawn, when he saw Wirga ahead of him. He crouched low and watched her as she neared the east wallgate, then halted, obviously having heard something. Then Wirga scurried to a rhododendron bush, which grew close to the wall, hiding herself behind it.\n\nThe small door creaked on its hinges as it opened. Martha entered the Abbey grounds. Her paw lost in Lonna's grip, the haremaid turned and smiled at him. \"Home at last, welcome to Redwall, Lonna!\"\n\nThe badger had to stoop as he came through the gate. Toran saw Wirga slowly stand upright, placing the blowpipe to her mouth. There was no time to stop and think. He acted speedily. Bounding forward, the ottercook threw himself sideways, slamming into the Searat. Wirga's head hit the sandstone wall with a resounding crack, immediately reuniting her with her three sons.\n\nMartha pulled on Lonna's paw as he whipped the long knife from his arm sheath. \"Don't hurt him, that's my friend Toran!\"\n\nLonna took hold of the ottercook's apron and stood him upright. Toran blinked past him at the haremaid. \"Martha, is that you, matey?\"\n\nShe ran forward and hugged him. \"Oh Toran, that was a brave thing to do. Quick, let's get inside, there might be more Searats prowling about!\"\n\nOther Redwallers had found their way to the linen room. There were many willing paws to assist Toran and Martha back inside the Abbey. Lonna, however, was a different matter. Extra cloths and sheets had to be knotted into the makeshift rope. The badger's weight was such that no amount of helpers could even raise him from the ground. Tossing his bow and quiver up to Toran, the big badger made his own way, paw over paw, up the Abbey wall to the room. At first, Martha thought Lonna would burst the window frame, but he managed to squeeze through with a certain amount of grunting and wriggling.\n\nThe haremaid beamed proudly at the Abbot as she presented her new friend to him. \"Father, this is Lonna Bowstripe. He has volunteered to help us. Lonna, this is the Father Abbot Carrul of Redwall!\"\n\nThere was a deal of comment from the awestruck onlookers.\n\n\"Good grief, will you look at the size of him!\"\n\n\"Hurr, oi never see'd nobeast as gurt as that 'un!\"\n\n\"Look, his head almost touches the ceiling!\"\n\nWithout registering the least surprise, Abbot Carrul shook the badger's massive paw. \"Welcome to Redwall, Lonna, and my thanks to you for returning our Martha unscathed. It was a brave deed.\"\n\nLonna immediately took a liking to the dignified old mouse. \"Thank you, Father, it's a pleasure to be here. I will do all I can to rid your home of Raga Bol and his Searats.\"\n\nCarrul bowed gravely, then turned his attention to the onlookers. They were still commenting on the new arrival's size, speculating as to how his face came to be so dreadfully wounded. The Abbot stared them into silence.\n\n\"It has always been our manner to welcome visitors and offer them refreshment. Have you nothing better to do than embarrass our guest with your remarks?\"\n\nMuttering apologies, the Redwallers hurried off downstairs to comply with their Abbot's wishes.\n\nCarrul beckoned to Lonna. \"Come, friend, you must be hungry and tired. Let Martha and me offer you our hospitality. You must forgive our Abbeybeasts, they meant no offence.\"\n\nLonna followed Martha and the Abbot from the linen room. \"No offence taken, Father. I would be surprised if they had not mentioned the way I look. Anybeast I've ever met does.\"\n\nMartha gave him a reproving look. \"I never mentioned your appearance. Neither did Abbot Carrul or Toran, for that matter.\"\n\nLonna gave the haremaid one of his rare smiles. \"Then I have made three good and sensible friends tonight. I think I'm going to enjoy Redwall Abbey.\"\n\nEverybeast stayed up late that night, crowding into Cavern Hole to see the giant badger. Granmum Gurvel and her helpers trundled to and fro from the kitchens, bringing lots of delicious food for the guest, and for all present. Lonna sat staring at the array of fine things. Then Foremole Dwurl presented him with an outsized portion of his own personal favourite.\n\n\"Yurr zurr, this bee's deeper'n'ever turnip'n'tater'n' beetroot pie. If'n ee doant wish t'be h'offendin' ee cook, you'm best eat 'earty. Thurr bee's aplenty more whurr that cummed frumm, an' ee cook's a gurt fearsome ole villyun!\"\n\nThe badger took an amused glance at the dumpy figure of Granmum Gurvel, then set to with a will. Redwallers gazed in wonder as the hungry giant satisfied his appetite.\n\nSister Setiva even ventured a wry wink at Lonna. \"Och, there's nothin' worse than a beast with a wee flimsy appetite, pickin' away at his vittles, ah always say!\"\n\nLonna accepted a full deep-dish apple-and-blackberry crumble from the Infirmary Keeper. He dug into it with gusto. \"Aye, marm, but you must forgive me. They tell me I was a very fussy babe. It's a wonder how I survived!\"\n\nHis observation broke the ice; the Redwallers burst out laughing in appreciation of their visitor's ready wit.\n\nAfter the meal, they sat entranced, as Lonna related his story, which included his meeting with the travellers. The Dibbuns had infiltrated the gathering, slowly encroaching until they were sitting on Lonna's footpaws. Craning their necks, they stared in goggle-eyed admiration at the one who had confessed to being a fussy babe. Lonna gained them extra time, interceding with the elders not to send the Abbeybabes up to bed. Infants were always a source of amazement to him, he marvelled at their minute size and lack of shyness with strangers.\n\nHaving finished his narrative, Lonna asked Martha to tell him of how she came to be walking. The haremaid obliged willingly. Muggum had managed to scale the badger's footpaws and now sat upon his lap.\n\nTugging the badger's paw, the molebabe succeeded in gaining his attention. \"You'm surpinkly a gurt creetur! Zurr Lonn', 'ow big bee's yore bed?\"\n\nLonna looked thoughtful and adopted a serious tone. \"Hmm, it's quite large, and wide, too, though I've give up carrying it around with me. Why do you ask, sir?\"\n\nMuggum waved a tiny paw generously. \"You'm best take moi bed, Lonn. Oop in ee dormittees et bee's!\"\n\nThe talk went back and forth, encouraged by beakers of mulled October Ale for the elders and raspberry cup for the young ones. After awhile, the old ones fell into a doze; the Dibbuns, too, no longer able to keep their eyes open, curled up and slept where they chose.\n\nAbbot Carrul took advantage of the lull in the conversation, murmuring to Lonna, \"Come up to the kitchens, there's an empty storeroom there. We'll set up a sleeping place for you. But before that, I must talk to you, friend. We'll formulate a plan to defeat the enemy and free this Abbey. Martha, Toran, Sister Portula, Brother Weld, would you come, too? I'd like you to take part in the discussion.\"\n\nThat night, in the quiet of the storeroom, they formulated their plans. Lonna's status as a seasoned warrior, and his expertise in the ways of his enemy Searats, earned him the main say in the discussion. His ideas made sense to his friends, although his first words were in the form of a request.\n\n\"I need more arrows, good stout shafts, and well pointed. Have you any in the building?\"\n\nToran answered. \"I'm sorry, Lonna, we haven't, but I can look for some wood and make your arrows.\"\n\nBrother Weld interrupted the ottercook. \"Last winter, Brother Gelf and I found an ash tree, which had collapsed outside the east wall. Skipper and his otters helped us to chop the trunk into firelogs. Gelf and I took about six sheaves of long branches from it and bundled them up. We planned on cutting them into smaller sizes to use in the orchard, for fencing and propping up berry vines. But we never got round to it. They're still piled up under the belltower stairs. Those ash branches will be well seasoned now, perfect for making arrows!\"\n\nToran patted Weld's back. \"Good work, Brother, bring them to the wine cellar. Pore Junty Cellarhog had a little forge and anvil down there. I can make arrowheads from barrel-stave iron, Junty kept a whole stock o' the stuff.\"\n\nLonna looked from one to the other enquiringly. \"Flights?\"\n\nSister Portula had an immediate answer. \"There's a whole cupboardful of grey goose feathers in my room. I'll be glad to see the last of them. Two autumns back, Sister Setiva fixed the wing of a gosling, whose father was the leader of a goose skein. The geese were so grateful that they donated a load of loose feathers to me. I was supposed to cut the ends and use them as writing quills. Dearie me, they gave us enough for ten recorders to use for seven lifetimes. Please, Lonna, would you take them? If you'll relieve me of the burden, I'll recruit a team of elders to shape and bind them to your arrow shafts.\"\n\nThe badger agreed readily. \"Thank you, Sister, there's no better flight for a shaft than a goose feather. I've been using gull feathers from the northeast shores, but they don't have the strength and firmness of good goose plumage.\"\n\nMartha spoke. \"You'll have a full supply of arrows, Lonna.\"\n\nStretched out on a heap of clean sacks, the big badger gazed up at the ceiling, sure now of what he was going to do. \"Nobeast can live without food and water. Martha, I want you and a few others to patrol the windows all around the Abbey, where the Searats would find things to eat or drink.\"\n\nThe haremaid replied. \"You mean the orchard and the Abbey pond? There's also a vegetable garden adjoining the orchard. Since the Searats arrived, they've taken water and fished from the pond, and as for the orchard, they're hardly ever out of there and the vegetable garden. Isn't that right, Father?\"\n\nCarrul clenched his jaw. \"Correct, Martha. Those scum! I dread to think of the state our crops will be in. After all the hard work Redwallers did. Well, Lonna, you'll have a fair view of it. Orchard, vegetable patch and pond\u2014they are all clearly visible from our south-facing windows.\"\n\nLonna reached for his bow and began running a small piece of beeswax up and down the string. \"Perfect. How many arrows have I left in my quiver, Toran?\"\n\nThe ottercook took a look and returned grinning. \"Twenty-three . . . and a molebabe. Muggum's sleeping in there!\" The little mole grumbled dozily as Sister Portula extricated him. \"Oi got to stop urr. Lonn' bee's sleepin' in moi bed!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul took charge of the molebabe. \"Then you can sleep in my big armchair, you rascal. In fact, I think it's time we all got a rest, there's lots to do once the day breaks. Right, Lonna?\"\n\nBloodred tinges suffused the badger's eyes, his bowstring twanging aloud as he tested it. He gritted one word from between his clenched teeth. \"Right!\"\n\nThe Abbot hurriedly ushered his charges from the storeroom. \"We'll leave you to your sleep now, friend. Goodnight.\"\n\nThere was no reply. Closing the door behind them, Toran the ottercook exchanged meaningful glances with the Abbot. \"Did ye see that, Father? Lonna's possessed of the Bloodwrath!\"\n\nMartha looked from one to the other, perplexed. \"What's the Bloodwrath, some sort of sickness?\"\n\nToran grasped her paw so hard that she winced. \"Lissen to me, young 'un. You stay out o' that beast's way until his eyes clear up again. Badgers ain't responsible for wot they do when Bloodwrath comes upon 'em, d'ye hear?\"\n\nThe haremaid managed a frightened little nod. \"Lonna wouldn't hurt us, would he?\"\n\nThe Abbot signalled Toran and the others to their beds. He walked through Great Hall with Martha, who was carrying the sleeping molebabe.\n\nCarrul talked quietly with her. \"Do as Toran has told you, pretty one. Only be close to Lonna when you have to. Creatures such as us know little of Bloodwrath, but grown badgers of his size can be very dangerous to anybeast when it strikes them. Take your friends tomorrow, patrol the south windows on the first and second floor. The moment you sight Searats in the grounds, report straight to Lonna. Then get out of the way. Redwallers have no business hanging around a badger who is taken by Bloodwrath. Believe me, Martha, I tell you that Lonna needs to avenge himself and his dead friend upon Raga Bol and his crew. He is here for no other reason. Go to your bed now and remember what I have said.\"\n\nCarrul took the sleeping Muggum from Martha and went into his room. The haremaid looked up at the figure of Martin the Warrior on his tapestry. There was no need of visitations or dream speeches from the gallant protector of Redwall. His eyes seemed to say it all. She bowed respectfully to Martin, then went to her bed, still puzzled but obedient to her Abbot and the guiding spirit of her Abbey.\n\nDeath came to Redwall at dawn. A Searat came bursting into the gatehouse and raised Raga Bol from the bed where he had lain sprawled and twitching in broken dreams. \"Cap'n, the stripedog's just kilt Cullo an' Baleclaw. They was fishin' in the pond an' 'e slayed 'em both wid one arrer!\"\n\nBol came upright, his silver hook thrusting through the rat's baggy shirt as he dragged him forward. \"Killed 'em wid one arrer! Have ye been at the grog agin, Griml?\"\n\nThe rat wailed. \"I saw it meself, Cap'n. They was stannin' in the water, one afront o' the other, when a big arrer pins 'em both through their neckscruffs, like fishes on a reed!\"\n\nBol thrust Griml roughly out the gatehouse. \"Rally the crew, an' fetch Wirga t'me. Move yourself!\"\n\nGriml's mate, Deadtooth, was crouching beside the wallsteps. He, too, had witnessed the slaying of two Searats with one arrow. Deadtooth caught up with Griml. \"Wot did Bol say?\"\n\nGriml shrugged unhappily. \"Not much, just booted me out an' tole me t'bring the crew an' fetch Wirga.\"\n\nDeadtooth persisted. \"Don't the Cap'n know Wirga's dead? They found 'er just as it went light. Somebeast 'ad knocked the daylights outer 'er agin the wall. But ye knew that, didn't ye? Yew shoulda told Bol.\"\n\nGriml nervously looked this way and that. \"Hah, yew go an' tell 'im, if'n ye dare. I don't want no silver 'ook guttin' me. I wish we was afloat at sea, like last springtime. I tell ye, mate, we've 'ad nought but bad luck since we dropped anchor in this rotten place!\"\n\nGriml caught sight of several Searats emerging from behind a small ornamental hedge where they had been sleeping. \"Ahoy, youse lot, Cap'n wants ter see ye, right now at the gate'ouse, ye best jump to it . . .\"\n\nThere was a piercing scream from the orchard as a crewrat staggered out, transfixed by an arrow. Still holding a half-ripe pear in his claws, he took one more pace and crumpled in a still heap. Griml gestured at him wildly. \"See, wot did I tell ye? There's Rotpaw gone now, a good ole messmate like 'im, off to 'ellgates afore a bite o' brekkist passed 'is pore lips. I said this place is bad luck, didn't I?\"\n\n##\n\nHaving camped by the rocks and spent the night there, the travellers got their first clear view of them at sunrise next morn. Fenna found Horty, who had already risen, blowing on the embers of the previous night's fire and adding twigs to rekindle the flames. In high spirits, the young hare waved his ears at her.\n\n\"Mornin', fair Fenn'. Lots of twigs blown up against the rocks by the blinkin' wind, wot. Jolly useful to a first-class rivercook. What ho, you lazy lot, rise'n'shine, eh! So, here we are at the old Badger an' Bell. Thoughtful cove, whoever named 'em\u2014they look just like an enormous bloomin' bell an' a blinkin' huge badger's bonce!\"\n\nSpringald blinked sleep from her eyes and gave Horty a sidelong glance. \"Really, have you just noticed that?\"\n\nSaro got between them. \"Don't start again, you two. Horty, ole scout, ole lad, ole boy, wot's for breakfast?\"\n\nThe garrulous hare giggled. \"Heeheehee, would you believe fried fruit salad, marm?\"\n\nSpringald came wide awake then. \"Horty, you're joking?\"\n\nBragoon had sidled up. With the tip of his sword he speared a slice of plum from the flat rock that served as a frying pan. The otter chewed it pensively. \"Our cook ain't jokin', marm. Hmm, it don't taste too bad!\"\n\nAs Saro tried a morsel, winks were exchanged all round, behind Horty's back. The aging squirrel merely nodded. \"I suppose y'can't be too picky out in this country. I've ate worse an' survived.\"\n\nFenna prodded at the food with a twig. \"Do we have to eat it?\"\n\nClosing her eyes, Springald gulped a piece down. \"It's either that or starve. Fried fruit salad? Only a hare could think up a breakfast like that!\" Horty's ears rose like flagstaffs and his cheeks bulged out. The outraged hare was about to give them a piece of his mind, when something out on the wasteland distracted his attention.\n\n\"Cads! Bounders! You rotten, ungrateful . . . I say, chaps, is that somebeast crouchin' down out there?\"\n\nBragoon leaped up, wiping his swordblade. \"Come on, let's find out!\"\n\nThey spread out and made for the distant shape. Slowly and cautiously they approached the object. Then Fenna, who had the best eyesight, ran forward, calling to them. \"That's no crouching beast, it's nothing but a big battered old tree stump!\"\n\nThe fragmented piece of conifer stood almost as tall as Bragoon's shoulder. He tapped it with his sword.\n\n\"Y'know wot this is? All that's left o' that big tree on the map\u2014Lord o' Mossflower. We crossed over the great gorge by walkin' across its trunk!\"\n\nSaro circled the broad base. \"A shame, really. 'Twas a mighty tree in its seasons. Right, mate, 'tis time we took a look at the stuff you brought from the Abbey.\"\n\nBragoon drew out the tattered scraps of parchment he had carried since the day they left Redwall. \"Let's take a look then. Loamhedge can't be too far now. Maybe we'll find some clues that'll help.\"\n\nHorty was never a beast who took kindly to studying. He watched them unfolding a scrap of parchment. \"Borin' old stuff, I'll go back an' break camp, wot!\"\n\nBragoon passed the piece of paper to Springald. \"Yore a bright young 'un, read this out to us. I don't see too good for readin' lately. Think I might need those eyeglasses like Carrul an' Old Phredd wears when they reads things.\"\n\nSpringald studied the neat script. \"Martha copied this out. It says here that it's Sister Amyl's rhyme. Listen.\n\n\"Where once I dwelt in Loamhedge,\n\nmy secret lies hid from view,\n\nthe tale of how I learned to walk,\n\nwhen once I was as you.\n\nThough you cannot go there,\n\nlook out for two who may,\n\ntravellers from out of the past,\n\nreturning home someday.\"\n\nBragoon winked at Saro. \"That was us, we're the travellers from out the past. I wonder how young Martha is.\"\n\nSaro folded the parchment up, returning it to the otter. \"I wish she could've been fit t'make this trip with us. Now there was a young maid who had an 'ead on her shoulders. Huh, no clues there, though. Wot does that other bit say?\"\n\nBeside the map sketch, Bragoon had only one other piece of parchment. He offered it to Saro. \"You read it, mate.\"\n\nAfter unfolding it, the aging squirrel gave it to Fenna, without a second glance. \"My readin' is terrible, I never payed attention at Abbeyschool. Just like you, Brag, but I ain't makin' excuses about needin' eyeglasses. You read it, Fenna. I bet you was a good learner.\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid straightened the creased document. \"Martha tells us here that this is something which was copied by somebeast named Recorder Scrittum. The words are Sister Amyl's, but Scrittum recorded them for her.\n\n\"Beneath the flower that never grows,\n\nSylvaticus lies in repose.\n\nMy secret is entombed with her,\n\nlook and think what you see there.\n\nA prison with four legs which moved,\n\nyet it could walk nowhere,\n\nwhose arms lacked paws, but yet they held,\n\na wretched captive there.\"\n\nSpringald shrugged. \"Well, there are clues in that rhyme. But look around, what do you see? A broken tree stump, two big rocks shaped like a badger's head and a bell! Besides that, all we have is a map, made so far back that nobeast can remember. Is this all the information you brought with you from the Abbey? Bit thin, isn't it?\"\n\nBragoon drew patterns in the dust with his paw. Then he and Saro cast rueful looks at each other.\n\nFenna spoke to them. \"Wasn't there something else, a big volume about how a party of Redwallers found Loamhedge in bygone seasons?\"\n\nThe otter explained limply. \"Aye, missy, there was, but we never took the time or the trouble to try readin' it. We ain't no scholars, that much is plain, ain't it, mate?\"\n\nSaro nodded dolefully. \"Right, we thought that, 'cos we'd been atop o' the high cliffs an' onto the plateau one time, we knew this country. Our mistake, I s'pose. We should've let one of you young 'uns read the book out to us. You ain't like us. Livin' in the Abbey all yore lives, you managed t'get some learnin'. Me'n ole Brag, we ran away when we was young, didn't get much schoolin'.\"\n\nFenna wanted to take them to task for going off on such a quest without proper information, but they looked so crestfallen. She also felt it would be unfair to berate two creatures of such skill and craft, all of which they had gained in the hard school of travel and experience. Scholars they might not be, but adventurers they certainly were.\n\nA shout interrupted her thoughts. \"What ho there, you curmudgeons! Handsome young hare approachin' with visitors! Put aside your weapons. They're friendly, an' they enjoyed my blinkin' breakfast, too!\"\n\nBragoon thumped his rudder down in astonishment. \"Horty, what'n the name o' silly seasons . . . ?\"\n\nThe young hare marched up to the stump with his two new friends\u2014a large fat dormouse, pulling a cartload of twigs and wasteland debris; and, at his side, a tiny sand lizard held by a braided lead.\n\nHorty grinned from ear to ear. \"Meet my new pal Toobledum, survivor an' hermit of the wastelands, wot! Oh, an' this other ferocious creature is Bubbub, his faithful sandsniffer. I say, these coves really appreciate my cookin', they scoffed the bloomin' lot!\"\n\nSpringald cried indignantly, \"Well thanks for nothing. I scarcely took a bite of that food!\"\n\nHorty pawed his nose at her. \"Serves you jolly well right, after the way you lot carried on about my fine cookin'!\"\n\nToobledum, a cheery dormouse, wore an outrageously floppy woven grass hat, which he tipped to them. \"Pleased t'meetcher, one an' all, friends o' the cook, are ye! Well, Horty's led ye this far pretty good, I'd say.\"\n\nSaro glared at the young hare, paws on hips. \"Led us this far, eh? I wager you've been tellin' Mister Toobledum a right ole pack o' fibs!\"\n\nHorty waffled for a moment, then changed the subject completely. \"I say, chaps, here's a wheeze. Guess where Toobledum lives? Go on, tell 'em, Toob!\"\n\nThe dormouse sat down and lightly scratched Bubbub's emerald-green sides. The little sand lizard arched its back with pleasure. Toobledum looked up at them from beneath the wide brim of his hat.\n\n\"Lives? Me'n likkle Bubbub lives at Loam'edge, that's where we lives. Sand lizards ain't like most reptiles, y'know. Get 'em young enough an' they're good likkle tykes.\"\n\nBragoon stared open-mouthed at the dormouse. \"Y'mean to tell us you actually lives at Loamhedge?\"\n\nThe floppy hat wobbled wildly as Toobeldum nodded. \"All me life. Youngest o' sixteen I was, left 'ome an' came out here t'fend fer meself. Loam'edge h'aint no Redwall, like the big place Horty told me that 'e rules. But 'tis 'ome, an' we like it, don't we likkle Bubbub?\" The tiny sand lizard nodded and romped over to Fenna to be stroked and tickled.\n\nSpringald treated the dormouse to one of her prettiest smiles. \"Could you show us the way to Loamhedge, sir?\"\n\nHe flushed under his hat brim. \"Ain't no sir, missy, only an ole Toobledum, but I'll show ye the way willin'ly!\"\n\nFenna left off petting Bubbub, who nudged at her for more. \"You will show us the way. Now?\"\n\nDusting himself off, the dormouse rose with a grunt. \"Now's as good a time as any, me pretty one. Long as ye let my pal Horty cook me another good mess o' vittles.\"\n\nBragoon clapped the young hare's back so heartily that he almost knocked him flat. \"Well o' course, the champion quest leader an' expert cook an' ruler o' Redwall would be only too glad to cook for ye, matey!\"\n\nToobledum passed the towing rope of his cart to Saro. \"I'd be obliged if'n ye pull the ole cart fer me, marm. Me paws gets weary from luggin' it far'n'wide. Come on, likkle Bubbub, let's go 'ome.\"\n\nHe trundled off into the wasteland, chattering animatedly. \"Nice to find somebeast t'jaw with, it gits lonely out 'ere. Likkle Bubbub don't speak, y'see. I collects useful stuff, goes far'n'wide t'find it. Firewood, nice stones, bits o' this'n'that. Don't never waste nothin' out 'ere, I always sez. If'n ye got gear to cast off, then throw it me way!\"\n\nThey journeyed on, mainly south by Bragoon's reckoning, with Toobledum talking ceaselessly, and Bubbub frisking along on his lead, moving from one to another in his efforts to find more stroking.\n\nA camp was made out on the wastelands that evening. The dormouse donated some wood from his cart to make a fire. He was all agog in anticipation of his next meal.\n\n\"Well, Cooky, wot's fer supper? Me'n likkle Bubbub's feelin' peckish. Somethin' nice, I 'ope!\"\n\nSpringald grinned pointedly at Horty. \"Oh, don't worry, Cooky will turn out something delicious, I'm sure.\"\n\nThe young hare was beginning to tire of his role as cook. He rummaged through the dwindling supply in the ration packs. \"Hmm, I expect I'll create some superb dish, but we're runnin' a bit low on the old tucker, wot. Oh, fiddlesticks! Why's it left t'me to do all the blinkin' cookin' an' slavin' round here, while you flamin' lot sit on your tails an' loll around? Huh, bit bloomin' thick, I'd say!\"\n\nFenna joined in the teasing. \"Cheer up, Mighty Ruler of Redwall, I expect you have an army of skivvies to serve you back at the Abbey. Excuse me, you're not frying another fruit salad, are you?\"\n\nBorrowing an iron pot that had been clanking along on a hook beneath Toobledum's cart, Horty answered airily. \"As a matter o' fact, marm, I'm inventin' some scone soup, with a few wild onions, some sage, carrots, a leek or two an' some crumbled oatscones. Followed by fresh strawberry surprise, with dandelion tea to drink.\"\n\nIt was a surprisingly tasty meal. They downed it with relish. Fenna had one comment to make about the dessert. \"What's in this strawberry surprise, Cooky?\"\n\nHorty grimaced. \"Wish you'd stop callin' me Cooky. Oh, the strawberry surprise? I made it with some dried apple, preserved plums an' a piece o' fruitcake I found at the bottom of a ration pack. There ain't a flamin' strawberry in the whole thing\u2014that's the surprise. Good, eh?\"\n\nToobledum and Bubbub licked their bowls. The dormouse belched. \"Parn me one an' all. We liked it. Any second 'elphins?\"\n\nToobledum listened to the rhyme which had been dictated to Recorder Scrittum by Sister Amyl. Fenna read it out to him, but the dormouse was at a loss to cast any light on it. \"Flowers wot never grows, an' four-legged prisons wid no arms? Means nought to us, does it, likkle Bubbub?\"\n\nThe tiny lizard shook its head and nestled under Saro's paw. The dormouse bedded down by the fire, letting the hat brim cover his face. \"I ain't clever like you beasts, I'm just an old Toobledum. No matter, ye can search for yore own clues around Loam'edge in the mornin'. We'll git there afore midday. I'll bid ye 'appy dreams one an' all, g'night!\"\n\nBragoon settled down with the sword close to paw. \"I'll stay awake for first watch, mates.\"\n\nToobledum's voice came from under the hat. \"You git some sleep, I've taken Bubbub off 'is lead. That likkle feller's better'n any sentry, 'e'll stand guard all night for ye.\"\n\nHorty grinned with relief at Fenna. \"Saves us a job, wot!\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid curled up in her cloak beneath the cart. \"Indeed it does. Goodnight, Cooky.\"\n\nThe young hare's ears shot up stiffly. \"Cooky yourself, miss! Go an' boil your blinkin' heads, the bloomin' lot of you!\" He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the replies.\n\n\"Nighty-night, Cooky!\"\n\n\"Not staying up to plan breakfast then, Cooky?\"\n\n\"I expect he has a special menu writer to do it for him back home at Redwall, don't you, Cooky?\"\n\n\"A leader with stout paws, a wise ruler of an Abbey an' a cooky with a heart o' gold. Ain't we the lucky ones!\"\n\nNext day dawned on the wasteland, a warm flood of glorious colours, muted by dusty haze. The travellers ate a cold breakfast, eager to be on their way. Toobledum lingered, gossiping and trying to spin the meal out. It was only after gentle prodding that Bragoon urged the dormouse to get under way. Saro took Bubbub's lead, and Springald volunteered to pull the cart. They took up the rear, while Toobledum walked in front with Horty and Fenna. Ambling slowly along, the dormouse chatted with them.\n\nThey had been marching awhile, when Bragoon began having suspicions about the route. He called to Toobledum, who was still talking at length with Horty and Fenna, \"Now then, matey, when d'ye reckon we'll be at Loamhedge?\"\n\nWithout turning around, the dormouse shouted his answer. \"Oh, it won't be 'til after lunch, I'm thinking. But don't ye fret, we're makin' fair progress, one an' all.\"\n\nNodding knowingly, the otter whispered to Saro. \"Aye, I thought so, this ole buffer's got us on a vinegar trip.\"\n\nShe glanced quizzically at the otter. \"Wot are ye talkin' about, mate?\"\n\nKeeping his voice low, Bragoon explained. \"See those hills off to the right? We've been followin' them east instead o' south. Can ye see 'ow slow Toobledum's walkin', did ye notice how he lingered over brekkist?\"\n\nSaro was becoming impatient. \"Spit it out, mate. Wot's goin' on?\"\n\nThe otter conveyed his thoughts to her. \"Well, we ain't exactly goin' the wrong way, the dormouse'll get us there, sooner or later. But he's stringin' the trip out so we'll feed 'im agin at lunchtime. Trouble is, the old feller loves vittles too much, an' he mightn't have much food at 'ome. So he wants to scoff our rations an' have Horty doin' all the cookin' for 'im!\"\n\nSaro looked down at Bubbub. \"Is that right?\"\n\nThe little sand lizard grinned and nodded as the squirrel patted him. \"Well, the crafty ole grubswiper!\"\n\nBragoon winked at her. \"I'll fix that fat swindler, mate!\"\n\nHe called aloud to Toobledum. \"We ain't stopping fer lunch. Best press on to Loamhedge. When we arrives we'll have a big lunch an' a good rest.\"\n\nThe dormouse immediately altered course and speeded up, heading for the hills as he answered. \"Aye, good idea. Foller me, I've just remembered a good shortcut. We'll be there afore ye know it!\"\n\nSaro whispered to Bragoon. \"Lookit liddle Bubbub there, I'll swear he just sniggered.\"\n\n##\n\nIn less than an hour the travellers had reached the hilltops. Below them the land took on a complete change. Gone was the arid dusty wasteland, replaced with an expansive green valley\u2014not lush green like Mossflower woodlands but pleasant enough to appear refreshingly welcome to desert travellers. The whole area in the dip of the vale was dotted with brush, heather, grass and some stunted trees.\n\nToobledum whipped off his hat and made a sweeping gesture. \"There 'tis, one an' all. Loam'edge!\"\n\nHalfway down the slope, Fenna stooped to pick a few daisies. She crumbled some earth in her paws and sniffed it. \"This was probably rich fertile country in some bygone time.\"\n\nThe dormouse watched her braid the flowers into her tailbush. \"Most likely it was, young missy. Mebbe those mice who lived around 'ere long ago tended the land an' farmed it t'keep it that way.\"\n\nHorty stared about. \"Don't see any streams or runnin' water.\"\n\nToobledum plucked a daisy stem and chewed on it. \"There's underground water at the middle o' the valley. I gets it cold'n'sweet from a well down there. Once we crosses the Abbey boundary I'll take ye to it.\"\n\nThey carried on downhill. When the dormouse was almost on level ground he kicked aside some long grass and shrubbery. \"See 'ere, that's the top o' the ole boundary wall. It must've collapsed an' been buried in the long ago, when the ground used to dance an' shake.\"\n\nHe exposed a line of coping stones, each one decorated with a skilful carving of a mouse. Toobledum straightened up, arching his back as he gestured around the valley bottom. \"If'n ye takes the trouble, an' yore fond o' diggin', y'can follow it all around in a big square. I've never bothered meself, 'cept when I needs stones for me 'ouse. Right then, come on one an' all, don't shilly-shally, 'tis lunchtime.\"\n\nThey followed the old dormouse into a grove of stunted, knobbly trees, stopping as they reached a rickety hut, a rambling structure knocked together from odds and ends of stone, timber and debris.\n\nToobledum announced proudly, \"Well, this is it, one an' all, me likkle 'ome. Me'n Bubbub wouldn't trade it fer a palace!\" He set about lighting a fire beneath a rock slab oven, which stood outside the front door. Bubbub frisked happily about as the old dormouse sang.\n\n\"All round an' round the land ye well may roam,\n\nlots o' places I 'ave rambled, far'n'near,\n\nbut there ain't no nicer nest than me ol' 'ome,\n\n'tis so comfy an' we loves it, oh so dear.\n\nThe moment that we gets 'ere, me an' me likkle mate,\n\nwe lights a fire an' puts the kettle on,\n\nthough we ain't got much to eat, we gets along just great,\n\n'cos two kin live 'ere just as well as one.\"\n\nBragoon had a quiet word with Horty. \"Give 'em all we can spare from the rations. Make it a lunch to remember for the ole beast an' Bubbub.\"\n\nThe young hare saluted smartly. \"To hear is to obey, O Wise Otter, sah. I'll make it a spread that none of us'll forget!\"\n\nFenna blew a sigh. \"As long as you don't serve us fried fruit salad again!\"\n\nHorty began rummaging through their meagre supplies. \"Pish tush, miss! I shall treat that remark with the blinkin' contempt it bally well deserves, wot!\"\n\nHe did, however, cook a very passable meal. Drawing water from the dormouse's well, Horty produced a tasty vegetable soup and some scones and honey, with penny- cress and comfrey cordial to wash it down.\n\nSaro ate it with relish but could not resist a wry remark. \"Mmm, tastes good, but I ain't even goin' to ask wot's in it.\"\n\nHorty licked honey from his paws and reached for another scone. \"Just as well really, marm. Wild frogs wouldn't drag the recipe from me. We cooks have our secrets, y'know!\"\n\nToobledum and Bubbub did the lunch full justice. Springald was astounded at the amount the little lizard ate.\n\nThe dormouse just laughed at Bubbub's appetite. \"Proper likkle famine face, ain't he?\"\n\nBragoon began questioning Toobledum, warming to the aim of their quest. \"This spot we're searchin' for, it's a grave I think. Lissen to these few lines, mate, an' see if'n ye can throw any light on 'em.\n\n\"Beneath the flower that never grows,\n\nSylvaticus lies in repose.\n\nMy secret is entombed with her,\n\nlook and think what you see there.\"\n\n\"I want ye to pay attention, Toobledum. Do ye know anyplace 'ereabouts that sounds like wot I've just said?\"\n\nThe dormouse pulled down his hat brim, muttering darkly, \"That'll be the dead place. We never goes over there, do we, mate?\"\n\nBubbub snuggled tight against the dormouse and shook his head.\n\nSpringald pursued the enquiry. \"Whyever not? The dead never hurt anybeast, and I wager those buried there have been dead long before you were born.\"\n\nToobledum shook his head. \"Say wot ye likes, miss, but there's nights when the wind blows an' I've 'eard 'em moanin'.\"\n\nHorty took a light view of this sinister statement. \"Maybe they get jolly hungry down there. Come on, old scout, up on your hunkers an' show us where the old graveyard is, wot!\"\n\nThe dormouse refused flatly. \"I ain't goin' nowheres near that place, ye can go an' see it for yoreselves. Walk south across the valley until ye see flat stones. They're all laid this way an' that, ye can't miss 'em. That's the buryin' garden. I think it was once inside the ole Abbey. I've only been there once, an' I ain't goin' there agin, nohow!\"\n\nLeaving the dormouse and his lizard, the five travellers set out, following his directions.\n\nThe ancient burying place was quiet and peaceful in the noontide sun. A few bees hummed, and grasshoppers chirruped on the still, warm air.\n\nSaro sat down on one of the flat stones and looked about. \"Nice ole spot, ain't it. Sort of a garden o' memories.\"\n\nFenna brushed the dust from a lopsided oblong of limestone. \"See what this says: Sister Ethnilla, victim of the great sickness, gone to the sunny slopes and silent streams.\"\n\nBragoon traced a paw across the graven words. \"Pore creature, there must be a lot of her kind buried 'ere. Sunny slopes an' quiet streams, eh? I like that.\"\n\nSpringald and Horty were inspecting the stones further afield.\n\nThe young hare's voice interrupted the otter's reverie. \"I say, you chaps, what was the name we were lookin' for, Sivvylaticus or somesuch? I think I've found it. Yoooohaaaw!\"\n\nBragoon sprang upright as Horty's yell disturbed the peace. \"Wot's that lop-eared noisebag up to now?\"\n\nSpringald was shouting. \"Over here, quick, Horty's fallen down a grave!\"\n\nThey dashed over to where the mousemaid was hopping about agitatedly as she pointed to a yawning dark hole. \"Down there, he's fallen right through. One moment he was standing, pointing to this big stone, then something broke and he vanished!\"\n\nThe otter pulled her aside. \"Stand clear, miss, or ye might be the next one to disappear.\" He called down into the pitch-black space. \"Horty, are ye alright, mate?\"\n\nThere was no reply, just a faint echo of his own voice.\n\n##\n\nRaga Bol was at his wit's end; the Searat crew had begun to desert. He kicked out at Firzin, a rat he had posted on the main gate, screaming, \"Wot'n the name o' thunder d'ye mean, nobeast has got by ye all day? Did ye unlock this gate fer anythin'?\"\n\nFirzin cringed against the gate, which he had guarded faithfully on his captain's orders. \"On me oath, Cap'n, I've kept the gate tight locked!\"\n\nBol glared this way and that, slashing at the air with his scimitar. \"The walltops are too high for 'em to jump, so how've they got out? Rinj, wot d'you think?\"\n\nRinj, who had been close to Bol all day, shrugged. \"Wot about those liddle gates, Cap'n? There's one in the middle of each of the three outer walls. Bet they went through them, eh?\" The Searat captain's gold fangs flashed as he snarled. \"I told Argubb to post guards on those wallgates this mornin'. Go an' see if'n they're still there!\"\n\nRinj sidled out of the scimitar's range. \"They 'ad to stand in plain sight o' the winders, Cap'n. That big stripedog took the three of 'em out wid his arrers.\"\n\nRaga Bol peered around the wall buttress, which was sheltering him and his two crewrats from the Abbey windows. \"Get in the gate'ouse, both of ye, quick!\"\n\nThe three rats crouched, swerving in a dead run around the buttress. They made it into the gatehouse and slammed the door. The timbers shook as an arrow hit the door, its barbed point showing through the wood.\n\nFirzin wailed, \"We're all deadbeasts if'n we stay in this place. There ain't nowhere to 'ide from the stripedog!\"\n\nOne icy glare from his captain was sufficient to frighten the Searat into silence. Bol looked from one to the other, his face deadly calm, his voice low. \"Wot's the number o' crew left d'ye reckon, Rinj?\"\n\nThe rat thought for a moment. \"Just over a score, Cap'n. That's countin' us three.\"\n\nSince early that day, Raga Bol had been scheming furiously. His back was against the wall, but he was determined that eventually he would triumph. Then it came to his mind in a flash\u2014he knew that he had the answer. All he had to do was convince his crew.\n\nSlumping down in an armchair, he shook his head sadly, acting more like one of the Searat messmates than their captain. \"No more'n a score left out o' fifty, eh? I tell ye, mates, 'tis a sorry day. I suppose every one of ye wants t'see the back o' this place now. Speak up, I won't harm ye.\"\n\nFirzin summoned up his courage. \"Aye, Cap'n, they're all sayin' we're deadbeasts if'n we stays at this Abbey. Ain't that right, Rinj?\"\n\nThe other rat nodded. \"Aye, mate, gettin' away from 'ere's the sensible thing to do, shore enough.\"\n\nRaga Bol gave a rueful little smile, as if in agreement. \"Mebbe yore right. But just think, mates, if we'd 'ave killed the stripedog an' won, eh? Redwall woulda been ours! The good life, me buckoes! Everybeast of us'd be livin' like kings now, wid slaves, loot, vittles an' a place t'call 'ome fer the winter. Strange 'ow things turn out, ain't it? Now we got to cut'n'run, all because o' one stripedog who should've been dead now by rights.\n\n\"Aye, we've got no ship, we're a season's march from saltwater an' I've lost near a score an' a half of the best Searats a cap'n ever 'ad. Now we got nothin', we'll 'ave to tramp the land like beggars.\"\n\nRinj and Firzin had never seen their captain like this before. They shuffled their footpaws and tails awkwardly.\n\nThen Bol dropped a single word: \"Unless!\" Both crewrats were immediately curious.\n\n\"Unless wot, Cap'n?\"\n\n\"Have ye got a plan, Cap'n?\"\n\nRaga Bol leaned forward, his eyes gleaming craftily. \"Hoho, mates, I got a plan alright. Now 'earken t'me an' lissen!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul and Toran were sitting in the kitchens. They looked up as Martha entered. The ottercook indicated a heap of arrows, lying ready on the table.\n\n\"Does 'e want more shafts?\"\n\nThe haremaid shook her head. \"Not at the moment. Granmum Gurvel and I have piled arrows at every windowsill.\"\n\nThe Abbot poured her a beaker of cold mint tea. \"What's going on out there, Martha? You and old Gurvel are the only ones who can get close to Lonna. What's he up to?\"\n\nMartha took a sip of the tea. \"It's all quiet at the moment. He's roaming the upper corridors, watching from the windows. It's dreadful out there\u2014dead Searats by the pond, on the walls and by the orchard. I think a few of them have deserted, gone through the east wallgate into the woods. Lonna is still prowling about watching the grounds, though he seems to have calmed down a little. It was frightening just to set eyes on him this morning!\"\n\nToran brought out a stool for Martha to sit upon. \"Mayhaps the Searats are gettin' ready to leave, or it might only be the calm afore the storm. Who knows wot Raga Bol's got in that evil brain\u2014another scheme, per'aps. We'll just have t'sit an' wait. Wot d'ye think Martha?\"\n\nThe haremaid rested her weary footpaws. It had not been an easy day so far, running up and down stairs, keeping the badger supplied with arrows. \"I think it's gone too quiet, Toran. But who knows how things will turn out? Like you say, we'll have to wait and see.\"\n\nSister Setiva had been listening from the kitchen doorway. \"Och, all this waitin'! Everybeasts's keepin' busy, ye ken. They're all doon in Cavern Hole makin' arrows, even the Dibbuns. Ah've come tae make some food for them. Most of us have no taken a bite since breakfast!\"\n\nToran busied himself, glad for something to do. \"Leave it t'me, Sister. I'd forgotten about vittles today. Gurvel's helpin' Martha. I should've realised we 'ad no cook.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul climbed down from his stool. \"Here, let me help you, Toran. It's not right that my Redwallers should go hungry, even in times like these!\"\n\nLate afternoon slid into evening. Over beyond the west wall the sun set in solitary splendour. A wash of gold and purple suffused the sky, with blood red at its centre.\n\nLonna stood alone at the front dormitory windows. He rested against a sill, keeping watch on the gatehouse and its buttressed corner by the main gate. Now that there had been a few hours' lull from any action, the Bloodwrath had receded from him. His massive frame had relaxed. Lonna felt drained and weary, not having slept in almost two days and nights. Gradually night edged in, bringing with it a soft breeze to cool away the day's heat. Lonna began blinking a lot, nearly causing the bow to slip from his grasp. Rubbing his eyes and shaking himself, the big badger peered into the darkness, trying to keep his vision fixed on the gatehouse area. Then the voice sounded out.\n\nLonna came instantly alert as he identified Raga Bol's rasping tones, calling from somewhere over by the buttress where his arrows could not reach.\n\n\"Ahoy, stripedog, I see ye! Still hidin' in there be'ind the Abbot's skirts, are ye? Does yore wound still pain ye? Haharr, I should've gone for the neck an' chopped yore 'ead off! Don't worry, stripedog, Raga Bol ain't goin' nowhere. I slayed the old stripedog an' I kin finish ye, too!\"\n\nBrother Weld, who had been checking the window barricades in Great Hall, came hurrying into Cavern Hole. \"There's something happening outside. I can hear the Searat captain shouting to the big badger!\"\n\nToran bounded to the stairs. \"Sister Setiva, Sister Portula, keep the little 'uns down 'ere! Anybeast who's able enough, bring a weapon an' foller me! Does anyone know where Lonna is?\"\n\nMartha seized a ladle. \"He was going toward the dormitories at the front when I left him.\"\n\nThe ottercook wielded the big bung mallet, which had once belonged to Junty Cellarhog. \"Let's see if'n he's there!\"\n\nMartha and Toran burst into the dormitory, at the head of a band of Abbeydwellers. The haremaid could see Lonna's powerful back, silhouetted in the open window frame. He was shaking with rage but silent. Raga Bol was still taunting him from somewhere outside.\n\n\"I don't slay my enemies from a distance with arrers, that ain't the way a real warrior fights! But keep yore distance if'n yore scared o' Raga Bol. Come out 'ere, ye coward, an' I'll slice the other side of yer face off afore I leaves the birds to pick over yore carcass!\"\n\nLonna leaped up onto the windowsill, roaring, \"I'll fight you any way you like, you murdering scum!\"\n\nToran leapt forward and grabbed Lonna's footpaw. \"Don't go, mate, 'tis a trap. There's still plenty o' Searats out there. Ye'll be surrounded!\"\n\nThe badger dealt Toran a kick, knocking him backward. Raga Bol was visible now, standing slightly to the right on the lawn.\n\nPaws on hips, the big Searat laughed mockingly. \"Haharrharr! 'Ere I am, scarmuzzle! Come an' meet me paw't'claw widout yore bow'n'arrers fer once. Bring the magic sword an' cross blades wid Raga Bol if ye dare!\"\n\n\"Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!\" Nothing could stop the giant badger now. Bellowing his warcry, Lonna jumped from the dormitory window. Luckily, the huge hill of rubble blocking the Abbey door had dried out in the sun. He landed upon it and managed to stay upright. Scrambling and rolling, he thundered down toward the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, Toran went over the sill after him, with Martha and the rest in his wake.\n\nRaga Bol held the glittering scimitar ready to strike, the silver hook on his other pawstump whirling in readiness. He stood awaiting the badger's charge, about a spear's throw from the north wall.\n\nMartha caught up with Toran. She pointed to the north walltop. \"Quick, up there, that's where the Searats are!\"\n\nThe ottercook veered, heading for the steps as he called to Martha. \"Split up, take half our beasts down to the east steps. I'll go up the north stairs. Weld, Gelf, Foremole, you come with me!\"\n\nOblivious of everything except Raga Bol waiting in his path, Lonna rushed straight at his enemy, armed only with his teeth and claws.\n\nBol, judging the moment when the badger was within three paces of him, dropped down, yelling out, \"Spears, now!\"\n\nLonna did not even bother to dodge the flying spears; three missed him, but one struck his left shoulder. He whipped it out and flung it aside, ignoring the wound. The Bloodwrath was upon him, his eyes red as the sunset he had watched a few hours earlier. His teeth shone from his scarred features in a savage snarl as his huge, blunt claws sought the kneeling Searat captain. Bol was halfway up when the badger grabbed his neck and swung him off the ground.\n\nRaga Bol emitted one strangled gurgle. Then four spears, thrown by the captain's own Searats and intended for the badger, buried their blades in Raga Bol's back instead. He died, hanging there like a rag doll in the grip of his mighty foe. The last thing he saw was Lonna Bowstripe roaring into his face.\n\n\"Go through Hellgates and burn, rat! Eulaliiiiaaaaaa!\"\n\nHolding the limp body in front of him, Lonna charged the wall, bulling up the stairs behind Toran like a juggernaut.\n\nThe ottercook shouted to his helpers. \"Look out, get to the west wall, let the badger pass! Martha, back off! Git those beasts down t'the lawn!\"\n\nThe haremaid, who saw what was happening, turned swiftly to the Redwallers behind her. \"Get out of the way. Downstairs, now!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul confronted her, his blood roused. He waved a sweeping broom, yelling fiercely. \"Let me at those rats. I'll drive them from Redwall, the filthy invaders. How dare they attack my Abbey!\" He was grabbed by two stout moles and hustled down the wallsteps.\n\nThe ramparts became a scene of chaos. Using Raga Bol as a flail, Lonna swept Searats left and right. Some were knocked over the battlements, their broken bodies thudding to the woodland floor outside the walls. Any who were unfortunate enough to fall onto the lawn inside the Abbey grounds were dealt with by a horde of Redwallers, each eager to be mentioned thereafter as a beast who had taken part in the battle to win back their Abbey.\n\nLonna stood on the empty walkway, his chest heaving like a bellows, blood oozing from a dozen different wounds. The carcass of Raga Bol resembled a grotesque, oversized pincushion, pierced by an array of spears from Searats who had tried to fend off the badger's advance.\n\nCautiously, Toran and his helpers approached from the west walltop. They froze as Lonna whirled around to face them, still holding Raga Bol's slain body, the spears hanging from it rattling against the battlements. With a powerful heave, the big badger tossed his onetime enemy over the wall, listening to his body clattering through the tree limbs. Smiling like a Dibbun who had just learned a new trick, Lonna Bowstripe sat down, letting his footpaws dangle over the lawn.\n\n\"When Martha brought me to Redwall, I hoped I could be of some help to you.\"\n\nThe ottercook sat down beside him. \"Aye, an' that ye were, mate, that ye were!\"\n\nWoodpigeons were startled from their roosts in Mossflower woodlands. They wheeled about in the night air, wondering why the bells of Redwall Abbey were pealing and booming out at such a late hour.\n\n##\n\nBragoon crouched, staring down into the pit of the open grave where Horty had disappeared. Saro was fashioning a torch from twigs, grass and moss. Fenna lay flat on the edge of the hole, calling down.\n\n\"Horty, if you can hear me, then shout out!\"\n\nSpringald centred the light of her chunk of rock crystal on the torchtop. Magnified sunrays produced a wisp of smoke, which grew into a small flame. Saro wafted it into a fire.\n\n\"I'm the climber, let me go first. Spring an' Fenna, ye stay up 'ere in case we need anythin'. Fetch the rope, Brag.\" Lowering herself over the edge, the aging squirrel dropped a bit, then landed on something solid.\n\n\"Stone steps, look!\"\n\nA dusty flight of narrow steps ran curving downward into the darkness. Bragoon coiled the rope about his shoulders and followed her carefully. \"Slow down, mate\u2014we don't want t'lose you, too!\"\n\nSpringald and Fenna watched until the light vanished around the curve, down into the gloom.\n\nThe mousemaid shuddered as she sat down by the broken covering stone. \"I don't like this place anymore. It looked so peaceful and sunny at first, but now there's something about it that gives me the shivers. No wonder Toobledum wouldn't come here. I hope Horty's alright.\"\n\nFenna was studying the big dark headstone, perched sideways at a crazy angle. \"Horty's indestructible, you'll see.\"\n\nBragoon's head appeared at ground level. \"Yore right there, miss. Lend a paw, you two!\"\n\nSaro was on the step behind him. Between them they carried the slumped form of Horty. Heaving and pulling, the four friends managed to lift the young hare onto solid ground, where he curled up as if asleep.\n\nSaro patted his back. \"He took a fall an' landed on the left side of his head. Pore Horty's got a fat ear, but there's no real harm done.\"\n\nFenna soaked some moss and dabbed at the swollen ear. \"He's taken his share of knocks on this trip. That's a real thick ear he's got there.\"\n\nThe damp poultice must have worked: Horty groaned and tried to sit up but fell back, complaining miserably. \"Yowch, I am awake! I say, d'you mind awfully not scrubbin' a chap's wounded ear with that filthy wet stuff. It stings like jolly blue blazes!\"\n\nSpringald took out a flask of cordial which she had brought along. \"Could you manage a sip of this?\"\n\nHorty grabbed it and downed the lot in three big gulps. \"Not that it'll do the noble young ear much good, but I've managed to wet my parched lips with it. Ooh, my achin' lug!\"\n\nFenna supported his head. \"Poor Horty, it must hurt terribly.\"\n\nThe young hare put on a pitiful face. \"I must be close t'death. I say Fenn, old scout, you don't happen to have a bite of scoff about you, wot?\"\n\nBragoon stifled a laugh. \"Nothin' much wrong wid that 'un! Keep an eye on 'im, you two. We're goin' back down to take a look round there. Pass me some more wood an' grass, Fenn. We got to keep the torch alight.\"\n\nFenna bundled her cloak under Horty's head. As the squirrelmaid began gathering more fuel for the torch, she shared her latest discovery with her companions.\n\n\"Now I know why Toobledum could hear moaning on windy nights from the buryin' place. See that big dark stone, it's the one that marked this grave. There's words carved on it. Listen. 'Sylvaticus. First Mother Abbot of Loamhedge Abbey. Loved by all creatures. Long in seasons and wisdom. Gone to her final rest. Forever in our thoughts.' This is the very grave we've been seeking.\"\n\nFenna indicated the beautifully carved motif at the top of the headstone. It was a lily in full bloom with a graceful stem sprouting curved and fluted leaves. The entire design was pierced right through the stonework. The squirrelmaid traced it with her paw.\n\n\"This is the flower that never dies. I'll wager that the wind sings an eerie song through this carving on windy nights. You can't blame Toobledum for steering clear of here.\"\n\nBragoon regarded her with admiration. \"Yore a bright young 'un, Fenn, that was well thought out. Take care of Horty now, we'll be back afore ye know it.\"\n\nFor the second time, the two old friends descended the stairs.\n\nNot one to let an injury slip by unnoticed, Horty made the most of his thick ear as the two Abbeymaids ministered to him. \"Salad! Now that's the very stuff for a swollen ear, wot! Any hare'll tell you, salad's just the thing, an' lots of it. Hold hard there, Spring old gel, what's that sloppy mess? Tut tut, marm, you ain't physickin' me with that rubbish!\"\n\nSpringald cradled the mixture in a dockleaf. \"Don't be such a Dibbun, Horty Braebuck. It's a mud-and-moss poultice that will do your ear a power of good. Hold him, Fenn!\"\n\nHorty struggled in the squirrelmaid's firm grip. \"Gerroff me, you flamin' torturesses. I'll bet you took lessons from Sister Setiva on how to persecute wounded beasts. Yugh! That dreadful gloop's gone right down me bloomin' ear. You've done it now, I'll be deaf on one side for the rest of me short young life. Rotters!\"\n\nSpringald tugged the hare's good ear sharply. \"Do hold still! What can you expect if you hop about like that? Now, I'll just dress it with some dock leaves.\"\n\nHorty looked blankly at her. \"What rock thieves? Speak up!\"\n\nWhen the dressing was completed, he lay down in a sulk, while Springald cast a glance at the grave. \"They've been gone an awfully long time. What d'you think, shall we go down there and check on them?\"\n\nFenna nodded eagerly. \"Yes, let's do that. You stay here, Horty. Take a nap or something.\"\n\nThey dropped over the edge onto the stairs, with their former patient calling after them.\n\n\"I say, what's a cap an' a dumpling? What's up, have you both gone mad?\"\n\nHolding paws, Springald and Fenna managed the steps and, placing their backs against the rough stone wall, crept forward cautiously. The ground took a curve, dipping steeply. Slowly stumbling on, in total darkness, they were relieved to see the faint glow of a torch ahead. The muted voices of their friends could be heard.\n\nFenna called out to them. \"Saro, Brag, is that you? We've come down for a little peek.\"\n\nThe otter's voice, which sounded rather grumpy, echoed back at them. \"I told ye t'stay on top, you should be mindin' Horty. Who knows wot that buffoon'll be up to be'ind our backs!\"\n\nSaro's voice interrupted him. \"Oh, there's no harm done, mate. Let 'em come an' take a look.\"\n\nIt was quite a sight. The passage opened up into an underground chamber, lined with stone walls. At its centre stood a plinth, littered with old bones and a white cloth habit that had faded to the texture of a cobweb. In front of the plinth lay what had once been a chair with wheels but now was little more than a small heap of dry, insect-bored sticks. There were two more torches in wall sconces on one wall behind the plinth.\n\nAfter Saro had lit them, she gestured about with her own guttering torch. \"Well, this is it, mates. We've travelled long'n'far, just to find this sad ole lot. Those bones are wot's left o' pore Abbess Sylvaticus. But can ye guess wot those rotted sticks are?\"\n\nSpringald picked up a piece of the timber in her paw. It crumbled to dust. \"Don't tell me, this was the chair once used by Sister Amyl. Those little round black stones with holes in them must have been its wheels. Huh, they're the only things recognisable after all this time.\"\n\nCrouching down, Bragoon sifted through the debris with his swordpoint. \"Must've been 'ere thousands of seasons. How did the rhyme go . . .\n\n\"Beneath the flower that never grows,\n\nSylvaticus lies in repose.\n\nMy secret is entombed with her,\n\nlook and think what you see there.\n\nA prison with four legs which moved,\n\nyet it could walk nowhere,\n\nwhose arms lacked paws, but yet they held,\n\na wretched captive there.\"\n\nBragoon rose up and put away his blade. \"Aye, that's Sister Amyl's chair, sure enough, but where's the Sister's secret?\"\n\nSaro gnawed at her lip. \"Imagine pore young Martha when we get back an' tell 'er there was nought but a pile o' dust an' four black stones!\"\n\nSpringald hung her head miserably. \"It doesn't bear thinking about. Now I wish we'd never found it.\"\n\nFenna retrieved the four little black stone wheels. She stowed two in her belt pouch and gave the other two to Springald. \"At least these'll prove we've been here. Come on, Spring, let's go back and see how Horty's doing.\"\n\nBragoon gave them one of the torches to guide them out. \"Aye, you young 'uns go an' do that. Me'n my ole mate are goin' to stay down here awhile an' search.\"\n\nFenna shrugged glumly. \"Waste of time, there's nothing left to search for. Oh well, please yourselves.\"\n\nThe otter cautioned them. \"Don't mention anythin' to Horty, wot with Miss Martha bein' 'is sister an' all that. Tell 'im we're still searchin'. Better still, take Horty back to ole Toobledum's 'ouse an' wait fer us there. We shouldn't be too long. Will ye do that for me?\"\n\nThey nodded and trudged back to Horty.\n\nToobledum had taken the liberty of making a meal for them from the remnants of the ration packs. His little sand lizard capered about on its back paws, delighted to see the young ones returning.\n\nThe old dormouse proudly raised his floppy hat. \"Sit down, one an' all, see wot I cooked up for ye. Me'n likkle Bubbub did ye a stew. 'Tis made of all things good, wid an apple crumble fer afters an' a drop o' me own special whortleberry cup brew to drink. Ho dear, wot 'appened to pore master Horty?\"\n\nHorty blinked oddly at the dormouse. \"What the dickens is the old chap wafflin' about? Who's he goin' to plaster for being naughty, wot?\"\n\nFenna roared down his good ear. \"He said, What's happened to poor master Horty!\"\n\nThe young hare waggled a paw in his good ear. \"No need to bellow, miss!\"\n\nThen he turned to Toobledum. \"Ah, well may you ask, little fat sir. I suffered a dreadful injury to the old ear, but I'm keepin' jolly brave about it. Mmmm, nothin' wrong with a chap's nose, though! That stew smells like just the ticket. Whack me out a large portion, sir dormouse, looks like a splendid cure for thickearitis!\"\n\nToobledum humoured Horty by giving him a large bowlful. The young hare was halfway through it when he held the bowl out. \"Don't stint on the stew, I always say. Never mind Brag'n'Saro, they're far too old to appreciate good scoff. I say, those two relics should be back by now. Huh, loiterin' around graveyards, bloomin' bad form, they'll go all morbid.\"\n\nIt was over an hour before the two searchers made an appearance. The dormouse and Bubbub welcomed them back. Springald gave them two bowls she had washed out. \"Toobledum made some delicious stew, but you'd better get some fast before Horty hogs it all down.\"\n\nThe young hare looked up from a beaker of whortleberry cup. \"I heard that, marm. Why should frogs fall down? Complete gibberish if y'ask me, wot!\"\n\nSpringald waited until the two had finished eating before she enquired. \"Well, did you find anything?\"\n\nSaro smiled at Bragoon, who winked back at her as he sipped his drink. \"Hmm, whortleberry juice! 'Tis a while since I've tasted that. Used t'be me favourite drink at one time.\"\n\nFenna twirled her bushy tail impatiently. \"You haven't answered the question. Did you find anything?\"\n\nSaro tasted her drink, still smiling secretively. \"Aye, 'tis nice, a sweet taste. Mind ye, I was allus partial to a drop o' nettle beer, like those otterpals o' yores drinks, up on the north coast.\"\n\nHorty looked from one to the other. \"Who's seen a ghost?\"\n\nFenna fumed. \"Oh, put a cork in it, Horty! Now, Mister Bragoon, Madam Sarobando, will you answer the question. Please!\"\n\nOld Toobledum chuckled. \"Heeheehee, I knows ye found somethin', yore both sittin' there lookin' like a pair o' toads eatin' trifle. Put the young 'uns out their misery an' tell 'em, mates.\"\n\nThe otter produced a small cylinder of parchment. He tossed it from paw to paw. \"We found it\u2014this is Sister Amyl's secret.\"\n\nSpringald was about to reach for it, when Saro caught the cylinder and stowed it in her belt pouch. \"No ye don't, Spring, this is for none but Martha t'read!\"\n\nFenna pouted indignantly. \"How do you know that?\"\n\nBragoon raised his eyebrows. \"Because, miss clever clogs, it sez so on the parchment. Read it to 'em, mate.\"\n\nSaro took out the little scroll that had been tied with a few threads to keep it closed. On the outside was some tiny, squiggly writing. She peered at it closely, reading slow. \"Only the one who needs this shall know my secret!\"\n\nBragoon levelled a paw at them. \"None of you young 'uns needs to know, only Martha, 'cos she's the one who needs it. We haven't looked at it ourselves, out o' respect to Martha. So nobeast is goin' to find out Sister Amyl's secret except that young hare back at the Abbey o' Redwall. We're bound back there at tomorrer's dawn, with all 'aste!\"\n\nFenna, however, still had a question that needed answering. \"But we saw the place, there was absolutely nothing down there but bones, powdery wood and dust. How did you come to find it?\"\n\nBragoon paused briefly before launching into his explanation. \"It was at the bottom o' that stone thing where Abbess Sylvaticus lay . . .\"\n\nSpringald interrupted. \"The plinth, you mean?\"\n\nSaro nodded. \"Aye, the plinth, that was it. We was about to leave the place, when I took one o' those torches off'n the wall, 'cos our torch 'ad gone out. Well, I stubbed me footpaw on the bottom o' the plinth, an' one o' the stones came loose. Brag pulled it out an' there 'twas, lyin' as safe an' neat as ye like, be'ind a stone all that time.\"\n\nFenna pursued her enquiry. \"But why hadn't it turned to dust like everything else down there?\"\n\nBragoon picked something that resembled a tiny pellet from under his pawnail. \"See . . . beeswax. It was wrapped tight in dock leaves covered with beeswax. I tell ye, it was difficult, separatin' that liddle roll o' paper from the beeswax, but we did it!\"\n\nToobledum poured them more drink. \"Well done, mates, you found wot you was questin' for. I'm 'appy for ye, one an' all!\"\n\nHorty humphed. \"Three scones on a wall, ridiculous, wot?\"\n\nSaro pulled Horty upright. \"I've had enough o' this nonsense. Toobledum, bring me some 'ot water, not too 'ot, mind. Brag, lay Horty on one side, wid that muddy ear upwards, an sit on 'im. I couldn't put up with 'im talkin' rubbish all the way 'ome!\"\n\nHorty guffawed. \"Hawhawhaw! Walkin' cabbage an' a bone? Poor old Saro's finally gone off her rocker, wot!\"\n\nSudden panic struck as Bragoon pushed Horty down and sat on him. \"What the . . . ? Gerroff me, you great plank-tailed bounder! Good grief, what's that nutty old squirrel doin' with a jug o' steamin' water? Help, somebeast, help! They're tryin' to kill me! Murderers, assassins! Boilin' me blinkin' brain, an' just 'cos I scoffed three flamin' bowls of stew? Spring, Fenna, strike the cads with rocks'n'clubs, save me!\"\n\nBut no help was forthcoming. The otter held him tight whilst Saro washed out his ear with warm water. A moment later it was all over. Toobledum gently treated the young hare's cleaned-up ear.\n\n\"There there, Sir Horty, ye'll live t'cook agin. This is an ole dormouse remedy, my special ointment. I makes it wid sanicle, feverfew an' a few secret herbs. So, 'ow does that feel, young master?\"\n\nHorty relaxed, closing his eyes blissfully. \"Bloomin' marvellous, old top, me ear is at peace an' very comfortable. Amazin' thing, too, I can hear again!\"\n\nSaro wiped mud and moss from her paws. \"See, we never killed ye after all.\"\n\nSpringald muttered under her breath. \"Pity.\"\n\nBragoon whispered back to her. \"Shame we missed our chance.\"\n\nFenna's eyes twinkled as she chuckled along with them. \"Just think of the food we'd have saved without a hare to feed.\"\n\nHorty opened one eye and fixed them with a baleful stare. \"I heard all that, you rotters!\"\n\nThey burst into laughter; even little Bubbub did a squeaky giggle.\n\nDawn of the following day saw the travellers bidding farewell to the dormouse and his lizard.\n\nFenna hugged the pair fondly. \"Why don't you come with us to Redwall? You'd both be very welcome there.\"\n\nToobledum's hat wobbled as he shook his head. \"Nay, pretty miss, me'n likkle Bubbub wouldn't ever leave Loam'edge. We ain't got much, but 'tis 'ome to us.\"\n\nSaro stroked the little sand lizard one last time.\n\nBragoon clasped the old dormouse's paw warmly. \"As ye wish, matey, take care of each other, an' live happy. Good-bye an' good fortune to ye!\"\n\nStanding on the hilltop above the valley, the five travellers looked back. Bubbub was shaking his tail as Toobledum waved his hat and shouted, \"Fare ye well, one an' all, an' take our good wishes with ye!\"\n\nFenna wiped her eyes as they marched off into the wastelands. \"Those poor creatures, it must be terrible for them. Living that lonely life, and with so little to eat.\"\n\nBragoon ruffled her ears affectionately. \"Aye, they're both goodbeasts, Fenn. But don't ye go believin' all that ole dormouse told ye, miss. Yore too young an' soft'earted.\"\n\nHorty took a pull from his canteen, filled with fresh water from Toobledum's well. \"Steady on, I liked Toob an' Bub. Bit unkind to talk about the old chap like that, wot?\"\n\nSpringald agreed with him. \"I think so, too. They've only got each other for company, and they shared what little they have. Why shouldn't we believe what Toobledum said?\"\n\nThe otter cast a wry glance at his old friend. \"That dormouse is a hermit, he likes bein' alone. As fer not havin' much in the way o' vittles . . . tell 'em, Saro.\"\n\nThe aging squirrel explained. \"When I was swillin' Horty's ear out, I watched Toobledum goin' to fetch that special ointment. Hah, the ole fogy didn't think I could see 'im. He went into a corner an' lifted a floorstone. Do ye know wot was underneath it? A cellar, packed from wall t'wall wid vittles. Drinks, dried fruits, veggibles, nuts, enough t'feed an army fer ten seasons. That's 'ow short o' food Mister Toobledum was, mates. Brag saw it, too!\"\n\nHorty stopped in his tracks. \"Well, the flamin' old fraud, wolfin' down all our grub an' tellin' whoppin' fibs about havin' none himself. What a blinkin' cheek!\"\n\nFenna could hardly believe what she had heard. \"That's a shameful thing to do, the old liar!\"\n\nSpringald was about to add to their condemnation of Toobledum, when the otter cut in. \"Don't be too 'ard on the ole feller. Vittles an' drink is precious in this region. If ye've got none, yore a deadbeast. Toobledum was only thinkin' of hisself an' liddle Bubbub. We were just passin' visitors. Now that we've gone, he's got to provide for 'imself an' his mate. 'Tis called survival. Ye don't go dashin' to the first beast ye see an' offerin' them a cellarful o' grub, ye takes care of yore own first.\"\n\nFenna held up her paws. \"Alright, we understand, Toobledum's only doing what's best for himself and Bubbub. Please don't rub it in by telling us we're only young and we'll learn.\"\n\nSaro winked knowingly at her. \"Wouldn't dream of it . . . young 'un!\"\n\nA raven flew out of the great gorge. Soaring high, it hovered on the evening thermals, a dark sinister shape framed against the setting sun for a brief moment. Then it swept off southward. Down below, standing at one of the three cave entrances, a cloaked figure watched the bird's departure, then turned and went into the tunnel. Pushing through the mass of dark creatures, the cloaked one made its way to where the sulphurous flame burned constantly, a tall column of fire, giving off its acrid stench.\n\nKharanjul, the Great Wearet Slayer, stood waiting for the news his guard captain brought. The cloaked creature lay flat on the rocky floor and lifted its face.\n\n\"It is as ye said, Mighty Lord, the travellers are even now returning, to sully thy abyss with their presence!\"\n\nKharanjul's hideous face stared impassively down at the captain. \"Did Korvusa say when they would arrive in my domain?\"\n\nThe speaker lowered his eyes from the Wearet's piercing gaze. \"The bird said that they would reach the gorge rim in the second hour of darkness, Great Slayer.\"\n\nKharanjul's trident pointed at the messenger. \"Take a score of my creatures across, to the other side of the long tree. Hide there and await my signal.\"\n\nAccompanied by twenty spearbearers, the captain marched out, prepared to cross the tree trunk that spanned the forbidding drop.\n\nThe Wearet's harsh voice grated out, echoing around the cavern. \"None of the trespassers must be slain, they are to be taken alive . . . to die at my pleasure!\"\n\nThe dark masses rose, spearblades glinting as they chanted, \"Blood of the Wearet runs in thy veins, O Mighty Kharanjul. Ruler of the Abyss! Lord of Life and Death!\"\n\n##\n\nAbbot Carrul sat soaking up the warm morning sun at the orchard entrance. Folding his paws across his stomach, he smiled at Old Phredd, sitting across from him at the breakfast buffet table. The ancient hedgehog Gatekeeper was chatting away to a bumblebee, which had landed on the rim of his beaker.\n\n\"Dearie me, have you seen the mess those vermin made of my gatehouse? There's scrolls, books and parchments scattered about on the floor. One would think a herd of wild beasts had been living there. Hmm, they have really, haven't they?\"\n\nThe bee buzzed, vibrating its tiny wings. Phredd pointed a bony paw at it. \"Oh, that's easy for you to say, my friend. But the curtains have been ripped, the cupboards flung open and the bed linen will have to be scrubbed twice before I use it again. Thrice, even!\"\n\nCarrul reassured his old friend. \"Don't worry so! Stretch your paws and enjoy being outdoors in our own Abbey again. We've time aplenty to put everything right, Phredd\u2014the remainder of summer and all the autumn.\"\n\nForemole Dwurl and a crew of his worthies trundled up to the table. The mole tugged his snout in respectful salute. \"Me'n moi moles've cleared opp all ee gurt 'eap o' rubble wot was blocken ee h'Abbey door h'entrence, zurr. Et bee's ready furr use naow, arfter they'm scrubbed ee wuddwurk daown!\"\n\nCarrul beamed gratefully at the Foremole. \"Well done, Dwurl, come and have some more breakfast. There's lots of it left here, do help yourselves.\"\n\nDwurl and his molecrew, needing no second invitation, fell to with a will.\n\n\"Thankee, zurr. Much h'obliged oi'm shurr!\"\n\nToran and Martha came running across the lawn. The ottercook called out, \"Gangway, make room there, mates, two more 'ungry workers comin' in for second brekkist!\"\n\nCarrul indicated two spaces either side of himself. \"Well, what have you two been up to? I haven't seen you since first serving at dawn.\"\n\nMartha cut herself a slice of fruitcake. \"Unblocking the windows in Great Hall, Father. Brother Gelf says he's got extra panes in the attic storeroom. The Dibbuns have gone up there to sort them out with him.\"\n\nForemole Dwurl looked up from his mushroom pastie. \"Hurr, better'n sennin' they'm likkle villyuns into ee h'orchard to 'elp wid ee fruit'n'berries. Hurr hurr, they'm loike to h'eat umselfs sick afore sundaown!\"\n\nSister Setiva was next to put in an appearance. \"Och, ye should see the state o' yon dormitory, it's no fit for worms tae crawl in. Ah'm goin' tae need some bonny helpers tae make et habitable again. Martha lassie, have ye seen that braw badger taeday?\"\n\nThe haremaid shook her head. \"No, Sister, last beast to see him was Granmum Gurvel. He took a few scones from the kitchen and hurried off. Wonder where he's gone?\"\n\nToran supplied the answer. \"Lonna said he'd sworn to wipe out all the Searats. A few of 'em escaped yesterday by the wallgates. I saw 'im fillin' up his quiver, an' waxin' that big bow, after we left the walltop last night. I thought better of askin' 'im where he was bound.\"\n\nMartha poured pennycress cordial for the ottercook. \"I don't blame you, mate. Lonna can flare up like lightning. If and when he returns, I won't be pressing him about where he's been. I pity those Searats, though. If it were me, I'd have let them go. They've learned their lesson, and a hard and bloody one it was, too!\"\n\nOld Phredd spoke to a bowl of oatmeal he was finishing. \"Ah, but Martha isn't him, is she? Big badger warriors like that are different from anybeast. If he swore to wipe out all those Searats, well that's just what he'll do. Every one of them, down to the last rat!\"\n\nThe last rat was, in fact, running for his life, out on the western flatlands. His tongue lolled from one side of his mouth as he looked over his shoulder at the distant figure of the avenging giant. Lonna was standing still, a long distance away. The Searat stopped as well, collapsing in a heap, his limbs wobbling and trembling uncontrollably. Then he bared his stained fangs at the sky and laughed breathlessly.\n\n\"Haharrharr . . . Done it! Can't get me now, stripedog . . . Outta yore range now . . . I escaped ye . . . stripedog!\"\n\nThe big badger grunted with exertion as he leaned down on the bow, bending it so that he tightened the string by taking another loop around the end of the thick yew wood. He shed his quiver. Going through the arrows, Lonna selected one. Then, holding it to his eye, he peered down the shaft to check that it was straight and true. Spreading both footpaws, Lonna gripped the ground firmly, wetted his upper lip and raised his head to feel which way the breeze was blowing. Satisfied, he looked toward the Searat, gauging the distance. Then he placed the shaft on his bowstring and drew back. The string was resting against one scarred ear, the bow strained in a mighty arc to its full capacity. After glancing once more at the distant Searat, Lonna elevated the bow slightly skyward and let fly.\n\nThe Searat rose upright, waving his sword at the tiny figure out on the flatlands. \"Outran ye, stripedog! I beat ye, didn't I?\"\n\nA distant, blood-curdling cry answered him. \"Eulalillllaaaaaa!\"\n\nThe arrow came like a thunderbolt out of the blue.\n\nLonna strode out to view his last work of vengeance. Spread-eagled on the coarse grass, the Searat lay faceup. His eyes were wide open, staring at a sun that he would never see again, the long arrow standing out from the centre of his forehead.\n\nThe badger gazed down at the last rat of Raga Bol's once mighty crew. \"Nobeast can outrun Lonna Bowstripe's arrow. Nobeast!\"\n\nUnstringing the bow, Lonna placed it lengthways across his broad shoulders, resting his paws on the weapon. Turning his back on the Searat, he strode east through the high summer midday to Redwall Abbey.\n\nNight had fallen as the travellers neared the great gorge. They were weary after marching since early morning that day.\n\nBragoon called a halt within a short distance of the rim. \"We'll take a breather, but without any fires. Eat'n'drink wot ye need, 'cos we'll be leavin' the rest behind.\"\n\nHorty slumped down gratefully. \"I say, what's the point of leavin' bloomin' good scoff here? Silly if you ask me, wot!\"\n\nThe otter spoke in a low voice to the three young ones. \"Keep yore voices down 'til we're on the other side o' that gorge, mates. I didn't like the place last time we crossed it, an' I likes it even less now. We've got to travel fast'n'light when we crosses that big tree trunk, so keep yore wits sharp!\"\n\nSaro had the rope. She tied a short, thick piece of wood crosswise to one end of it. \"Those broken staves we stuck atop o' the other side should still be in place. If'n I throws it right, this chunk o' wood will lodge atween 'em, an' we can climb up sharpish.\"\n\nSpringald cast a worried glance at the pair. \"You two don't like that gorge one little bit, do you? Don't fret, we'll cross it as quick and quiet as you like.\"\n\nSaro tested the knot she had tied around the wood. \"Aye, you do that, Spring. I'll be in front of ye, an' Brag'll bring up the rear. Just do as yore told, an' everythin' will be alright. I don't like that gorge any more'n Brag does. That place has a bad feel to it!\"\n\nFenna's voice was small and shaky as she tried to make a joke. \"Don't worry about us. We're young and we've got a lot to learn, but we're willing to listen to experienced old fogies.\"\n\nGrasping her paw, Bragoon smiled in the darkness. \"That's the spirit, missy. Right! Up on yore hunkers, mates. Let's get ye safe back to Redwall.\"\n\nDrawing the sword of Martin from behind his shoulder, the otter led them off toward the rim.\n\nHorty took one rueful glance at the small heap of provisions on the ground, then uttered a small sigh. \"What a flamin' waste. Ah well, this is it, chaps, off we jolly well go!\"\n\nThe edge of the chasm loomed up, sooner than they had expected. Saro found the same boulder she had used on the previous trip. Making a wide loop in the rope's free end, she placed it about the big stone, lowering the end with the wood attached into the gorge below. Bragoon went first. Climbing carefully, he reached the ledge in front of the three cave entrances. He held the wood, so that it would not clack against the rock wall. Springald came next, followed by Horty, then Fenna. Saro was last to descend. She flipped the rope deftly, catching the end as it unlooped from the boulder and dropped down.\n\nBefore Bragoon stepped onto the tree trunk, he pressed something into Fenna's paw and whispered, \"Shove this in yore belt pouch, no questions.\" Without a word, the squirrelmaid stuffed the object into her pouch, then followed the otter out onto the tree trunk bridge.\n\nTotal silence and engulfing dark reigned in the yawning chasm. Holding one another's paws, the five travellers edged slowly forward, step by step. They were almost across to the far side when a harsh, evil laugh sounded out from behind them.\n\nSuddenly the lights of many smoking torches lit up the gorge. Saro turned, gasping at the incredible sight.\n\nKharanjul stood on the trunk, backed by an army of vermin, each holding a torch in one paw and a spear in the other. They were mainly ferrets and weasels, with a scattering of large rats among them. Everybeast's fur was thickly daubed with a sickly yellow-and-green substance, giving them a sinister, spectral appearance. But it was the horrific form of their leader that stood out.\n\nThe Wearet swung back his cloak, revealing a misshapen but powerfully bulky torso. As he gestured at them with a big, three-pronged trident, his monstrous face split into an ugly grin. \"Stop where ye stand, trespasser! You belong to Kharanjul, Lord of the Abyss! I will punish you for intruding on my domain!\"\n\nSaro pushed Horty forward. \"Keep goin', we're almost across!\"\n\nBragoon was about to jump from the log onto the opposite ledge, when a score of vermin rose up in front of him.\n\nThe captain, a tall weasel, snarled in his face. \"Stand still! Obey the Great Lord of Life and Death!\"\n\nThe otter laughed, then slew him with a single swordthrust. Catching the captain's spear as it fell, Bragoon tossed it back to Saro. \"Keep 'em busy, mate. Redwaaaaaallllll!\"\n\nHurling himself from the tree trunk, Bragoon roared like a madbeast as he dealt out death and destruction with the sword of Martin the Warrior. \"Heeeeeyaaaaaah! Grab some spears, young 'uns! No pack o' fancy-talkin' vermin are goin' to stop us Redwallers!\"\n\nHorty seized a long spear and was suddenly in the thick of the battle, whooping and bellowing. \"Forward the buffs, give 'em blood'n'vinegar. Chaaaaarge!\"\n\nBelting a weasel flying into the abyss, the young hare stood shoulder to shoulder with the otter\u2014cutting, thrusting and slashing. Springald and Fenna armed themselves with fallen spears. They turned to help Saro, but the aging squirrel would have none of it. Single-pawed, she held the centre of the log bridge, letting none pass. Using her spearblade, she slashed at a ferret, flaying his footpaw. He hopped off into midair and vanished screaming.\n\nSaro yelled at the two Abbeymaids. \"Take this rope an' see if ye can fix it t'the top. Then go an' help Brag an' Horty. I'm fine right 'ere, they can only come at me one at a time!\"\n\nThey obeyed her immediately. As they jumped off the tree trunk, a big rat charged Springald, but he vanished over the rim with a yowl of dismay when Fenna pushed him with her spearbutt.\n\nThe squirrelmaid was momentarily stunned. \"I've just slain somebeast!\"\n\nSpringald shouted. \"Good! Mind your back, Fenn!\"\n\nThe mousemaid deflected a spear with her own. She thrust and saw the look of surprised horror on the vermin's painted face as he fell dead.\n\nSteeling herself, Springald stood back to back with her friend. \"Keep fighting or we're deadbeasts!\"\n\nBragoon and Horty fought their way through to the side of the two maids. The otter despatched a charging weasel, then shouted, \"Gimme that rope, Spring. You three, cover my back!\" Grabbing the rope, he whirled it and flung it up, but it fell back. Bragoon whirled it once more, gritting his teeth against the swordblade held between them. This time his throw was good; the chunk of wood lodged between the two broken staves which they had fixed into the plateau. The otter swung his weight onto the rope, testing it. The rope held firm. He turned to the three young ones.\n\n\"Come on, mates, up y'go! Horty, take this sword, 'tis too short for fightin' spears with. Pass me yore spear an' get climbin'!\"\n\nHorty gave him the spear and took the sword, but the hare refused to climb up. There were six vermin left to face on their side. Slaying one with a slash to the throat, Horty shook his head. \"Let Spring an Fenn go, I'm stayin' here with you, sah. True blue an' never fail, that's us Braebucks, wot!\"\n\nThe otter whacked a vermin over the skull with his spear, then kicked him swiftly into the abyss. Blood was flowing from a wound on his forehead as he turned on Horty furiously. \"I said, git up that rope, hare. Do it now!\"\n\nBetween them they faced off a vermin, who was very fancy with his spearwork.\n\nHorty muttered rebelliously. \"I ain't goin', otter! I can't leave you an' Saro here to face that flamin' lot on your own!\"\n\nBragoon's eyes were blazing as he faced Horty. \"Wot did I tell ye, I'm in charge 'ere. Obey me . . . Argh!\"\n\nThe vermin's spearpoint took the otter through the footpaw. He pulled the spear from his foe's grasp, ran him through with it and booted him into oblivion. Livid with wrath, he rounded on the young hare. \"Don't argue wid me, mate! Yore young, like them two maids, you got all your lives ahead o' ye. Get that sword back to Redwall! Me'n Saro knows wot we're doin'. We can't look after three young 'uns who are still wet be'ind the ears, we've lived one summer too long fer all that! Now git up that rope, Horty, or I swear I'll run ye through wid this spear! Look after the two maids, live yore life for us. Now go!\"\n\nLeaving Horty one vermin to deal with, the otter turned and limped out onto the long tree trunk to help Sarobando.\n\nHorty downed the vermin in a perilous rage, needlessly striking at the foebeast's carcass. Springald and Fenna looked down from the top of the plateau, howling hoarsely at their young friend.\n\n\"Horty, come on, get up the rope!\"\n\n\"You must obey Bragoon, do as you're told!\"\n\nClamping the sword in his teeth, Horty ran to the rope. He took one backward look at Bragoon and Saro. Though wounded in a dozen places, they were still fighting savagely.\n\nReeling from a blow, Saro caught his eye and bellowed. \"Get to the top an' pull the rope up, or they'll come after ye an' slay those two maids. Go! Go!\"\n\nBlinded by tears of rage and helplessness, Horty went.\n\nKharanjul stood on the far ledge, urging his creatures forward. Seeing so many killed by the two old battlers who were holding off the advance, the Wearet took up his trident and went out to fight.\n\nThe vermin were still coming. Bragoon and Saro were bowed with fatigue, but covered in blood and severely injured, they were still taking on all comers. They fought side by side on the narrow causeway of timber, keeping their eyes on the advancing enemy, talking to each other as they thrust and parried.\n\nSaro panted. \"The young 'uns are gone. Pity we couldn't 'ave gone with 'em.\"\n\nBragoon dislodged a foebeast with his spear. \"Wot, y'mean back to Redwall? Don't think I could've stood it, mate, sittin' in the gate'ouse wid Old Phredd countin' me teeth as they fell out an' dozin' all day!\"\n\nSaro wiped blood from her eye and chuckled. \"Dibbuns climbin' all over us, ole Setiva physickin' away at us, wrappin' rugs round our laps in winter!\"\n\nBragoon caught a ferret in the throat with his spear. \"Might be even worse\u2014they could've sent us back to Abbey school. We'd 'ave Sister Portula teachin' us to readn'write'n'figger. No, that ain't fer us, pal!\"\n\nThe aging squirrel caught sight of Kharanjul advancing. \"Oh, look out, Brag, 'ere comes the big ugly mug. We'd better start backin' off. Blood'n'fur, lookit the size o' that monster, he must've ate some dinners with that fork!\"\n\nThe vermin advanced on them as they retreated. Sorely wounded and drained of strength, the two old friends continued to hack and slash. Vastly outnumbered by their adversaries, and knowing that they would be beaten and captured by Kharanjul, they crawled down from the long bridge, with one last desperate plan in mind.\n\nThe Wearet pressed forward, holding his lethal trident ready as he taunted his victims. \"The Lord of Life and Death will keep you alive. I will make your dying long and slow. Your companions escaped the Wearet, but you shall pay for them!\"\n\nBragoon and Sarobando were not listening. Between them they had jammed a half-dozen spearbutts under the end of the tree trunk. With a last mighty effort, both beasts put their shoulders to the spears, using them as levers.\n\nSaro gritted her teeth and growled. \"One, two, three. Push!\"\n\nThe long trunk moved askew, with a grating of wood on rock. Panic ensued out on the tree trunk, as vermin tried to run back to the other side. Some threw themselves flat and clung on.\n\nBragoon yelled above the din of wails and screams. \"She's movin', mate! Again, one, two, three! Push!\"\n\nKharanjul dropped his trident. Crouching low, he gripped the tree trunk, trying to move forward and reach his enemy. At last the mighty trunk of the tree, once called Lord of Mossflower, groaned like a living thing as it made a half-turn to one side and slid over the brink of the ledge.\n\nWith the effort of their final push, the two old warriors had fallen flat. They watched as the log seemed to hang for a split second in space, with Kharanjul's face looming in front of them. Then the whole trunk fell into the bottomless abyss. Screeches and shrieks rent the night air, swiftly fading to echoes. Down, down, into the dark gorge it all plunged\u2014the Wearet, his vermin army and the only solid bridge that had ever spanned the awesome space.\n\nBragoon and Saro lay there, staring down into the void, their paws clasped. The aging squirrel closed her eyes. \"Nice'n'peaceful 'ere now, mate, ain't it?\"\n\nThe otter gave her paw a faint squeeze. \"Aye, restful ye might say. Summer's a good time to lay down an' rest.\"\n\nNo longer able to keep them open, Bragoon slowly closed his eyes. \"Saro, ye recall wot it said on that gravestone at Loamhedge? Young Fenna read it out to us. I said I liked the sound of it.\"\n\nSaro nodded weakly. \"I remember, mate. It said 'Gone to the sunny slopes an' quiet streams.' I liked it, too.\"\n\nThe otter's voice grew fainter as he repeated the phrase. \"The sunny slopes an' quiet streams . . . I'll wait for ye there, Sarobando . . . Wouldn't go anyplace without ye.\" His paw went limp in the squirrel's failing grasp.\n\nShe smiled. \"Wait for me, Brag ole mate, I'll be there.\"\n\nTwo old warriors, who had left Redwall Abbey when they were Dibbuns, paw in paw, lay on the rockledge together. They never saw the sunrise that dawn, but they went on to the land of sunny slopes and quiet streams\u2014still holding paws.\n\n##\n\nSummer's days were growing short, passing gently into autumn. Redwall Abbey was restored to its former calm and grandeur. Abbot Carrul and Martha met for their early morning stroll, now a regular thing with the two friends before they took breakfast. A light mist\u2014like golden gossamer\u2014lay over the Abbey pond. They saw a grayling leap to catch an unsuspecting fly.\n\nCarrul watched the ripples spread across the water. \"I had a dream last night. It was a vision of Martin.\"\n\nThe haremaid was startled by her Abbot's revelation. \"A dream of Martin the Warrior? Did he say anything, Father?\"\n\nThe Abbot paused before answering. \"He did, indeed, Martha. These were his very words.\n\n\"When autumn brings the harvest time,\n\ngood food you shall not lack,\n\nwhen fruit lies heavy on the bough,\n\nand travellers come back.\n\nLook for the one who holds my sword,\n\nthese words of mine recall,\n\nsomeday you will esteem that one,\n\nas ruler of Redwall!\"\n\nMartha sat down on a log, puzzled by the rhyme. \"Good grief, Father, there's a lot of information in Martin's words. Aside from the fact that there will be a fine harvest, our friends\u2014Horty, Bragoon and the others\u2014must be returning. Isn't that great news! But I never guessed you were thinking of retiring from being Abbot of Redwall.\"\n\nCarrul sat down beside her. \"The thought never crossed my mind, Martha. But Martin said someday, and someday in the future I would have to give serious thought to appointing my successor. Martin has saved me a lot of pondering, I'm grateful to him for that. However, his words are causing me a little concern. Think. Who did I give the sword to?\"\n\nThe haremaid replied promptly. \"You gave it to Bragoon.\"\n\nCarrul nodded his agreement. \"Which is why I'm worried, Martha. Bragoon is a good friend, we were Dibbuns together. But he's a rover, an adventurer. Ask Toran, Bragoon's his elder brother, he'll tell you. Bragoon's too old and too wild to be Abbot.\"\n\nMartha held up a paw. \"Not so fast, Father. The rhyme said ruler of Redwall, not Abbot. It may be an Abbess!\"\n\nCarrul clapped a paw to his cheek. \"Fates forbid that it might be Sarobando! It would be woe to my poor Abbey.\"\n\nMartha could not help laughing. \"Hahaha, oh Father, think for a moment. It could be Springald, or Fenna or . . .\" Now it was Martha's turn to look apprehensive. \"Or Horty?\"\n\nCarrul placed a comforting paw on the haremaid's shoulder. \"Oh, come on now, miss! Martin the Warrior was renowned for his wisdom. What are we thinking about? He wouldn't inflict any of those three rascals on our Abbey!\"\n\nMartha gave an audible sigh of relief. \"You're right, Father. But it might be nobeast we've thought of. What if they bring somebody back with them?\"\n\nCarrul pursued this idea enthusiastically. \"Of course, there may have been other creatures living at Loamhedge. Say a sturdy young mouse, steeped in wisdom? Or a sagacious squirrel, the very model of common sense?\"\n\nMartha giggled. \"Or a studious frog with the brain of an ant!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul smacked her paw playfully. \"Now stop this nonsense, you young rip. Look, here comes breakfast!\"\n\nToran had resumed his role as cook. He and Gurvel headed a procession carrying tables and benches, trolleys, dishes and food. He waved his ladle.\n\n\"Set 'em all up at the edge of the pond there, next to those two pore beasts who've been waitin' out here all night!\"\n\nCarrul chuckled. \"So ends our moment of peace for the day, Martha. Besieged by breakfasters!\"\n\nThe haremaid went to help the servers. \"Let's join them, I'm starving!\"\n\nSetting up the tables, Brother Weld pulled a ferocious face at the Dibbuns, who were buzzing around like playful bees. \"I'll toss the lot of you into the pond if you don't sit still and wait to be served. So behave yourselves!\"\n\nMuggum the molebabe clambered up on a bench, next to Buffle. \"Hurr hurr, ee'm a gurt bold crittur t'be assultin' uz loike that! Wot do ee say, Buff?\"\n\nThe tiny mousebabe scowled darkly. \"Gurrumff um burble fink!\"\n\nOld Phredd looked over his glasses at the infant mouse. \"What did he just say?\"\n\nSister Setiva tied a bib about Buffle's neck. \"Och, ah be afeared tae repeat it. But if the wee scamp says it again, ah'll wash his mouth out with soap!\"\n\nThe Dibbun squirrelbabe Shilly tugged at Martha's paw. \"When izza harviss gonna be, Marth'?\"\n\nThe haremaid gave the reply she had been repeating to the Abbeybabes for the past few days. \"On the first morning after the night of harvest moon. Be patient, it shouldn't be too long now.\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel looked up from a pan of corn and fruit slices she was doling out. \"Payshunt? You'm doan't tell ee Redwallers t'be payshunt when they'm a waitin' to get ee ' arvest in, Miz Marth'!\"\n\nThe Dibbuns cheered Gurvel loudly, glad to have an ally on their side. Most of the babes had never been to a harvest before, so they were eager to take part in one, knowing there would be a Harvest End Feast. The little ones began clamouring for Martha to sing the Harvest Song. Knowing they would not be quiet until she did, Martha obliged by singing the lively air, which included much tapping and paw stamping.\n\n\"Open the cupboard the bins and the stores,\n\ngo fetch out the trolleys and carts,\n\nthen out to the orchard the gardens and fields,\n\nfor a harvest to gladden our hearts.\n\nRappety tap, the Abbot'll call,\n\nwatch out for those Dibbuns 'cos they'll eat it all!\n\nThere's blackberries blueberries raspberries too\n\nstrawberries and redcurrants bright,\n\nwild cherries blueberries and blaeberries ripe,\n\nto be all gathered in by tonight.\n\nRappety tap, wait for the feast,\n\njust look at that Dibbun, the greedy wee beast!\n\nBring basket and barrel and bucket and pail,\n\npick rosehips red apples and pears,\n\ngreengages damsons and plums big and fine,\n\nroll your sleeves up and banish your cares.\n\nRappety tap, that babe's the worst,\n\nif he eats another I swear that he'll burst!\n\nThere's almond and hazel and chestnut in bloom,\n\nand a crop of good acorns there'll be,\n\nif you hold the ladder I'll climb to the top,\n\nand I'll knock them all down from the tree.\n\nRappety tap, flat on the ground,\n\nhe's rubbing his tummy and rolling around!\n\nLet's gather our harvest and bring it indoors,\n\nthen the Abbot'll cry out 'Well done!'\n\nWe've filled up the cupboards the bins and the stores,\n\nin good time for the winter to come.\n\nRappety tap, quick close the door,\n\nhe's up on his paws and looking for more!\"\n\nAs usual, Martha had to sing the whole thing again so the Dibbuns could show off their fancy paw tapping. Whilst this was going on, the Abbot took Toran aside. He related what Martin the Warrior had told him in his dream. The ottercook was overjoyed at the news.\n\n\"As soon as the 'arvest moon shows, we'll mount a watch on the walltops to welcome them back 'ome!\"\n\nBreakfast was about finished when Foremole Dwurl, who had been gatekeeper in Phredd's absence, came trundling up with Lonna in tow. He hailed Toran. \"Gudday, zurr. Lookit who'm just cummed a knocken on ee gate!\"\n\nThe ottercook quickly cleared a place for them both. \"Sit ye down, mates, an' break yore fast. Lonna, where've ye been since yesterday? Everybeast was wonderin' where ye'd got to.\"\n\nThe big badger seated himself, allowing Gurvel to heap food in front of him. His fur was coated in dew, and the blood had matted on his wounds, but he looked happy. \"The Searats are all accounted for\u2014down to the last vermin. I was tired, but glad that I had ended my mission, so I lay down on the flatlands, about half a league from your Abbey. I must have slept deeply, because it was the sound of larks rising at dawn that awakened me. I was hoping there'd be a bite of breakfast left for a hungry badger. Thank you, marm!\"\n\nGranmum Gurvel piled corn and fruit slices on a platter. \"You'm eat 'earty, zurr. Oi'll cook more furr ee if'n ye be still 'ungered!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul beckoned Brother Gelf. \"Draw off a pitcher of our best October Ale for Lonna. Nothing's too good for the beast who saved Redwall from the Searats. Lonna, after you've eaten, Sister Portula will find you clean robes, and Sister Setiva will care for your wounds. You must rest now, friend!\"\n\nSeating themselves around the badger, the Dibbuns watched in awe as he satisfied his appetite.\n\nMuggum nudged Buffle. \"Yurr, ee'm gurtbeast surpintly can shuv ee vikkles away!\"\n\nStifling a smile, Martha chided the molebabe. \"Really, Muggum, mind your manners!\"\n\nLonna sat Muggum on his paw and lifted him to face-height. \"Listen to me, young sir, never mess with your food. Eat it all up like I do, then someday you'll be a great warrior!\"\n\nMuggum nodded sagely. \"Them bee's woise wurds, zurr!\"\n\nIt was five nights hence when the harvest moon waxed fully. Most Abbeybeasts were in their beds. Toran stood watch from the ramparts on the southwest corner, where he could view both the path and woodlands. Martha and Abbot Carrul, neither of whom felt like sleeping, joined the ottercook on his vigil. The three stood there, unaware that Lonna had come up behind them. For a beast of his size and weight, the badger could move silent as a shadow. They started slightly as he spoke.\n\n\"That nice old molewife in the kitchens asked me to bring some hot vegetable soup up for you.\" Lonna poured the soup from a jug into four basins.\n\nToran sniffed it, exclaiming gratefully, \"Good ole Gurvel!\"\n\nThey sipped at their basins in silence, contemplating the serenity of a late summer's night.\n\nNocturnal birdsong drifted from the shadowed trees of Mossflower. The path stood out like a tranquil stream, curling southward. Galaxies of twinkling stars pinpointed the cloudless vaults of sky above. A single comet streaked through space in brief silent glory. The harvest moon ruled over all, surrounded by a soft nimbus, resplendent in its own golden solitude.\n\nNone of the others noticed Lonna fitting a shaft to his bowstring. He peered toward the foliage which fringed the pathside. Drawing back his bow, Lonna called down, \"Are you friend or foe?\"\n\nThree figures stepped out onto the path. One shouted, \"Ahoy the walls, we come as friends!\"\n\nMartha's good eyesight allowed her to quickly identify the caller. \"It's a shrew. There's two more with him.\"\n\nLonna relaxed his bowstring. \"What do you want, friends?\"\n\nThe lead shrew's rapier blade flashed in the moonlight as he made a salute and offered it hilt first. \"I am Jigger, son of Log a Log Briggy, Chieftain of the Guorafs crews! I carry news of your friends. My father sent me ahead to tell you of their approach!\"\n\nToran and Lonna were already down and unbarring the gates as Martha assisted the Abbot to negotiate the wallsteps.\n\nOld Phredd lit extra lanterns as they crowded into the gatehouse. When the introductions were completed, the young shrew made his report. It was not a happy tale that he had to relate. Martha was stunned beyond tears at the news of Bragoon's and Saro's death. Abbot Carrul hung his head and wept openly. Lonna stood by in respectful silence. Toran was the only one to speak.\n\n\"The young 'uns, are they all safe'n'well?\"\n\nJigger nodded. \"Aye, sir. Apart from a few scratches an' sore footpaws, they're fine. Miss Fenna told me that Bragoon was yore brother. 'Twas a brave thing him'n Saro did.\"\n\nThe ottercook drew himself up straight and spoke proudly. \"Aye, Bragoon an' Sarobando was true-born Redwallers! No two like 'em, they was both wild warriors. But they did their duty an' saved their friends. I wager they took a few o' those vermin with 'em, eh?\"\n\nJigger's eyes were shining with admiration as he replied. \"From wot our scouts said, they took 'em all, every last vermin, an' their chief, the Wearet. That must've been a powerful battle, I'll tell ye!\"\n\nToran opened the gatehouse door. He took a deep breath of the fresh night air and smiled. \"Funny, ain't it, some'ow I couldn't imagin' Saro an' Brag growin' old like peaceful Abbeybeasts. Not those two. They went like they wanted to, the bravest o' the brave!\"\n\nLonna offered his paw to Toran. \"True warriors have no fear of death. I only met your brother and his friend once. They were rare beasts!\"\n\nAbbot Carrul wiped at his eyes with damp habit sleeves. \"Look at me, I must have forgotten my manners. Come to the Abbey, Jigger. Bring your two friends. You must be hungry after travelling so far. Lonna, will you wait by the gates and show the rest of them to the kitchens when they arrive?\"\n\nJigger hitched up his rapier belt eagerly. \"Lead on, Father. If'n the vittles at Redwall are as good as Horty tells me, I can't wait t'get at 'em!\"\n\nIt was some time thereafter when Lonna herded the Guoraf shrews into the Abbey kitchens. Martha and Toran forged their way through the crowd to Horty, Fenna and Springald. They fell upon one another, hugging and shaking paws as the Abbot joined them.\n\n\"Welcome home, you weary travellers! Springald, what's up, miss, are you ill?\"\n\nThe mousemaid was staring at Martha in disbelief. \"Look, she's walking! Martha's walking!\"\n\nHorty held his sister at paw's length. \"But how the . . . what the blinkin' flip . . . I mean, the bloomin' skin'n'blister trottin' about like . . . like? Explain y'bally self, miss. How did y'do it, wot wot?\"\n\nThe haremaid stared down at her brother's bandaged right footpaw, having noticed he was sporting a gallant limp. \"You'll get to know all about it later. But what happened to you, Horty, are you hurt?\"\n\nTrying to look brave and nonchalant at the same time, Horty waffled. \"Oh this, line o' duty an' all that, y'know!\"\n\nSpringald raised her eyebrows scathingly. \"Line of duty, my tail! You great fibber, tell the truth. He was messing about with Martin's sword, showing off to the shrews, when he dropped it, tripped up and cut his footpaw on the blade!\"\n\nThe Abbot exchanged a glance with Martha before he asked. \"Well, who has the sword now?\"\n\nFrom beneath her cloak Fenna produced the sword, neatly wrapped and tied in a piece of sailcloth. \"I took it off Horty and bound it up for safekeeping. Don't worry, it's in perfect condition and quite undamaged.\"\n\nShe looked from the Abbot to Martha. \"Why, what's the matter, did I do anything wrong, should I have left the sword for Horty to fool about with?\"\n\nBoth Martha and the Abbot hugged the squirrelmaid.\n\n\"No no, you did the right thing!\"\n\n\"Yes, you did, Fenna, thank goodness! Please accept the gratitude of an old Abbot!\"\n\nThe squirrelmaid passed the sword over to the Abbot. \"Why, Father, what's this all about?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul looked over his glasses at her. \"Nothing for you to worry your head about, miss. I'll tell you everything in a few seasons' time\u2014that's, of course, providing you don't plan on leaving us to go somewhere else.\"\n\nFenna replied promptly. \"Why would I go anywhere else? Redwall Abbey's my home, I'd never leave it for anything!\"\n\nMartha clasped her friend's paw. \"Neither would I, Fenna. There's noplace dearer than our Abbey!\"\n\nWhilst the shrews were sampling the delights of the kitchens, the three young ones went down to Cavern Hole with Toran, Martha and the Abbot. There, away from the hubbub, they sat by the embers of a glowing fire, recounting their journey to and from Loamhedge. It was an engrossing story, vividly illustrated by the young creatures' first real experience of the outside world\u2014enemies they had encountered, friends they had met, hardships they had undergone. Horty, Springald and Fenna each related the parts they had taken in the epic quest. Throughout the narrative it was clear that the entire thing would not have been possible without the heroism, guidance and assistance of Bragoon and Sarobando. By the time the dawn bells were tolling, the trio had reached the end of their tale. Fenna reached into her belt pouch and drew forth the slim package of parchment which Bragoon had entrusted to her. \"This is Sister Amyl's secret. Take it, Martha, it's meant for you alone. I know you don't have any need for it now, but I feel you should have it.\"\n\nThey watched in silence as the haremaid undid the wrapping and began scanning it.\n\nHorty leaned forward eagerly. \"Well, are you goin' to jolly well read it out to us, or are you goin' to sit there bloomin' well gazin' at the blinkin' thing until next flippin' summer, wot?\"\n\nMartha hesitated. \"I'm not supposed to, really. It says on the other side of this parchment that only the one who needs this shall know my secret. But I don't think it will do any harm now. Here's what it says:\n\n\"The body is ruled by the mind,\n\nI tell you this be true,\n\nby willpower you may find,\n\nnought is denied to you.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul took the parchment from her paws. He stared at it, turned it over, studied it a moment longer, then chuckled as he passed it to Toran. \"So, that's Sister Amyl's secret, eh? Take a look at that, Toran, my friend!\"\n\nAfter a brief glance the ottercook burst into laughter. \"Hohoho, Sister Amyl my granma's rudder! Hohoho, those rascals!\"\n\nMartha was astonished at the attitude of her friends. \"Excuse me, I fail to see what's so funny. Those are the words of a young Sister who suffered the same as I did. I can see that it's written in an old-fashioned style, and the writing isn't too neat. But what's that to laugh about?\"\n\nAbbot Carrul explained. \"This was never written by Sister Amyl. She was a young Sister who was well educated, her spelling was faultless and she had a neat writing paw. Remember the history of Loamhedge you were reading, the one you borrowed from Sister Portula? Amyl had written part of that, but she certainly never wrote this!\"\n\nThe light of recognition dawned across Fenna's face. \"I'll wager I know who did write it. I've just remembered where I've seen that parchment before. It's a piece torn from the edge of the Loamhedge map we took with us. See, there's a line on it that was the rim of the high cliffs. Bragoon or Sarobando must have written it. Everything they found in Abbess Sylvaticus's tomb had mouldered away to dust. So they invented Sister Amyl's secret themselves rather than return to Redwall empty-pawed. That's it! Either Saro or Bragoon did the writing.\"\n\nAbbot Carrul patted the squirrelmaid's shoulder. \"Well done, miss! Actually, Bragoon or Saro didn't write this singly, they both did! I recognise the writing on the outside, Sarobando did that. She was better at spelling but worse at writing than Bragoon. He had the neater paw but oh, dear me, that otter's spelling was dreadful, look at it!\"\n\nThey examined the short rhyme closely.\n\n\"The body is rooled by the mynd,\n\nI tell you this be troo,\n\nby willpower you may fynd,\n\nnort is denyed to you.\"\n\nToran wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. \"Aye, that was my brother, alright. Old Brag never won any prizes for his spellin'. But he did it so ye wouldn't be let down, Martha. So I think ye could forgive 'em both for it.\"\n\nMartha stared into the fire embers. \"Forgive? There's nothing to forgive. They did it for me, undertook that whole long quest, protected my brother and his friends, then sacrificed their lives for them.\"\n\nToran did not know whether he was smiling or weeping. He scrubbed a paw across his eyes again. \"So they did, Martha, so they did!\"\n\n## Epilogue\n\nTen seasons have passed since that night of the harvest moon. Fate and fortune have allowed our Abbey to prosper in peace. We had some visitors to Redwall the other day, a column of fighting hares from Salamandastron, sent by Lord Lonna Bowstripe. They were led by Captain Hortwill Longblade Braebuck, who was visiting his sister. What a change the Long Patrol has made to Horty! He went off all that time ago, with Lonna, to enlist at Salamandastron, carrying the scimitar that the badger had taken from Raga Bol. Horty is now twice as big, and twice as hungry, as he once was, a fine figure of a Long Patrol captain with a bristling military moustache. The young hares under his command admire him greatly. Abbess Fenna was delighted to see him, and so was I. We sat up until late last night, chatting about the old days, with Carrul our Gatekeeper and Cellarmole Muggum. Yes, Abbot Carrul became Gatekeeper, by his own choosing, four seasons back. He shared the task with Old Phredd until the ancient hedgehog went to his long rest last winter. Ah well, such is life, and such is its passing; not even Phredd could live forever. Horty and his hares are staying until after the Harvest Feast. (Trust hares never to miss a chance of several days' good feeding.) Those are Ottercook Toran's words, not mine, though I share his sentiments.\n\nOn the night of the harvest moon, all our Abbeybeasts will gather on the lawn near the front wallgates. We will watch Martha climb the steps to the threshold. First she will sing the beautiful ballad, \"The Rose of Redwall.\" Then she will carry out the promise she made to Bragoon and Sarobando. They say that, on the day they left to search for Loamhedge, she vowed that when they returned she would dance for both of them, on the walltop, right over the threshold of our Abbey. Martha has kept her promise every season since then. After singing her song, she dances\u2014swaying, bending, curtsying and leaping\u2014graceful as a breeze-blown flower in the golden moonlight, for the memory of her two friends. I remember then that long ago summer when we stole out of the Abbey, rebellious young creatures embarking on a great adventure. We returned at the end of that season\u2014wiser, more obedient and more reasonable. It was the summer of growing up.\n\nIf you, too, are travelling, questing or journeying anywhere, remember this. You will always find a welcome here at Redwall Abbey, young or old. As friends come by, they often call in to enjoy Redwall hospitality. Who knows, maybe we will see you here someday. You can sit with us, rest and be refreshed and learn. Young ones have much to learn and old ones, too. Carrul said to me only the other day, we are never too old to learn. He was a wise Abbot; he is an even wiser old Gatekeeper. I hope someday I may grow as wise as him.\n\n_Springald. Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country_\n\n*See _Mattimeo_\nThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.\n\nThe Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is  \n<http:\/\/www.penguinputnam.com>\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}