“Well, if’n it ain’t Log-a-log an’ ‘is pretty gang o’ river shrews! Sink me rudder! What brings you to the Abbey, friend?” Thrugg motioned the shrews to enter.
The Guosim shrew shook his head, “No time for idle chatting, I have urgent news for the Abbess!”
Without another word, Thrugg escorted Log-a-log through the cloisters into Great Hall. The multi-colored stained glass windows formed intricate patterns on the floors and long tables. The Abbess was already seated in her chair, examining a massive and worn book, the Records, filled with entries from the last ten seasons, dutifully written by Brother Antony, the humble Recorder of Redwall Abbey. Seeing the small group of creatures enter, Turzel set the book down gently on the table in front of her.
“Welcome, Log-a-Log! What a pl...”
The Shrew Chieftain cut her off, “I have bad news Abbess marm! Sultor the vermin fox plotting to steal the Sword of Martin. One of my shrews heard and saw his band in the woods. Yore Abbey is in danger. Me an’ my shrews will help as much as possible, but something must be done!”
Turzel was listening intently to the shrew’s tale, pondering over what to do. At last, she spoke in her quiet, but authoritive way,” Log-a-Log, I am indebted to you for your warning, but I cannot see what we should do, aside from posting a few guards. Even though they are vermin, it is our custom do show kindness to all creatures...”
THWACK!
The steel blue rapier Log-a-Log carried at his side buried itself into the wooden table, its silver hilt trembling. Everybeast jumped back, and sat looking at the beautiful rapier, with silver tracings running down the blade, to the lethal, bloodstained tip. Log-a-Log’s voice came from behind them, filled with hatred and sorrow.
“That is my brother’s blade, Steelfate, the most honored blade of the Guosim, forged by the Great Badger’s hand, in the Mountains of the North. It is said that when this blade is defeated, the Guosim will die, therefore I guard this blade with my life. That murdering scum Sultor sent one of his henchbeasts, and dealt my brother a fatal blow, will he lay asleep. My brother, with his last breath, threw Steelfate after the fleeing ferret, therefore fulfilling the promise that the blade will always triumph. I have sworn an oath that I will hunt Sultor down, even if it takes my life. That is my story. I am sorry I drew a weapon in your Abbey, marm, forgive me.”
The wise Abbess looked into the shrew's expressionless face, with the cold, hard eyes looking into his mind’s eye. Silence pervaded throughout Great Hall, hanging like a fog in everybeast’s mind. At last, the Abbess spoke, “I forgive you this once, Log-Log of the Guosim shrews. We understand your plight. Would everybeast kindly leave for awhile? I have something to tell Log-a-Log.”
As the creatures slowly filed out of Great Hall, Abbess Turzel turned to the shrew Chieftain.
