3. A Surfeit of Choler

[Waycaster]

Elsine never liked conversations. Any second spent talking with some random beast who asked her about the weather was a second not spent working on Abbey ledgers. It was only by sheer misfortune that she had to transcribe one today.

The Great Hall was empty this morning, but Elsine knew that it would not be for long. Beasts would start trickling in through its many doorways, like light does through the stained windows near its roof. After all, it was only three hours until the feast would be ready, and, no doubt, everybeast would be piling through the doors to take their places on the benches and tables, waiting to be served Redwall's famous delicacies.

Sitting on one of the benches was Abbess Gentian. Unlike Elsine, the mouse was not born an imposing beast, but in acting like one she became one. It just so happened that there was some sort of dispute about Mossflower waterways, and both the Skipper of Otters and the Log-a-Log had been invited to Redwall for talks, with Abbess Gentian mediating between the two. While Gentian was not the most well-liked of beasts, she was well-known and well-respected, and it was only natural that she would have her say in the upcoming negotiations.

"You're here. Good." The Abbess had always been terse and matter-of-fact when she spoke, and it was perhaps that quality that drew Elsine to her. "You know what you have to do today."

"I am to write down every single feature in the discussion that future generations will find important-"

"And all they will find interesting as well, Recorder." Gentian's paws slid towards a full inkwell and a quill, specifically brought to the room on Elsine's request. "What do our guests look like? What do they desire? How was their countenance and speech?"

"I have never tried anything this detailed before," said Elsine. "But I can promise to try."

"You've been trying your hardest for fourteen seasons, Elsine." Gentian took Elsine's paw. "Know that I have never regretted offering you a place as Recorder, and that your efforts will always be appreciated."

The Recorder nodded, took her seat opposite the Abbess, and put the tome she carried on the table. It was a new book for a new winter, and Elsine had only used the first ten pages. Now, it was time to start writing a new one.

The doors to the Abbey opened, and the Abbess immediately sat up straight, with Elsine following a few seconds later. A crowd of riverbeasts, otters and shrews alike, filtered through the doorways.

From that mass two beasts walked forth. The first was an otter, brown of fur and grey of eyes, his cloak thinly dusted with a layer of snow. Skipper Ash stood tall, proud and imposing - very badgerly qualities - or at least tried to. He quickly marched towards Elsine's bench and occupied a seat next to her. The other one was evidently the Log-a-Log. Though short in stature like all shrewkind, Rubtus's eyes were exactly the same as those of a crow searching for a corpse to peck. His sight fell on Gentian, and they engaged in a staring contest that felt like it went on far longer than it should've before the shrew looked away and took the seat to the Recorder's right.

"I was not aware that there was to be a badger in attendance today," said the Skipper, his tail twitching.

"Does she make you two uncomfortable?" Gentian asked as Elsine submerged her quill into ink. "As Abbey Recorder, I promise you that her presence here is necessary. Terms will have to be dictated to prevent either or both of you from going back on your word. The Abbey has a duty to ensure that justice is performed and perfidy is punished, and a good record of our discussion today should surely assist in that process. Any questions?" The mouse scanned the table. Fortunately for the Skipper, Elsine had written nothing so far, so he simply adjusted his posture and looked back at the Abbess. On the other side of her Rubtus adjusted the red headband he wore and shook his head. Though his eyes were mirthless, the ends of his lips curled up in a hollow smile in what was probably a gesture to puzzle the Abbess and the Skipper. "Good."

Day sixteen of the Winter of the Frigid Stones. Cloudy day. As the Dibbuns are away on a field trip, the Abbess has invited Log-a-Log Rubtus and Skipper Ash over to the Abbey for talks about...

Elsine shot a look at Gentian then back to the tome. She was lucky the Abbess caught on. "Now, about your little dispute. Could both of you describe what is the source of the strife between you two?"

"Yes, of course," said the otter, pointing a claw at Rubtus. "It all started when the Log-a-log dammed up the Moss up in th' east." His paw trembled as he paused. "This foul act destroyed our water supply, an'..."

Elsine found her concentration on the otter's ramblings decreasing as she wrote on, focusing on describing the contesting parties. Despite his tall and strong physique, Ash was an otter with a tiny presence, a mere speck of a beast holding the title of Skipper so many of his kind would be more deserving of. He claimed that Rubtus had dammed up the Moss, rendering their entire way of life pointless. Instead of consorting with the other otterclans or settling this matter with Rubtus directly, Ash decided to seek out Abbey arbitration. His position is not strong, and that is laid bare for the world to witness.

"You lie, of course!" Rubtus stood up on his bench, which just managed to make him taller than the still-sitting Elsine. "The shrimp was scarce last season, and we had to adjust the river flow to ensure a continued supply."

This Rubtus is a barbarous beast, short of stature and lacking in manners. His squinting glare bled hostility and condescension. Why he would seek the Abbey's conciliation in this dispute is a mystery as great as how he managed to become Log-a-log in the first place.


Ash snarled. "You changed th' water flow?"

The Log-a-log responded with a foxlike grin on his face, no doubt glad that Elsine's presence would stop any and all physical alterations between the hostile pair. "No agreement prevented me from doing as such."

"There are always unspoken customs!" The otter banged a fist on the table.

"Customs, unlike laws, can be disregarded."

Last season, Rubtus changed the flow of the Moss to make it easier for his shrews to obtain shrimp, which obviously affected the lives of the otters downstream. Skipper Ash somehow did not realise the course of the Moss had changed until it was accomplished, and now they were at the Abbey, trying to figure out who was in the wrong, as if they were merely two fighting Dibbuns instead of the custodians of Eastern Mossflower.

Abbess Gentian coughed, and somehow both beasts focused their attention back to her. "Now that we have the facts, allow me to ask some questions." She continued, using their first names instead of titles, perhaps to remind them of their surroundings. "Rubtus, is there any way to compensate Ash for the diversion of the Moss?"

The shrew fiddled with his claws. "I could supply him with what food he requires, provided that we shrews get our own fill."

"Would that be enough?" Ash asked. "You shrews are many in number, and their appetites are like those of hares!"

"And you otters aren't much better!" Rubtus shook his head. "Where were you otters when vermin killed my predecessor? Come to think of it, every single time vermin swarm in from the East, it's always the GUOSIM that held them back, while you and your otters were nowhere to be seen until it was too late!"

Elsine continued writing as Rubtus rambled on and on and on about battles and skirmishes and how the otters underperformed . To her left, Ash just sat with his mouth wide open while the Abbess suppressed an urge to yawn, instead busying herself with reading what the badger had written so far.

The Abbess asked Rubtus to compensate Ash for the otters' losses, but the shrew refused to listen to reason. Instead, he began to list out example after example of how the otters were disappointments to Mossflower. The Ridge, Malkariss, Kotir...

Elsine turned to Rubtus, rolling her eyes. "Two out of three."

"I'm sorry?"

"Shrews never fought in the Siege of Kotir," recited Elsine. "Martin the Warrior fought, of course, and otters did too under a Skipper whose name is lost to history. But no shrew did."

The shrew's baleful stare collided with Elsine's. "Are you questioning my judgement?"


"Providing an accurate rendering of historical events is part of the duties of the Recorder of Redwall Abbey. Consider your judgement questioned."

The dueling of stares continued, with Elsine scanning her opponent. Other than the features Elsine had taken down into her notes, Rubtus was an undistinguished shrew, but there was something about him that felt wrong somehow.

The deadlock was broken by a clap by the Abbess. "We're getting off-track here - perhaps our guests are exhausted by their winter travels. A break with refreshments shall do the both of you good! Elsine, come with me."

Skipper Ash's expression lightened at the implication of a warm bowl of shrimp and hotroot soup, while Rubtus broke off eye contact with Elsine, who slammed her book shut and marched towards one of the corridors behind Gentian.

The mouse sighed as Elsine looked down at her. "I should've kept you away from the talks."


"Mother Abbess-"

The mouse put two claws together. "You were this close to jeopardising everything! The otters and shrewkind are edging towards open conflict. Vermin have attacked vermin before, and us woodlanders had traded blows with them, but your records have proclaimed multiple times that no two woodlander bodies have clashed in open war. Are you interested in seeing this record broken?"

Elsine felt like a cub caught stealing sweets. "No, Mother Abbess."

Gentian took a deep breath. "Perhaps I made a mistake in assigning you to record what was being written, though somebeast find your comments about Ash and Rubtus amusing in the future. Still, it would be in your best interest to sit further away from us three during further negotiations. You are not trained for such delicate interactions, I understand, so please for the sake of the Abbey's reputation and your position as Recorder, keep your muzzle shut. Understood?"

The badger found herself frantically nodding.

"Good," said Gentian. "Now perhaps we can-"

The mouse was interrupted by the tolling of a bell, followed by another. Both the Matthias and Methuselah bells should have been silent at this hour - it was not yet supper, and bedtime was a long while away.

No, the pealing of bells at this moment only meant one thing.

Gentian's ears twitched. "Great Seasons, that's the emergency bells!"

"What for?" asked Elsine, finding her grip on the tome tighten.

"I have no idea, but we have to find out." The Abbess pried one of Elsine's paws away from her records and ran, dragging the badger behind her. "To Cavern Hole. Now!"