Duncton Rising (44 page)

“If there’s an opportunity to speak out against the Newborn ways I’ll take it,” said Whillan, “especially in my... Privet’s absence, because she would certainly have said her piece, with or without Snyde’s permission.”

“We’ll see how things go before you open your mouth, Whillan!” responded Maple. “Having an open and free debate may be their way of finding out which moles to get rid of first!”

“Certainly things are not as they seem to be,” said Whillan. “Did you hear what some are saying about Thripp?”

“Being ill? And Quail taking more and more power?”

Both moles had heard more or less the same story, and one confirmed already, though they did not know it, by what Chervil had privately told Privet concerning Thripp’s state of health.

Whether or not it had been secret then, it was general knowledge now that Thripp had suffered a mysterious ailment which had left him weak for molemonths past, though with his mind alert. For personal assistance he now relied on a few loyal old moles, who had no doubt been his aides for many years; but for matters of moledom, and the development of the Caradocian Order, as the Newborn brethren were formally known, it seemed that a power struggle had developed between himself and Quail for control of the group of twelve Senior Brothers.

It seemed that originally Quail had simply been one of these twelve, and the Inquisitors had reported directly to Thripp himself But he had of necessity delegated this taxing task to one of the twelve, and had chosen Quail, who had succeeded over recent moleyears in placing moles loyal to himself in the main Senior Brother positions. At the same time. Inquisitors had been able to point the talon of sin and guilt for breaking vows at one after another of the Senior Brothers most loyal to Thripp, and having ousted these individuals Quail got his own Inquisitors appointed, the most senior of whom was a sadistic disciplinarian called Skua.

This much seemed certain, and moles were in little doubt that the long struggle between Thripp and Quail was now coming to a head.

“What’s remarkable,” reported Whillan, “is that Thripp has kept power for so long, but I’m told he’s a mole of considerable charm and charisma, and ordinary Newborns revere and adore him, and almost worship the ground he stances on. Because of that Quail has never yet dared try to oust him openly, but the talk is that he might attempt it at this Convocation.”

“But wasn’t it Thripp who summoned it in the first place?”

“Aye, it was,” said Whillan. “And I heard from a Cannock mole that he did so precisely because it was the only way left to him to regain control over the direction the Caradocian Order was taking. Originally
that
was what the discussion was going to be about, but, as we’ve heard, now it’s all about libraries, censorship and so on, which though important avoid the real issue, which is whatmole is to control the Newborns in the future – Thripp or Quail.”

“Aye, I heard something similar,” said Maple. “Because the twelve Senior Brothers are now under Quail’s control they’ve succeeded in changing the agenda and made the Convocation meaningless as a place of discussion...”

“... and meanwhile, if Weeth is to be believed, which I think he is, Quail’s representatives are taking control of all the main libraries and a lot of the lesser ones right now – just as Master Stour predicted. While it’s true that what’s discussed here is of secondary importance I’ll wager that Quail will want an outcome that favours censorship of non-Newborn-approved texts so that when all this is over he can claim that his Inquisitors have been given the right to continue to impose their control.” Whillan paused and looked about the busy chamber. 1 could do with some fresh air, Maple. I feel this place is tainted.”

Maple shook his head and stayed where he was. “We shall do nothing to draw attention to ourselves. I have no idea what the two of us can do, separated from friends, not knowing which moles about here to trust, and with Newborn guards at every turn, but I’ll tell you the strangest thing: I’ve never felt more certain that there must be something we
can
do. The Stone has brought us here for a purpose, and if we can get out of Caradoc alive than we’ll be in a better position to help defend liberty of worship of the Stone because we were here.

“But we’ve seen how ruthless the Newborns can be when Quail has his way – and I wouldn’t be so certain of Thripp either. No, we stance tight, listen well, and say nothing – and though I know you want to speak up in Privet’s absence for the things she believes and would defend, we’ll go very cautiously indeed and discuss things before we do them – as Chater would have said.”

Chater! They stanced in silence for a time after mention of his name, thinking of him and the other friends they had left behind, or from whom they had recently become separated, and, in their own way invoking the Stone’s protection for them as Longest Night approached.

“Did you talk to the Siabod moles?” asked Whillan, breaking the long silence.

“Yes, I meant to say I did, some of them at least. At first they were only cautiously friendly, and like us seemed to be waiting to see how things work out. But when they heard you and I were from Duncton, and definitely not Newborn, they were more forthcoming – so far as Siabod moles can be. They’re a proud lot, and fierce.”

“They always were according to the texts,” said Whillan.

“Well anyway, it was plain that they don’t trust the Newborns in Caradoc any more than we do, and their leader is a mole who knows all about the history of the great battles led by Gareg in the old days of the war of Word and Stone. His name is Ystwelyn, and I’d like to make contact with him if I can.”

But Maple did not succeed in doing so before Snyde reappeared, looking excited and pleased with himself.

“I have been given a task, and one we must consider most important,” he declared. “There is to be a great account scribed of this historic Convocation and as Master Librarian-elect of Duncton Wood they have given to me the honour of co-ordinating and editing it, with a number of scribemoles to work under me. I regret that it has been decided you, Whillan, will not be one of them, for this is an honour that should be spread throughout all the systems represented here. I have already met some of the scribes who will be my subordinates.”

“You have not chosen them yourself then?” said Whillan, trying not to sound greatly relieved he was not to be involved.

“No time for that. But they are all good scribes, I am told.”

“And good little Newborns too no doubt,” growled Maple.

Snyde attempted to smile, but his eyes were like the shining points of talons. “I can tolerate only so many such remarks, mole. You would be ill-advised to make any more this night.”

“This night?” said Maple sharply, aware from a sudden retreat in Snyde’s look that he had given something away he should not have done.

“Any night,” said Snyde hastily.

“But you said
this
night,” said Whillan.

Snyde looked at them both with ill-concealed dislike. “Matters are well and equitably organized here,” he said evasively. “Now I have work to do, and moles to see, so I suggest for your own good you cause no more trouble.”

“We have caused none so far,” said Maple coldly.

“Well then... that’s good, isn’t it?” said Snyde, twisting his dark way from them and signalling the two Newborns to go with him. He stopped only once to look back briefly before he was gone into the crowd, and his expression was not of hatred but of triumph.

“I have the feeling that he knows something we don’t and it is to our disadvantage,” said Maple.

“And that whatever it is it may have its beginning this night!”

“
This
night we shall be on our guard, and keep a very low snout indeed.” Maple grinned and waved suddenly at some moles across the busy chamber, and Whillan saw that he had caught the friendly eye of the Siabod moles, who nodded grimly at them as if to say that they too were aware that there was danger about.

“That’s the mole Arvon,” said Maple, pointing to a small dark mole who might almost have been from a different system, he looked so much less impressive than the others.

Whillan and Maple moved nearer each other and almost together one said and the other agreed, “We’ll find a place to make ourselves scarce; there must be somewhere to go where nomole will easily find us,
this
night.”

“
This
night?” whispered Privet in shocked alarm, her earlier calm quite deserting her.

Madoc nodded bleakly.

“They are to be
killed?”

Madoc nodded again.

“Then, mole, we must warn them.”

“Yes, we must,” said Madoc.

Through the previous evening she had enlightened Privet considerably about the true depth of the corruption and evil of the Newborns, and had shown an admirable ability to describe and analyse matters that many moles would have found too shocking to contemplate. What was more, she had shown from an account of her own actions since she had been brought into the Newborn fold against her will, great courage and resource which Privet, having herself been captive for a time at Blagrove Slide, was in a good position to judge. Now morning had come and Privet realized that time had run out and they must attempt to take action themselves, at whatever risk to their own lives.

“I was hoping you would say that. Privet,” Madoc said, “and especially since I told you all I knew. I feel relieved, but your reaction has also made me see even more clearly how wrong it all is.”

“So, we agree we must escape from here and try to get up into Caer Caradoc itself?”

Madoc nodded. “That’s probably where the male delegates have all been taken by now, so that the ones whose faces don’t fit can be dealt with tonight. Now I think I know a way of escaping. You see...”

But there was the sound of moles approaching, the echo of voices, and a most frightening chill to the air.

“Oh Privet,” said Madoc in despair, “it may be too late.”

The voices came nearer and the two females scampered to the portal and poked their snouts into the tunnel.

“They’re coming from both directions,” said Madoc. “It
is
too late.”

They retreated back into the chamber, their escape cut off; the pawsteps drew nearer and a mole laughed too loud outside, a mole they knew, a most filthy and corrupt mole.

“She’s in this cell,” they heard Squelch say.

“Alone?” said the coldest voice imaginable.

“With Sister Hope.”

“Do I know her?”

“You may have known her!” said Squelch, laughing in an obscene way.

As Privet and Madoc waited in silence, and the moles’ shadows cast themselves at their portal, Privet turned to her new friend, whose flank was shivering with apprehension, and whispered, “It may be late, my dear, but to a Duncton mole it is never
too
late,
never.
Remember that in the time ahead.”

Madoc nodded her understanding, and felt reassured as the fat snout of Squelch, and his deep-set eyes, showed themselves.

“Lackaday!” he said with a simper, “you have a visitor, a most important visitor. Stance up and shut up.”

“Yes, sir,” said “Sister Hope’”

Squelch came into the chamber and stanced to one side to let the next mole through, while several guards assembled outside.

Quail came in and stanced firmly before them. He was of solid build and exuded health and power, and his eyes were dark and penetrating. He had one feature that made him most remarkable, and most frightening. His head, which was large and round, was quite devoid of fur, as was much of his body. It was blue-pink, shiny, strange. It appeared smooth and unlined until any expression passed across it at which point a thousand tiny wrinkles formed and made a mole realize that there was something dead, something rotten, about the smooth skin.

“I am the Senior Brother Inquisitor Quail,” he said tersely. “Which one of you is known as Privet of Duncton Wood?”

“I am,” said Privet, holding his gaze steadily with her own.

“Well, and so you are the mole Privet who once lived for a time in Blagrove Slide? Who eschewed the Newborn way, and who comes now to Caer Caradoc and back into our power?”

Privet said nothing.

“There are few moles of whom it can be said that I am interested to meet them,” said Quail, “but you are one of them.”

Privet still said nothing.

“You once knew Rooster, I believe?”

“Did I?” said Privet.

A hard smile made Quail’s face repellent. “It is about that friendship that I wish to talk to you. If you tell me what I wish to know about that mole, who has caused us a good deal of trouble, I will permit you to return unharmed to Duncton Wood. If you do not you will be... you will regret it.”

His eyes grew so cold that seeing them a mole had no doubt that whatever might happen to Privet would be terrible. Yet to her now that calm returned, and she was not afraid.

“I will tell you, as I will tell anymole, all that I can so long as doing so is compatible with my beliefs in the Stone.”

“Long words those. Squelch,” said Quail, unexpectedly turning to the fat mole, “what do you make of them?”