"Yer kiddin', ain' you?" A large female hedgehog tapped a pencil against a massive registrar. "The Abbot sent yer? We don't take vermin, kiddo. It's a little weird."

"I've been sent," Torrent repeated wearily, waving the "release form." "I'm supposed to room here somewhere."

The hedgehog let out a long, exasperated breath, "We don't take vermin," she likewise repeated, but finally set the point of the pencil against the registrar's pages. "What's yer name, then?"

"Torrent." 

"Last name?" Beady eyes glanced up at him expectantly.

"Torrent Bluntpaw," he amended with a touch of embarressment.

"Yep, them vermin do like them names." The hedgehog slammed the registrar shut and half offered a spiny paw, "I'm Ma'am Sprickle. You'll call me ma'am."

"Y-yes ma'am." Torrent reached out to take her paw, but she withdrew it before he could get close.

"This here's the dormitory," Sprickle waved down a narrow hall of door upon door, "and this," she pointed to a nailed-up parchment, "is the dormitory rules. I don't 'spect you can read, bein' a vermin, so's I'll tell you and you better remember." She went on before Torrent could protest. "1. Curfew is at ten and unless you's got a late class or summat, you'd better be in yer room before then, or you'll be in trouble. 2. You wake up at six and you'd better be outta here before six ten or I come in yer room and drag yous out, even if you ain' dressed. 3. No food or sweet drinks in here, they attracts bugs. 4. No roughhousin', or yous pays fer whats you breaks. 5. No magics in here, keep it in the classroom. 6. Stays with your roommates and under no circumstances do you be hanging out with the opposite genders in here. 7. Obeys the Ma'am, even if you think she talks funny." Her eyes twinkled wickedly as she recited the last one, following Torrent's gaze to the actual parchment. "Yous can read, can't ya?"

Torrent nodded mutely, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Thought so." She tapped the closed cover of the registrar. "Yous in room 15. You'll be roomin' with Olek. He's an otter and he's a bit big, so yous behaving yerself, but yous comes tells me if he hurts ya or sommat. I'll listen to ya." She jerked a thumb down the hall, pulled out a large stack of papers, and immediately began to work on them as if he had suddenly ceased to exist. Nonetheless, Torrent gave her a small, disregarded smile, and padded off in the indicated direction.

Room 15's door hung ajar, but to be on the safe side, Torrent tapped the door frame and called out "Anyone in here?" There was no response. Cautiously, Torrent slipped inside, surveying the room. There was a single desk and two beds. One of the beds was a bit ruffled, but pristine compared to the other one. Covers and sheets were scattered wildly all over half of the room and small pieces of stone were dropped haphazardly over that mess. One corner of a bed sheet was charred. Torrent's attention fixed on that charred corner as he moved over to the bed he assumed was his and dropped his pack on it. Candle accident?

He sat back on the bed, flicking his claws together. So. This is it. He didn't know what he'd do in the classroom, whatever that was. Apparently he was supposed to be a rare verminish magical being. He wanted to believe that so called magic was more the skill of manipulating lights and mirrors and saying the right scary words, but if this goodbeast power thing was just a big sham, he couldn't see the point of the squirrel letting him in on the secret. Unless the squirrel assumed he was terrifically stupid or, worse, was planning to kill him off as soon as it was convenient for who knows why. 

Somehow, it's not a sham, but I wish I knew what it was. Because whatever it is, I'll have to fake it. He leaned forward, positioning his chin on his palms. I wonder what all the other Redwallians are like. The Warrior (I expect he'll be jingoistic and violent), the Infirmiry creature, the Cellar hog (or are they equal oppurtunity now?), the Badger mum . . . what a dark place this is. But maybe it'll get better.

Torrent laughed at the last one. I guess us vermin don't like to think about Redwall. We have so many books in Caer Bluntpaw, but only one on Redwall and it was old and had been reprinted for generations. I wondered sometimes why there were no goodbeasts on the mountain. Maybe it was too barren to be worth it. It was too barren for me. Was it so wrong to want to come someplace where the fires were burning and it was a point of honor to treat other beasts kindly? I thought that such a place was eternal. I couldn't figure out why no one ever talked of it, why it raised such fear.

Too late to go back now, he realized. I don't think they'll let me.

He shifted uneasily on the bed and a wave of exhaustion smashed into the side of his head, turning his thoughts unfocused and fuzzy. Bed . . . was suddenly an all consuming thought and in a matter of seconds, he was lying flat on it. In another moment, he was snoring.
 
 

-----------------
 
 

"There's a weasel on my bed!!!" 

Torrent jerked upright, suddenly got very dizzy, and fell over onto the floor. His shoulderblades creaked in pained protest as they grated against the floor and his legs remained half on the bed. His long chin was pointed upward, toward the livid whiskers of a ferociously growling otter. 

"What were doing on my bed, you freakish, fecund creature of evil mustelid origin, you interminable intruder of ire?!"

"Uh . . ." Torrent put a trembling hand to his brow, "Um . . . . I thought it was mine."

The otter suddenly bent down, pressing his whiskers nearly against Torrent's nose, "How could you think it was yours?! You shouldn't even be here, let alone sleeping in my bed! You got musk all over it, no doubt."

Torrent was already against the floor, so he couldn't shy away. This was an intensely uncomfortable position and his mind was still fogged from sleep. "Ask Ma'am," he grumbled, "I'm rooming with you. Didn't know that bed was yours."

"I'm rooming with a vermin!" The otter went stock straight again, stiff as if he'd been impaled, "That's not even sanitary!"

"Hey, look!" Torrent snapped, before he could stop himself, "I'm not terrifically happy with the arrangement myself, okay?" He swung his legs off the bed and curled into a weak sitting position, keeping a careful eye on the otter. "And in addition, it probably wouldn't hurt you to consider me as a fellow beast who can understand every word you say without a page long footnote." The otter's indignant expression veered toward slight confusion. Torrent figured he hadn't explained himself well, but he was a little mad. "I do not appreciate being called fecund. I do not like to be called unsanity. I cannot help being a mustelid. Do you understand that you are hurting me by calling me these words, because I can understand them?"

The otter blinked. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, eyes half closed. There was something about his entire manner that drained the anger out of Torrent. By the time the otter looked back down at him, he was feeling a bit rueful--it must have showed on his face, as the otter suddenly smiled.

"Olek." He fully extended his paw and did not withdraw, or even flinch, when Torrent took it. "I apologize. Eh, I've never really met a vermin before."

"Torrent. Oh, and that's all right. Never met an otter before, myself."

Olek took a step back, pulling Torrent to his feet, who's head whirled a little at the sudden movement. "You're not much like the textbooks say," he mused, after making sure the weasel wasn't going to fall over. "They kinda suggested you'd smell bad and carry blunt objects."

"Really? Huh." Torrent resisted a sudden impulse to lift his arm and check his body odor, just barely. "The name 'mustelid' does kinda suggest something smelly . . . I guess, but, you know, otters and badgers are mustelids, too."

"Ah!" Olek slapped his forehead, "You're right. I know that. Really, I do. We don't talk too much about it in the classes. You'll be meeting Dr. Gar and he's strong on this whole idea that otters and badgers are the pure mustelids, so we can't call them mustelids and so on and I don't understand it myself. I don't think he does either, which is probably why he changes the subject whenever anyone asks a question." He suddenly winked, "Heh, I think he'd be hardpressed to answer you though . . . well, then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Dr. Gar is really hardline. He'll be more upset at having you in his class than I was at having you in my bed, heh."

"I guess that was a little shocking--I'm sorry about that, but . . ." Torrent glanced over at the wildly misformed covers of the other bed, "I mean, what did you do to it?" He pointed quickly at that other bed and Olek shrugged apologetically.

"Practice. I . . . I haven't roomed with anyone in a while and I did mean to pay for it, if I had to. Immature, really." He kicked at a floortile, "We aren't actually allowed to use magic outside of the classrooms and sometimes I get curious about stuff and I try it out."

"What sort of stuff?" 

"Stuff like this!" Olek, obviously glad for an audience, linked his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, "Er, not stretching, but this." The air between them suddenly burst into flame and Torrent reeled back, crying out, and Olek hissed in his breath and the fire ashed away. "Oh! Oh! I'm sorry--it's been a while--are you okay?"

"Yeah--scared me, that's all," Torrent wheezed, putting a paw to his chest and grinning widely despite himself. "That was incredible!"

"You think?" Olek said, blushing a little, "Heh, that's 'cause you're new. My sister's really a lot better at making fire like that than I am. It's fun, though. I'm actually really good at Persuasion. You are okay?"

"Yes, yes . . ." A little ash flicked from his whiskers, but that was all, "Bit singed--I think I can see how the bed got like that. But it should be okay if I put the covers on straight. Uh, persuasion?"

"Oh, it's a boring one," Olek waved a paw dismissively, but his eyes were bright. "Not like fire. And I'm really not supposed to use it here, because it's only for . . ." His expression drooped a little, "You won't be offended?"

"It's okay."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Well, we're only supposed to use it on vermin."

"That's what I thought--what does it do?"

"Nothing much. It just means that if I put it on you, that you'd have to do what I say."

Torrent flicked his ears, "Like standing on my head?"

"I could tell you to jump off the Abbey roof."

"Oh. Really?"

"Well, in theory. I've never done it. It's really . . . it's not very nice." He ducked his head a little in embarressment. "And they say that vermin have smaller brains, so it's supposed to be really easy. Don't even have to try hard. Especially rats. Do you think rats are stupid?" He raised his head again, jutting his jaw.

"I don't know any rats," Torrent said carefully, "but . . . some of the other weasels think they are. I don't know. I don't think it's fair, though, to say that."

"Yeah, you're right. Have to know them first, heh. You wanna go back to sleep? I'll help you make your bed."

"Thanks."

The bed wasn't too badly damaged and it was a simple matter of piling the sheets and blankets on the mattress and straightening them out to get it sleep ready--although it probably wouldn't pass the average military inspection. Torrent thanked the otter a final time before slipping under the top blanket and turning toward the wall. It was still warm in the room and he wasn't as tired as he should have been.

Although he liked him, perhaps he was just a little scared of Olek. They really do wield a lot of power . . . don't they.