Delphine and the Silver Needle

by Alyssa Moon

  Delphine slumped against the doorway. Unbelievable. There she had been, ready to snatch him from the jaws of disaster, and he was regaling Guillaume with that stupid hawkworm story. Poor Father Guillaume.

  “Alexander. I’m so pleased to see you slept well last night,” Delphine said crisply. She was about to turn to greet Father Guillaume when she noticed Alexander staring at her with a grin.

  “Your whiskers are absolutely frizzled on that side,” he said, pointing at her left cheek. “You really should spend more time on your morning ablutions.”

  Delphine’s nostrils flared. That was the last straw. “You!” she yelled. “You pass out on the dinner table like a commoner, then you bore Father Guillaume with your tall tales, and now you mock me?”

  “At least I’m not running frantically around the halls at half morning.”

  He was so smug, it made Delphine’s eyeteeth hurt. She refocused on Father Guillaume, who winked at her good-naturedly.

  “You were both rather tired. The sleep of the well-traveled walker is the deepest sleep indeed.” He popped a wheat grain into his mouth and bit down, cracking the shell. “Speaking of which, I returned to the library this morning and located the name of the music school you seek.”

  Delphine’s mouth dropped open. “You did?”

  “The old Fortencio Académie was located in Parfumoisson. Perhaps you’ll be able to find what remains of it there.” He pulled out a large square of vellum covered in carefully drawn mountains, rivers, and towns. “I have prepared this map to assist in your travels.”

  Delphine felt positively ashamed of her behavior. She thought of what Maman would say about her running through the halls and then bickering with a noblemouse in front of such a kind host. “Thank you,” she choked, taking the map from the badger. She spotted Tymbale Monastery, inked in careful detail with a rendering of Fox Rock nearby. A dotted line led north and then west along a river to the coast that held Parfumoisson—evidently where the Fortencio Académie had once been.

  Guillaume patted the chunk of brick on the bench next to him, and she climbed up onto it sheepishly. “I used to spend several months of each year traveling through the lands of Peltinore,” he told her. “I am secure in my belief that I have given you the best route.”

  “Thank you,” Delphine said again, now blushing even harder. “You did all this while I was sleeping?”

  Guillaume smiled. “Sleep is always a worthy endeavor.” Then his face grew serious. “You may not have as much time for it on the road. You must be always aware, on guard, watching to keep one another safe. The rats of this kingdom have been power and magic hungry for the last century. They will stop at nothing to get that needle.”

  After breakfast, the two mice packed their meager belongings. The map fit neatly inside the needle sheath, and Delphine stored the scrap of vellum with Speranta’s name in her apron pocket. She was eager to get back on the road but found herself sad to leave Father Guillaume.

  The badger handed them bags filled with dried foods and supplies, which Delphine and Alexander gratefully accepted. Then he walked with them to the edge of the overgrown gardens. The smell of the last honeysuckle blossoms lay rich in the air. Delphine glanced toward the crumbling wall surrounding the grounds, and the dark and foreboding woods beyond. If the rats were to have followed her here . . .

  She turned to Father Guillaume. “Will you be safe?”

  He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Worry not, little mowse. I’ve survived this long. And Tymbale is not so easily reached by those who are less than true of heart.”

  Delphine nodded as he stepped forward to join Alexander, chatting with the noblemouse in a low voice. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Scooping up a handful of dry dirt from the garden bed, she knotted it into a corner of her cloak. Now she would be able to powder her silver whiskers whenever they crossed paths with others.

  Guillaume and Alexander finished talking, and Alexander began scaling the wall. Meanwhile, the monk knelt beside Delphine. “May I examine your needle one last time?”

  She slipped it from its sheath and handed it to him. Your needle, she noticed he had said. Not the needle.

  Turning it over so that the morning sun glinted off the engravings, he began to speak. The light filled her eyes, and his voice filled her mind in such a way that, later, while she could never recall quite what he had said, she could have sworn she had understood it deep in her bones.

  Guillaume placed her needle back into her paws, and the spell was broken. “Find the start, Delphine. To unravel any mystery, find the start. Untie that riddle, and the rest will follow.”

  Delphine thought of her mother’s similar advice: Find the knot. She nodded, resolute. And after bidding the badger a heartfelt good-bye, she joined Alexander.

  The morning air was crisp and quiet, broken only by the call of a sparrow in the distance. The soft, loamy dirt would make it easy to walk. They turned their tails to Tymbale, their noses to the north. Rested and fed, they headed once more into the unknown.

  The Chaumes moon was already well on its way to being full before Delphine and Alexander had even reached the river marked on Guillaume’s map.

  Between them, they had suffered three splinters (Delphine), a torn ear (also Delphine), several raw toe pads (yet again Delphine), and a temporary discoloration of a left front claw (Alexander, after attempting to show off how he could balance a mulberry on his claw despite Delphine’s warnings that mulberry juice was used to stain fabrics). So Delphine was not feeling particularly kindly when Alexander complained about one of his hind paws aching.

  “You have boots,” she pointed out for what felt like the thousandth time. “I don’t, and I’m not complaining. Anyway, soon enough we’ll be on the river, and then we won’t need shoes at all.”

  Alexander sat down on a large pebble and began to undo his shoefly wing laces. “I’m just not particularly fond of water travel,” he muttered. He pulled off his boot and shook out a few minuscule specks of dirt.

  Delphine folded her arms. “What are you saying? That you’re not coming with me on the river? If it’s too much for you, maybe you should go back to the castle.”

  “You know I’m not going back.” Alexander was clearly miffed now, too. “I’ve taken an oath to protect you.” He pulled back on his ant-skin boot, hopping around in a most inelegant fashion as he wiggled it all the way back onto his paw.

  Seems like I’m the one protecting you most of the time, she wanted to say, but she resisted the urge. “Well, why did you take that oath to protect me?”

  Alexander squinted at the sky. “You really want to know the truth?”

  “Yes!”

  “The castle is so terribly dull,” he said, turning up his nose. “I figured if I went on a quest at least I could get a little adventure in my life.”

  “Come on,” she said with a sigh, not wanting to admit that she’d had similar feelings before that fateful castle letter had arrived at her doorstep. Though of course, that was before her life depended on completing said quest. She headed toward the river’s edge. Alexander fell into step behind her, still lacing his boot as he went.

  Most of the travelers seemed to be crossing the river, rather than traveling up or down it. A frog was poling back and forth in a wooden human bowl, taking paying passengers across the water. Alexander sniffed at the sight of the wooden bowl with its endless rotation of animals. “How filthy it must be—” he began, but he caught a glimpse of Delphine folding her arms, and he had the sense to stop his sentence in its tracks. “Anyway, we can’t ride in that even if we wanted to,” he amended. “We need to go downstream, don’t we?”

  Delphine nodded, staring hard at one particularly long-nosed stoat hanging around the edge of the crowd. She didn’t like his weevily looks, or how he seemed to be eyeing the purses tied on most passengers’ belts. She glanced at Alexander. “Do you see—?” But by the time she looked back at the crowd, the stoat was gone.

  “What?” Alexa
nder looked up, retying his boots for the third time in order to get the bows perfectly aligned.

  She rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

  Then Delphine noticed a group of newts hanging around idly on the shore. Tall and lanky, they were garbed in a bizarre hodge-podge of garments, each less fashionable than the last. More importantly, they were standing in front of a sign offering skiffs for rent to those brave enough to be traveling along the river.

  Then Delphine got a closer look at the skiffs themselves. They were crumbling where they sat, moldy piles of driftwood barely lashed together with frayed bits of discarded cord. She shook her head in disbelief. But it seemed to be their only option.

  Delphine glanced at Alexander, then back down the muddy hill. A plan was coming together. “I’m going to go find out how much they charge for one of those hole-filled embarrassments. Stay here until I call you.” She pulled a pinch of dry dirt out of the knot in her cloak and rubbed it into her whiskers, dulling the silver shine as best she could.

  Alexander looked doubtful. “And what will we do with one of those? Do you know anything at all about boats?”

  Delphine nodded briskly. “There’s a little pond near our château. I know enough to keep us afloat.” She strode down the steep hill, deftly stepping through the mud. “Just watch for my signal!” she called over her shoulder.

  “Wait!” Alexander cried. “They’re common crooks, by the looks of them! They’ll charge you a leg and a tail! And we don’t even have anything to barter with in the first place! Delphine, stop!”

  But she had already reached the newts. “Gentlemen, what a pleasure.” Delphine dipped into her best curtsey, then straightened up with as much Alexander-style aplomb as she could muster. “I couldn’t help but notice that you all are connoisseurs of fashion.”

  The newt who seemed to be the leader of the gang gave a throaty chuckle. “That we are, miss. We be the Courant Boys.”

  “The Au Courant Boys!” piped up one of the younger newts, and was rewarded with a smack upside the head.

  “Quit tellin’ my joke before me!” snapped the leader. Then he turned back to Delphine, a slimy grin oozing across his face. “Lookin’ for a water vehicle, perchance? If so, then I, Alphonse-Bertrand, am at your service.”

  She nodded as innocently as she could. “Why yes, indeed. And we can offer you some courtly garments in exchange.”

  “I should think so, a well-dressed pair like you two.” Alphonse-Bertrand leered up the hill behind her.

  She spun around. Sure enough, Alexander was heading down toward them. She sighed. He just couldn’t follow simple instructions, could he? She would have to speed things up. “I see you have no headwear,” she whispered to the lead newt, hoping to make it seem like such an embarrassing situation that she couldn’t even speak of it aloud.

  “Delph—” Alexander began to call, forgetting to look down as he placed his paw. The mud enveloped his boot instantly and he tumbled headlong. He slid down the hill, flailing, boots flying, finally coming to a stop at the feet of the newts.

  Delphine stared down at him with the look of distaste typically reserved for a bit of unpleasant vegetable stalk found in the midst of a delicious cassoulet.

  “Gentlemen,” Alexander said as if nothing were amiss. He nodded to each of them in turn from where he lay in the mud.

  Delphine poked him sharply in the ribs with her toe. “Alexander, I was just about to trade your cap to this fine fellow here, but you seem to have lost it.”

  He peeled himself genteelly upward to a standing position. “My cap? My velvet cap with the bluebird feather?” He reached upward, and Delphine stared pointedly at the ground behind him. He swiveled around and plucked the bedraggled lump of velvet out of the mud.

  Delphine gritted her teeth, her mind racing furiously. How was she going to salvage this? Another idea sprang into her head. Scurrying over, she lifted the cap from Alexander’s paws and trotted to the river. “Thank goodness it’s not Drizellan velvet,” she announced as she rinsed it in the rushing water. “Then it really would be ruined.”

  Alexander was aghast. “What? I’ll have you know that cap is made of the finest velvet in all of Peltinore!” He drew himself up to his full height.

  “My point exactly,” she volleyed as she gave the cap a final swish and then carefully pulled it out of the water. It looked like a drowned marshfly. She traipsed back over to the group of newts with the cap in her paw. “This is no cheap Drizellan velvet. This is the finest Cinderellan velvet, straight from the kingdom of, ah . . . Lucifee. Only the best velvet can go through mud and water and come out looking even better than when it went in. You, my good sir, are tremendously lucky that my courtly friend has only the finest taste in fabrics.”

  Alphonse-Bertrand looked unconvinced, his shiny eyes staring unblinking at her.

  Delphine gave the cap a few quick twists to wring out the water, and placed it with gravitas on top of Alexander’s head. “Would you not agree that in fact the cap is now even more charming than before?”

  While Alphonse-Bertrand still seemed skeptical, the rest of the newts were nodding to one another now, impressed. “Cinderellan velvet,” said one. “I’ve heard of it, you know.”

  Delphine collected their travel bags from where Alexander had dropped them, then began to hustle Alexander toward the closest skiff. “Put these in there and get on board,” she hissed under her breath.

  Alexander looked at the boat, then back at her. “But we haven’t—”

  “Go!” Delphine flicked her eyes at the nearest skiff once more. As he turned, she grabbed the cap back off his head.

  “My cap!” he yelped. Reaching for it, he slipped in the mud, tumbling forward into the boat and landing on one of the seating planks. Luckily, Delphine noted, the sacks went into the boat with him.

  She turned back to the clump of newts, now all gabbling enthusiastically. She addressed Alphonse-Bertrand directly. “If you’re not interested in this trade, my good newt, I’m sure that one of your colleagues will be?”

  Several of them stepped forward, clamoring excitedly.

  “No!” Alphonse-Bertrand snatched the cap from her paws and jammed it down on his head.

  Delphine smiled. Nothing like the fear of slipping a notch on the social ladder to inspire greediness. She curtseyed again. “Monsieur. Such a pleasure.”

  Alphonse-Bertrand beamed from ear to ear. “Enjoy your ride,” he said snidely. She could tell he thought he was getting the better end of the deal.

  Delphine leapt lightly into the skiff. “Au revoir!” she called merrily as they began to push back from the shore into the swiftly flowing waters. She turned to look at Alexander. At that moment, the skiff jolted beneath her.

  She spun around and her blood turned to ice. Alphonse-Bertrand had grabbed the rope trailing from the aft and was pulling them back toward shore. He seemed to be yelling something, but his words were drowned out by the river.

  Delphine cupped a paw around her ear, trying to act unconcerned, but her heart was in her throat. What could they do? Leap off the boat? Try to swim to the other side? Could Alexander even swim?

  Alphonse-Bertrand bellowed louder. “Just wanted to say merci beaucoup once again! It’s not often I get to do business with mice from another kingdom!”

  Delphine smiled weakly, her heart pounding.

  The newt dropped the rope and waved as the skiff began to drift into the center of the current. The rest of the bunch swarmed around him, jabbering over who could borrow the cap first. Their voices were quickly drowned out once more by the rushing river.

  As they moved away from the shore, Delphine again had the funniest feeling that she was being watched. Was it the strange stoat again? But she blinked and only saw the tree-lined shore. Delphine rubbed her eyes. She must be delirious after so long on the road.

  Alexander turned toward her. “That cap was ruined!”

  Delphine shrugged. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

 
; “Beauty was that cap before you dunked it in the river. And what in the world is ‘Drizellan velvet’? And ‘Cinderellan velvet’?”

  She shrugged again. “How should I know?”

  His mouth fell open. “Do you mean . . . ?”

  She smiled.

  Alexander struggled to compose himself. “But—”

  “They’ll never know anything other than that they’re now the owners of an extremely fashionable cap, straight from the courts of Lucifee, wherever that is. Besides, this thing they call a boat isn’t worth anything at all. It was a fair trade, when all was said and done.”

  He leaned back, disbelieving. “Where did that all come from?”

  Delphine gave a sly grin. “Let’s just say that I’ve been listening to someone tell a lot of tall tales for quite a few weeks now.” And before Alexander could respond, she nipped to the front of the skiff and began poling energetically downstream.

  After a few minutes, Delphine realized Alexander had not lied—water travel did not suit him. She watched his ears grow more and more tinged with green, and by the time they had found a reed midriver to tie on to for the night, he was refusing any nourishment at all.

  “Not a single morsel of walnut?” pressed Delphine, nibbling from one of the packets that Father Guillaume had prepared for them. Alexander just groaned and buried his head in his paws.

  With every passing day, the flow of the river lessened. Time seemed to pass more slowly, too, with little for them to do but mend and organize their meager supplies. Delphine patched the spots that had rubbed thin in the fabric of their travel bags, and then she started patching the multitude of holes in the old canvases that had come with the skiff. She spent several hours retying all the dilapidated cords that were holding most of the boat together. The wood itself was so worm-eaten and sun battered that it looked like it would crumble if it hit a rock too hard, so they took turns sitting at the prow, keeping a pole’s length away from any oncoming rocks in their path.