Delphine and the Silver Needle

by Alyssa Moon

  Snurleau nodded, his sly smile creeping back onto his face.

  Through the eyes of Cécile, a hundred years past, Delphine stared at the silver-whiskered mouse standing at the old entrance of the music school. The mouse clutched a bundle in one paw and the needle in the other, and the look on her face was of pure terror.

  An elegant, dark-eyed shrew in long robes stood next to her. It could only be Speranta, the music master of the time. She pushed the mouse back inside the school. “Stay out of sight!”

  But the mouse shoved forward again, her huge eyes fixed on the rats fighting their way through the gates. “They’re here for me!” she cried. “I brought them to your doorstep. Let me draw them away.”

  “You’re not risking death just to save us,” retorted Speranta in anger. “They dare to threaten you? Then they threaten all of us. We are not defenseless.” She gestured, and Delphine-as-Cécile found herself stepping forward. “Cécile is the finest swordsmouse south of the river. She’ll distract them while you escape. Nobody need die today.”

  Cécile knelt before the silver-whiskered mouse. “The rats are enemies to us all. Run now, while you still can. Keep your baby safe.”

  Baby? The word crashed over Delphine.

  Speranta turned to another of the shrews. “Take her to the tunnels. Show her the one that leads to the top of the cliffs.” Then she spoke very quietly to the mouse. “Go upstream. Find Tymbale Monastery. Use my name; I am known there.”

  With thanks on her lips, the mouse fled, carrying the needle and her bundle—her baby—into the dark.

  Cécile turned and faced the rats, drawing her mighty

  sword.

  She fought more valiantly than Delphine could have ever imagined possible. Cécile was a dervish of swordplay, seeming to be in multiple places at once. She parried, riposted, and tore through row after row of marauding rats. From inside the school windows, the other students assisted as they could, using slingshots to harry the rats and keep them distracted.

  But Cécile was growing weak. Delphine could feel the fatigue in her limbs, the struggle to keep lifting the sword. And Speranta must have seen it, too, because she stepped forward, head held high, and stood alongside Cécile. She faced the rats.

  “I will tell you where the mouse has gone,” Speranta announced. “But you must promise to leave and never return.”

  The rats sneered, their yellow fangs dripping with blood and spittle. “Why would we believe you?” said one.

  “You have no choice,” said Speranta bravely. “I alone know where she is. Either you hear my words, or I will disappear as well and the trail will be as cold and dead as your fallen comrades.”

  “Then tell us,” demanded the same rat. He came closer and closer until Delphine could smell the stench of rotting meat on his breath.

  “Arc des Dieux,” said Speranta. “Up the river. She said something about a château.”

  The rats looked at one another. “But . . .” said one. Another scratched at her ear with a filthy paw, pondering. The lead rat’s eyes widened.

  “That cowardly mouse!” he screamed, whirling on the rest of his lot. “She’s doubling back! She’s heading back to Château Trois Arbres!” Their faces grew wide with understanding as well, then anger washed over their features. Speranta took another step toward the rats.

  “Now go,” she demanded. “I’ve told you what you came here to learn.”

  But the lead rat raised his great fist sheathed in a metal gauntlet, high over her head. “Maybe I’ll take care of you first,” he roared. Speranta fell back.

  Like a fierce angel, Cécile came flying upon the rat, sword flashing through the air. With a single sweep of the blade she took the rat’s life.

  Cécile turned quickly. “Sper—” she began, but she never finished what she was about to say. For as the rat’s body toppled forward, his fist came down at last. That great metal gauntlet struck Cécile’s skull, and she fell alongside the rat in a heap.

  Delphine felt the crushing blow and then her body slammed to the ground. She heard Speranta screaming from behind her. Through glazed eyes, she stared at the rest of the rats. Their leader slain, they turned tail and ran.

  She tried to take a breath, but the pain was too great. A mist was rising in front of her eyes. She could see Speranta kneeling down beside her, felt a cool paw on her cheek. Cécile’s cheek. Speranta gave a sob of grief.

  Then the world slid sideways, turned black and cold . . .

  The voice again, wind in the leaves. “Now you see.”

  Delphine slammed back into her own body so hard that she was thrown against the wall. Tears fell from her eyes, not from the pain, but from what she had just lived through. Crying, she struggled to sit upright.

  “You gave your life for her! For all of them!” Sobs ripped through her. The feeling of being Cécile, dying in Speranta’s arms . . . it was still so fresh and raw. Then Alexander was kneeling beside her, clasping her paws in his. The warmth of his touch slowly brought her back to the present.

  When she could finally breathe again, she gazed up at Cécile’s ghost. “But why seal up the whole wing?”

  Cécile’s voice was fading. It floated to her like a puff of smoke, already disappearing into the air. “Too much for Speranta to bear.”

  Remembering the look on Speranta’s face, the anguish in her voice, Delphine understood. She would have never wanted to set paw near the place again. No wonder a whole new entrance to the school had been constructed, this one closed up forever.

  Cécile’s form was wispy now. “Find the baby,” came one last whisper. Then she was gone.

  Delphine’s cheeks were wet with tears.

  Alexander grabbed her by the shoulders. “What baby? What just happened?”

  Delphine tried to pull her thoughts together. “I . . . I don’t know! I saw how Cécile died. I saw my ancestor, carrying the needle . . . and she was carrying a baby, too. Speranta said . . .” Delphine struggled to recall. “The mouse came from Arc des Dieux. Something about a château with three trees.” She looked up at Alexander. “Does that mean anything to you?”

  He shook his head.

  Delphine rose. Her mind was racing. She had to find that château.

  Rolanta Fortencio looked surprised when Delphine and Alexander entered her study. “Back so soon? How goes the search?”

  Delphine didn’t want to waste any time. “I know where my ancestor came from, before she passed through this school. Somewhere near Arc des Dieux. A château?”

  Rolanta blinked. “How did you uncover this information so quickly?”

  Delphine had been hoping she wouldn’t be asked that question. “Well—”

  “A ghost,” interjected Alexander. He squared his shoulders. “A ghost showed us where to look.”

  Oh, no. Delphine hardly dared look back at Rolanta.

  But Rolanta’s ears had gone white as ash. “Cécile.” She said it as a prayer, as a commandment.

  Delphine squeaked in disbelief. “You knew that there was a ghost back there?”

  “I told you that most of the scribes found the space unpleasant for any length of time.” But she would no longer meet Delphine’s eyes.

  Unbelievable! That would explain why Rolanta had been in such a hurry to leave them.

  “I think Cécile is lonely,” Delphine told Rolanta. “Maybe it’s worth reopening that part of the school.” She paused. “Cécile saved my ancestor’s life. I’ll never forget that. But now I fear I have brought the same danger to your school. I’ve already seen rats in town. . . .” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. She had no protection to offer them.

  Rolanta rose, taking Delphine’s paw. “We can take care of ourselves. As for Cécile . . . I had no idea she wanted company. I always thought she wanted to be left alone.” She blinked. “What did you say about a château?”

  “Something with three trees, I think?”

  “The Château Trois Arbres. It’s been there for centuries. Just past Arc
des Dieux, where the river curves north and then back east again.”

  “Then that’s where we’re going next.” Delphine stood tall, refusing to think of how long it might take with winter’s icy fingers moving farther south every day.

  Once more they had little to pack, but once more they were recipients of kindness by their host. Rolanta pressed two thick hooded cloaks on them, lined with dandelion fluff against the cold, as well as a large cloth bag. It was heavy with nutmeats and breads. A little paper packet rested on top.

  Delphine could smell what it held. The anise-seed cookies. She looked at Rolanta. “Do you know . . . when Cécile spoke to me, I could smell these. Didn’t you say that these cookies are an age-old school tradition?”

  Rolanta nodded slowly, her brow wrinkled in thought. “I always wondered why. Perhaps they were Cécile’s favorite.” She handed over a slim folio of papers. “I almost forgot. A gift for you.”

  “Thank you.” Delphine slipped the folio into the sack alongside the packet of anise-seed cookies. “And thank you for all your kindness. I’m in your debt.”

  “As I am in yours,” Rolanta responded gravely. “You’ve brought peace to our ancestor. I only hope you can track down your own as well.” She clasped Delphine’s paws warmly. “I wish you both safe travels.”

  Delphine and Alexander trotted back down Rue Fortencio as it curved around the church like an oxbow.

  Alexander reached for the bag. “So what did she give you?” He opened the folio and a gust of wind whisked a sheet of vellum into the air. More sheets threatened to break free.

  “Careful!” Delphine dove, snatching the page just in time. She turned it right side up and looked over Rolanta’s handwriting. “‘This is an old melody from our songbooks,’” she read. “‘It is rarely sung nowadays, but I hope this may be of some help on your quest. It is a small token of my gratitude.’” She glanced down at the lyrics that took up the rest of the sheet. “It’s about the Threaded!” she squeaked excitedly. She started to read the song aloud:

  Tale of the Threaded

  Listen, oh listen, I’ll tell you a tale,

  Of mice who hold magic from ear-tip to tail,

  Who travel the land sewing doublet and cloak,

  For great lords and ladies, each item bespoke.

  These mice called the Threaded, they stitch and they sew,

  But the needles they use are from long, long ago.

  They can darken the sky, and cast out from sight,

  But also bring power and set wrong to right.

  “That’s fantastic,” interrupted Alexander, his paws tucked inside the sleeves of his new hooded cloak against the cold air. “But can we save the rest for later? This wind is positively freezing my tail.”

  The weather had taken a definite turn for the worse. A chill wind dogged them up the streets to the end of town, where as promised, they found the foot of the path into the forest. They looked at one another, shivering.

  “Lead the way, Delfie,” Alexander said, wrapping his cloak ever tighter.

  They weren’t ten minutes outside of the city, zigzagging their way up a narrow path through rocks and trees, when a large furry animal stepped out from behind an old oak stump.

  A cat.

  They froze, nowhere to hide.

  Delphine thought of Lucifer back home and prayed that this feline wasn’t as cruel. Or at least . . . at first glance, she had thought it was a cat. Now that she was looking at it clearly, she couldn’t be quite certain.

  Its huge round eyes were golden green, staring unblinkingly at them. Spiky gray fur stuck out in every direction, even from between its toes. The fur was so thick around its ears that she could barely see them. Its mouth hung open, tongue protruding slightly, one fang jutting upward at an odd angle. Whatever it was, it was terrifying.

  Beside her, she could hear Alexander reaching for his sword, then cursing when he remembered he’d lost it. She dared not break her gaze with the creature. Its perfectly round eyes, pitch-black in the center, stared back at her. Its tail slowly swept into view, then swept away again, like a metronome keeping time.

  Nobody moved.

  At the center of the creature’s strange flat face was a tiny nose from which snorts and snuffles were coming intermittently. Delphine had thought at first it was snarling, but no attack seemed forthcoming. It was simply standing there, watching them. She began to wonder if this was simply how it sounded when it breathed.

  Then it opened its mouth, and Delphine tensed in fear. “Hello,” it said, in a nasally, gravelly voice. The tone was oddly friendly.

  Delphine cocked her head, trying desperately to catch Alexander’s eye without completely looking away from the thing.

  It spoke again. “Are you Delphine?”

  Delphine and Alexander both jumped a little. She recovered first. “I am,” she said carefully. Was this some sort of trap? The rats’ doing, perhaps?

  “Pleasure to meet you,” it said. As it spoke, bits of spittle sprayed randomly. It licked its lips and they both flinched, but it went on, apparently unaware of the significance of the gesture. “I’ve been waiting for you. Rolanta sent me.”

  Now Delphine was truly speechless. Rolanta had sent a monster after them?

  It grinned, showing far too many teeth. “I’m here to protect you while you’re traveling to Château Trees, or whatever it’s called. I’ve been there before. I can show you the path up the banks of the river. It’s not easy this time of year for little creatures like you. She thought you might like some extra help.”

  Delphine managed to gather herself together. “I’m sorry, and you are . . . ?”

  “Oh!” It grinned again, drool dripping a little from its crooked fang. “I’m Cornichonne. So lovely to meet you. Both of you.” Cornichonne turned the full force of her unwavering golden gaze on Alexander, and he shuddered a little.

  Delphine gave him a sharp glance. Then she looked back up at the creature. “Very nice to meet you, too,” she replied, trying as hard as she possibly could to stop thinking about the last time Lucifer had caught one of the mice of the château. “How, uh, how did you know who I was?”

  Cornichonne squinted her huge eyes as much as she was able. “Not many mice wandering around out here with silver whiskers and a silver needle.”

  Delphine’s paw flew to her face. She had gotten lax about powdering her whiskers with dirt. She would need to be more vigilant. Then she saw that the creature was wearing leather saddlebags, and bulging full, from the sight of them.

  Cornichonne noticed Delphine’s gaze. “Yiss, she gave me plenty of dried fish in payment for helping you.” Delphine’s face must have fallen a little, because Cornichonne continued hurriedly. “And mouse foods, too, no doubt. But oh, that delicious fish . . .” Her wide eyes went a little dreamy.

  “Y-you eat fish, then?” asked Delphine as politely as she could.

  “Of course!” said Cornichonne. “Don’t all cats?”

  Delphine gulped, suddenly glad she hadn’t asked what sort of creature Cornichonne was.

  And so Delphine and Alexander gained a new travel companion. A curious sight it would have been to any other passersby to see two mice traveling with a cat. But there was nobody else on the trail that day. It seemed that they were all alone in the autumn forest, and as Delphine thought again of the rats in Parfumoisson she prayed it would stay that way.

  The saddlebags had yielded a curious array of items, presumably what Rolanta thought would best serve travelers during winter. The packet of whisker wax was much appreciated by Alexander, and there were several truly useful items like blankets and bowls. But many things that Delphine would have included in a heartbeat were missing.

  “Packed by a shrew who’s never actually set paw in a forest,” commented Cornichonne, noticing the look of frustration on Delphine’s face. “But we can forage whatever else we need.” She started licking one of her front paws.

  “Like a cooking pot?” Delphine folded her arms a little
petulantly. She felt at once irritated at herself for questioning the shrew’s kindness, and afraid of the reality that was looming before them. Living on the road would just get harder as winter began to descend.

  The cat shrugged and started in on another paw. “Who knows what we might find?” She sneezed suddenly, spraying Delphine, Alexander, and all the laid-out belongings, before resuming her washing. “ ’Scuse me.”

  Delphine and Alexander looked at each other.

  “Are you thinking what I am?” she muttered quietly to him.

  “Walk behind Cornichonne,” he whispered, wiping the fine spray of goo from his whiskers. “Though it’s still nice having another companion along with us.”

  “Let’s repack the saddlebags for her. It’s one thing we can do.”

  They did walk behind the cat after that, but not only because of the occasional sneezes. Cornichonne could break a path when the branches or grasses were too thick for the mice to easily navigate. And the cat knew her way up and down this river, judging from her familiarity with the path as they traveled.

  In the long hours they walked, Delphine told Cornichonne all about her needle, the tapestries, and her quest to unravel the mystery. She spoke of the rats and their terrifying pursuit.

  Cornichonne agreed. “You don’t want to tangle with rats,” she said solemnly. But she was fascinated to learn about Delphine’s ancestor who had visited the music school a century ago.

  “Who was the baby?” she liked to muse aloud. “Your great-great-grandmother? Your great-great-great-grandmother? But then again, you might not be a direct descendent. I know a cat who inherited his aunt’s curly whiskers. Could silver whiskers work the same way?”

  Delphine would always have to shrug and say she didn’t know. Cornichonne was asking all the same questions she had been turning over in her own head ever since they had left Parfumoisson.