by Alyssa Moon
Rien was always awed at how she spoke so casually of her talents. Her lovely face glowed with joy as she described the butterflies she had made just that morning, and he gazed at her. He thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful, so full of life.
Elodie noticed the glazed expression in his eyes. She stopped talking. “Now I’m boring you.”
“Never!”
She reached out and squeezed his paw.
He squeezed back.
Upstairs, the chosen mice were busy with the duties and responsibilities of their birthright. Downstairs, the servants gossiped among themselves. But in their secret room, Rien and Elodie sat together, rat and mouse, best friends across two worlds.
Travel along the river was slow, even with a cat to lead the way. And each day, the sun rose a little later and disappeared a little sooner, making daylight travel more and more of a luxury. Delphine and Alexander did their best to stretch the barley grains from the saddlebags into as many meals as possible, but all too soon it was back to roots and nuts. They spent hours digging in the hardened ground, finding only dried-up fragments of roots. Other foragers had already been there, leaving little in their wake.
It grew colder every night as well. With the frigid air seeping into their bones even through their cloaks, they found themselves edging closer to Cornichonne each night. After a few nights, Delphine was snuggling into the cat’s neck, and Alexander took to curling up between Cornichonne’s paws. Delphine knew her old self would have been amazed that she was sleeping so close to a feline.
During the day, Delphine and Alexander struggled with being exhausted and half freezing most of the time. It didn’t help that Cornichonne seemed to always be in good spirits, no matter the circumstances. She would sometimes disappear for a few hours and come back licking fresh fish scales off her paws, looking most satisfied.
“I wish we could fish for acorns,” Alexander always said when she returned, only half joking. Their food supplies were running dangerously low.
One morning, Delphine couldn’t get up. Her body had nothing left to give. She suspected that Alexander wasn’t faring much better, though he tried to put on a brave face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cornichonne, sniffing her gently. Her warm breath felt oddly comforting.
“Cornichonne, I can’t . . . I’m just so tired,” Delphine admitted, trying to hold back tears. She hated to say it, had fought for days against admitting it, but could deny it no longer.
“Oh,” Cornichonne said sadly. “It’s a lot of walking for you little creatures, I suppose.”
Delphine nodded, too weary to reply.
Cornichonne gazed at her, clearly pondering something. Then she lay down on her belly next to Delphine, paws stretched forward. “Would you want to . . . ride on my back?”
Delphine stared at her in disbelief. Break the animal code? A cat giving a ride to a mouse? She couldn’t imagine such a thing.
When Delphine didn’t respond, Cornichonne bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said awkwardly. “I just thought—”
“No!” Delphine struggled to stand, then slowly approached Cornichonne. She wrapped her arms around Cornichonne’s neck as best she could. It was the tiniest of hugs to the cat, but Delphine meant it with every bone in her body. “I . . .” Delphine struggled to find words. “You would do that for me?”
Cornichonne nodded solemnly. “You’ve worked so hard to get this far. Maybe I can help you, just a little bit.” She looked at Alexander. “Both of you.”
Alexander approached and bowed low. “You do us a great kindness, Lady Cornichonne. I think you to be one of the kindest denizens of all this kingdom.” Even in his now-ragged garments, he looked more handsome than Delphine had ever seen him.
Impulsively, Delphine kissed Cornichonne’s moist nose. “Thank you.”
They rolled the blankets and tucked them under the saddlebag straps to form impromptu saddles. Then, one by one, they climbed awkwardly onto her back. Cornichonne walked to and fro as Delphine and Alexander got their bearings. Within minutes they were at ease, rolling with the cat’s sinuous gait as she walked, holding on to her thick fur like reins. Cornichonne put out their twigfire with a few backward kicks of dirt, and they were on their way again.
As Cornichonne walked, Delphine was lulled into a gentle state of reflection. She let her mind wander, observing the trees they passed and the clouds up above. But her thoughts always returned to the needle. Why had it been left with her? What was the use of it? She knitted her brow, trying desperately to see a pattern. She thought of what her mother had said, about finding the knot in order to unravel the mystery.
She knew now that her needle had been one of the Threaded’s, long ago. Somehow, it had been stolen by a mouse who was pursued by rats, just as she was pursued now. But where had the needle been for the last hundred years?
She couldn’t see any answers in that direction. She tried another angle. The needles were spoken of in all the tales of the Threaded as the symbol of their power. Obviously, the needle held magic even greater than she could summon. But why was she able to tap into it at all? She thought back to that night in the boat, then even further back to the monastery. The shimmering walls.
Could Father Guillaume have been one of the Threaded, and somehow given her the keys to unlock the magic of her needle?
No, that was absurd. The Threaded had been mice, not badgers, and they had all disappeared a century ago.
But no matter why she had awakened the needle those few times, the bigger question seemed to be: How? If she wasn’t able to control it, to wield it properly, she would have no hope of protecting herself if the rats caught up to them.
And she had a sinking suspicion that they would. The kingdom was only so big, and there were only so many places to hide. She couldn’t live on the run forever. Sooner or later, she would have to face them and defend the needle, or die trying.
And your parents? whispered a little voice in the back of her head. Your birth parents? You’re still no closer to knowing why they gave you up.
“Maybe I never will know!” snapped Delphine aloud, tired of longing for answers that were always out of reach.
Alexander jerked out of a doze behind her. “Did you say something?”
“It’s nothing, Alexander,” she said without turning. “Go back to sleep.”
The air was starting to feel damp. In another moment, it began to drizzle. The shower of droplets quickly turned into heavy rain, which became a downpour. Cornichonne continued onward, apparently unbothered, but within minutes the two mice on her back were thoroughly drenched.
“It’s a s-solid wall of w-water,” Alexander managed to get out between chattering teeth.
It felt as though they were underneath a never-ending waterfall. “It l-looks like glass,” he continued unhappily. “We’re riding th-through liquid g-glass.” Even bitterly cold, he couldn’t stop himself from continuing a one-sided conversation.
But Delphine suddenly pictured what he had said. Liquid glass. If it were liquid . . . could she make it solid? She pushed back her hood, heedless of the torrent of water that instantly poured down on her head, and stared hard at the rain. Someone had made shoes of glass. Could she make glass out of rain?
Delphine squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the droplets clinging together to form a smooth solid sheet of glass above their heads. The needle began to tingle in her paws.
The rain began to lessen. Her eyes snapped open. Overhead, the droplets streamed outward on either side of them, running down to the ground. There was a faint shimmer in the air.
Delphine reached out one tentative paw to touch the shimmer. It felt solid. She laughed in delight.
“Alexander!” She turned to look at him behind her, and the shimmer faded for a moment as she lost her concentration.
Oops. She faced forward again, letting the needle rest in her paws and keeping her mind calm. The shimmer strengthened once more. Alexander slapped her on the back
excitedly and she grinned, but kept focusing. The glass sheet above them was holding.
After that, practicing with the needle didn’t get easier, but it did become more rewarding. Several times she was nearly able to make a pebble rise into the air. The sparkles would gather around it, and it would begin to wobble slowly upward, but then fall back to the ground. When she sighed, Alexander would always come to her side.
“That’s so much more than you could do before! Delfie! Don’t give up!”
And she didn’t. It helped to have his cheerful support in those moments of doubt.
On the other hand, she could have done without his endless questions about how the needle and the magic worked.
They were resting after lunch one day, Cornichonne dozing next to them as Delphine reattached a button that had fallen off Alexander’s jacket, when he started up with the questions again.
“I don’t understand how you do it,” mused Alexander. “Sometimes you make gestures, but you said that other times, you just imagine what you want the magic to do and it happens?”
Delphine shrugged, unwilling to admit that she was just as baffled as he was by the needle. She focused on the task at hand, twisting a weedy stalk of grass so that it could slip through the buttonholes.
“Hand me your jacket,” she said.
“And then yesterday,” he went on, his jacket still dangling from his paw, “you couldn’t do anything but make the needle fizz and crackle all afternoon, like a spitting fire built out of wet wood.”
“True,” she said shortly, reaching for his jacket. She deftly wove the thin stalk of grass back and forth through the fabric to attach the button.
“So I can’t help but wonder,” he continued, “what would happen if you tried something really big?”
She threw the finished garment on the ground. “Oh, thank you, Alexander. Thank you for that excellent and thoughtful tip. It hadn’t occurred to me to try ‘something big,’ as you so cleverly call it. I’ve just been hoping to do really small magic. That was in fact my goal.” She stood up and grabbed her needle from where it was leaning against a branch. She couldn’t bear to even look at him for another moment.
Alexander turned to Cornichonne, a confused look on his face. “Well, shouldn’t she try that?”
Cornichonne awoke briefly to answer with a whuffly snuff.
Stomping into the forest until she found a little clearing, Delphine sat down in a huff, skirts billowing around her. She leaned her head against one paw. Didn’t Alexander see that she was trying?
After a few minutes, a courtly nose poked through the grass, followed by Alexander’s narrow face and elegant ears. “Delfie?” he said quietly.
“What?” She knew she was being sullen, but she couldn’t help it.
He crossed and sat beside her. “I believe in you. I just don’t know if you always believe in yourself. That’s all I was saying. I believe you can do big things.”
Delphine looked at him, feeling irritation melt into guilt and endearment. She took his paw. “Thank you.”
They sat for a moment. Far away, a lone blackbird cried out, piercing the chilly afternoon air. Then, realizing the moment had gone a smidge too long, they hastily dropped paws, scrambling to stand and avoiding each other’s gaze.
“Shall we head back and find Cornichonne?” Delphine asked briskly.
“Indubitably.”
The three travelers finally reached the Château Trois Arbres, its pointed roof looming in the chilly air. As they drew closer, they could see smoke rising from the many chimneys. Alexander breathed deeply. “I can almost smell the chestnuts roasting!” Delphine licked her lips at the thought.
It was lucky that their pawsteps had been silent on the barren ground, because as they drew closer they began to see that they were not the only ones who had come to the château. Multiple twigfires flickered faintly between the tree trunks of the wintry forest. Dark, ominous figures moved to and fro slowly, as if keeping watch.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” whispered Alexander to Delphine.
“You’re not the only one,” she replied.
“I’ll scout it out,” Cornichonne announced, staring at the château. She slipped into the twilight and was soon swallowed up by the trees.
The mice waited, nervous, until the cat reemerged just as silently. “Rats. Troops and troops of them.” Cornichonne’s usually golden eyes were huge and dark. “They’ve set up little camps all the way around the château.”
Delphine’s blood ran cold. They hadn’t seen a hint of the rats since leaving Parfumoisson. How had they known that Delphine would be coming here?
She dropped low and began crawling slowly as far forward as she dared. When she had reached the last copse of trees before the grounds that surrounded the château, she halted. Now that Delphine knew the dark figures were rats, she could make out their shapes more clearly. Cornichonne was right. It wasn’t only that there were a lot of them, but they were also spread out across the entire area.
Delphine ground her teeth, tiptoeing back to rejoin the others.
“We’re going to have to try to sneak past them,” she whispered, ignoring Alexander’s less-than-thrilled expression at this plan. “We’ll wait until it’s dark. The moon is young, so the night will be quite black. If we go quietly, perhaps we can tiptoe right between their camps and get into the château without them ever knowing.
“Cornichonne, can you wait here in the woods? Once we’re inside . . .” She hesitated. She had no way of knowing what sort of mice lived within the château, or if Cornichonne would be welcomed. “We’ll figure it out once we get there,” she said finally. “But we won’t forget about you.”
Cornichonne nodded, unconcerned. “I’ll do some more spider hunting.”
Crawling along the frozen ground once more, Delphine beckoned Alexander to follow. Dead grass tickled her nose, and she suppressed a sneeze. When they could see the full spread of the front grounds, she settled herself onto a chunk of dry wood. Alexander squeezed in next to her.
They waited for it to get dark, peering at the rat patrols and memorizing their patterns. When night had finished falling, they watched as the rat that had been patrolling directly between them and the château went wandering over to a nearby camp, presumably for a break.
Then they made their way down the brushy slope as quietly as they could.
Under the dim light of the crescent-thin moon, the twigfires glowed in the lees of low hedgerows planted in decorative patterns. They must have been designed as fanciful labyrinths for lordmice and ladymice. Now they were pocked with groups of bloodthirsty rats.
All was still as Delphine and Alexander tiptoed along the route they had identified, moving closer and closer to the château and its glowing windows. Then Delphine heard the faint sounds of rats laughing and talking. She crossed her toes and tail that it was too dark for her and Alexander to be spotted. The sounds faded and they were alone once more.
When they were nearly at the outer ring of walls, Delphine took stock of their surroundings. Nothing stirred to the left, to the right. Delphine turned her gaze forward once more . . . and found herself staring straight into the cruel red eyes of a massive rat.
It loomed before them, larger than any rat Delphine had ever seen, blotting out the light from all the château windows. One of its hind legs was gone, replaced with a wooden stump. Its rank breath blew hot against her ears.
“Mouse scum!” The rat swiped with its yellowed claws, nearly catching her in its grasp. “How dare you trespass in our camps!”
The rat’s claws grazed her and she tumbled, falling head over paws. She managed to leap up and veer to the left, but another rat emerged from the bushes. Alexander backed up until he stood next to Delphine, shakily pointing his stick-sword at the rats closing in from the other side. Jaw trembling, Delphine reached back to take hold of her needle. She wasn’t going to be captured—or killed—without a fight. But her paw met thin air.
Her needle
was gone. The sheath was empty.
Delphine spun madly, danger forgotten, thinking only of one thing—she had to keep the needle out of the rats’ clutches.
“Alexander!” she squeaked, fear rising in her throat. “Do you see my . . . ?” She gestured at the sheath, realizing even in her panic that the rats might not yet have noticed her needle was missing. He glanced around wildly.
The rats were calling back and forth now, alerting the others. “Intruder mice!” she could hear them growl. “Crossing onto our side, are they? We’ll show ’em what happens when rules aren’t obeyed!”
The rat in front of them moved a half step toward her and light from the windows streamed down once more. On the gravel of the path where he stood, a gleam of silver caught Delphine’s eye.
The needle must have been knocked from its sheath when the rat grazed her. Now as he shifted his weight, his wooden stump of a leg came down on it, pinning it to the ground. Had he seen it?
One glance at his face told Delphine that the rat had no idea of the treasure that now lay trapped beneath him. She hesitated. Was it really worth risking her life for this object that was still a mystery?
The answer was clear—the needle was all she had to unlock her past. It was the only thing that connected her to her birth parents. Not to mention, it held untold powers. She couldn’t let it fall into the paws of evildoers.
Before she could lose her nerve, Delphine lowered her head and charged straight toward the beastly rat.
Surprise spilled across his face, beady eyes widening. “Hey!” he bellowed. “What do you think yer playing at?”
She eyeballed the space between his belly and the ground as she ran, thinking of the narrow passageways in the walls of Château Desjardins. Maybe it was lucky that this rat was so tall.
His eyes narrowed, lips peeling back until the full length of his fangs showed gleaming and wet. “That’s how it is, is it?” he snarled. “Gonna spit you for Midnight myself, then.”
She could hear Alexander calling her name, but she didn’t turn back. The instant before she reached the rat, Delphine dropped to all fours, still running. The rat’s paws slammed together in the place where she had been a split second earlier, but she was already skidding through his legs. As she passed, she swiped with her claws at the flesh just above his wooden stump. He yelped, pulling his leg away from her attack.