The Heir of Mistmantle

by M. I. McAllister

  “Are they organizing a game?” suggested Juniper.

  “Maybe,” said Fir. “But they look purposeful.” He raised a frail, thin paw toward them. “Bless them. Hm.”

  Slowly, they made their way to the Spring Gate. Fir raised his head and sniffed, breathed deeply, and smiled with deep contentment.

  “Fresh sea air,” he said. “Wonderful. And here’s Urchin!”

  Urchin was on the way from his chambers with little Swanfeather the otter holding his paw. He usually carried her on his shoulder, but she was getting heavier now and didn’t know how to stay still. He walked with Fir and Juniper to the water’s edge, which was about as far as Fir could manage in one go, and where there was a convenient rock to sit on. Fir settled down there with his cloak wrapped about him, sometimes with his eyes closed, sometimes looking out to sea with intent enjoyment, swaying a little. Swanfeather pulled at Urchin’s paw.

  “Come on, then,” he said, and turned to Juniper. “I’ll take her down to the jetty. She might find some of her friends there.”

  “We’ll join you later,” said Juniper, “if Fir feels up to it.”

  “Hm!” said Fir. “You two, if you have things to do, run along. I’m sure one of these good animals can heave me back to the tower. Are those little ones still busy at whatever it was they were doing?”

  As Urchin and Juniper looked around, something that appeared to be a coarse sheet wafted around the corner of the tower. As it came nearer they saw that it was a piece of canvas or coarse linen with small feet propelling it along the shore.

  “It walks,” said Juniper.

  “And it giggles,” said Fir, as smothered laughter came from beneath it. As the canvas and its bearers came nearer, they could see Hope, little Siskin from Sepia’s choir, Scufflen, and maybe a dozen small animals carrying it along the shore. It sagged now and again and dragged in the sand.

  “Shall we give them a paw?” said Urchin, but when he and Juniper ran down to join them, Siskin waved them away.

  “We can manage!” she piped up breathlessly.

  “Yes, thank you, Urchin, thank you, Brother Juniper, we can manage, thank you!” panted Hope. “We’re doing this by ourselves!”

  “Here’s Apple, too,” said Juniper. “Hello, Mistress Apple!”

  Apple was waddling toward them, a good-natured smile on her face. She hugged Urchin, then Juniper.

  “Morning, Brother Fir,” she said, “good to see you up, or should I say down, I mean outside, I been offering to help them young 'uns, but they won’t have it, they want to do it all theirselves, bless them, hello little Swanfeather, are you coming to Apple then, ooh, what a lovely hug, I’m all wet now, hello young Fingal and everyone, don’t go away, Fingal, I think they might need you.”

  The procession of small animals stopped, laying the canvas carefully down and spreading it out on the shore. There was a ripple underneath it which suddenly stopped and changed direction, then Todd, the mole, scurried out.

  “Fingal?” said Hope uncertainly.

  “I’m here,” said Fingal, and knelt down in front of him.

  “We brought you a sail,” said Hope, “because of what happened to your boat, so I asked my mum and she helped us to make it.”

  “That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Fingal. “What a beautiful sail! Thank you all very much!” And he hugged Hope so hard that he had difficulty removing a prickle from his paw. “And thank your mum for me, Hope—no, I’ll go and thank her myself—this is so kind!”

  Too touched and delighted to find enough words, he hugged the nearest animal, Todd, who quickly wriggled free.

  “Don’t go thanking her yet,” he muttered. “We got something else for you.”

  They all turned to look up again at the tower. More young animals were processing from the tower, carrying a huge fallen tree trunk like a battering ram. Padra’s little son, Tide, was doing his best to help, and the procession was led by Tipp the mole, brandishing a stick as a sword.

  “Timber patrol!” he yelled. “CHARGE!”

  It wasn’t so much a charge as a stagger, with all the other animals running to meet them halfway. Panting for breath, Tipp ordered, “Present tree trunk!” and they laid it down before Fingal. Tipp bowed deeply.

  “A tree trunk rescued from the storm,” he announced. “To build your boat, Fingal.”

  “How wonderfully kind of you all!” exclaimed Fingal. “Thank you!”

  Juniper and Urchin glanced at each other. They understood that new wood was no good for boat building. Boats must be made from seasoned timber that would withstand hard weather. Fingal would know that, of course, but he was on his knees hugging the young animals as they crowded round him. Fir hobbled forward and bent stiffly to take a good look at the log.

  “What do you think, Fingal?” he asked. “I’m no expert on boats, but I’m sure this is just the sort of wood we used to build rafts with. Did you ever have a raft, Fingal?”

  “Oh, yes!” said Fingal. “Somebody made me one when I was small, my parents, or Padra, or all of them. Rafts are great fun. You can’t take them into deep water, but they’re wonderful for the shallows. You need a long pole to push yourself around with.”

  “Did you ever fall in?” asked Urchin.

  “That’s the best bit!” said Fingal cheerfully. He pushed at the log. “A bit more wood, some rope, moss, a few empty barrels from the cellar…”

  The little animals were scattering in all directions, all saying they knew where they could get some rope, or moss, and one saying his grandpa was the cellar otter’s best friend, and he’d give them barrels if he asked them. Before long three of them came back, giggling and squeaking and rolling a barrel which seemed to be getting away from them at a dangerous speed, and gabbling out to Urchin that they’d just seen Whittle the squirrel, who said the king wanted to see him.

  It was a pity to leave when the raft-building looked like such fun. Urchin left Swanfeather in Fingal’s care and ran back to the tower with sand in his fur.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  HE NEXT DAY NEEDLE AND URCHIN again were to go to the Throne Room, but Urchin made sure he was early. From a squeak and a laugh as he knocked on the door, he knew that Cedar and Catkin were there with Crispin.

  “Urchin,” said Crispin. “It’s time we talked about you two joining the Circle.”

  “I know, sir,” said Urchin, who wasn’t enjoying this. He took his paw from his sword hilt to stop himself from fidgeting and said something that was even harder than he had expected. “Please, Your Majesty—Majesties—I don’t want to make trouble or seem ungrateful, but could I not join the Circle just yet? Would you mind, Your Majesty?”

  He hadn’t often seen Crispin lost for words, but he seemed to be struggling now. Finally, the king said, “I have never known anyone not want to join the Circle.”

  “Oh, I do want it, Your Majesty!” cried Urchin. “I think I’ve always wanted it. Everyone dreams of joining the Circle. But, sir, it’s because of Juniper. He’s my friend, we’re sort of brothers, I have to look out for him. I know he feels he’s in my shadow, sir, and for me to be part of the Circle and not him…” Suddenly realizing that Crispin might misunderstand him, he went on quickly, “I’m not asking you to admit Juniper to the Circle at the same time. I know Needle and I are very young to be admitted, and he’s younger than we are. It’s just that it would be better for Juniper if I waited until he’s either admitted to the Circle or ordained as a priest, and so he has an honor of his own.”

  “You realize,” said Crispin, “that if you refuse to be admitted, Needle will refuse too? You won’t be admitted without Juniper, and you can be certain she won’t be admitted without you.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Urchin, who had already thought of this. “I don’t know what to do about that. I don’t want to hold her back. They’re both my friends.”

  “And very good friends,” said Crispin. “Priests aren’t usually admitted to the Circle because they become members of it by right
as soon as they’re ordained, and it’s good for them to be different from the other members. Priests need to be able to put the rest of us right from time to time. As you point out, he’s very young. And I can’t make him a Companion to the King because he’s needed at Fir’s right paw, not mine.” He glanced past Urchin at Cedar. “Give us time to think about this, Urchin.”

  A guard rapped at the door with a call of “Miss Needle!” and Needle trotted in. Catkin squeaked happily at her.

  “Hello, Needle, we’re just talking about the Circle,” said the king. “And there should be an honor for Sepia, too. She’s very busy, but I wonder if she’d like to be a Companion to the King?”

  “Well…” said Needle cautiously, and couldn’t help glancing toward Cedar and Catkin.

  “I see,” said Crispin. “You think she’d rather be a Companion to the Queen? And will you take me to see the Threading of Captain Lugg?”

  On the shore, Fir smiled as he raised his face to the sky. He supposed he should never be surprised any more at the way the Heart made good things come from the most terrible circumstances. But he couldn’t help feeling surprised, pleasantly so. Catkin was found, disease was over, the islanders were working together to repair each other’s houses after the landslide, prayers were being said every day in the place where Husk fell. The little ones were having a wonderful time building a raft. No doubt, after this, they would expect Fingal to spend morning after morning punting them about the shore, and they would shuffle together to see how many animals they could get on before it began to sink. In a quiet cove near Twigg’s new workshop, a team of carpenters worked on a boat about which Fingal knew nothing at all. Young animals hopped about the rocks playing Find the Heir of Mistmantle while Siskin told everyone who’d listen that the king knew her name.

  All would be well. Whatever happened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HEY’RE ALL RIVERING UP THE STAIRS!” exclaimed Whittle. It was impossible even to see the tower stairs as the animals, in their best hats and cloaks, swarmed up to the door.

  “They’re doing what?” inquired Crispin.

  “I mean, pouring up the stairs like a river,” said Whittle, “except rivers don’t go up. It’ll be even more like a river when they go down again.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be looking after Brother Fir?”said Crispin.

  “I think this is a time just for him and Juniper,” said Whittle, “so I said perhaps I should offer to help Mistress Tay today, and Brother Fir said yes. And I reported to Mistress Tay, and she said thank you very much, but she coudn’t bear any more distractions and responsibilities today, and I should report for duty to another senior animal. But everyone’s so busy, I can’t get near anyone to report to except you, Your Majesty.”

  “Can he report to me, Your Majesty?” said a mole guard behind him. “Special guests are to go in by the Spring Gate. Nip down there, son, and look out for any special guests, and show 'em up to the Gathering Chamber.”

  “How do I know if they’re special guests?” asked Whittle.

  “They’re the ones looking for the Spring Gate, aren’t they?” said the mole. “Squirrel yourself off, then!”

  Whittle leaped for the nearest window, measured the jump, scrabbled a bit, and ran down the wall. A mole at the foot of the main stairway was trying to make himself heard as he shouted, “King Crispin’s special guests to the Spring Gate!” It appeared that the special guests all carried leaves bearing Crispin’s clawmark and were showing them to the guard. A female squirrel in a dark blue cloak was hurrying toward it, and Whittle quickly caught up with her.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “aren’t you…”

  “I’m Apple, that’s me, son, I’m Urchin’s mum, well his foster-mum, you know how it is, I know you, you’re the one who’s learning the history and the law, it must be wonderful to have all that up in your head, don’t know where you find room for it all.” She took Whittle’s offered arm and let him escort her to the Spring Gate—past the spring and Padra and Urchin’s quarters and the back stairway, through a long corridor and up another stair which would bring them to the Gathering Chamber in the opposite direction from everyone else. He had to slow down to Apple’s pace.

  “Never thought this would happen, never in the old days when I was small,” she said. “Think of me, coming into the tower the special guests’ way, used to work in the laundry here when I were young, but I always left my heart in the wood, I went back, stopped in the wood all my life, got good friends, and here I am, and my Urchin…” She stopped so suddenly that Whittle was alarmed, but after catching her breath and rubbing her eyes she went on,“…and my little Urchin in the Circle! And our Needle, she’s a little smasher, she made me this cloak special for today.”

  She turned toward the door of the Gathering Chamber, but Whittle steered her away.

  “Special guests in the gallery,” he said, and led her up a stairway to the new gallery which had first been built for Crispin’s coronation. If she was a little disappointed that the rest of the islanders might miss out on seeing her beautiful new blue cloak and her freshly decorated hat, she was soon comforted, for, as she leaned over the edge of the gallery, an oak leaf fluttered down from her hat and landed on the head of a small Anemone Wood hedgehog.

  “Apple!” he squeaked! Heads turned. “Ooh, look, it’s Apple!” called someone, and for a few proud and bewildering seconds, Apple stood at the front of the gallery and waved to her friends. Then Needle and Sepia’s families came to join her, and they all bustled about putting the littlest animals to the front so they could see and keep at a safe distance from the more prickly hedgehogs, while Scufflen pointed to every Threading he could see and said loudly that his sister made that one.

  Apple sat back and admired the decorated hall, garlanded with autumn leaves, berries, and evergreens. Chairs had been arranged on the dais for Crispin, Cedar, and Fir, with more behind for Padra and Arran. The last chair on the row had been spread with a blue cloak, a sword, and a circlet.

  In the anteroom, Urchin and Needle sat perched on a chest. It was the chest in which the robes were kept, where, long ago, Urchin had discovered the leaves which had helped to bring about Husk’s downfall. He had been up very early in the morning—not difficult, as he’d found sleep impossible—and Arran had helped him to groom himself so that his fur gleamed softly, his ears and tail tip were neatly brushed, and his claws clean and trimmed. His sword was polished to such brightness that it flashed in the late autumn sunlight. Needle, too, was groomed to perfection, her sharp spines neat and smooth. When Needle said, “It’s a bit odd, all this, isn’t it?” Urchin felt he knew why Crispin had waited until now to admit them to the Circle. Things would have to change now. There would be responsibilities to take, decisions to share. Animals would come to them with their worries.

  Usually the captains and Mistress Tay robed in this room, but today they were using the royal chambers, leaving the anteroom to the new members of the Circle. Urchin wished Padra and Arran would stride into the room, talking and laughing and making everything easy and relaxed.

  “Are you all right, Needle?” he asked. Needle didn’t snap at him or say that of course she was, she just said quietly, “Are you?” and took his paw.

  “I am now,” he said. “Now I know Crispin has something in mind for Juniper.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever play games in the wood again, and explore tunnels, and all that?” she wondered aloud.

  “Oh, yes, of course we will!” said Urchin. It was impossible that they wouldn’t. Then Needle jumped up.

  “Listen!” she said.

  In the Gathering Chamber, a mole was calling the animals to order. After a moment of tingling silence, a fanfare of trumpets and the high, pure voices of the choir announced the coming of the king. Urchin and Needle hopped to the door where they could see the dais.

  The Circle animals arrived first, in embroidered cloaks—Russet and Heath, Docken, Tay, Moth and Spade, and Mother Huggen. Ju
niper followed, wearing a tunic that Urchin couldn’t remember seeing before, then Padra and Arran, and, at last, King Crispin and Queen Cedar, crowned and cloaked, and looking happier than they had been since before Catkin first disappeared. It was as if all the island’s heaviness had passed from them. Then came Brother Fir, his eyes deeply joyful as he hobbled to his place.

  When all were ready, the Throne Room mole hurried to the anteroom door. He took a deep breath and said the words he had been rehearsing.

  “King Crispin and Queen Cedar, Captain Padra and Captain Arran, Brother Fir and Brother Juniper, and all the animals of the Circle await Master Urchin and Miss Needle.”

  Urchin took a deep breath. Side by side, he and Needle walked to the dais—it felt like miles—and stood before the king. Urchin wondered if his fur was sticking up and whether his tail had got dusty in there, but it was too late to check. Crispin and Fir were already stepping forward.

  “We have come to the Gathering Chamber,” announced Crispin, “because Urchin of the Riding Stars and Needle of the Threadings have been considered and found worthy to join the Circle. Young as they are, they have served the island bravely and faithfully and will uphold the values of our island. Urchin, Needle, kneel.”

  They knelt. Urchin looked steadily up at Crispin’s face and forgot to be nervous.

  “Urchin of the Riding Stars, Needle of the Threadings,” said Crispin. “Will you love, worship, and serve the Heart?”

  “We will, Your Majesty,” they said together.

  “Will you love, serve, and care for this island and all its animals?”

  “We will, Your Majesty.”

  “Will you live for justice and mercy?”

  “We will, Your Majesty.”

  “Urchin, Needle, be compassionate, be strong for what is right, fight against evil, protect the weak, care for the young and the old. Know how to give orders and how to take them. Be true, be generous of heart and paw, be kind.”