The Song of the Winns

by Frances Watts

  “Security issues?” she prompted.

  Tobias pushed his glasses to the top of his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. “A leak.”

  “How high?” Feast asked immediately.

  “High,” said Tobias, then held up a hand to indicate that he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “But—” Slippers protested.

  “My concern,” Tobias said firmly. “Not yours. Now, where were we?”

  “I was just explaining about my scarf,” Alistair reminded him. “Timmy the Winns was looking at it just before he talked about the Winns knitting our head to our feet. I think he was trying to tell me something. And this blue stripe, it runs from the top to the bottom of the scarf. That could be like head to foot, couldn’t it?”

  Tobias ran a hand through the rumpled marmalade fur on his chin. “And you think the song Emmeline sang is another clue?”

  “We think the song might be about particular landmarks pointing the way to a secret path,” Tibby Rose said. “A rock of gold and a burning tree.”

  “And that the scarf might be a map,” Alistair finished. “And that we could use it to find the secret paths.”

  Tobias was nodding. “It’s possible,” he said. Then he sat up straighter. “Yes. It’s definitely possible.” He put his glasses back on and studied the scarf, its vivid colors and strange design. “And have you found these landmarks—the rock of gold and the burning tree—on the scarf?”

  Tibby and Alistair exchanged excited glances. Tobias believed them!

  Alistair pointed to the burst of orange he and Tibby had found. “That could be a burning tree.”

  “And this could be the golden rock,” Tibby said, pointing to a patch of yellow near it.

  Tobias peered intently at the rock and the tree, then traced the blue stripe of the river with his finger to the top of the scarf. “Up here,” he said, “to the north, this looks like the source of the Winns.” He rested his fingertips on a dark green oval and closed his eyes. “It’s a magical place,” he murmured. “A deep mountain spring. The old folk say it has healing properties.”

  “Have you been there?” Tibby asked.

  “I have,” said Tobias. “I spent many vacations in the area as a boy.”

  “It looks like the golden rock and burning tree aren’t far from the source.”

  “Well, if we’ve got some landmarks to guide us, and know they’re near the source of the river, the next step is obvious,” said Feast. “Slippers and I should go to Gerander and find the secret paths.”

  Before Tobias could respond, Alistair said, “Tibby and I want to go to Gerander too. I have to find my parents—unless you already have a plan to rescue them?” His heart started to beat faster in anticipation of the marmalade mouse’s response.

  Tobias shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid we’ve been finding it rather difficult to organize,” he said heavily. “It is nearly impossible to travel through Gerander undetected.”

  “Not anymore!” Alistair said triumphantly. “The secret paths go all over Gerander, don’t they? I bet we could use them to get to Atticus Island.”

  “Not so fast,” Slippers Pink broke in. With an apologetic look at Alistair and Tibby Rose, she said to Tobias, “Feast and I, we’re more than willing to go. But there’s no way Alistair and Tibby Rose should be sent into Gerander. It’s too dangerous.”

  Tobias was drumming his fingers on the table thoughtfully, and Alistair felt a spark of hope. Despite Slippers’s objections, the marmalade mouse actually appeared to be considering his idea!

  Tobias cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Slippers,” he said. “It’s not just because they are hidden that the secret paths have remained a secret. You see, not everyone can read the signs. They are passed down within families, but not to every family member. Those who read the signs recognize others with the same ability, as Emmeline must have recognized the ability in Alistair when she gave him this scarf. I don’t like it anymore than you do but, as dangerous as it may be for Alistair to join you on this mission, I think he is essential to its success. And after everything they’ve been through, I think Alistair and Tibby Rose should stay together.”

  “I couldn’t go without Tibby,” Alistair said. “I never would have made it out of Souris if not for her.”

  “We’re agreed then,” said Tobias. “Now, we have been able to find out a little more about the situation on Atticus Island from one of our members who was imprisoned there. I have a detailed description of where Emmeline and Rebus are being held.” He rummaged through the scraps of paper littering his desk, finally alighting on one. “Here.” He gave it to Slippers Pink, who promptly slipped it into one of her shiny black boots. “Oswald will help you, I presume?”

  Slippers nodded once, her mouth set in a mutinous line. Alistair could tell she wasn’t happy that Tobias had agreed to let him and Tibby Rose accompany her and Feast on the mission—even if there could be no mission without Alistair to find the secret paths.

  “There’s one more thing,” Tobias said seriously. “You are not to talk about this mission to anyone. And I mean anyone. I’m afraid to say that includes your family, Alistair. We cannot afford any lapses in security, especially now. Once you have left, I will inform your family that you have been sent on an assignment.”

  There was a rap on the door and Tobias stood, which seemed to signal that their meeting was over, for Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson rose too.

  “Will there be any reply to the message which came earlier?” Flanagan asked, craning his head around the door. Again, he acted as if there were no one else in the room.

  Tobias cast a resigned look at the wastepaper basket. “I’ll deal with it myself, Flanagan.”

  As Flanagan withdrew, Alistair took the scarf from Tobias’s desk and hastily wrapped it around his neck, then he and Tibby Rose followed Feast and Slippers to the door.

  Tobias accompanied them; at the doorway he laid a warm hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Well done,” he said. “Working out the clue Emmeline left in the scarf was very clever.”

  “I think Timmy the Winns worked it out before I did,” Alistair confessed. Then, remembering that he still hadn’t seen the midnight blue mouse, he asked, “Is Timmy here?”

  A pained expression crossed Tobias’s face. “No,” he said quietly. “Timmy hasn’t turned up.”

  “Hasn’t turned up?” Slippers sounded surprised.

  “Timmy is . . . missing,” Tobias said unhappily. He shook his head. “We think the leak . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Timmy’s missing?” Slippers’s voice was shrill. “But if even Timmy’s not safe, what about Zanzibar?”

  “My concern,” Tobias said firmly, just as he had earlier. “Not yours.” Then he added more gently, “Don’t worry, Zanzibar is safe.” He ushered them into the corridor. “Good luck,” he said. “All of you. . . . Flanagan? I’m ready for my next meeting now.”

  The dark gray mouse bustled past them into the principal’s office, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Alistair, you had no business volunteering for this mission,” Slippers said crossly as they retraced their steps down the corridor.

  “You heard what Tobias said, Slips,” Feast Thompson countered. “There’d be no mission without him.” As Slippers stalked ahead of them through the door into the cool night air, Feast turned to Alistair and Tibby Rose. “She’s not really angry at you,” he said in a low voice. “She’s just worried.”

  They walked slowly across the playground, talking about the mission ahead.

  “Oswald won’t be able to carry us all, so we’ll have to go in two trips. The obvious place to start is at the northernmost point of the Winns,” Feast reasoned. “The source.”

  “Okay, but I do have one condition,” Slippers said to Alistair and Tibby Rose. “Oswald will drop me and Feast at the source first. We’ll check it out while he returns to fetch you two. If there is any sign of danger—no matter
how small—I’m aborting the mission and Oswald flies you straight back here.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at Alistair and Tibby Rose sternly. “Do you understand?”

  The two ginger mice nodded.

  Feast resumed his planning. “Os’ll cross the Gerandan border just to the north of here, then follow the Winns as far as the Crankens, where the source is.”

  “The source is in the Crankens?” Alistair asked with a shiver. It was in the Cranken Alps that the Sourians had their notorious prison camp.

  “In the foothills really,” Slippers Pink explained, “not the mountains themselves. On the Gerandan side of the border, of course.”

  Feast continued, “Then we can walk south along the river until we find the landmarks from the song—and, hopefully, the secret paths.” He looked at Alistair and Tibby Rose. “Os should be back to pick you up a couple of hours before dawn. You should try to catch some sleep in the meantime. I’ll tell Oswald to tap on your window when he returns from the first drop. That’s the signal for you two to head immediately to the oval. Os’ll meet you there.”

  As Feast Thompson outlined the plan, Slippers Pink was staring into the sky with a slightly anxious expression on her face, rubbing the back of her neck absently.

  “Watch her,” Feast advised, gesturing at Slippers. “When she rubs her neck like that, it means something isn’t right. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it half the time—but it never fails. It’s like she’s got a sixth sense for danger.”

  “Does that mean something could go wrong with the flight?” Alistair asked, feeling a prickle of apprehension raise the fur on the back of his own neck.

  “Not necessarily,” said Feast. “In this case it’s probably just a fear of flying.”

  Slippers groaned. “For someone who doesn’t like to fly, I seem to be doing an awful lot of it recently,” she said.

  “The weather’s fine; I’m sure we’ll have a smooth flight,” Feast reassured her. “Okay, Slips, let’s move. See you two at the source.”

  3

  Night Flight

  The crowd in the cafeteria had thinned by the time Alistair and Tibby Rose rejoined the others at the long table.

  “There you are,” Ebenezer said with obvious relief. “When you disappeared with Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson I thought they might have whisked you back to Souris.” He chuckled.

  “Where did they take you?” Alice asked curiously.

  “We, ah, we went to meet Tobias,” Alistair explained. Tibby Rose kicked him under the table, as if warning him not to reveal too much.

  “You met Tobias?” Alex’s mouth dropped open and the others were looking similarly astonished. “Why?”

  It was a good question. Alistair tried desperately to think of something he could tell his family that wouldn’t mean revealing their secret mission. Then he remembered how Tobias had greeted them. “He said it was a pleasure to see some younger faces,” Alistair said casually. “Apparently he has a son about our age who’s on vacation with a friend. I think he misses him. Hey, sis, can I finish your ice cream?” Alistair pointed to Alice’s bowl to change the subject.

  “I don’t know why seeing your face would be a pleasure,” Alex grumbled. “My face is much nicer. Tobias should’ve asked to meet me.”

  Fortunately Tibby Rose succeeded in distracting him with a question about which desserts he had tried from the buffet, and Alistair was able to finish his sister’s ice cream in peace—though perhaps peace was the wrong word, since his thoughts were anything but peaceful. Timmy the Winns was missing. . . . He and Tibby Rose were about to go on a dangerous mission without telling anyone. . . . They were going to rescue his parents! Worry, guilt and anticipation tumbled around in his mind so that he barely tasted the dessert. He was glad when Ebenezer stood up and said, “Come on, you lot, we’ve had a big day. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Alex started grumbling again as they walked across the dark oval toward the sleeping quarters. “I still don’t get why you two met Tobias and we didn’t.”

  “Maybe they reminded Tobias of his son because they’re ginger,” Alice suggested. “He has a lot of ginger in his fur, so his son might too.”

  “That must be it,” Tibby Rose agreed. “We saw a photo of him and he looked just like his dad.”

  “So Alistair and Tibby Rose get special treatment because of the color of their fur?” Alex complained.

  Alistair had to laugh. “Makes a pleasant change from being abused and hunted because of it!” he said.

  Soon they reached the small bedroom that the four young mice were sharing. “Let’s unpack our rucksacks so we have a bit of room to move in here,” Alice said.

  Alistair and Tibby Rose exchanged glances.

  “I’m really tired,” Tibby said, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. “I might leave mine till morning.”

  “Me too,” said Alistair quickly.

  Alice shrugged. “Whatever. Bags this bunk.” As the other three scrambled to claim their places, she wondered aloud, “What will happen tomorrow, do you think? Tobias was talking about having assignments for everyone. Do you think he meant us too?”

  “I hope so,” Alex said. He was lying in the bunk above Alice, his hands crossed under his head. “I hope it’s something really dangerous and exciting.”

  Alistair didn’t say anything; it was torture not being able to tell his brother and sister about his mission. He was thankful that Tibby Rose chose that moment to turn out the lights.

  At a light tap on the window, Alistair opened his eyes. In the moonlight streaming through the window he saw that Tibby Rose was already awake, kneeling by the foot of the bed and tightening the straps on her rucksack.

  Alistair slid soundlessly from the top bunk, though he couldn’t suppress a soft thud as he landed on the floor. Alice sighed in her sleep and murmured something indistinct, but she didn’t wake. Alex, in the bed above hers, was as solid and unmoving as a rock. Trumpet blasts from the room next door, interspersed with light whistles, told him that his aunt and uncle were also sound asleep. It seemed wrong to creep away without saying good-bye, and Alistair hesitated for a moment, but when he glanced at the door he saw Tibby Rose beckoning. With one last look at his sleeping siblings, Alistair secured his scarf around his neck, heaved his rucksack onto one shoulder, and followed Tibby out into the dark corridor lined with closed doors.

  As they walked quickly toward the exit, a symphony of snores and snuffles, woofs and whiffles, toots and tweets reverberated through the still air of the dormitory block.

  They stepped outside into a world bathed in moonlight. The rocks encircling the school and town loomed black and forbidding against a sky illuminated by stars, and the grass of the oval was silvery.

  “Where’s Oswald?” Alistair asked.

  As if in answer to his question, he felt a sudden downward breeze as the giant owl swooped from a nearby tree and came to rest a few meters away.

  “Ready?” the night bird asked in his deep voice.

  The two mice moved so they were standing about a meter apart, rucksacks securely over their shoulders. Alistair clutched the ends of his scarf between his fingers.

  Oswald flexed his wings then gave a couple of short flutters, enough to propel him to hover just above their heads and slightly behind them. The downdraft ruffled the fur on Alistair’s head and he was about to lift his hand to smooth it back when he felt the owl’s talon close like a vice around him and he was immobilized. Inching his head to the left, he could just make out Tibby Rose, similarly imprisoned.

  “Okay, Tib?” he called, but just then the owl began to flap his giant wings in great beats and Tibby’s reply was lost in the rush of air past his ears.

  Oswald must have been weary from his previous trip, because it took five beats of his wings before he was able to lift off, and his usually smooth climb seemed labored. At last, though, they were airborne, rising high into the starry sky. The buildings below grew small, the hall and the dormit
ory squatting on one side of the oval, the cafeteria and school office on the other. The town of Stetson itself was visible as a few lights twinkling at the foot of the great hill. And then, as they rose higher still, Alistair could see the rocks and hills surrounding Stetson in a protective embrace. He could also feel currents of air now, blowing hard against him.

  Alistair would have thought there was no chance of sleep with the wind roaring in his ears and the slightly jerky movement that accompanied each powerful thrust of Oswald’s wings, but to his surprise he was feeling rather drowsy. . . .

  When he opened his eyes some time later it felt as if he was being smothered in a cold damp blanket. It took him a few seconds to understand that they must be flying through a cloud. He wanted to keep his eyes open until they had cleared the mist, but the moisture stung so he closed them again, rubbing his scarf between his fingers for comfort, trying to picture the colors and shapes, all of them bound together by the broad blue stripe that was, he now knew, the Winns. He let his thoughts drift lazily as he tried to imagine the great river that ran the whole length of Gerander from north to south. He could hardly believe that in a matter of hours he would be there, by the Winns, in his family’s homeland. “The Winns is a river, and more than that. It is the spine that knits our head to our feet. Its veins run through our country and its water runs through our veins.”

  For a moment the frigid air lost some of its chill as Alistair remembered sitting by a fire on the bank of another river, in Souris, with the mysterious midnight blue mouse who had spoken as if he knew Alistair. Where was Timmy the Winns now? he wondered. With a heavy feeling in his chest he considered the possibility that Timmy was a prisoner of the Sourians—perhaps he was even in the dreaded Crankens prison camp from which Zanzibar had so recently escaped. Timmy the Winns, who loved freedom more than anything.

  “Wherever the Winns takes me, that’s where I’ll be,

  For me and the Winns will always flow free.”

  That was what Timmy had sung by the fire that night in Souris. How surprised he’d be to know that Alistair was actually going to see the Winns. Or would he? Timmy never did seem surprised somehow. Like he hadn’t been surprised to meet Alistair and Tibby Rose . . . Alistair stretched his toes closer to the fire, closer, closer—too close! They were burning!