The Song of the Winns

by Frances Watts

  “Is that so?” Solomon let out an admiring whistle. “How did you manage that?”

  But Sophia just tapped the side of her elegant nose in a knowing way. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re doing with this balloon?”

  “I found out about the rendezvous and decided to do the meet-and-greet myself,” Solomon explained.

  “Ah,” said Sophia, “so you’ve been talking to Songbird too.”

  “That’s right,” said Solomon with a wink.

  Alice was puzzled. If Solomon had been talking to Songbird, that must mean he wasn’t Songbird himself. So someone else in FIG must be the traitor, not Solomon Honker. Or, rather, it meant there was another traitor, she amended glumly. For Solomon Honker was most definitely a traitor too.

  She looked over at her brother, who was watching Solomon Honker with a murderous expression. She knew how he felt; to think that the mouse Tobias had entrusted to run their undercover operation was himself a Sourian spy! And now they were on their way to Grouch, where they’d be thrown in Queen Eugenia’s dungeon, no doubt. She remembered the mouse in the dungeon of the Cornoliana palace and wondered if she and Alex too would become pawns in the Sourians’ treacherous plans. But how valuable could they really be? They had only just joined FIG; they didn’t know any secrets. And yet if they were included on the list of the heirs of Cornolius . . .

  As a gust of cool sweet air filled her nostrils, Alice realized they must be flying over the Winns. How much farther to Grouch? she wondered. Her musings were interrupted by a cry of disbelief.

  “What? It can’t be possible!” shouted Solomon Honker. “Sophia, Horace! Quick! Over here!”

  As the Sourian spies rushed to the other side of the basket it rocked wildly.

  No! thought Alice, remembering Claudia’s warnings about destabilizing the basket. We’ll tip. . . .

  And then her feet were in the air and her head was facing the ground as the basket was upended. There seemed to be legs and arms scrabbling everywhere and cries of alarm, and from her upside-down position Alice saw two bodies hurtling down—or was it up?—toward the river.

  When the basket was righted, only Alice, Alex, and Solomon Honker remained, and they seemed to have changed direction.

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” remarked the rusty-orange and white mouse, peering over the edge to the dark gleam of water below.

  He swiftly untied Alice and Alex.

  “Sorry if I gave you a fright there,” he said.

  Alice stared at him in astonishment, trying to make sense of her confused thoughts. She opened her mouth to speak, then remembered it was full of cotton. She pulled the handkerchief from her dry mouth, swallowed and licked her lips, then said, “So you’re not a Sourian agent?”

  “Nope.”

  Alex was massaging his wrists where the rope had cut into them. He looked bewildered. “But Sophia and Horace thought you were Sourian.”

  “Long story,” said Solomon Honker, “but I’m FIG through and through.”

  “And you’re not Songbird?”

  “I am not—but I’d love to know who’s been singing our secrets to the Sourians. When Claudia told me about your encounter with the dirigible it sounded like a premeditated attack, and I began to wonder how the Sourians could have known. It seems clear now that they have a source in FIG—the one they call Songbird. And you’ve heard the name before, I gather? Was this at the palace?”

  Alice and Alex described the conversation they’d overheard in General Ashwover’s office.

  “Queen Eugenia is moving to Cornoliana,” Alice recalled. “They were talking about it being the capital of Greater Gerander—and they’re going to take over Shetlock too!”

  “Ah.” Solomon nodded wearily. “So that’s what they’re up to: the reunification of Greater Gerander. That makes sense of the troop buildup on the borders.” He ran a hand over his face. “It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us indeed if we’re going to stop them. I just wish I knew who Songbird was and what else he or she has been telling the Sourians. . . .”

  “They had a message Songbird had sent them,” said Alice. “It was a list of the heirs of the House of Cornolius and where to find them.”

  Solomon’s fatigue was replaced with an alert expression. “Is that right?”

  Alex nodded. “Yeah. I guess they’re using it like a hit list, so they can bump off anyone else who might fight Queen Eugenia for the throne.”

  A hit list . . . The fur on Alice’s neck prickled. And they were on it. She recalled the conversation in General Ashwover’s office, and Horace saying, “You mean they all have to be killed?” and Sophia replying, “It would be best if Queen Eugenia’s was the only claim to the throne of Greater Gerander.”

  Alice swallowed at the memory of that silvery voice. “What do you think has happened to Sophia and Horace?” she asked.

  Solomon raised his eyebrows. “They went straight into the river,” he said. “They’ll have hauled themselves to the bank by now, and if I know Sophia she’ll be spitting with rage. You know, I almost feel sorry for Horace sometimes. It can’t be easy working with Sophia.” He shrugged. “Not that I’ll have to worry about ever being in that position. I rather suspect I’ve just blown my cover.”

  “Did you really teach Sophia?” Alice demanded.

  “Oh yes,” said Solomon calmly. “I’ve worked for years as a Sourian spymaster. And I was telling the truth when I said I’d learned from her in return—she taught me the art of double-crossing, for one thing.”

  “You’re a Sourian spymaster?!” Alex was staring at the rusty-orange and white mouse with a mixture of revulsion and fascination.

  “I grew up in Souris,” Solomon explained. “Spent my entire childhood in a Sourian boarding school. Despite my heritage,” he indicated his rusty-colored lower half, “I thought of myself as completely Sourian.”

  “Didn’t you get teased at school, though?” Alice asked, thinking of how much hatred was directed at ginger fur by those Sourians she had met.

  “On the contrary,” said Solomon. “I always did exceptionally well at school, and was marked out very early on as someone who had the potential to be of great use. I worked as a spy for many years before I defected to FIG. Though I must have neglected to tell the Sourians I defected, come to think of it.”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Alex. “So that makes you like a double agent.”

  Solomon Honker was amused. “I suppose I am.”

  “But is this the real you?” Alice asked slowly.

  “What do you mean?” said Solomon with a sidelong glance.

  Alice struggled to put her thoughts into words. “To be a double agent, you’re always playing a part—like when you were being the stern teacher with us.”

  “One mouse in his time plays many parts,” said Solomon softly. “Shakespeare,” he explained, in answer to Alice’s questioning look. “And it’s true, I was playing a part when I was teaching you, but that was for your own good. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that a spy can never afford to get too comfortable. You need to have your wits about you at all times.”

  “Who else knows you’re a double agent?” Alice asked, curious.

  “Zanzibar, of course. Tobias and Flanagan. Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson have some idea. I don’t think they quite trust me. . . .” He smiled ruefully.

  “But you’re not the only double agent, are you?” Alex pointed out. “You’re a Sourian spy who’s really a member of FIG, but Songbird is a member of FIG who’s really spying for the Sourians.”

  “You’re quite right,” said Solomon. “Tobias mentioned his suspicion that we had a leak, but I don’t think he realized quite how serious the situation is. If Sophia thinks Songbird is in a position to betray Zanzibar . . .” Solomon shook his head sadly. “That’s as serious as it gets. Poor Tobias has a lot to deal with. And I’m afraid he’s been rather distracted lately. Flanagan says he’s missing his son.”

  Missing his son . . . And then a tho
ught pierced Alice like an arrow. He has a son about our age, Alistair had told them. He showed us a photo of him and he looked just like Tobias, Tibby had said. Tobias, who had fur the color of orange marmalade. . . . There was a mouse about their age in the palace dungeon in Cornoliana. An orangey mouse, Alex had said. Songbird’s son, according to Sophia.

  “He’s not just missing his son—his son is missing!” Alice burst out as the pieces fell into place. “It’s Tobias—he’s Songbird!” As the words left her lips she clapped a hand to her mouth, aware of how treacherous she must sound. For surely it couldn’t be Tobias. He was the head of FIG in Zanzibar’s absence. He was Zanzibar’s own cousin!

  But Solomon didn’t seem to find her outburst offensive. He merely said, “Explain.”

  In a rush, Alice told him about the boy in the dungeon, Songbird’s son—Tobias’s son, she now realized.

  Solomon looked grave, but he didn’t contradict her conclusion. “Very good,” he remarked, and for a moment Alice was reminded of the classroom back in Stetson. Then, with a grim set to his lips, he looked up at the balloon. “If only this thing could go faster,” he muttered. “We’ve got no time to lose. If Tobias is Songbird, then Sophia was right: the Sourians will recapture Zanzibar.”

  Alice’s heart sank as she thought of all the secrets Tobias must know—all the secrets he must have told the Sourians. And then, with a sinking feeling so bottomless and immense that it was like falling into a deep black pit, Lester’s words were ringing ominously in her mind: the brat with the scarf may be within reach.

  “And Alistair,” she croaked. “Tobias was helping the Sourians to set a trap for Alistair.”

  Solomon looked at her sharply. “He betrayed Alistair too?” And then, to himself, he said quietly, “He really would destroy us all.”

  The balloon sailed steadily through the night air, and with every hour that passed Alice grew more anxious. Alistair was heading into a trap. . . . The Sourians were probably on their way to Zanzibar’s hiding place. . . . Everything FIG was fighting for had been betrayed and no one knew it but them! The wait was unbearable, but at long last they were descending into the clearing below the school, Solomon was switching off the balloon’s burner, and they were pushing through the branches of the narrow path and running up the hill toward the school.

  “Go find your aunt and uncle and see if they’ve heard anything about your brother,” Solomon ordered. “I’m going to find Tobias.” And then he sprinted up the road into the night.

  “Where do you think they’ll be?” Alice panted. “Back at the dorm?”

  “Let’s try the cafeteria,” said Alex. “It’s on the way.”

  They burst into the cafeteria and almost immediately Alex was saying, “There they are!”

  “Uncle Ebenezer! Aunt Beezer!” Alice called as she and Alex ran toward the long table where their aunt and uncle sat nursing mugs of tea. “Alistair . . .” She was breathing so hard she could barely get the words out.

  “My dears!”

  Ebenezer sprang from his seat and held out his arms, his whole face glowing with pleasure.

  But Beezer must have caught something in the expressions of her nephew and niece, because she too sprang up, looking serious. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are Alistair and Tibby Rose back from their mission yet?” Alex demanded.

  “They are!” said Ebenezer happily. “Someone saw Oswald fly in not long ago, and apparently Alistair and Tibby Rose were with him, along with Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson.”

  Alice flopped onto the nearest bench, the adrenaline suddenly drained from her limbs, too weak with relief to speak.

  Alex sagged against the table. “That’s brilliant news. Where are they now?”

  “They must be debriefing with Tobias. I expect they’ll be here any moment.”

  Tobias! Alice stiffened, but her uncle was saying, “Oh, look, here come Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson now. Alistair and Tibby Rose can’t be far behind. Slippers, Feast, over here!” Uncle Ebenezer called. “Alice and Alex have just arrived home safely from their mission and are eager to see their brother—we all are. Are Alistair and Tibby Rose coming?”

  Slippers Pink shook her head. “Alistair and Tibby Rose have been sent on another urgent mission, but Feast and I weren’t required.” She looked faintly troubled.

  Alice gasped. “No! We have to stop them. Quickly!”

  Thankfully, the urgency of her tone was enough to send everyone rushing toward Tobias’s office without asking for explanations.

  On the way they met Solomon striding rapidly toward them.

  Alex said, “Tobias?”

  Solomon replied, “He’s gone.”

  “What about Alistair and Tibby Rose?” Alice’s voice came out high and scared. “Were they there?”

  Solomon shook his head gravely, and Alice fell to her knees, overcome by a wave of despair. They were too late.

  It was a solemn group that gathered around a table in the cafeteria to work out what to do next.

  After Alice and Alex had explained everything to Uncle Ebenezer, Aunt Beezer, Feast Thompson, and Slippers Pink, Solomon said, “So let’s presume that Tobias has sent Alistair and Tibby Rose to Zanzibar’s hiding place, and will then alert the Queen’s Guards.”

  “A logical proposition,” Aunt Beezer agreed.

  “But where is Zanzibar’s hiding place?” Uncle Ebenezer asked. “Maybe we can reach Zanzibar first.”

  “Tobias said that it was a place known only to him and Zanzibar,” Slippers Pink said thoughtfully. “I had the impression that it was somewhere they knew from when they were children.”

  “Is there anyone else who might know?” Solomon prompted.

  Feast Thompson snapped his fingers. “There is one person,” he said. “Though I don’t know where he is right . . .” His words trailed away and a look of astonishment appeared on his face.

  “Zanzibar’s hiding place?” said a voice behind Alice. “That’s too easy. Ask me another one.”

  Turning, Alice saw a tall mouse with—she blinked and looked again. No, she hadn’t imagined it: his fur was midnight blue, except for one arm and leg, which were a swirl of different colors.

  “Timmy the Winns!” said Slippers Pink, laughing in disbelief. “Just when we need you the most, here you are. You’re not some kind of mirage, are you?” She had risen from her seat and was hurrying around the table to where the midnight blue mouse stood.

  “No more than usual,” he said, opening his arms to embrace the almond mouse. “So, it’s Zanzibar’s hiding place you’re wanting? I know it, right enough, but I have to tell you, only a matter of life or death could persuade me to reveal it.”

  “It is a matter of life or death!” Alice burst out.

  Timmy the Winns gave her a shrewd look, then dropped to the bench beside her. “Explain it to me, little sister,” he said, “and then we’ll see.”

  So Alice did, finishing with: “And if we don’t hurry, the Sourians will get there before we do.”

  “If they haven’t already,” Alex added gloomily.

  Timmy the Winns was already on his feet. “Okay, how are we going to get there?”

  “Where?” several voices chorused.

  “The source of the Winns,” said Timmy. “Our grandparents’ cottage.”

  “Your grandparents?” asked Alice, puzzled. “You mean yours and Zanzibar’s?”

  “That’s right,” said Timmy the Winns. “Zanzibar is my brother. Z and me and our sister used to spend our summers with our grandparents by the Winns. Tobias would come too occasionally.”

  “That must be the cottage we saw near the spring,” Slippers exclaimed to Feast. “It’s a long way from here though,” she said worriedly.

  “We can take the balloon,” Solomon said immediately.

  “Aye, that’ll serve well,” said Timmy. “Let’s go then.”

  “You have to let us come,” Alice begged.

  “I’ve resc
ued my brother before,” Alex added matter-of-factly (if not quite factually).

  Solomon looked unsure but Timmy the Winns said, “Ah, come on, Sol.”

  “All right!” said Alex, but Uncle Ebenezer shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “You two stay here.”

  Alice had never seen her easygoing uncle look so determined. “First Oswald comes back all battered and bloodied having been attacked by eagles, telling us he’d dropped Alistair and Tibby Rose somewhere on the Sourian side of the Crankens. Then Claudia comes back with the story of the dirigible’s attack. We thought we’d lost all of you! Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s it—I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” He crossed his arms stubbornly.

  Alice shot her aunt an appealing look.

  Beezer asked, “So how big is this balloon of yours, Solomon?”

  Solomon gave a resigned smile. “Big enough.”

  And so it was decided: Alice and Alex and their aunt and uncle would accompany Solomon and Timmy to the source of the Winns.

  Alice just hoped they’d get there before the Sourians did.

  23

  Betrayed

  But, Oswald, we’ve just come from here,” Alistair said, when the owl had released them. “This is the source of the Winns.”

  “I know where we are,” said Oswald sniffily, glaring down at Alistair over his hooked beak. “Better than you it seems.” He raised one feathered wing to indicate the path. “You go that way. I’ll meet you back here after sunset tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Alistair. “Where are we going? Who’s the letter for?”

  The owl looked at him steadily. “Zanzibar, of course.”

  “Zanzibar?” Alistair repeated incredulously, hearing Tibby Rose gasp behind him. “Wait . . .”

  But the owl was already beating his wings, rising steadily toward the treetops.

  Alistair turned to Tibby Rose. “What do we do now?”

  Tibby shrugged. “Follow the path, I guess. Perhaps Zanzibar’s waiting for us farther along.”