The Song of the Winns

by Frances Watts

  It was hard to make out the path in the dark, so Alistair focused on the sound of the stream, gurgling through the rocks and rushing over the stony bed. This sound, too, was a song of the Winns, he realized.

  It was only when they rounded the bend to see the stone cottage nestled in the hollow that Alistair understood that this was their destination. Tibby Rose put a hand on his wrist, and they stopped and gazed at the silent cottage. As before, there was no sign of life. No light flickered in the window, not even a solitary candle, and no one moved within.

  “I suppose we should knock on the door,” Tibby murmured, and she led the way up the path to the front door. After a glance at Alistair, she lifted her hand and rapped on the wooden door. The sound echoed loudly. Alistair listened for any movement on the other side of the door, but there was none. Perhaps they had been wrong, and this wasn’t Zanzibar’s hiding place.

  Tibby had just lifted her hand to knock a second time when the door was opened. A tall mouse stood in the doorway. His fur, Alistair noted, was not so much ginger as the color of burnished gold, rich and glowing in the moonlight, as if it had caught the sun’s dying rays.

  Gazing down at the two young mice on his doorstep, the golden mouse looked puzzled. “Who—” he began in a deep voice. He tilted his head to one side and frowned slightly. “What are you—” He stopped again.

  Alistair stepped forward. “I’m Alistair,” he said. “And this is my friend Tibby Rose. We’re sorry to disturb you, sir, but Tobias sent us with an urgent message for you.” He held out the sealed letter. Zanzibar took it absently, but made no move to open it.

  “Alistair,” he repeated. “And Tibby Rose.” He looked slightly dazed. Alistair supposed it must be startling to find two young mice landing unexpectedly on your doorstep when you were in hiding. Though wasn’t he expecting them? Tobias had said that Zanzibar had ordered the mission, hadn’t he?

  Zanzibar shook his head suddenly, as if his thoughts had been far away. “Come in.” He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, and stood aside so Tibby and Alistair could enter the cottage. “You caught me unawares, as you can probably tell.” He looked left and right before shutting the door.

  “It’s rather dark in here, I’m afraid,” Zanzibar said, “and it can get quite cold at night, but it’s better than the Cranken prison.”

  They were standing in a dim parlor. Zanzibar gestured for Alistair and Tibby to sit on the sofa while he himself sank into an easy chair.

  “So what is Tobias up to, I wonder?” He stared down at the sealed message in his hand. Alistair thought he looked more apprehensive than curious, as if he already knew its contents. He tapped the letter on his knee thoughtfully, then said, “Tell me what you have been doing, the pair of you.”

  Alistair felt himself starting to choke up at the memory of their failed mission to rescue his parents, so Tibby briefly outlined their journey to Atticus Island, and what they had found there.

  Zanzibar gave a heavy sigh, and Alistair raised his head. “Do you know my parents?” he asked curiously.

  “I know them very well,” said Zanzibar. “Very well. In fact—” But he was interrupted by an urgent pounding at the door. A look of concern flashed across his face, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the two young mice on the sofa. “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?” he asked in a whisper. “Anyone at all?”

  Alistair and Tibby shook their heads, but Alistair’s heart was knocking in his ribcage. Could they have been followed? But there had been no one at the spring, he was sure of it.

  Zanzibar put his finger to his lips then rose silently and padded toward the door.

  “Zanzibar!” a thin high voice cried. “Zanzibar, I know you’re in there. You have to let me in. I’m trying to save you.” The owner of the voice began to pound at the door again.

  Zanzibar hesitated, then flung the door open.

  Alistair cried out in shock and Tibby screamed at the flash of red as a Queen’s Guard burst into the room.

  Zanzibar took several steps backward and flung out his arms to shield Alistair and Tibby Rose, but the Queen’s Guard raised both hands into the air and they saw that he was unarmed.

  “I’m not here to hurt you—I’m trying to save you,” the young guard repeated. He was breathing hard, as if he had run a long distance. “You’ve been betrayed. There’s a regiment of guards on the way,” he panted. “They’re coming from over the mountain.” He pointed toward the spring. “Now—tonight. Not far behind.” Unexpectedly, he dropped to his knees at Zanzibar’s feet and bowed his head. “My mother is Gerandan,” he said. “I never told anyone. But I couldn’t let them recapture you. I snuck away as soon as I heard what they were planning.”

  Zanzibar placed his hand on the young guard’s head, then helped him to his feet. “Thank you for your good deed,” he said. “Now you should return to your post quickly, before you are missed.”

  The guard nodded once, then, still breathing hard, turned and bolted up the hill toward the spring.

  “And we have no time to lose,” Zanzibar told Alistair and Tibby Rose. He ushered them toward the door, and pulled it shut behind him.

  “We know somewhere to hide,” said Alistair. “This way.” He stumbled a bit in the dark, until the fresh cool scent of the river calmed his frayed nerves, and he let the gurgle of the Winns guide him along the path. As he ran his mind was racing. Zanzibar betrayed? He could scarcely believe it. Yet Tobias must have known his cousin was in danger—that was why he’d sent the message. If only Zanzibar had opened it earlier they would have had more time.

  He could hear Tibby’s light steps and short quick breaths behind him, and the heavier tread of Zanzibar behind her.

  Would he be able to find the cleft in the rock without the sun’s last rays to illuminate the place? The doubt had barely flashed through his mind when his feet seemed to stop of their own accord.

  “This way,” he said, and darted toward the cleft in the rock and squeezed through the hole into the cavern. Hurrying to the niche in the wall he took a candle and lit it, then led the way to the alcove in which he had found the map of the secret paths which matched the design on his scarf.

  Without uttering a word, Zanzibar beckoned Alistair closer, then unsealed the letter he still carried and began to read it by candlelight, his expression grave. When he had finished he refolded it and, clutching the letter in one hand, placed the fingertips of the other to his forehead. Several long seconds passed in which he didn’t move or speak.

  Finally, Alistair, who was burning with curiosity, asked, “Did he say who betrayed you?”

  Zanzibar dropped the hand from his forehead and looked at Alistair with a face full of sorrow and pain. “He did.”

  Tibby made a small noise and clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Alistair waited expectantly for a name, but instead Zanzibar said, “Sometimes leadership demands more of an individual than they can bear. How could Tobias choose between his child and his country? It is too much to ask. A decision no one should have to make.”

  Suddenly Alistair understood. He did, Zanzibar had said. The golden mouse hadn’t meant that Tobias had revealed the name of the traitor—he meant that Tobias himself had been the traitor! Alistair thought of Tobias’s kind eyes and a feeling of utter despair washed over him. If they couldn’t trust Tobias . . . It was hopeless, he saw. FIG could never win.

  “Tobias betrayed us?” Tibby Rose sounded distressed, as if she couldn’t bear for it to be true.

  “The Sourians kidnapped his son.” Zanzibar’s voice was bitter. “They gave Tobias a choice. What a choice . . .” Then his voice became urgent. “Does Tobias know about this place?”

  “No,” said Alistair. “He knew about my scarf, and that we were going to look for the secret paths, but when we returned from our mission he didn’t ask a single thing about it. And then he rushed us off so quickly we never had time to tell him.” Now that he thought about it, it was odd that Tobias hadn’t wanted to know
the whereabouts of the secret paths. Surely the Sourians would have been grateful for the information.

  As if he knew what Alistair was thinking, Zanzibar said, “I’m glad to hear it. If Tobias truly had the heart of a traitor, he would have wanted that knowledge for the Sourians.”

  Yet it was Tobias who had sent him on the fruitless quest to find his parents, Tobias who had told Keaters where to find him, Alistair realized, feeling the slow burn of rage rising in his chest.

  “But he is a traitor,” Tibby Rose was insisting. “He told the Sourians where you were hiding.”

  “He gave them what they asked for,” Zanzibar agreed. “But no more than that. And he sent you to me, knowing you could lead me to safety.”

  Then Alistair remembered Keaters’s reaction when he’d learned that Slippers Pink had accompanied Alistair to the island. Keaters hadn’t been expecting that. Had Tobias intended for Slippers and Feast to protect him?

  Zanzibar continued, “And don’t forget, Tibby Rose, it is the Sourians who are in the wrong here, not Tobias. They threatened to harm the most precious thing he has in the world: his child. To have to choose between the needs of your country and the life of your child . . . Some sacrifices are just too great.”

  To Alistair’s surprise there was no anger in Zanzibar’s voice as he spoke of his cousin’s betrayal—only a deep sadness and . . . understanding, perhaps?

  Alistair thought about his parents; they must have known when they went on their mission that they risked sacrificing their freedom—and perhaps even their lives. And what about his own mission? If he was honest with himself, he had wanted to find the secret paths so he could use them to free his parents; he had thought more of freeing his parents than freeing Gerander. So could he blame Tobias, really? Wouldn’t he have made the same choice if he were in Tobias’s place? It was like what Slippers had said about the difference between thinking with your head and not your heart. It troubled him, though, how ready he was to put his own needs, the needs of his heart, ahead of FIG. Maybe the members of FIG just weren’t ruthless enough to defeat the Sourians. But if the members of FIG were ruthless, would they be the kind of mice he would want to fight alongside? Surely a good heart was important too? He was about to ask Zanzibar what he thought, when there was the sound of footsteps.

  The three mice froze.

  “The tunnel,” Alistair said in a strangled voice. “There’s someone in the tunnel.”

  “They’re coming for us,” squeaked Tibby Rose in alarm, as a murmur of voices reached them.

  Alistair just caught the look of concern on Zanzibar’s face before the golden mouse blew out the candle. And then they were enveloped in darkness. Alistair could feel Tibby Rose trembling beside him and he felt panic catch at his breathing as his heart pounded in time with the approaching footsteps.

  Maybe they won’t look in the alcove, he told himself hopefully, when the footsteps grew louder, then stopped. As candlelight filled the room he heard a scream of terror from the doorway and then the candlestick was dropped. The light was extinguished and Alistair jumped up, dragging Tibby with him, thinking he would try to run for it. Then there was the scrape of a match and the hiss of flame and the room was filled with steady light once more. Alistair had just noted with despair that the exit was blocked when someone said, “It’s you! Oh, it really is you!”

  The voice was soft, sweet, and a bit breathless. Her soft brown fur was matted, and she was heartbreakingly thin, but her voice was just the same.

  “Mom!” Alistair cried. “Mom!” And then he was in her arms and he couldn’t speak anymore.

  24

  The Heirs of Cornolius

  When Alistair finally lifted his head from his mother’s shoulder he saw his father, white fur dirty, his whiskers creased in his same old smile, and he thought his heart would overflow with gladness.

  As Alistair hugged his father, Emmeline looked over to where Zanzibar stood with his hand on Tibby Rose’s shoulder.

  “Zan! I can’t believe it’s really you!” She flung herself at the tall golden mouse, and he caught her in his arms and swung her around, laughing.

  “It’s really me, sis,” he said.

  “Sis!” Alistair exclaimed. “Do you mean—Mom, is Zanzibar your brother?”

  “That’s right,” said Emmeline.

  “But that means . . . he’s my uncle!”

  Emmeline looked at her brother. “Didn’t you tell—?”

  He gave a brief shake of his head.

  Alistair could hardly believe it—here were his parents, alive, and Zanzibar was his uncle! Surrounded by family, he felt a sudden pang as he remembered Tibby Rose. She was standing against the wall, looking happy but a bit alone.

  “Tib,” he said, “come over here and meet—”

  But Emmeline was already rushing forward, her hands outstretched. “Tibby Rose,” she cried in her low, sweet voice. “Is it really you? Oh, my dear, look how you’ve grown. Oh!” She pulled Tibby into a tight hug.

  Alistair was astounded. “You know Tibby Rose?”

  “Well, she was only a baby the last time I saw her,” Emmeline said, “but I’d know her anywhere.” She held Tibby Rose’s face in her hands and looked into her eyes. “Your parents were very dear to me, Tibby Rose. I loved your mother like a sister.” She gave Tibby another squeeze.

  Tibby looked overwhelmed but very, very pleased, Alistair thought.

  Emmeline’s expression turned serious. “But Nelson and Harriet—they haven’t . . . ?”

  Tibby must have guessed what she was thinking for she cried, “Oh no! They’re fine. It’s just that Alistair fell on my head and then . . .” She shrugged. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “We have four years of stories to catch up on, don’t we, Em?” Rebus stood behind his wife with a hand on each of her shoulders. She leaned back against his chest and for the first time Alistair noticed how frail and tired she looked.

  Zanzibar must have noticed too, for he said, “Let’s rest here awhile before we move on.”

  “I thought we could go to our grandparents’ cottage,” Emmeline said to Zanzibar.

  Her brother shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not safe there anymore, Em. The Queen’s Guards are probably there right now looking for us.”

  Emmeline shivered. “Not there then. I never want to see another red coat in my life.”

  “Where will we go?” Tibby Rose asked.

  “To Stetson,” Zanzibar decided. “I’m through with hiding. FIG needs me to lead, not hide. How to get there is the question. . . .” He tapped his chin with his finger.

  “Oswald—” Alistair began, then realized that to retrace their steps toward the source of the Winns would surely mean encountering Queen’s Guards.

  “We’ll have to head south,” said Zanzibar, “and see if we can find a way across the Winns. Then we can try to cross the border into Shetlock.”

  It sounded terribly risky to Alistair, but he couldn’t think of another way. He looked at his parents, both so tired and weak. Would they be able to survive such a journey?

  “Could we use the tunnels?” Rebus suggested.

  Alistair and his mother looked at each other. “No, the tunnels don’t run that far south,” said Emmeline. “And there are no tunnels to the east of the Winns.”

  “There are other paths in the east, though,” Tibby Rose pointed out. “We met an old mouse who knew them, but she couldn’t tell us about them because they could only be passed down through her family. Do you think those other paths are on the map?” She jumped up to study the map painted on the wall of the alcove.

  “They are on the map,” Emmeline said. “But I don’t know how to read them. My grandmother only taught me about the tunnels.”

  Alistair walked over to stand beside Tibby Rose, his eyes scanning the picture in the flickering candlelight. His eyes traced the long main tunnel running alongside the northern part of the Winns, and the network of smaller tunnels leading west. To the east of t
he Winns was a web of green, with no sign of the curved brown arches which indicated the presence of a tunnel.

  He sighed. “We can at least use the tunnel to travel some of the way south,” he said, running his finger down the blue stripe of the Winns. “Maybe there’ll be a place where—” Alistair stopped. “Tibby, look at this.”

  Tibby peered at the blue stripe where Alistair was pointing. “It looks like a thin green line,” she said. “A line across the river.” She turned to Alistair, her eyes wide. “Do you think it could be a bridge?”

  “It’s possible,” said Alistair. “Let’s see if Mom knows anything about it.” He was about to call to his mother to come see, but then had a better idea. He unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and carried it to her.

  “I remember knitting this scarf,” Emmeline said softly as Alistair laid it on her lap. For a moment Alistair himself could see the dancing flames in the fireplace of the cottage of honey-colored stone where he and Alice and Alex had passed the first eight years of their lives, and Emmeline knitting beside it. “And it brought you here.” She seemed both happy and sad.

  “Mom,” said Alistair, “do you know anything about this green line here across the Winns?”

  Emmeline bent her head to look. “I’ve wondered about that line,” she said. “I asked my grandmother about it, but she didn’t know what it meant. I’ve always thought it might be a mistake, a slip of the artist’s brush.” She glanced up at the painting on the wall.

  “It could be a bridge, though,” Tibby said.

  “It could be, I suppose,” said Emmeline, her voice doubtful. “But it’s such a thin little line.” She traced the delicate stitch on the scarf with her finger.

  “Since we were planning to head south anyway, let’s leave the tunnel at that point and investigate,” Zanzibar decided.

  As they passed back through the tunnel he and Tibby had traveled so recently with Slippers Pink and Feast Thompson, Alistair recalled their return from Atticus Island. He had been expecting to travel from Cobb back to the north of Gerander with his parents and, despite his joy at being reunited with them now, this journey through the tunnel still reminded him of the heavy heart with which he had last trod this earthen floor. Now, when he had least expected it, he and Tibby were traveling south through the tunnel with Emmeline and Rebus—and the famous Zanzibar! He smiled to himself as he pictured the look on Alice and Alex’s faces at their triumphant return. Though there were many dangers between them and a triumphant return, of course.