Urchin’s eyes widened in astonishment. Lace, as white and fine as mist, was everywhere. It hung from frames and trailed across the room.
“She’s going to be so beautiful!” said Needle. “But there’s lengths and lengths of embroidery to do—and she’s supposed to have a tiara with jewels, so the moles are all digging furiously—and we have to make a new captain’s robe—they said it’s for a squirrel, but he must be a tall one. And Captain Husk had already ordered new Threadings. Come and I’ll show you.”
Urchin followed her into the long workroom where the nearly finished Threadings hung in their frames. They were beautifully stitched, with glowing color and gold and silver thread, showing, as usual, the kings, queens, heroes, and captains of the past.
“More squirrels than anything else,” said Urchin.
“I know,” said Needle. “We ran out of squirrel-red wool. Captain Husk bought some more from the ships.”
There were a few hedgehogs, but hardly ever a mole or an otter. Urchin went from one to the next—squirrels on thrones, squirrels with swords, squirrels in trees. There was said to be an ancient underground mole palace somewhere on the island, in the roots of a tree. It was probably only an old tale with no truth in it, but Urchin had always liked that story. The Old Palace was in a tapestry, too, but with a squirrel lord on a throne instead of a mole.
“The rocks,” said Needle.
“Sorry?” said Urchin.
“The rocks,” said Needle. “Mostly, I get to do the rocks, because I’m new. Thripple does the clever bits—robes and things.”
“I was looking at the faces,” said Urchin. “Have you noticed? All the females look like Lady Aspen. And all the males look like Husk.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ROST BEGAN TO SETTLE IN THE MORNINGS. There was frost that froze on fur and whiskers; fine white frost that crunched under paws in Anemone Wood; delicate frost that crisped the fallen leaves and sparkled on the moss. Nights were sharp and bitter, with the moon rising high above Mistmantle Tower in a clear sky. Fires were lit in hearths, and the nibbled cores of fir cones were thrown to the flames. Padra and Urchin spent long evenings with Fir.
Preparations for the wedding filled every day. Guards of honor were drilled. New cloaks and robes were made and old ones repaired. The Gathering Chamber was decorated. Stores were heaped up in the kitchens. All the talk in the woods and water, on the shores, everywhere, was of the wedding. When Husk was not in the Throne Room, the king was guarded by Captain Granite.
The night before the wedding, swords, silver dishes, and trumpets were polished until they flashed in the candlelight. Whiskers were smoothed, fur was washed, claws were trimmed. Apple came to the tower with a small pot of deep red paste made from wax and pollen for Urchin to rub on his ear and tail tips to enhance their color. Urchin thanked her, but decided against using it. He thought Needle might like it, so when Apple had gone he took it to the workrooms.
He found Needle still at a bench, and still stitching with fine white thread onto snowy silk, though she looked near to tears with exhaustion. A hunchbacked female hedgehog stood beside her, packing frothy white things into boxes. White sheets were spread over every surface, and even on the floor. When Urchin hopped in and opened the pot of red paste, Needle shrieked and curled into a ball.
“Go away!” she wailed. “Put the top back on that, now!”
“It’s only paste!” said Urchin. This wasn’t like Needle.
“Get it out!” screamed Needle from inside the ball. “Take it away and don’t let it touch anything! And wash your paws!”
The other hedgehog gently stroked the top of Needle’s head. Now that Urchin could get a good look at her, he saw that her face had a squashed and lopsided look that should have been ugly, but her eyes were kind.
“It’s all right, little Needle,” she soothed. “No harm done.” She looked past Needle to Urchin, who still stood uncertainly in the doorway. “She’s tired. And it’s very important that we don’t get any marks on the wedding clothes, so we can’t have colored paste in here. Don’t worry, you weren’t to know that. I told her she should go to bed, and I’ll finish off here when I’ve delivered these. I’m Thripple, I’ve been teaching her.”
Needle uncurled very slowly. By the time Urchin returned from washing his paws, she had calmed down.
“Sorry,” she said wearily. “I’ve had enough of Lady Aspen’s wedding robes. We’ve still got her train to finish. Those things Thripple just packed, they’re for the bridesmoles, they have to be delivered to the royal chambers. And it’s all pure white. White on white on white. It hurts my eyes. And the slightest touch of a stain will ruin it, so don’t bring any more sticky red pollens in here, please, Urchin.”
“Sorry,” said Urchin. “I can take those boxes to the royal chambers, if you like.”
“It would be a big help,” said Thripple.
Needle managed to smile. “I’ll see Scufflen tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve made him his own little robe out of leftover bits. We’ve all got some time off after the wedding, so I can go home and take it to him. That’s the only thing about being here. There isn’t much time off, and I hardly ever get to see my family and the rest of the colony. I’m looking forward to putting his little robe on him, even more than the wedding and the feast. Will you be wearing something special?”
“Sort of,” he said. “Just a green cloak that’s been altered to fit me.” He wasn’t sure, but he hoped it might have been Crispin’s once. Even so, the color that suited the real red squirrels never looked quite right on him. “Are those ready to take?”
Thripple piled up boxes in his paws and warned him not to try climbing out of windows. Urchin trotted a little precariously to the royal chambers, peering past the boxes as he went. He was nearly at Lady Aspen’s chambers when somebody bumped into him heavily from behind. The top box tipped, rocked, and tumbled. White silk flowers spilled wildly over the floor.
“Clumsy!” said Gleaner from behind him, and bustled past importantly. “Now, don’t try to pick them up, you’ll only get them dirty. Leave them to me.”
“You’re welcome,” said Urchin.
“I’m really very busy, but I suppose I’d better do it,” said Gleaner, but she didn’t seem too busy to stop and talk. She stood blocking the corridor, a small phial of violet glass clutched in her paw. “Lady Aspen and I have very important things to do. I have to look after the queen tomorrow. She’s extremely ill.”
“Is she worse?” said Urchin with concern.
“She’s very ill indeed, and Lady Aspen’s most worried about her,” announced Gleaner. “And as the wedding is tomorrow, I’ll be looking after her because I know everything to do.” She looked over her shoulder and added quietly, “You can’t trust mole maids. I’ll have to miss the wedding, but I don’t mind. The queen needs me.”
“Gleaner!” called Aspen from inside the queen’s chamber.
“I’m sorry, my lady, Urchin’s keeping me talking,” said Gleaner, and took the remaining boxes from Urchin’s paws. “I’ll tidy those up presently.”
“Captain Padra’s regards to the queen,” said Urchin, and darted away before Gleaner could tell him to run along. He wondered how Needle could stand the workrooms. He’d already seen enough of little white lacy things to last him a lifetime.
The queen, thin and haggard, lay propped up on pillows in the four-poster bed. The windows were tightly shut, and the fire made the room drowsily hot. When Gleaner carried in the boxes, the queen’s eyes remained shut.
“Was that Padra’s page?” asked Aspen as she bent over the queen.
“Yes, my lady,” said Gleaner with distaste. “Here’s the boxes from the workroom, except for the one he dropped, and here’s the medicine, my lady.”
“You know exactly what to do?” said Aspen.
“Seven drops in the small glass of water, if she’s worse,” said Gleaner. “And put away the phial carefully in your wooden box, because it’s a special medicine just
for the queen.”
“And if you’re at all alarmed about her, even if it’s in the middle of the ceremony, send somebody to find me,” said Aspen. “I hate for you to miss the wedding, Gleaner, but I know the queen will be in safe paws.”
“I don’t mind, my lady,” said Gleaner.
“I suppose that page will have to be on duty,” sighed Aspen. “He spoils the look of things. I find it really worrying, not knowing where he’s from or anything about him. It’s most unsettling. He could be anybody or anything.”
The glow of having something to tell warmed Gleaner. “Oh, as to that, my lady,” she said, “I don’t exactly know where he’s from, but I know more than most. I can tell you a secret about him.”
Husk tried on his new robe and set the circle of gold on his head. Tomorrow he would wear a jeweled one, and the king had been happy to provide ropes of necklaces for Aspen.
Jewels were wealth, and wealth could buy anything. It could buy power. The work parties were grumbling about the long hours and hard work as winter set in, but a good wedding banquet would keep them quiet.
He had given orders that all animals for the cull were to be brought to him. Wise parents took it as an honor that their pathetic little brats should be put to death by the compassionate claw of the king’s chief captain. But lately, too many of them had been left in the care of a guard, and handed over to Padra.
Padra was interfering, as usual. He’d even got a pardon for that weedy new hedgehog. But Padra had to learn who was in charge. In all the bustle of the wedding, nobody would question a change of orders. The baby was to be handed over. Husk felt the need to kill.
CHAPTER NINE
EFORE DAWN, IN THE SMALL CHAMBER by the Spring Gate, Urchin wriggled farther into the sleepy warmth of his nest and squeezed his eyes shut. Padra was nudging him awake.
“Early start,” said Padra cheerfully. “What about a swim before breakfast?”
Urchin curled up tightly and pulled a blanket around his shoulders.
“There’s only one thing better, and that’s swimming and breakfast at the same time,” said Padra. “Shall I bring you a fish?”
“Fish ish ushty, sha,” mumbled Urchin.
“Beg your pardon?” said Padra.
Urchin poked his head out and blinked. “Fish is disgusting,” he yawned, and wriggled back down. He emerged long enough to add “sir,” and hid under the blanket again.
“Be up and about by the time I come back,” said Padra. “Find a nice frozen pool to shake your head in. It brightens the eyes!” With a laugh and a good-natured kick at the nest, Padra went away. There was a soft splash as he slipped into the stream, then Urchin was asleep again.
He was dreaming of a wedding banquet made up of nothing but fish when he was woken by a sharp and furious banging at the door. He had barely lifted the latch when it flew open and he was thrown violently against the wall and pinned there. Needle was screaming into his face.
“You lying, filthy, worm-ridden squirrel, what have you got to say?” she shrieked. “You and your filthy, slithering otter—I hate you—I hate you both!”
She let go with one paw to dry her eyes, and Urchin slipped free. He rubbed at his neck where her claws had scratched.
“What have I done?” he gasped.
“What have you done? What haven’t you?” she screamed, pounding him with both paws. “You promised they wouldn’t take my brother! You promised!”
Urchin caught her wrists to stop her hitting him. “What happened?” he said. “Tell me!”
She gulped hard and swallowed before she could go on. “They came this morning,” she sobbed. “Two guards came. They brought Scufflen and my mum here, because he’s named for the cull. She’s up in my workrooms now, crying her eyes out and cuddling him as long as she can. So a lot of good you did!”
“Come with me,” said Urchin. He dragged her after him through the Spring Gate as Padra was walking up the shore, shaking water from his ears. To Urchin’s annoyance, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t even see Urchin as he was talking over his shoulder to Granite, a few steps behind him.
“I’m afraid he’s a dead loss,” Padra was saying airily. “He’s been with me for months now, and he’s completely untrainable.” He waved a paw, turned, saw Urchin and Needle, and greeted them with his usual cheerfulness. “Is something wrong?”
Urchin couldn’t say anything. He was too stunned. He knew he had something to say to Padra, but the words he’d just heard had knocked it out of him.
“My brother!” snapped Needle. “Urchin said you’d saved him, and now he’s been brought to the tower!”
Padra’s eyes flicked from Urchin to Needle and back. “Where?” he demanded.
“Workroom,” stammered Urchin, trying to pull himself together.
“My bit of the workrooms,” sobbed Needle.
“Show me!” said Padra, and set off after Needle at a run. Urchin followed, but Padra called over his shoulder. “Find Lugg the mole!”
Find Lugg. He didn’t even know where to start looking, and all he wanted to do was find a hole in a tree and hide. He’d done his best, and thought he’d done well. He’d worked hard, obeyed orders, and learned everything Padra had taught him, or he thought he had. And that was what Padra thought of him. A dead loss. Completely untrainable. He could at least have kept his opinions to himself instead of telling Captain Granite.
But maybe Padra wasn’t so great. He hadn’t saved Scufflen. Urchin trudged back to the tower. Find Lugg.
White pennants flew from every turret in honor of the day. Urchin straightened his back and raised his head. Today, he’d show them, Padra and all of them. Today, he’d make sure nobody could call him a dead loss. Then tomorrow, he’d report to Padra and say—Please, sir, I know you think I’m a dead loss and untrainable, so I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time. Maybe I should go back to the wood and…
…and what? Stack timber on boats, he thought bitterly. A long way down from being a tower squirrel.
He could take his chance with a boat and go to find Crispin! Crispin wouldn’t have called him a dead loss! But all that was for tomorrow, and today, he’d dazzle them. Today, he’d be brilliant, today…
…he’d find Lugg. It was a start.
It wasn’t easy. The tower mole guards were lining up as guards of honor; the wood moles didn’t know much; and the ones who didn’t have anything to do were pretending to be very busy and important and only said “Don’t know,” “He’s gone,” or “Push off, squirrel.” Finally, scurrying along a corridor, he saw a small pair of mole paws hurrying toward him under a heap of logs. From behind the heap came a long grumble of curses.
“Lugg!” said Urchin, feeling better already.
“Who wants 'im?” said the voice.
“Captain Padra,” said Urchin, and ran to lift some of the logs until he could see the graying muzzle of Lugg the mole. “It’s urgent. He’s gone to the workrooms.”
“What’s he want?” He dropped the logs and kicked them in Urchin’s direction. “Captains! Too many captains if you ask me. Give us a paw. These are for the Gathering Chamber.”
“It’s urgent!” said Urchin.
Lugg looked around, summoned a pack of young squirrels who were practicing a wedding song, and left them rolling the logs to the Gathering Chamber. Urchin explained about Scufflen as Lugg trotted at his heels to the foot of the workroom stairs.
“Blooming stairs,” he grumbled, and was trudging up after Urchin when they were pushed firmly out of the way by two squirrel guards and Tay the otter. Tay carried something bundled up in a blanket in her paws.
At the top of the stairs stood Needle and her mother, pressed together, sobbing bitterly. Padra, unconcerned at the prickles, hugged them both.
So Padra was sympathetic, but he hadn’t saved little Scufflen. Urchin leaped down the stairs after Tay and the escort. Tay turned at the sound of his paws.
“Report to your captain,” she ordered. “Up the stairs with you!”
Urchin had no intention of reporting to Padra. He dived out through the nearest window, ran up the wall and, guessing which way Tay would go, glancing in at one window then another, kept track of her. They seemed to be heading for the south front of the tower, where Husk’s chambers were, above the Gathering Chamber.
Urchin found the small window of Husk’s chamber, and peeped in. The deep red drapery darkened it, but he saw that Husk was still in there, and ducked sharply under the sill. From there he could hear the door open and Tay’s commanding voice as she dismissed the guards.
“You may go.” He heard the door shut. “Here he is, Captain Husk. I’ve doped him well with poppy distillation so he’ll sleep until you have time to deal with him.”
“Leave him on the bench by the window,” ordered Husk. “There’s no time now. Get a few more drops into him to make sure he stays quiet until after the wedding, and I’ll do it then. I’d like to see to it now, but…”
“Blood on the robes, captain!” said Tay.
Urchin was losing his grip on the windowsill. He shuffled, and held on tightly.
“Exactly,” said Husk. “Did his mother put up a fight?”
“The sister was worse,” said Tay. “And Padra tried to interfere. He argued that the king had expressly commanded this one be spared, but I know the law better than he does. He was a great deal easier to deal with than that ill-mannered little hedgehog. Her spines should be trimmed.”
“Never mind her,” said Husk. “I should be in the anteroom. Thank you, Tay.”
Urchin lost hold. He fell, scrabbled, twirled his tail, regained his balance on the next ledge he found, and dashed back to the workrooms to find Padra, crashing into Lugg on the way.
“You’re late,” said Lugg. “Captain wants you. Gathering Chamber.” He glanced around, and whispered, “Found young ‘un?”
“In Husk’s chamber,” Urchin whispered back. “On a bench by the window.”
“Alive?”
The Urchin of the Riding Stars Page 7