“That dense squirrel found him,” said Husk, but he was trembling.
“Apparently not,” she went on. “Apple thinks she found him, but Brother Fir and Crispin…”
“Crispin?”
She gave him a stern look, and went on. “They found him first, and they saw him fall from the sky into the sea. I asked Apple about it and she denies it, but I think Brother Fir’s and Crispin’s memories are more reliable than hers. However, she did remark that Urchin had fallen from a tower window, on the night of our wedding.”
“He did what?”
“I can’t imagine how he managed it,” she said. “Maybe he just had no idea where he was.”
Husk turned so she could not see his face. He returned to the window, leaning his paws on the sill as he tried to breathe deeply and calmly.
“Send for Gloss,” he said. By the time the mole slid into the room, he had gathered himself together.
“I have watched the squirrel,” said Gloss. “I know more about him than he knows himself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Husk grimly. “I want him dead. At once. It must look like an accident.”
“Is that all?” said Gloss. “Consider it done. He intends to visit his foster mother in the wood tomorrow, and I know exactly the route he will take. There are all manner of tunnels on the way. It’s amazing that nobody ever falls into them.” He bowed, and left the room.
Aspen took Husk’s paws. “Hold on,” she said. “We’re nearly there. Leave the king to me. Urchin will soon be dead. Tay will have Padra arrested. We will have a magnificent Spring Festival.”
She called for Gleaner, who arrived surprisingly quickly. “Make sure nobody disturbs me this morning,” she ordered. “I have the king’s sleeping drafts to prepare.”
Gleaner bowed and trotted importantly down the corridor. “Nobody is to disturb Lady Aspen,” she said bossily to every animal she met. She was about to take up her post at the keyhole again when she caught sight of Crackle.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m visiting Needle,” said Crackle. She was lost and looking for the way out, but didn’t like to admit it.
“Oh, her,” said Gleaner, and couldn’t resist a smirk. “Well, I know a certain squirrel friend of hers who needs to look out.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” said Crackle, but Gleaner wanted to tell it. She pressed close to Crackle, whispering, the way they used to when they were best friends.
“Between you and me,” she said, “and I wouldn’t dream of telling anybody else, and you have to keep it our secret—Urchin’s going to get what he’s been asking for. And about time, too. I’m always with Lady Aspen; I can’t help overhearing what she and Captain Husk say to each other. Urchin might have one fall too many!” And with a knowing wink, she pursed her lips and ran away.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RCHIN WAS WOKEN EARLY THE NEXT MORNING by the clanging and beating of hammers from somewhere near the tower. Whatever it was, there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He packed a satchel, ready for his visit to Apple later that morning, and slipped from his chamber, looking around as Padra had taught him, in case he was being followed. Reporting to Padra, he found the captain trying to sleep with his paws over his ears. Presently he muttered something and pulled moss over his head, but he soon gave up.
“A deaf mole couldn’t sleep through that lot,” he said. “Let’s see what’s happening. Plague on it, I’ve fallen asleep wearing my sword.”
The noise came from the side of the tower nearest to the wood. On the level ground beyond the rocks, animals were building scaffolding, sawing and hammering at posts, poles, and planks. Squirrels ran up and down, hedgehogs hammered, otters fetched and carried, and moles scurried about looking busy.
“What’s this?” said Padra.
“It’s for the Spring Festival, sir,” said a breathless squirrel. “To hang the Threadings and the awnings and that, sir. Look! The grand table goes in the middle up on the rocks there, and the Threadings hang behind it and around it so that everyone can see them, and there’s a canopy to go over the top, sir.”
“I always thought that Threadings were for indoors,” remarked Padra. “Still, it can’t do any harm. I only wish I’d been informed.” A shadow fell over them, and they turned to see Captain Granite.
“I was informed,” he growled.
“Oh, that’s all right then,” said Padra cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulders. “Urchin, we’ll have breakfast before you go to see Apple. Granite, would you like to join us for some fresh fish?”
“No, thank you,” said Granite grimly.
“No, I thought you wouldn’t,” smiled Padra. “Oh, here’s Captain Husk coming to inspect the work.”
Husk was striding down from the tower, a rich cloak thrown around his shoulders. When a hedgehog ran up to speak to him, he turned sharply and seemed irritated. But then he was smiling, looking interested, talking to the working animals, encouraging them. Urchin was glad to follow Padra back to the tower.
Husk did not usually come out this early, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep. The king had been obstinate, demanding spring water and wanting to go out and meet the animals. It had taken half a bottle of spirits and one of Aspen’s drafts to quiet him.
Husk still saw Prince Tumble in his nightmares, but now he saw Crispin, too. Exile had been a mistake. Crispin should have met with an accident, as Urchin would.
“Your shadow isn’t here this morning,” said Padra to Urchin, back in the safety of his chamber. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen at the Spring Festival.”
Paws pattered toward them. “No I won’t,” sighed Padra, and threw open the door.
“Hello, Needle!” said Urchin, springing up; but he couldn’t help being irritated. Padra had been about to tell him something important. “Oh, and Crackle.”
Needle scurried in, looking anxious and urgent. Crackle pressed timidly beside her.
“We’re sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got something important to tell you both,” said Needle. “At least, Crackle has.”
“You tell them,” said Crackle, and glanced up shyly at Padra. Urchin just wished they’d get on with it and go.
“Gleaner was showing off to Crackle,” said Needle quickly. “She was dropping hints, and said Urchin would get what he’d been asking for. ‘He’ll have one fall too many,’she said.”
Urchin’s legs felt a bit shaky. There had always been danger, but now it was close, and it was meant for him. Padra sat on the floor and took Crackle’s paw.
“Is that right?” he said. “Is that exactly what Gleaner told you?”
“Yes, sir,” she said shyly.
“Good squirrel,” said Padra. “You’ve done well to tell me. Don’t be afraid. Go to Brother Fir and tell him what you’ve just told us. I’ll call a guard to go with you.”
When she had gone, he checked the corridor, closed the door, and leaned against it.
“’One fall too many,’” he repeated softly. “Gleaner waits on Lady Aspen. I wonder if Husk and Aspen know you fell from the sky? It adds to your strangeness, and they don’t want anything or anyone on this island that puzzles them. Much too dangerous. This is serious, Urchin.”
“Fell from the sky?” said Needle.
“Brother Fir wisely kept it quiet, and so will we,” said Padra firmly.
“I’ll be all right,” said Urchin, trying to be brave.
“Not if you stay here, you won’t,” said Padra. He paused and looked for a long time at Urchin before he spoke again. “Urchin, you’ve given them too much trouble. You’ve come between Husk and the king. You’re my page. You look different, and you have a mysterious past. They want you out of the way. I’m sorry. You’ll have to go.”
“Where, sir?” asked Urchin. He hoped he hadn’t understood.
“As far as possible,” said Padra.
“Into hiding, sir?” said Urchin. “Maybe in the Old Palace?”
“Too risky,” said Padra, and looked so unhappy that Urchin felt sorry for him. “If they’re determined to find you, they will.”
“And if I stayed in the Old Palace they’d find the little ones, too,” admitted Urchin.
“There’s only one thing to do, and I hate it,” said Padra. “You’ve been an excellent page. And a great friend. But if you stay on the island, Husk will find you.”
Urchin had felt that this was coming. It was as if everything inside him had turned as gray and cold as a winter sky.
He remembered the day Crispin left, and how he had planned to go with him, even though it would mean leaving everyone else he knew and loved. But now he would go alone. More than ever, he knew how much he owed to Padra. He had been a captain, father, older brother, friend, guide, protector. He would have to leave Padra.
“Must I?” he said.
“You might be able to return one day,” said Padra. “We’ve never been sure whether you truly belong here.”
“Yes I do, sir!” cried Urchin, hurt.
“Yes, yes,” said Padra hastily. “You’re one of us, of course you are. What I meant was, your parents must have come from somewhere else. So you should be able to get back through the mists.”
“I don’t belong anywhere else,” said Urchin. “I was born here, or at least, I think I was. Sir, I don’t think I could bear it, never coming home again.”
Padra gripped his shoulders. “There are tunnels under the sea,” he said, “or the moles say there are. Long and dark, but they’re a way of traveling without going by water. You might come back that way. If there was a ship in just now I’d stow you away, but we’ll just have to fit up a boat, the way we did for Crispin. You won’t go hungry.”
“Should I wait until nightfall?” asked Urchin hopefully.
“Nightfall could be too late,” said Padra. “We’ll launch you from the north shore, where you won’t be noticed. Everyone’s busy.”
“But I was going to see Apple today!” Urchin exclaimed. “She’s expecting me, and I can’t let her down!”
“I’ll go,” said Needle. “I’ll tell her—what shall I tell her, Captain Padra?”
“Tell her the truth, and swear her to secrecy,” said Padra. “It’s a risk, but we can’t let her think you’d just disappeared.”
“I’ve got presents for her,” muttered Urchin, hoping to stretch out his last hours on the island.
“I’ll take them,” said Needle promptly, and Urchin glared at her.
“You’d have to get time off work,” he argued.
“Captain Padra can see to that,” said Needle.
Urchin turned to Padra. “They’ll notice I’ve gone,” he said. “Then what will you say?”
“No problem,” said Padra. “From what Gleaner told Crackle, Husk has given instructions for your death. When you disappear, he’ll think they’ve been carried out. If the islanders notice you’ve gone, they’ll suspect him of your murder, which is good. Urchin, I don’t like this either, and if the islanders didn’t need me, I’d come with you. I’ll row you out as far as the mists myself, then give you the oars while I swim back to shore, yes? I don’t know much about the lands beyond the mist, but I’ll tell you all I can.”
Urchin was thinking of Crispin. It was reassuring to know he was out there somewhere.
“If Crispin’s still alive, I’ll find him,” he said, and the thought of Crispin encouraged him. “I’m not just going to save myself, sir. I’m going to find Crispin. And when I’ve found him, I’ll find a way to bring him back. There must be some way.” But he thought of the vastness of the sea and its storms, and the little boats the otters used. Curling his claws, suddenly feeling very small beside Padra, he looked up and said what he would not say to any other animal, and would rather not say in front of Needle.
“I’m afraid, sir.”
“So would I be!” said Padra. “But we have to do this. Before anything else, I’m taking you to Fir. Do you want to take the shortcut up the walls?”
“No, I’ll walk,” said Urchin, who didn’t feel like running up a wall. The climb to Fir’s tower, with Needle plodding behind, had never seemed so long. When they reached the workrooms, Needle stopped.
“I have to go to work now,” she said.
“I’ll come for you presently,” said Padra.
Needle wriggled a bit. “Take care, Urchin,” she said awkwardly.
“Thanks for being my friend,” said Urchin. There wasn’t much to say after that.
Fir’s turret felt as if it had been prayed in. There was something about the stillness in the air. But Fir seemed to have changed. His face seemed more deeply lined than ever. He stood up slowly, stiffly, as if he carried a weight of sorrow and everything took a great effort, and Padra put out a paw to help him. But there was a depth in his eyes, as if he were older than the bedrock of the island, and knew more than any of its legends could tell.
“Urchin, check under the window boxes for spies,” said Padra. It seemed a bit extreme to Urchin, but he obeyed his captain while Padra told Fir what had happened.
“Yes,” said Fir sadly, when he had heard the story. “Yes, he must go. Hm! I suppose we should feed him.” He poured water and cordial into a saucepan. “Now, Urchin of the Riding Stars, there are things you need to know.”
Urchin sat down to listen, and Fir gave him an apple.
“Firstly, I’ll tell you what I told Crispin before he went. I know a little of the islands. Most of the trading ships come from the northwest, and there are large, well-populated islands that way, but a long way off. The nearest ones are to the southeast, so row around the island, keep the tower at your back, and row a straight line. Give him a sail, Padra; he may not be strong enough for all that rowing. Any ship you see, any otters you meet, any island where you land, ask for Crispin. Search till you find him. And the other thing is this. Mark it well.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brother Fir took Urchin’s paws in his. His old face warmed into a smile so kind, so deep, so wise, and so gentle that Urchin could only gaze. In the simplicity of the plain chamber, with a breeze floating in through a window, Urchin felt the holiness of the place reaching into him.
“You will come to us again, Urchin of the Riding Stars. You were sent to us on a momentous night. Mistmantle is your destiny. You will come back to us. I don’t know how. But we will see you again.”
Urchin forgot about being a tower squirrel and flung his arms round Brother Fir, pressing his cheek against the rough white tunic.
“Oh, my young hero,” soothed Fir. “All heroes feel like this—they do, you know.” He looked over Urchin’s ears at Padra. “Padra, I suggest you find young Arran and ask her to arrange the provisioning of a boat. No mean rations. Honey biscuits. Spice cakes. Walnut and herb bread. Butter. Oatcakes and cheese. Apples—oh, whatever it is that this brave adventurer likes. And if you know what young Crispin likes, put that in too, because I’ve no doubt Urchin will run into him. And while you’re at it, ask her to marry you.”
“She’d only hit me,” muttered Padra as usual as he ran down the stairs. When he had gone, Fir smoothed Urchin’s ears, then sat him down with a cup of cordial. Urchin didn’t feel that he wanted anything, but it was hot and strong, and he felt better by the time Padra came back.
“Let’s get it over with,” said Padra. “Give him your blessing, please, Brother Fir.”
Urchin knelt. He felt very calm now that he knew he was about to go. Fir’s voice was as old as a threadbare cloak, but it rang with authority as he held a paw over Urchin’s head.
“May the Heart keep you, Urchin of the Riding Stars,” he said. “May the Heart guide you, guard you, nourish you, enlighten you. And may the great love of the Heart bring you safely back to Mistmantle.”
The boat was prepared, well furnished, with oars and a sail, though Urchin hadn’t practiced using the sail and hoped he wouldn’t need to. Food, water, cordials, and cloaks were neatly stacked.
“Look after
Apple for me,” said Urchin to Padra.
“Remember all I told you,” said Fir.
“And wear this,” said Padra. From under his cloak he produced the small sword Urchin used for practice, with its own belt and scabbard. “Use it only if you must, and remember all you’ve learned. If you do strike, strike quick and clean.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Urchin. “And thanks for everything.” It would be best now to go quickly and get it over, but Padra suddenly caught at his shoulders.
“You can’t go alone,” he insisted. “I can’t do this, Urchin—you mustn’t be left alone when we get to the mists. Somebody has to go with you.”
“No, sir!” said Urchin, though he would have been glad of a friend. “That would be putting another animal into exile!”
“I’ll find Lugg,” said Padra. “He can look after himself.” He slipped into the water and swam swiftly away. Urchin watched until he was out of sight, then turned to Fir.
“Will you push the boat out for me now, please?” he asked.
Brother Fir’s nose twitched.
“Please, Brother Fir,” said Urchin. “And Padra was going to row me as far as the mists, so I haven’t said good-bye to him properly, so will you say it for me? Tell him I’m sorry for disobeying my captain, but he mustn’t send Lugg. Lugg can’t be spared from the island. And he has a family. He has to stay.” He sprang into the boat. “Now, please, Brother Fir. Before I change my mind.”
Urchin would remember these moments all his life. The dip of the boat as it bobbed into the water. The cry of a gull. A tear shining on Brother Fir’s kind, wise face. A starfish on the sand. A sea urchin. The smoothness of the oars, creaking and dripping; the glint of sunlight on the water as he squinted over his shoulder to get his bearings. The tang of salt on the air. A fish gliding away under water. Steadily, stroke by stroke, he was nearer to the mists.
He reminded himself that he did not come from Mistmantle. Fir had said he could come back. He pulled steadily at the oars, though soon the mists clouded his vision and he could no longer see the pale gold rising of Mistmantle Tower. He shut his eyes and rowed on.
The Urchin of the Riding Stars Page 14