Urchin and the Heartstone Page 11

  “It was not the advice that Arder wanted to hear, but in his heart he knew that she was right. So he gave Westree her freedom, though the thought that she might leave him hurt him deeply.”

  “And did she leave?” asked Scatter anxiously.

  “No, she didn’t,” said Crispin. “She was free to go. And because she was free, she lived happily on the island for the rest of her life.”

  “But…” began Scatter, and stopped.

  “Is there something you want explained, Scatter?” asked Tay.

  “No, it’s all right, ma’am,” said Scatter quickly.

  “Then good night,” said Crispin. “Tay, we are keeping Scatter up very late.”

  Scatter hadn’t quite understood that story. Why would Westree want to leave Mistmantle? Why would anyone? But as Crispin rose to go, she remembered the other question she wanted to ask.

  “Excuse me,” she said, looking nervously from one to the other and not sure which to ask, “what does ‘expendable’mean?”

  “Expendable,” said Tay, “means ‘unnecessary, not needed.’If something is expendable, it is something you can do without.”

  “All right, Scatter?” said Crispin.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said quietly, and when the door shut she sat down miserably on the bed. So that was what Lord Treeth thought about her. Scatter is expendable. She curled up in a lonely knot of fur.

  Urchin only stared. There was no escape, no time even to think of it. The squirrel commander pulled off her helmet to reveal red-gold fur and a face that didn’t go with the helmet and the sharp voice, and said softly, “Where’s Juniper?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. She whisked the covers from the bed and, not finding anyone, pushed aside the cushions and snatched up Juniper. Urchin darted forward, but he stopped suddenly. Juniper was breathing again, and the squirrel was looking down at him with such concern that he knew he had to trust her.

  “How long has he been like this?” she demanded, pressing her ear to Juniper’s chest. “I’m Cedar.”

  Cedar! It was the name Juniper had told him, and the relief flooding Urchin was almost as good as freedom. But he had only ever seen her as a commander who advised the king.

  “I know you’ve seen me in the High Chamber,” she went on, speaking quickly and quietly. “I’m a Commander of the Inner Watch, yes, and the king thinks I’m his loyal servant. I’ll explain it all later, but you have to trust me. All you have to know is that if anybody hears a word about Larch, Flame, or anyone to do with them, we’re all dead, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” said Urchin, watching her. “Juniper’s been ill since he got here, but he told me I had to meet you.”

  “I would have come before,” she whispered, “but I never had the chance, with the king being…” She stopped suddenly and sat up, her ears twitching. Paws were still scurrying about, dozens of them in all directions. From somewhere in the gallery, Granite was barking out orders. Cedar let go of Juniper, leaped past Urchin to the door, and stood with her back to it.

  “Filthy freak, you’re crawling, you’re verminous!” she screeched. “Even your lice have got lice!”

  “What?” said Urchin.

  “Don’t answer back!” she snarled.

  Urchin didn’t know what this was about, but he was insulted. “I haven’t got lice!” he said.

  “I’m very pleased to hear it,” said Cedar quietly. “But as long as the guards think you have, they’ll stay out.” She flung open the door, yelled, “Bring me my satchel!” and banged it shut again. Then she knelt beside Juniper and cradled his head in her lap.

  “They’ll think I’ve sent for my satchel to get the stuff that repels lice,” she whispered. “Really I want something for Juniper. All that time in the sea must have made him seriously ill. You’ve done well to keep him alive.”

  It was a long time since anyone had told Urchin he’d done well, and the words warmed him. “I know all about you, Urchin,” she said, and glanced toward the door. “I’ll have to do a bit more shouting, so they don’t get suspicious.”

  She stood by the door again, yelled, “Stand still in that corner, and don’t come near me with your vermin!” then darted back to kneel quietly beside Juniper again. Though she held Juniper’s wrist, she was watching Urchin, studying his face as if she were searching for something.

  “I don’t know if you really are the one to save this island,” she said at last. “It certainly needs saving. But you shouldn’t have been dragged here like this. You’re in great danger, and it’s up to me to get you home.”

  “Home?” said Urchin gladly, his ears twitching. “When?”

  “Don’t raise your hopes,” said Cedar. “We’ve had a setback. The king’s raging and both ranks of the Fortress Watch are on alert, so there’s something going on, but I don’t know what. We wanted to get you out tonight. The king was planning a party to celebrate capturing you, so I thought the Outer Watch would all be too drunk to notice anything. But all that’s changed. Suddenly the tunnels are crawling with guards, and the Outer Watch are everywhere. I’m sorry, Urchin, we can’t get you out tonight.” She looked at him with a kindness and understanding that reminded Urchin of someone, but he didn’t know who. “But we will get you out.”

  Somebody knocked at the door, and Urchin pushed the cushions around Juniper again. Cedar marched to the door, snatched a battered old satchel from whoever was there, and exchanged a few low, urgent words with the guards. He heard her ask, “Where?” and “How many?” before the door banged shut. From the satchel she lifted a glass phial, and unstoppered it so that Urchin caught a scent of something sweet and spicy—there must be cinnamon in it, and ginger, and something peppery—and mixed a few drops with water.

  “Be brave, Urchin,” she said. Urchin saw the frown on her face and heard it in her voice. “I’ve just found out why we’re all on alert. There was a rescue attempt by some Mistmantle moles. They’d used the old tunnels, and had reached Whitewings tonight.”

  “Crispin sent them!” cried Urchin. Crispin had tried to rescue him, even if he hadn’t succeeded. He’d try again.

  “If I’d known the Mistmantle moles were coming, we needn’t even have escorted you home,” said Cedar grimly. “We could have just passed you over to your own animals. But I didn’t know.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” said Urchin.

  “But the king and Granite knew!” she said fiercely. “There were armed moles ready to meet your rescuers.”

  “Oh,” said Urchin, and almost wished he hadn’t known any of this. To be so close to rescue and still be here was too hard. “The Mistmantle moles, did they get away?”

  Her solemn face warned him of the worst. “The Mistmantle moles were few and brave,” she said. “The first of them ran straight onto the swords of our soldiers. I hope the rest got away and are on their way home.” She laid a paw on his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope. I’ve heard about King Crispin. And your Captain Padra. They won’t abandon you.”

  “But how did the king know?” demanded Urchin fiercely. “How did he know about the Mistmantle moles?”

  “I wish I knew,” she said. “Hold on, Urchin. Unfortunately the king is having one of his bad times now. Because of the Mistmantle mole attack he’s screaming for your death, but it’s just one of his tantrums. We can weather it, but you’ll have to trust me, and be guided by me. I think I’ve convinced him that you can find silver. He has to believe that. He’s so greedy for silver, he’ll keep you alive while he thinks you can find it. And remember, when any other animals are around, I’m Commander Cedar and you’re in awe of me. I think they’ll send for you tonight, so I’ll put some of this on your fur. Sorry, but they think I’m treating you for lice, so you have to smell like it.”

  She pulled the stopper from a bottle, and from it came a pungent smell that had a strange, unsettling effect on Urchin. He suddenly felt as if he were a very small squirrel in the woods again, in the days before he went to the
tower: when he would climb his favorite tree or play on the forest floor with Needle and his friends, with Apple never far away. Cedar was rubbing it vigorously into his fur.

  “You won’t like the smell, but neither do lice,” she said. It was so strong it made Urchin’s eyes water, and he was about to ask her what was in it, when there was a sharp rapping at the door.

  “Urchin the Freak to the king!” shouted Bronze with a grin in his voice.

  Cedar put away the bottle. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered. “I’ll be there. And if you want to get out of the king’s presence quickly, scratch. He hates lice.”

  “What about Juniper?” Urchin whispered back.

  “He’ll be safe in here,” she said. “Nobody will come in when it smells like this.” She tucked her helmet under her arm and marched Urchin to the High Chamber.

  Urchin steeled himself. Nobody must see the fear that made his heart pound and his legs feel wobbly. He glanced at the first mirror and was dismayed to see a scared and wide-eyed squirrel staring back at him. That was no good. He had crossed the ocean alone, flown on a swan, and rescued a hedgehog from armed moles. In the next mirror was a squirrel putting a brave face on things. I am a Companion to King Crispin, he told himself, and approached the High Chamber with his face set, his shoulders squared, and his chin high.

  He ducked only just in time as a table hurtled past his head. A silver cup flew toward him next, and a bowl, which shattered on the door frame.

  “Prisoner Urchin of Mistmantle, High Splendor!” announced Cedar as she stamped to attention.

  By night, the High Chamber looked far worse than it did by day. Torches blazing on the walls cast a livid light on the glaring eyes and bared teeth of King Silverbirch. Around him, armed and helmeted guards stood to attention, and a small hedgehog with a smug and unpleasant smile on its face crouched by the throne. Two tall guards stood in the shadows beyond the king. They seemed to be holding something between them, but he couldn’t see what it was. Granite was behind the throne, and in the flickering light of a torch, Urchin saw grim satisfaction on his face.

  Something in a dark corner shuffled. It was coming toward them, a bent figure that stopped, crouched, raised its paws, shook its outspread claws at Urchin and hissed, and before he could see it clearly, Urchin knew who this was. He bit the inside of his lip. At last, he would get a good look at Smokewreath.

  Smokewreath wore a gray robe hung with some sort of decorations that dangled on cords all round him. The fur of his tail had been closely trimmed so that the tail looked unnaturally thin, and on his head was a gray triangular cap, which sat between his ears and trailed into a long cord hanging down his back. He growled softly, and as he stepped nearer, Urchin saw what was hanging and swaying from the cords. There were twists of fur, there were claws, teeth, pieces of bones, birds’feet, feathers—Urchin looked up into the sorcerer’s face instead. He must not show fear, and it crossed his mind that Smokewreath couldn’t be much of a squirrel if he needed all those charms and cords to impress everyone. Brother Fir had the respect of all Mistmantle without having to dress up.

  Smokewreath stared fiercely into Urchin’s eyes, looked him up and down, hopped back, and muttered under his breath; and in spite of fear, darkness, and danger, or even because of them, Urchin wanted to laugh. He bit his lip harder.

  “He is priceless,” hissed Smokewreath. “I want winter. Kill.”

  The king’s eyes glinted with malice. With a swing of his cloak he turned to the two guards in the shadows.

  “Bring him here!” he ordered, and as the two guards dragged someone forward, Urchin could feel the king’s eyes resting on him in triumph. The king was waiting to see his reaction. Whatever was about to happen, he must remain calm, but when they hauled a small, dark figure into the firelight, his heart twisted, and it was all he could do to keep the dismay from his face. They had caught Captain Lugg.

  With a swirl of his robe, the king strode to Urchin, towering over him so closely that Urchin had to lean back to look up into his face. “You know this mole, don’t you, Freak?” he snarled. “Stood and fought when he didn’t have a chance so he could let his troops get away. You may call it noble, but it was just stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  The king had his back to Lugg, and didn’t see him wink at Urchin. Urchin didn’t dare wink back.

  “Do you wonder why he’s still alive, Freak?” spat the king. “He’s alive because we want to send him back to Mistmantle. He can tell King Crispin that you’re staying here. Don’t argue, Granite. King Crispin might not believe it from one of our moles, but he will from this one, even though it lacks the brains of a slug.” He turned sharply on Lugg. “This freak will bring us silver, and if there’s silver on Mistmantle…” He left the sentence unfinished. With a yelp of laughter he swooped on Lugg, snatched him up in both paws, and lifted him high from the ground. Urchin darted forward with rage, but Cedar caught his wrist and forced him back.

  Grinning with glee, the king held Lugg high above his head, then let go. Urchin lunged forward again as Lugg thudded to the floor, but Cedar’s paw tightened.

  “Behave!” she barked, then bent to whisper, “He’s all right.”

  Lugg was picking himself off the ground with surprising dignity. He didn’t even seem to have noticed what had happened.

  “I see you’ve got old Granite here,” he remarked. “How’s the bad paw, Granite? Just remind me what happened to it?”

  “The Lord Marshal,” said the king haughtily, “was injured in battle. He was treacherously stabbed by your Captain Padra.”

  Urchin tried to protest, but Lugg got in first. “Is that so?” he said. “And here’s me thinking he was bitten by a girl hedgehog. Well, well, I always thought he was a claw thug with the brains of a bucket, and look at him now. Lord Marshal of the Hedgehog’s Toothmarks.”

  In the silence that followed, Urchin felt that the stale air of Whitewings had been made clean by a Mistmantle voice. The king glared down at Lugg as Lugg gazed back up at him, clear-eyed, without blinking. When the king spoke, it was in a harsh growl forced out through his teeth.

  “Go back to that little squirrel,” he said. “Tell him we will keep the freak until the first snow, then everyone will see what Smokewreath’s magic can do with him. Oh, and I demand the safe return of my ambassador.”

  “Are you sure you want him, Your Silver Majesty?” asked Lugg politely.

  “Go!” screamed the king. “Take him away! Cram him down a tunnel and point him to Mistmantle!”

  “Well done, Captain!” yelled Urchin as Lugg was hustled out of sight. “Take my greetings to King Crispin and—”

  Cedar grabbed him by the throat. With bared teeth, she rammed him against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

  “Look as if I’ve hurt you,” she whispered, and Urchin slumped to the floor. The king strode toward him, his eyes bright with fury.

  “Get up, you,” he ordered. “Cedar, don’t damage him, I need him. Freak, do what you’re here to do. Find us silver. Deliver us from fear. Deliver us from poverty. Then when you’ve done that, deliver yourself to Smokewreath. And when you’re dead he’ll turn your body into magic. The strongest magic! Snowfall, I told him he can have you at snowfall. Sooner, if I’m disappointed in you. Don’t want the expense of keeping you alive through the winter, do we?”

  Urchin didn’t know if he was meant to answer, and stood helpless and uncertain until he remembered Cedar’s advice. He scrabbled at his ear with his right paw and scratched his side with his left, and the king leaped backward.

  “Take him away!” screamed King Silverbirch. “Filthy, verminous beast, out, out! Go! Get him out!”

  Cedar dragged him away. “Well done,” she whispered as soon as they were safely out of the chamber. She hurried him back to his cell, locked them both in, and rubbed pungent oil into Juniper’s fur.

  “So far, so good,” she said.

  “Good?” said Urchin, and lowered his voice as she put a c
law to her lips. “They caught the moles, they caught Lugg—”

  “And they’ve let him go,” said Cedar, “and you and Juniper are still alive. The king is trying to get as much out of you as he possibly can. As long as he thinks you can find silver, we have until snowfall, which gives King Crispin time to make another rescue attempt, and for us to try to get you off the island in case he doesn’t succeed.”

  “But Crispin can’t send moles again,” said Urchin miserably. “They’ll guard the tunnels more than ever now. Why can’t you just rally the animals against the king now? Surely they’d rise against him if they knew Larch was alive and on the island?”

  “They’re not ready,” she said. “They’re too frightened of the king and Smokewreath, and they’re so used to having a raging king, they’d have to get used to the idea of a quiet, sensible queen. If we tried and failed, there’d be terrible loss of life, and we wouldn’t have the chance to try again. We can only do it once.”

  “Like Crispin and Lugg and the mole tunnels,” said Urchin.

  “If Crispin’s half the king I think he is, he’ll find a way,” said Cedar, and sat back, rubbing oil from her paws. “Mistmantle!” she said with longing. “When we have more time to talk, Urchin, will you tell me about it?”

  “I’ll tell you now, if you like!” he said hopefully. “And I’ll tell you what might be useful. When Padra had to gather the animals together against Husk, my friend Needle and I were always going to the woods on errands, and we made sure animals knew what was really going on at the tower. The Larchlings could do that.”

  “They could,” she said. “I’ll have to leave you now, I’m afraid. It might look suspicious if I stay much longer, but I’ll be back in a day or two.” She dropped her voice. “I want you to meet the rest of the Larchlings. In the meantime, give Juniper plenty to drink, keep him warm, and keep rubbing this into his fur. Unfortunately it smells strong, but the lice treatment is even stronger, so that will hide it. It’s no good pulling faces, you have to put up with it. Here, I’ll spread it around the room.”