The Heir of Mistmantle (28 page)

“I don’t usually do things like this,” she said. “But I can’t hold my peace now. When my little boy was born he was taken away for the cull, and it was Captain Crispin, as he was then, who hid him and saved him. I know what it’s like to be separated from my child, and I’ve sat by the queen day after day and night after night, and I can assure you that she’s as sane and strong as any animal on the island. And saner and stronger than some!” she added with a glare around the crowd. “She’s behaving exactly like a mother needing to find her baby, and why shouldn’t she! I know what it is you really think! You’re thinking she doesn’t come from Mistmantle! If you want to blame anyone, you’ll blame the queen, because you think she’s not one of us! Well, she is now! And quite right, too!”

A stunned silence followed. Subdued, Thripple turned to the king.

“Beg pardon, Your Majesty,” she said. “I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

“I couldn’t have done it better myself,” said Crispin, and stood up. It was time now for the next stage.

Linty woke up with a jerk. There was chaos on the island now, storms, landslides, floods—it wasn’t safe to fall asleep. Everywhere, they were out looking for Daisy to kill her. Daisy? Catkin? The baby. She mustn’t fall asleep in case they came for the baby, so she forced herself to stay awake.

Fresh air would help. It was a risk, but it was one she could take. Leaving the baby asleep in her solidly walled hiding place, she wriggled through the twists and byways of tunnels, covering her tracks, blocking the way behind her, scrabbling through sandy soil until she sniffed the salt air of a cave.

She squeezed into a cleft in the rock where she could stay hidden but still have a good view of the bay. Patrolling otters strolled past, picking up driftwood and debris. They were dragging something, something that shushed through the wet sand. It was coming toward her! Louder! Nearer!

Linty turned cold with terror. She pressed further into the rock, sweat chilling on her skin, her heart hammering. They were coming for her! They were coming for her baby! Let them try. She breathed deeply, flexed her claws, and bared her teeth. She would fight if she had to.

“Whose boat is this, anyway?” asked one of the otters. “Young Fingal’s is missing, but it doesn’t look like his.”

“No, his was smashed to bits,” said the other. “Don’t know that this one belongs to anyone in particular. She’s well maintained, though, and she survived the storm. Needs bailing out, but she’ll do. Leave her in here, it’s a high tide tonight and we don’t want her floating away. I reckon the tide’ll bring the mist with it. Are you yawning?”

“We’re all yawning. Don’t think anyone got any sleep last night.”

Linty stayed absolutely still until they had gone, then wriggled back into the rock. A boat. A high tide. And the otters on patrol were tired. She would never have another chance like this. She would take the baby far beyond the mists, and nobody from Mistmantle could ever come near them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RCHIN AND NEEDLE STOOD SIDE BY SIDE
in the entrance to the cave that had once been Twigg’s workshop. Apart from a few planks resting against the walls and some rusty and battered old tools, it was empty.

“There must be a way through the back,” said Urchin. “One of those very tight places that you get in caves.” He put his paw against the wall and walked slowly forward, feeling for gaps, working his way steadily into the darkness at the back of the cave.

“Look out!” gasped Needle. As she spoke, he felt a draft of cold air at his paws. With a hop backward he looked down into the gaping space where a trapdoor had been left open, its lid thrown flat against the ground. He flung himself down on the edge of the empty, black square and peered down.

“I can’t see much,” he said. “Just a big, black space that looks as if it wants to swallow us. I wish I’d brought a candle or something. I expect Juniper did.”

“Your eyes will get used to it,” said Needle, trundling up beside him.

“I think those are steps,” he said. “Yes, there are steps cut in here. It’s some sort of cellar, Twigg must have used it for storage. I’ll go first, I can see better in the dark than you can.”

He pressed both paws against the walls, felt for the first step, then ran down on all fours. He was about to warn Needle that the steps were uneven when the sound of something rolling down toward him made him jump back against the wall and stay there. A ball of prickles bounced past him and landed with a bump at the bottom.

“I didn’t mean to do that, sorry,” she whispered, poking her head out.

“Are you all right?” he asked and then raised his voice. “Juniper! Where are you?”

There was no answer. They waited. A circle of faint light appeared ahead of them to the right, growing wider and stronger. It was a candle, casting a ghostly light on Juniper’s face as he emerged from a corner.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

“We followed you,” said Urchin. “We were worried about you.”

He tried to think a step ahead, working out what to say if Juniper told them to go away and leave him alone. But Juniper only said, “I’m glad it’s you. The stairs are all different, by the way, it’s safest to jump or roll.”

Urchin sprang down, Needle rolled, and the three of them gathered in the light of Juniper’s candle. “So what are you trying to do?” he asked.

“Everything’s falling into place,” said Juniper, and though his voice was quick with excitement, his face in the candle glow was perfectly calm. “The only way to prove that Husk is dead is to find his body, and let anyone see it who wants to.”

There was a gasp from Needle, who put a paw to her mouth. Urchin closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t the time, or the place, to tell Juniper what he and Crispin had seen at dawn, but Juniper had to be told. He couldn’t continue weaving his way underground looking for a body that wasn’t there.

“It’s so simple,” Juniper went on, and lowered his voice. “It’s the prophecy.” He didn’t even glance at Needle, but Urchin understood. She didn’t know Juniper’s secret, and it wasn’t the time and place to tell her.

“Needle,” he said, “could you just check for any shaky ground or anything?”

Boys! thought Needle in disgust. What do they want to talk about behind my back? But she was too proud to argue, and scurried away to investigate.

“‘
The fatherless will find a father
…’” said Juniper in an excited whisper. “I’m the fatherless.”

“‘and the hills will fall into earth,'” said Urchin. “They did! But the dead paw…”

“It’s not enough to know who my father is,” said Juniper. “I have to find him. I think that’s it. I don’t understand this thing about pathways on the sea, but I’ve worked out the other thing, too. Mistmantle’s greatest enemy.”

“Yes, but, Juniper, wait,” said Urchin. He glanced to see where Needle was, drew Juniper as far away as possible, and whispered, “You think you can find his body, and I might have thought so, too, but this morning”—he barely spoke the words—
“I saw him!”

“You
think
you saw him,” said Juniper, and looked as if he would have said more, but Needle had run out of corners to pretend to inspect and was coming to join them. “Just take my word for it, Urchin,” he whispered quickly. “You didn’t see him. I can’t explain now, but…found anything, Needle?”

“Of course not,” said Needle. “Now, if you think we have to go looking for a body, I suppose we should get on with it.”

“We all have to recognize the island’s greatest enemy for ourselves,” said Juniper. “You know it, Urchin. You met it on Whitewings, when you stood before King Silverbirch.”

“I met it long before that,” said Urchin, thinking of the night when he had followed Captain Husk through dark tunnels.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” said Needle, remembering a trap she had fallen into.

“And we have to face it and not let it win,” said Urchin. “I think you’re right. We have to find Husk, if he really is still there.”

“I was talking to Lugg on the way down,” said Juniper. “Between unblocking doors in the search for Catkin and removing wooden barriers for pit props, none of these places are as thoroughly sealed as they were. He’ll have to seal them again soon, so if we’re going to find Husk’s body, this might be the only chance. And this is when it has to be done, because some of those animals really do believe that he’s back.”

“But you’ve no idea where to look!” protested Needle.

“I think I’ve worked it out,” said Juniper. “We need to be directly underneath the Chamber of Candles, and we know it’s very deep. Twigg used this as a storeroom, and he said there was a blocked door down here and probably another one behind it. And we need to go more or less southeast. Some doors have been partly dismantled and some might be decaying, but I expect we’ll still have to do some digging and scrabbling to get through.”

“You’d never have done it by yourself!” said Urchin. “Why didn’t you ask us in the first place?”

“Couldn’t, could I?” said Juniper, and Urchin decided it had been a silly question. Juniper couldn’t have asked anyone to join him in something like this.

“We’d better get on with it, then,” said Needle briskly, “before the king sends anyone looking for us.”

“This way,” said Juniper.

They followed the candlelight to the right. There, in a recess, was a wooden door that looked completely solid. Juniper tried the handle, found it firmly locked, and gave it a determined shove with his shoulder. It creaked, but didn’t open.

“This is the door Twigg told me about,” he said. “It’s not blocked, we just don’t have a key.”

“A sword might help,” said Urchin. He stepped back and looked the door up and down. He’d learned to use his sword for fencing and useful things like cutting down ivy and fishing lost cloaks from the sea, but he wasn’t sure if it would be any use for this. He tried wedging it between the planks, but they were too firmly in place to be prized apart.

“Couldn’t we find something to batter it with?” he suggested.

“In a carpenter’s store?” said Needle. “There must be some tools or—oh, there was an ax upstairs. It was an old rusty one, but…”

Urchin scrambled back up the rough steps into the old workshop and returned to the top of the steps carrying the ax in one paw and dragging something like a flagpole in the other. It looked as if it might come in use.

“Look out!” he called, and threw the pole down the stairs. He leaped down after it with the ax in his paw. “If the ax is no good, we can take a run at it and batter it down.”

They took turns swinging the ax against the door and found that Juniper, who, having grown up among otters, was a strong swimmer and an excellent stone-skimmer, had a powerful swing. When he had splintered the wood enough to weaken it, they lined up along the flagpole, with Urchin at the front and Needle at the back, and charged.

The impact jarred Urchin’s sore shoulders horribly and threw Needle backward. “Just as well I
was
at the back,” she muttered, picking herself up. Urchin gritted his teeth and rubbed his shoulder.

“That door’s giving way,” he said. “One more.”