The Song of the Winns (7 page)

“You wouldn't happen to know where my other nephew and his friend are, would you?”

“Do I look like a nanny?” the dark gray mouse snapped.
“How should I know where they are?”

“I just thought, since they met with Tobias last night . . . ,” Ebenezer said apologetically.

The dark gray mouse stilled. “Oh,” he said. “Them.” It seemed to Alice that he looked shifty now. He cleared his throat and turned to Alice and her brother. “What are you two waiting for?” he demanded. “Didn't I just tell you that Tobias is expecting you? Come on.” And he rushed away.

“I think we'd better see what this is all about,” Ebenezer said to Beezer, and they rose to accompany their niece and nephew.

“What do you think is going on?” Alice asked as they followed the dark gray mouse out of the hall and across the playground. Then, voicing her own fear, she said, “You don't think Alistair's been kidnapped, do you?”

Her uncle was looking extremely worried. “No, my dear, not that; I'm sure there's no way Sourian agents could reach him here. And kidnappers wouldn't take the rucksacks too.” He looked at his wife. “It's not possible that they'd send him and Tibby Rose on assignment, is it? No, surely not. And anyway, Alistair wouldn't leave without saying good-bye.”

By this time the dark gray mouse had led them into another building and down a corridor. He stopped by an open door and gestured to Ebenezer, Beezer, Alex, and Alice to enter.

Inside the office, Tobias was sitting behind a wooden desk. His brow was furrowed above a pair of reading glasses. He was scanning a piece of paper, watched by
a mournful-looking white mouse with long, drooping whiskers.

“I've got Alice and Alex here,” said the dark gray mouse.

“And their uncle and aunt,” Ebenezer added firmly from behind them.

Tobias looked up at the dark gray mouse over the top of his glasses with a questioning frown.

“Emmeline and Rebus's children,” the dark gray mouse reminded him.

Tobias's face cleared. “Of course,” he said. “Alice and Alex. And Ebenezer and Beezer—it's been a while, hasn't it? It's good to see you again.” He shot a look at the dark gray mouse still hovering in the doorway. “Thank you, Flanagan. That'll be all for now.” He made a few notations on the piece of paper he'd been perusing then handed it to the white mouse, who squeezed past them and out the door.

Tobias nodded for the two young mice and their aunt and uncle to sit in the chairs grouped in front of the desk, then shuffled through a stack of folders by his left hand. “Ah yes,” he said, extracting a folder. He opened it, quickly read the first page, then closed it again. “I have a very special assignment for you two.” He was looking at Alice and her brother.

“Yes!” said Alex, to Alice's right.

“Oh no,” said Ebenezer, to her left.

“Shhh . . . ,” said Beezer gently, patting her husband's arm. “Let Tobias explain.”

“Thank you, Beezer,” said Tobias. “And let me say on behalf of FIG how pleased we are that you and Ebenezer have consented to join us once again.”

“Naturally we want to do our bit,” Ebenezer said, his voice gruff, though Alice thought he looked rather pleased. “We do worry about the children, though. Emmeline and Rebus left them in our care, you know, and—well there was that unfortunate incident with Alistair disappearing, and then these two running off. Now Alistair is missing again. Do you know anything about that?”

Tobias shifted in his seat. “Alistair and Tibby Rose have been sent on a very important mission.”

Ebenezer stared at him in disbelief. “You have sent them on a mission?” he repeated slowly, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What kind of mission?”

Tobias looked uncomfortable. “You know the rules, Ebenezer. It's top secret, I'm afraid.” He cleared his throat and looked from Ebenezer to Beezer. “It's been a pleasure to see you both, and I'll look forward to meeting with you each later to discuss your roles with FIG, but if you'll excuse us. . . .” His eyes slid toward the door. After several seconds, when it was clear that Ebenezer had no intention of leaving, Tobias raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Ordinarily, an assignment such as this would be revealed only to those FIG members directly involved in its execution, but given your concerns—and that you are the children's guardians—I will include you in this briefing.”

“Thank you,” Ebenezer said. It seemed to Alice that he
was struggling to stay calm. “But to go back to this mission that Alistair and Tibby Rose are on, would you say it was a dangerous mission?” His voice was rising.

Tobias nodded his affirmation.

In the four years that the triplets had been living with Ebenezer and Beezer, Alice had hardly ever seen her ebullient uncle angry. But now his face reddened beneath his tan fur as he shouted, “Of all the reckless, irresponsible things to do! This is exactly why I left FIG in the first place. This careless endangerment of lives, this—this . . .” He seemed lost for words.

When he was sure that Ebenezer was finished, Tobias said, “I believe Emmeline and Rebus would approve.”

“What about Zanzibar?” Ebenezer demanded. “Does Zanzibar know about this?”

Alice couldn't imagine why her uncle would think that a mouse as important as Zanzibar would be interested.

Beezer spoke up. “You were saying something about an assignment for Alice and Alex.”

“That's right.” Tobias sounded reluctant now. “The mission calls for young mice, you see.”

“Young mice?!” Ebenezer jumped up and, leaning over the desk, roared, “No! Absolutely not! You need young mice for this assignment, you say? Send your own son then!”

At this, Tobias's calm deserted him. His expression darkened and he too jumped up, so that he stood nose to nose with Ebenezer. “You leave my son out of this!” he thundered, jabbing a finger at Ebenezer. “My boy . . .”
As suddenly as he had leaped up the marmalade mouse sank back into his chair. He seemed deflated, his eyes now indescribably sad. “We have all made sacrifices, Ebenezer. Every family. Not just yours. My wife . . .” He straightened. “But the needs of the many—”

“Outweigh the needs of the few,” Ebenezer finished. He sat down heavily, looking contrite. “Of course,” he said. “You're right.” He sighed. “I just wanted to keep the family together.”

Tobias was nodding sympathetically. “I do understand, my friend. Really I do. And I wouldn't ask Alice and Alex to undertake this assignment if there was any other way,” the marmalade mouse went on. “I won't lie to you: if your niece and nephew accept this assignment they will be in danger.”

“We'll do it!” Alex broke in.

Tobias gave him a stern look. “Young man, your enthusiasm is commendable—but foolhardiness is not. I'd recommend you wait to hear what the assignment is before you accept it.”

Alex, abashed, hung his head.

“However, I believe that careful planning will ensure their safety,” Tobias continued as if Alex hadn't interrupted. He opened the folder again, and spoke directly to Alice and Alex. “Now the assignment calls for you to go undercover.”

“Undercover. . . . ,” Alex breathed, but although he squirmed in his seat excitedly he restrained himself from further comment.

“I'm sure I don't need to remind you that everything I say now must be treated in the strictest of confidence,” Tobias said to Beezer and Ebenezer. Then he glanced down at the file and back at the younger mice. “You will take on the identities of two Sourian orphans, and you will be sent to Gerander to work as servants in the palace in Cornoliana.”

Alice gasped, as did her aunt and uncle. Even Alex, who had been so enthusiastic only moments before, looked paler than usual beneath his white fur. They were being asked to infiltrate the headquarters of the Sourian army in Gerander!

5

Crossing the Crankens

A
listair heard a cry—it might have been his own—and saw a flash of color; the ends of his scarf were streaming past his face as he tumbled, clutching at the air as if it could arrest his fall. The wind roared in his ears and caught in his chest, until suddenly he was sinking, engulfed by a sea of snow, and he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe as the cold filled his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He clawed desperately at the thick wet snow, not even sure which way was up, until a shock of chill air told him that his left arm was free. He scrabbled at the snow until he had dug a hole wide enough to let in a small burst of light and air—and sound, it seemed, as he heard a voice: Tibby's. She sounded like she was very far away.

“I'm over here!” he called, waving through the hole. His voice echoed around him in the dark, snowy cocoon and he realized his friend probably couldn't hear him.

He scraped at the hole some more until he was able to push his head through.

At first the light was so dazzling he couldn't see anything but glittering white, but as his eyes adjusted he found that he was looking at an expanse of snow lit by the sun, which had just cleared the jagged mountain range before him. At his back were more mountains, their craggy peaks and sheer rock faces swept with a blanket of snow. He was in a narrow valley between them, a sea of white dotted with the occasional clump of tall thin pine trees or an eruption of snow-encrusted boulders. He looked from left to right, hoping to see the pink-tinted ginger fur of Tibby Rose, but nothing moved.

Alistair struggled to pull himself out of the bank of snow he had landed in, hampered by the rucksack on his back. When at last he was free he lay panting in the snow for a few seconds, then rose unsteadily to his feet. “Ugh!” He was completely coated in white. Even his scarf was white. He brushed the snow from his fur, then began to trudge through the heavy knee-deep snow along the base of the slope, frustrated by the slowness of his pace. “Tibby!” he called. “Tibby Rose!” He was sure he'd heard her voice, but there was no answering call. Perhaps she'd fallen into a snow drift, like he had, and couldn't get out. He felt a quiver of fear in his belly. How long could a mouse survive buried in snow? Or maybe she wasn't here at all, and he'd only imagined the sound of her voice. Maybe she'd been snatched by one of the eagles. His heart began to pound crazily as he tilted his head to scan the sky.
Nothing. Where was she?!

“Tibby!” he cried desperately.

He had almost reached a rocky outcrop when suddenly his legs began to sink. The snow beneath him was caving in. Half falling, half leaping he managed to grasp the sharp edge of a rock. As he heaved himself onto it, he thought he glimpsed a flash of ginger on the other side. He scrambled over, scraping his hands and knees. Tibby Rose was lying on her back, eyes closed, unmoving. “Tibby!” Alistair bellowed, sliding down the rock to land beside the prone body. “Tibby Rose!”

Breathing hard, Alistair put his ear to Tibby's chest, but could hear nothing over the thumping of his own heart.

Impatiently, he took Tibby's wrist in his hand. Her pulse was steady, and when he put his ear to her chest once more her heartbeat was strong.

Alistair leaned back against the rock, his shoulders sagging with relief.

He heard a muffled squeak and, leaning forward again, saw Tibby blinking against the glare of the sun.