The Urchin of the Riding Stars (33 page)

“Thank you,” he said.

Lord Arcneck inclined his head. “The tree-rat who sent his mole to our island,” he said. “Is he dead, servant?”

“Yes, Lord Arcneck,” said Urchin.

“We have generously decided,” said the swan, “to release Crispin from our service. You may tell him so.”

“Thank you, Lord Arcneck,” said Urchin.

“And we will rest here tonight before returning to our realm,” said Lord Arcneck. “Direct us to fresh water.”

Urchin led them around the shore, left them in the care of an otter, and returned to Padra.

“Crispin’s still with the king,” said Padra. “We should see what’s happened to Aspen.”

But they knew before they reached her. Gleaner was crouched over her, sobbing desperately, with Lady Aspen’s paw in hers. When Padra knelt beside them, she leaned across like a mother defending her young.

“Leave her alone!” she snarled.

“We’ll do no harm,” said Padra gently. He put a paw to Aspen’s throat, and shook his head.

Gleaner dried her eyes on the back of her paw. “I tried to save her,” she gulped. “She knew I tried.”

“Of course you did,” said Padra.

“I ran down here and she was still alive,” Gleaner said. “She was trying to say something about the queen. I helped her to nurse the queen; I know all about the medicines; so I knew which was the queen’s special medicine. Lady Aspen was most particular about it. She used it only for the queen, and it was only her and me that gave it to her. She wouldn’t let anybody else near it.”

Padra met Urchin’s eyes across the body, but his face gave nothing away.

“It was the best medicine on the whole island,” said Gleaner, sniffing. “There wasn’t much left. I took the last of it and mixed it like she taught me and ran down as fast as I could to give it to her. She tried to say something, but I don’t think she knew what was going on. I got her to drink it. I don’t think she wanted to, with it being so special and her being so noble, but I got it into her. I stayed with her all this time, but it’s no good. My lady died!”

Apart from Gleaner’s muffled sobbing, everything had become quiet. Urchin could hear the slow, painful rasp of the king’s breathing. Other animals stood anxiously at a distance. Some wept silently.

The king opened his eyes slowly, as if it took a great effort, and whispered to Fir. Urchin heard Crispin’s name, and Brother Fir nodded as he placed a paw on the king’s head.

“May the Heart claim you with joy and forgive you with love,” he said gently. “May your heart fly freely to the Heart that gave you life.”

Urchin wasn’t sure exactly when the king died. He only became aware that the harsh breathing had stopped, and Arran was smoothing the king’s face. Padra and Crispin removed their circlets. Urchin thought of the times when he had carried spring water to the Throne Room and the king had been so kind.

He realized that Padra had dropped to one knee. He had drawn his sword and was holding it by the blade across his clenched paw, with the hilt toward Crispin.

“Kneel to your king, Urchin,” he prompted.

Urchin knelt, copying Padra, as he presented his sword. He tried not to look over his shoulder at such a solemn moment, but he heard the brush of fur as every animal knelt. Padra raised his head to look into Crispin’s face, but he remained kneeling.

“Crispin of Mistmantle,” he said, “I acknowledge you as rightful king and lord of this island and all its creatures. I ask that you rule with wisdom and love, and I place my sword, my captaincy, and myself at your service.” There was a pause, then he added, “I confess to you that I have fought and shed the blood of Mistmantle creatures, and I ask Your Majesty’s pardon.”

Urchin raised his head and saw Crispin’s eyes fixed on Padra’s. It was as if Padra were prompting him, helping him to be the king.

“Mistmantle animals,” said Crispin, “those who fought for King Brushen have done no wrong. You have no need of pardon. And I promise to be the best king your help and support can make me.” And from all the animals came a great cheer for King Crispin, who seemed to Urchin to be the loneliest animal on Mistmantle.

Crispin knelt for Fir’s blessing, and gave orders for the king’s lying-in-state. “I need to know about that place,” he said to Fir. “That terrible place, that dungeon where Husk fell.”

“You certainly do need to know,” said Fir sadly. “We’ll go to Padra’s chambers. Urchin, your captain has a wound that needs dressing. Come with us.”

There was a spring breeze and a sense of freedom as they walked over the rocks to the Spring Gate. Urchin saw two hedgehogs scurrying toward them, and broke into a run.

“Hello, Hope!” he said. “You found your mum!”

Hope looked cleaner, neater, and a great deal happier now that he had found Thripple. He turned to gaze up at her with adoration as she curtsied awkwardly.

“I remember you, Thripple!” said Crispin. “When I was little you taught me to make boats out of birch bark! Your son has done us a great service.”

“He was very brave,” said Urchin.

Hope, at a nudge from his mother, trundled forward, took a deep breath, and said, “Thank you, Master Urchin, for fighting the moles away and looking after me, thank you, Master Urchin, sir.”

“Moles?” said Padra.

“My beautiful mummy!” whispered Hope to Urchin.

“Very beautiful,” Urchin whispered back.

“And may I take him home now, Your Majesty?” said Thripple.

“All the animals can go home,” said Crispin. “And never mind the Threadings, Thripple. Enjoy being with him. Teach him to make bark boats.”

Urchin watched the hedgehogs trundle away together. There would be no more culling, now that Crispin was king.

“I can’t wait to hear about these moles, Master Urchin, sir.” grinned Padra.

“I can’t wait to scrap the work parties,” said Crispin.

“Freedom!” Urchin whispered the word aloud. It was as if he could taste it. Apple bounded up to them, holding her hat on.

“Welcome back, Captain Crispin, Your Majesty, I should say, that’ll take some getting used to, ooh, that was our Urchin flying on a swan, I never believed my eyes, and I hear our Urchin scared the daylights out of Captain Husk, and they’re all having parties in the wood, do you want to come to a party, we’d forgotten what it was like to be free.”

“So had I,” said Padra. “Or I would have fought for it harder and sooner.”

“Didn’t I tell you it were better in them days?” said Apple. “Now, I’ll send a bottle of my best apple-and-mint to the tower for you.”

She scampered away, and Fir hurried them to Padra’s chambers. He sent for Arran and Needle, and Urchin soaked cloths in seawater to clean Padra’s gashed leg.

“You must all know this,” said Fir. “Needle and Urchin, you are young, but the young must hear this story, too. It is a story of Mistmantle, but it has never been spoken in the Gathering Chamber nor shown in the Threadings. It has been told in the greatest secrecy from king to king and from priest to priest.

“Long ago, before the moles built the Old Palace, there was an evil king in Mistmantle, a squirrel. He and his followers did not understand the Heart. They worshipped the darknesses in themselves. They honored all that destroys. They took joy in death, not in life. It was said that they had a dungeon under the rocks of the shore so dark and so hidden that no animal taken there could hope to see daylight again. Dead or alive, victims were thrown down a pit into darkness. The place became so evil that even the king feared it, and committed murder there as a sacrifice to it.

“But moles are determined creatures. Moles who survived being thrown into the pit made tunnels. Some made long, deep tunnels far under the sea. But others dug under the island and built a hiding place, where they formed an army. That place became the Old Palace, and from it that army defeated the squirrel king and established a peaceful kingdom. The dungeon was locked and sealed forever, not to be mentioned again. The tunnels to it were walled up, though it seems that over time the walls decayed, or some explorer broke through them.”

“Husk was always trying to find the Old Palace,” said Crispin. “He found that instead.”

“And it drew him,” said Fir. “Whatever pride, bitterness, resentment, greed, ambition—whatever was dangerous in Husk—it fed on the evil of that place. The pit claimed him.”

“It was under the tower all this time,” said Crispin. “And we didn’t know.”

“Hm,” said Fir. “Exactly. It should never have been sealed. Its evil has festered all these years, waiting for someone like Husk. He nourished it, and it nourished him. When Urchin talked about what happened the night the queen died, I began to suspect that Husk had found the place, but even I did not know where it was. As soon as I found it, I set about cleansing it with light and prayer. It will still take days and nights of light and prayer until it is cleansed of its past. Every true and loving act on this island, every kindness, every simple goodness, will help. And now, Your Majesty, there’s work to be done.”

“And as I’m the only captain left, I suppose I’ll have to do it,” said Padra. “Your Majesty can’t be a captain and the king at the same time, and I assume Granite’s sacked.”

“And you’ll be next, if you keep calling me Your Majesty,” said Crispin. “New captains, then.”

Lugg and Arran were promptly made captains, and Mother Huggen and Moth were appointed to the Circle. Crispin and Padra toured the island, thanking their supporters, proclaiming the end of forced work parties and the culling law. The swans were thanked and offered the freedom of the island. The animals who had fought for Husk because they had been thoroughly deceived were pardoned. The rest, and the mercenaries, were to leave the island forever. There was some dispute about which were which.

“Gleaner’s a pain,” said Needle. “But whatever she did, she did it because she loved Aspen.”

“And Tay?” said Crispin. “I think she really believed I was guilty. Keep her in prison. A pleasant, comfortable cell in the tower, but a prison.”

Finally, Padra said he’d die if he didn’t have a swim, and Urchin went with him to the sea. Padra lay on his back, easing his wrenched shoulder, while Urchin splashed about and jumped on and off boats as they heard each other’s stories. He told Padra all about Whisper, while Padra muttered, “Verminous creeping mole,” and then “Oh, poor Crispin!”

“He was going to leave the circlet on her burial cairn,” said Urchin. “But I said it might be better to bring it with him. It’s all he could keep of her. It was the closest he could come to bringing her back with him.”

“Well done,” said Padra.

“I wish she were here,” said Urchin. “I wish we had her for our queen.” He was quiet for a while, watching Hope and Thripple building a sand castle on the shore.

“Padra,” he said—he felt awkward about it but he said it anyway—“do you think, if my mother could see me, she’d be proud of me?”

“Of course she would!” said Padra, and flipped over. “And she probably can. I don’t know how it is, but I should think she’s still watching you somehow.”

Maybe she is, thought Urchin. But Arran was swimming toward them, and he swam away to leave them alone.

“How many times should I thank you?” said Padra as Arran swam alongside him. “You must have saved my life three times at least, just in the fight with Granite.” He pulled himself onto a boat, and she scrambled up beside him. “I’m impressed.”

Her tufts of wet fur stood out at severe angles. He opened his mouth to speak, looked down, and tried again.

“You know,” he said, “after all this, and if you’ve got nothing better to do, you might marry me.” And she hit him, and he laughed, and they swam back to shore together.

“We’ll need Crispin’s permission,” he said. “But perhaps we should give him time.”

Urchin went to find Needle. She was setting out bottles and plates on the shore.

“They’ll all be hungry by now,” she said. With the help of some of Arran’s staff, they spread out a meal of cold pies, cordials, and leftovers from the feast, and laid it out on the rocks. It was a fine evening, and soon Crispin, Padra, Fir, Huggen, Moth, Lugg, and Arran had gathered, with Needle and Urchin serving them, and everyone talking and reliving the day.

Crispin took off his circlet and laid it down on his folded cloak, as if it should have a place of honor. Then he turned suddenly to Padra.

“You know, if you and Arran want to get married, you have my permission,” he said.

“How did you…” began Padra. “Well, yes, we were going to ask.”

“Did she hit you?” asked Crispin.

“Not very hard,” said Padra.

Urchin and Needle scrambled onto a rock. They ate honey cakes and looked out to sea.

“Do you remember,” said Needle, “you said once that you thought you should have something important to do? Well, I think you’ve done it.”

“I’m not sure,” said Urchin. “I mean, yes, I know I’ve done some thing. But it doesn’t feel finished. There’s more that I have to do. And more that I have to be. I mean, it’s not as if you can do one special thing, and that’s it. It’s what you go on being that matters. Come to think of it, I don’t know what I am anymore.”

“You’re that funny-looking squirrel,” said Needle. But Urchin hopped down from the rock and bowed to Crispin.

“Please, Cap—Your Majesty,” he said, “I don’t know what I am anymore. Whose page am I now?”

Padra and Crispin looked at each other.

“We’ll have to think about this,” said Crispin. “You should be more than a page by now, but it would be too much to promote you to the Circle. You deserve it, but a lot of responsibilities go with it, and you should enjoy being young and free for a bit longer. Complete your training with Padra, but I think ‘Companion to the King’ is what you are. Both of you—Needle as well.”

Urchin gabbled his thanks, but then he didn’t know where to look. And he didn’t know how to thank Padra, either, for all he’d done, so he just sat quietly at Padra’s paws for a while, and knew that Padra understood. Finally, when nobody needed him, he went down to the shore. He needed to be by himself, to take in all that had happened.

“‘Companion to the King,’” he repeated to himself. “Urchin of the Riding Stars.” He wondered where he had come from, and what his future would be. And from their place on the rocks, Padra, Crispin, and Fir looked down at the pale young figure on the shore; and they, too, wondered what he would become.