Urchin and the Heartstone (23 page)

“On your feet, all of you! No fussing, it’s just a little earth tremor. Bit of shaking underground, nothing for anyone to bother about, except for the freak, because he’s a coward. Move on!”

Urchin turned in rage. He wasn’t going to let that remark go. But guards were grabbing him by the arms and hurrying him forward, and there was no choice but to go on, step by step, aching with cold and limping with sore paws over the frozen ground.

At least the Fortress was in sight, and he had a warm cell to look forward to. He had never thought he would find the hall of mirrors welcoming, but the torches flaring on the walls at least warmed his fur. Hedgehogs marched him to his cell, forcing a pace that he struggled to keep up with. Holding his head high, he saw their grins and the way they glanced at each other as they reached the gallery. Bronze was shouting orders.

“Everything out! All of it!”

Urchin stared in horror and disbelief. The cushions from his cell, the table, and even the curtains were being flung along the gallery. They were ruthlessly emptying his cell. There was nothing left for Juniper to hide behind.

Could he have escaped? Was he hiding in the chimney? Had they found him?

“Best bedchamber for the king’s friend,” announced Bronze, and grinned as he pushed open the door.

A blanket and a small heap of leaves lay in one corner. On the cold hearth stood a cup of water, a plate of dry bread, and the empty log basket. Ashes lay in the grate. There was no trace of Juniper.

He could feel Bronze watching him with that smirk on his face. Either Juniper had somehow escaped and they knew nothing about him, or they’d found him and taken him away, and were waiting to see Urchin’s reaction. Careful not to give anything away, trying not to limp, he walked to the leaves and flopped onto them.

“Sleep well,” said Bronze with a bristle of spines. He was pulling the door shut when along the corridor came the marching of paws and the clang of weapons as animals stamped to attention. King Silverbirch was coming.

Urchin was too tired to care and his eyes were already closing, but with a bark of, “Get up, Freak!” Bronze strode into the cell, dragged him to his paws, and gave him a push that lurched him out of the door. It was only by keeping his balance with his tail that he was saved from sprawling at King Silverbirch’s paws. The king sneered down at him.

“Bow, Freak!” he ordered.

I have had enough of your tantrums and your scenes
, thought Urchin.
You’re no sort of a king, and I don’t see why I should bow to you.
A stinging blow from Granite’s sword against his shoulder sent him flat on his face, and amid the laughter that made him burn with humiliation, a guard stepped forward and hauled him to his paws.

Her lips brushed his ear. “Don’t worry!” she whispered.

It was so soft and quiet that he couldn’t even be sure he’d heard it, but he saw the gleam of Cedar’s red-gold fur. He didn’t dare risk looking up at her, so instead, as he found his balance, he glanced around the crowd. There, among the mailed and helmeted guards, he caught a glimpse of dark fur and a paw with a familiar twist to it.

He’d know that fur and that paw anywhere. He didn’t dare look directly at Juniper, but he had to bite the inside of his lip hard to fight the smile.

“Stand!” ordered Cedar, and took her place dutifully behind the king.

“This time,” snarled Granite, “bow to the king.”

Cedar was just behind the king. Urchin put his paw to his heart and bowed.

“That’s better,” said the king. “We had begun to think that you’d sent us looking in the wrong place. We were minded to give you to Smokewreath already. I’m sure the snow will start soon. But they’ve found a seam of silver, Freak, at Beacon Top!” He turned to the guards and raised a clenched fist. “Do you hear? A seam of silver!”

He waited for the cheers to die down, then turned to Urchin. “Smokewreath says it was his magic that found it, but we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and keep you alive to see how it progresses. It had better be a good seam. Where’s Smokewreath?”

With the usual clatter of bones, Smokewreath shuffled along the gallery.

“It was I who brought you the silver,” he hissed. “My magic made the earth shake to open the seam. I found it.”

“But you never found it before the freak came, did you?” said the king petulantly. Smokewreath continued to clatter along the gallery.

“It is a dangerous thing to question—” he began, then suddenly, barely two paces from Juniper, he stopped. His eyes narrowed. As Urchin watched, Smokewreath tipped his head like a bird, and sniffed.

Urchin forced himself to look straight ahead, but his skin prickled. It was as if Smokewreath knew about Juniper, could sense his presence. Smokewreath growled deep in his throat and shuffled backward.

“What’s the matter with you?” snapped the king.

“Something…” rasped Smokewreath. “Something…” He was breathing heavily. His ears were flattened against his skull, his coat bristled, and to Urchin’s astonishment, his eyes were terrified.

“Strong magic!” wheezed Smokewreath. “I will make stronger magic! Strong!” Shuffling backward, almost tripping over his own paws, he retreated into the shadows. The king snapped out an order, and a rough shove from Bronze sent Urchin staggering back into his cell with the lock clanking behind him.

After the torchlit corridor, the cell was dark and bitterly cold. Urchin sipped at the stale, metal-tasting water, which made him even colder, and didn’t feel like nibbling at the hard bread. He wrapped himself in the blanket and huddled among the leaves, wondering what had so alarmed Smokewreath. He had been alarmed himself when the sorcerer had stopped so close to Juniper. He knew that the presence of threatening evil made Juniper feel sick. Could it be that Smokewreath felt the same in the presence of someone as good and brave as Juniper—or was Juniper more than just good and brave?

The important thing was that Juniper was safe with Cedar. He was glad of that, in spite of the dull emptiness in his cell.

There was still the faintest trace of lice lotion on his fur, and again it reminded him of Apple. He was coming to like it, as a reminder of Mistmantle. “Winter drill,” Apple would have said at a time like this. “Wrap up, curl up, settle down.” That was what most animals did in the coldest and hungriest of winters. Keep warm, and sleep as much as possible. There was a method to it, to retreating deep inside yourself and closing down every thought. There was nothing to do now but sleep. Urchin curled up tightly, pretended he was on Mistmantle, and was falling asleep when the door banged open. There was laughter in the corridor. Urchin closed his eyes tightly, desperate to sleep again.

“Commander Cedar of the Inner Watch!” called Trail. Reluctantly, wearily, Urchin opened his eyes as Cedar dragged him to his paws.

“King’s orders,” she snapped. “You’re to come with me.”

She dragged him through the gallery, where guards laughed loudly and exchanged comments: “Did you hear? She got permission to bathe him. Yes, from the king. They must have fifty kinds of lice on Mistmantle that we don’t have here. Not even Commander Cedar can finish them off.”

She opened a side door, led him quickly down a staircase, unlocked a door, and hurried him through a maze of corridors with twists, turns, and stairs. Finally, she said, “Now, Urchin.”

As he realized that he was fully awake and not dreaming, Urchin felt his ears twitch with excitement. “Is this it?” he asked eagerly. “Time for escape?”

“Not yet,” she said softly, and Urchin tried not to look disappointed. “But there are animals you should meet, and I had the chance to get you out of the cell tonight. I’m hoping the king might let me make a habit of it. In the meantime…”

She bent to pull at a ring in the floor and opened a hatch. Urchin looked down into blackness, and before he could ask what was down there, Cedar had jumped and disappeared. There was a soft thud, and her voice carried up to him.

“Jump!”

Not knowing what he would find, or even how far it was, his paws tingling, Urchin jumped. Torchlight in his face made him blink.

“This way, sir,” said a mole, and led Urchin along a tunnel so low that before long he had to crawl. He had never liked tunnels much, least of all tunnels that made him duck, and the tightness of this one was new and frightening. He concentrated very hard on putting the next paw forward, then the next, trying not to think of the roof against his fur, and the weight of the Fortress above them. He mustn’t think about not knowing how long this tunnel would last, and being trapped with a mole in front of him and Cedar behind him…. His chest tightened. He tried to breathe deeply, but the air was warm and stale….
I need to be out, out, let me out…. How do I know I can trust Cedar? Has she brought me here to kill me…?
Then, just as he had to fight against panic, the tunnel widened, the mole unlocked a door, and he was met by a wave of light, color, and brightly chattering voices.

He stood in the doorway of an underground room awash with torchlight and firelight. Wooden tables to the right and left of him were heaped with food—plain, but plenty of it—and colored cordials that made him fiercely thirsty just to look at them. Then he realized that every animal in the room had turned to face the door and was watching him with bright, hopeful eyes.

There were squirrels, all shades and sizes of moles, and keen-eyed hedgehogs, and with a heart leap of happiness, he saw Juniper. Many animals had cups in their paws, but they had stopped drinking and fallen silent apart from whispers—“That’s him! The Marked Squirrel!” Some bowed or curtsied politely to him, and he bowed back as a young female hedgehog and a male squirrel made their way toward him, and the crowd parted for them.

The tall, lean squirrel stopped, folding his paws behind his back. He was dark with a deeply thoughtful look about him, and wore a plain brown tunic with damp marks on it as if he had just been drying his paws. He waited respectfully as the hedgehog stepped forward with a smooth firm step and her head held high. She was small with a grave and plain, pointy face, but her eyes were sparkling. There was a sharp, alert quality about her that reminded him of Crispin and Padra, as if she noticed everything that was happening. She must have been taught to keep her wits about her. Urchin waited to be introduced, but he knew who they were.

“This is Queen Larch,” said Cedar, “the niece of our late queen, and the true queen of Whitewings. And our priest, Brother Flame.”

“You are most welcome among the Larchlings,” said Larch, her voice was low and grave. “I must apologize for the ill treatment you have received here. Whatever we can do to help you, we will.”

Brother Flame darted forward, seized Urchin’s paw, and shook it. He smelled of unpleasantly sharp herbs.

“Please excuse me,” he said briskly. His manner was nervous and intense, but he spoke to Urchin as if they’d known each other for years. “I’ve just been treating a young mole who had difficulty breathing, and I fear I still smell of the infusion. Whatever else is wrong on Whitewings, we still have skilled healers.”

“And we need them,” said Larch. “All this mining for silver and coal makes dust that gets into our eyes, our throats, our lungs, and our fur. It makes us ill, and every season the plants we need for healing are harder to find. The smoke and dust are killing everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Urchin. With so many hopeful eyes fixed on him he felt he would gladly deliver the island, if only he knew how to. “What do you want me to do to help you?”

Larch looked surprised. “Urchin of the Riding Stars, we are here to help
you,”
she said. “We will do all we can to get you home to Mistmantle. You have been treated shamefully by Silverbirch and his court.”

“But I’d like to do something for this island,” said Urchin. His mouth felt drier all the time, and in his own ears his voice was hoarse; but he saw the longing and hope in the faces around him and said what he needed to say. “I mean, yes, I want to go home. I want it so much I try not to think about it. King Crispin wants me home, I know that. But he wouldn’t want me to abandon you if I could give you any help.”

“The help you can give us is this,” said Larch, her solemn little face looking up into his eyes. “When the silver frenzy is over and Silverbirch is overthrown, we will seek help from Mistmantle. Not soldiers, not jewels. Just some good Mistmantle soil to replace the earth that’s been wrecked by mining, and something to grow in it.”

“That’s exactly what this island needs,” said Urchin.

“Just what I said,” said a gruff, familiar voice.

“Lugg!” cried Urchin. Grinning broadly, Captain Lugg pushed through the crowd toward him.

Larch clapped her paws together and suddenly everyone became busy, pouring cordials, moving chairs, gathering into little groups as if a party might be beginning. To Urchin, the lopsided grin on the mole’s familiar face was better than a party and more welcome even than the cup of cordial Lugg put into his paw.

“How did you get here?” gasped Urchin.

“Drink that,” ordered Lugg. “Come 'ere.” He jerked his head toward the fire, where Juniper waited. “Glad he’s turned up. Thought he would. Good lad, that.” A procession of hedgehogs with bowls of hot water and sponges made their way toward them, and Lugg nodded at them. “Here comes your bath time.”

“My what?” said Urchin.

“Mistress Cedar said she was taking you out of your cell to wash you, so you have to look washed.” He grinned as the hedgehogs left the water and sponges beside Urchin. “Don’t mind me, and be sure you do your ears.”

“But what are you doing here?” demanded Urchin as he washed.

“Getting you out, what d’you think?” said Lugg. “The king was against sending another rescue party until we could be sure of not getting the same welcome as last time. But time went on, and I said to the king, I don’t want to risk anybody else’s hide, but I wouldn’t mind risking my own, digging an extra tunnel or two that the Whitewings lot don’t know about. So, I’m here. May as well get you out while I’m at it.”

“When?”

“How do I know?” said Lugg. “Only just got here. Funny place, this.”