Urchin and the Heartstone (7 page)

Sweating and breathless in the fading light, Juniper reached the shore, sniffed the evening air, and looked about him. Nobody was in sight.

The ship lay at her moorings, and juniper forced himself to look hard at her. The ship would have no power to frighten him if he faced her. With her tattered sail, she looked helpless and harmless. Then he saw a small boat moving far off on the water, drawing steadily nearer to the mists.

“Padra, fetch guards and go after him,” ordered Crispin, “but not beyond the mists.” Padra ran from the room. Needle would have followed, but a glance from Crispin told her to stay. “Now, Scatter,” he went on, “tell me exactly what happened.”

Scatter still gulped and gasped as she tried to speak. From the flowers on the table, Crispin gave her a pawful of soft petals to dry her eyes, and at last she spoke.

“The ship’s boat was still down,” she sniffed. “It shouldn’t have been, and if only it hadn’t been, he would never have gone. But as soon as he saw it he said he’d just go to Whitewings. He said it was his own risk, and he wouldn’t put anybody else in danger if he went alone, and Y…Y…Your Majesty wouldn’t have to order him. Please,
please
, Your Majesty, we all tried to talk him out of it, but he was so determined. He—he kissed the ground, and held up his paw, and made a vow about it—he would have gone all by himself, and got lost, so Trail and Bronze went with him, and he…he…he said…”

She burst into fresh weeping, and Gorsen hugged her tightly.

“He said Your Majesty would understand,” she sobbed. “He said, if he was the Marked Squirrel—
that
Marked Squirrel—it was the only honorable thing to do.” She buried her face against Gorsen.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” said Lord Treeth heavily. “What can I say? We would never have knowingly put your Companion in danger.”

Needle’s spines bristled as she watched Lord Treeth’s face. He wore a look of concern and sorrow, but it seemed to her that it could have been painted on. She slipped her paw into Arran’s, not for comfort, but to keep herself from flying at Lord Treeth with her claws out.

He’s lying, Your Majesty.
She thought the words hard at Crispin, wishing he could read her mind.
They’re both lying.
It was all too convenient, Urchin going when Whitewings wanted him so much.

“They’ll look after him,” sniffed Scatter.

“Oh, Trail and Bronze will look after him,” said Lord Treeth. “They are the best of our young. Brave, skilled, and expert sailors. He’s safe with them.”

Silence followed, a tight, chilly silence. Needle had never been afraid of Crispin, but she felt afraid even to look at him now. King Crispin knows, she thought. He knows they’re lying.

“Fetch a guard squad, Gorsen,” ordered Crispin tersely. “Arran, get every available otter to join Padra in searching the waters as far as the mists, but no farther.”

Arran slipped from the room, and Gorsen rapped out orders from the doorway. Paws scurried along the corridor, and, as a squad of moles and hedgehogs lined up before him, Crispin turned without smiling to Lord Treeth.

“These animals will conduct you and Scatter to your chambers,” he said. “Captain Lugg, go with them. We will discuss matters further in the morning. Brother Fir, Needle, come with me, please.”

Outside, the air had turned cool. Crispin, Fir, and Needle felt the breeze tug at their fur as they stood on the cold, wet sand. No light showed on the water. It seemed a long time before Padra’s sleek wet head appeared in the shallows and he scrambled to the shore.

“Not a sign,” he said. His voice was gray with defeat, and anger burned in his eyes. “Nothing. Sorry, Crispin.”

Needle stared wretchedly out at the empty sea. She knew Padra was angry with himself for not catching up with Urchin and bringing him back. She knew what that felt like.

If only I’d gone with them to the shore. If only I’d delivered my message to the king and then gone straight down to join them. I’d had enough of the Whitewings lot, and I was glad to get out of it. I should have stayed with him. If only I could go back to supper time and change what happened. If only I could start again.

“Padra, you’ve done all you could,” said Crispin. “Come to the Throne Room and I’ll tell you everything that Scatter said.”

Miserably, Needle edged closer to Crispin.

“Please, Your Majesty,” she said, “Urchin is Padra’s page and your Companion. He wouldn’t have gone away without your permission.” Speaking quickly to get it over with, she added, “Please, King Crispin, I’m sorry. It’s my fault, if I’d stayed with him he’d still be here.”

Crispin took her paws in his. “Of course it’s not your fault, Needle,” he said, but she didn’t feel comforted. She looked to see where Brother Fir was and what he was doing, and saw him alone at the end of the jetty, the breeze ruffling his pale tunic, one paw raised toward the empty darkness under the stars.

CHAPTER SIX

ON’T BELIEVE A WORD THEY SAID,”
grumbled Lugg. “He didn’t go of his own will. He was took.”

The captains had gathered in the Throne Room. Needle had followed them and nobody told her to go, so she stayed.

“Needle, did the other Whitewings animals try to persuade him to go?” asked Crispin.

“Not when I was there,” she said. “We just chatted and had fun, and somebody suggested we should go back to the jetty to see the sunset. I can’t remember whose idea it was, but Scatter said somebody should tell you where we were. I was tired of Bronze showing off and Scatter giggling, and Urchin was happy to look after them, so I thought I may as well…may as well…leave him to it. I’m sorry. Lugg’s right. He wouldn’t have gone without your permission.”

“Needle,” said Crispin, and knelt beside her, “none of this is your fault. Can you tell me why you stayed so long with us in the Throne Room? It was because Lord Treeth kept you talking.”

“That was a trick,” said Lugg. “Gave them time to get our Urchin away. Our Urchin’s been took. If you’d stayed with him, Needle, they would have took you, too.”

Crispin walked away and leaned against a windowsill, facing them.

“We may hope for the best, but we have to act for the worst,” he said firmly. “We can’t trust Lord Treeth and Scatter, but they may be innocent and are still our visitors. They are to be kept in their chambers and guarded until we have Urchin home. Keep the ship’s crew under guard, too.”

“Strange, that,” said Padra. “Lord Treeth is a very important animal. If this was a plot to take Urchin away, why was he left behind?”

“To make trouble,” said Lugg.

“He won’t get the chance,” said Crispin. “We’ll have Gorsen in charge of his guard. Because we can’t leave by water and return by water, following by boat isn’t possible. Lugg, what can you tell me of the tunnels?”

“We can reach Whitewings that way, Your Majesty,” said Lugg. “Been in 'em myself. Not all the way to Whitewings, but my father took me down there and taught me the ways of 'em. Long journey, though.”

“How long?” asked Crispin.

“Six days and nights. Maybe seven, even eight. Depends on the moles and the route, Your Majesty. There’s two of 'em.”

“I believe it’s only three or four days by boat,” said Padra, “so Urchin and his captors will be there before them.”

“Then, Lugg, send moles at once,” said Crispin. “True and trusted moles, six to each route.”

“Can’t attack Whitewings with a dozen moles, with respect, Your Majesty,” said Lugg.

“You’re not to attack it,” said Crispin. “I need a small, discreet force to see what’s really happening, and report back. And if Urchin needs rescuing, as I’m sure he will, be fast and sure and rescue him. Take whatever you need from the armory, but without weighing yourselves down. And tell them, Lugg, that I won’t be crowned before they come back, so they won’t miss anything.”

“We’re assuming that Urchin can get back through mole tunnels,” said Padra.

“Might be a tight squeeze some places, but he’s not full grown yet,” said Lugg. “And we can dig 'em out a bit wider if necessary. Slow us down a bit, but we’ll get him out. Permission to go, Your Majesty? Get him out before he grows any more?”

“Go, Lugg,” said Crispin. Lugg bowed smartly and trotted away. “Before anybody else leaves,” said Crispin, drawing himself up, “I have a solemn promise to make in front of witnesses.”

There was a cold swish of metal as he drew his sword and laid it on the floor before him. Arran stood up and folded her paws. Needle copied her.

“I swear before you all,” said Crispin, “on all that I love and on my honor as your king, that I will not be crowned until Urchin of the Riding Stars is returned to us alive. If he is not, I will be uncrowned until my death.”

There was a moment of solemn silence, broken by Fir. “As to that, I think he’ll return alive,” he said. “But you couldn’t be crowned yet anyway, Crispin, not quite thoroughly and properly. The most extraordinary thing has just come to light. The Heartstone is not the Heartstone. It is a fake.”

Darkness pounded in Urchin’s head. Inside and around him, everything churned and rocked. His eyes wouldn’t open. His mouth was dry with a sour, fusty taste.

Wherever he was, he was in the wrong place. Damp and chilled, he was lying on something hard. He should be in a dry nest in his chamber at the Spring Gate. He tried to call for help, but couldn’t. Even the effort to open his eyes was too great.