Urchin and the Rage Tide (10 page)

Urchin shook off his paw.

“If she’s alive, where is she?” he demanded. “She’ll be alone, in a boat with no food and no fresh water! Not even a dry cloak to keep her warm! Is there a swan left on the island who could fly over the mists?”

“They’ve all left,” said Padra gently.

Urchin knelt on the shore. It was as if, by gazing and gazing at the mists, he could make them disperse and show him Sepia.

Corr swam to shore, shook himself, said, “No sign of anyone, sir, sorry,” and ran to Padra. He knew what he wanted to do next, but he urgently needed to talk to Padra first.

In the flooded tower, Crispin and Needle waded waist deep through a corridor where seaweed floated on the water and a dead fish drifted past them. Fingal appeared, his fur wet, running up a staircase.

“All the chambers by the Spring Gate are flooded, Your Majesty,” he said. “So are the lower levels leading to the underground lake, but you can still get there from under the kitchens. I couldn’t get near the Chamber of Candles, but it must be flooded.”

“All the ground-floor windows are shattered,” said Crispin, “but the Throne Room and the Gathering Chamber have come out of this remarkably well. There’s a hole in the roof of Juniper’s tower, all the pennants and the flagpole are down, and we’ll have to find a small first-floor room to use as a prison for Mossberry.”

There was a scrabble of paws outside, and Prince Oakleaf arrived to perch on the windowsill.

“Father,” he said, a bit out of breath, “everyone’s accounted for, apart from Sepia, of course, and two small hedgehogs. Very small ones. They weren’t with Mossberry. They’d gone to safety.”

“Names?” asked Crispin.

“Furtle and Ouch,” said Oakleaf. “Myrtle’s younger sister and brother.”

“Myrtle!” cried Needle in alarm. “Our little Myrtle who does the Threadings!”

“Yes, Needle,” said the prince. “Her sister, Furtle, and their little brother, the one they call Ouch. They’ve disappeared together. The parents say they’ve always been close, they’re always wandering off together, and they always come back safely, but of course they’re worried.”

“I should think so, in the middle of all this!” said Needle. “And they’re so small!”

“Where were they last seen?” asked Crispin.

“They were perfectly safe in a hillside burrow with a lot of other hedgehogs,” said Prince Oakleaf. “It was dark, of course. They were reported missing at dawn.”

“Your Majesty,” said Needle, “we could look at the Threading Myrtle’s been working on. There could be a clue in there. We stored them all in Se—the cave above the waterfall.” The cave above the waterfall was Sepia’s song cave, but she didn’t want to think about Sepia just now.

Prince Oakleaf looked from one to the other.

“Sorry,” he said, “how would that help?”

“There’s something about Myrtle’s Threadings,” said Crispin. “When she’s sewing, she…” He stopped, hearing the swish of paws and tail in the corridor, followed by a call from Padra. “Padra! We’re in here!”

Padra appeared in the doorway and bowed to the king, but, seeing his grim expression, Needle felt a fear that made her legs weaken. She felt sick. She had never seen Padra look so grave.

Oh, Heart, please, please,
she thought.
No more bad news. Please.

“I must speak to you alone, Your Majesty,” said Padra.

“Shall Prince Oakleaf and I go to the cave to find Myrtle’s Threading?” offered Needle quickly.

“Yes, please do,” said Crispin. “Explain to him about Myrtle’s Threadings, while you’re at it.”

When they had gone, Padra took a step back. He drew his sword, laid it across one paw, and lifted off his circlet. Then he bowed his head and, in the floodwater, knelt and offered the king his sword.

“Padra, what’s this for?” said Crispin.

CHAPTER SIX

ORR THANKED THE HEART
for Fingal. Fingal had told him, as they had prepared for the rage tide, “More than enough Mistmantle boats have been smashed to firewood in storms before this. We should get as many boats as we can out of the way, so we need all the strong animals we can find to carry them inland. Got any big strong brothers, Corr?”

On Fingal’s instructions, Corr’s own little boat had been tied up in one of the galleried caves above the underground lake, and it was still undamaged. Launching it would not be as difficult as he had expected—the water level had risen so high that he would be able almost to drop it onto the lake when the time came. He whisked in and out of empty tower rooms, paying particular attention to the kitchen, and filled up his boat with all the food and fresh water it could safely carry. He’d need an extra cloak, too, but there was no point in searching through the chambers he shared with Urchin at the Spring Gate. Anything left in there would be floating by now. Anxious to get away quickly and unnoticed, he ran upstairs to see if anything had been left in the workshops.

The Threadings had been removed, but he climbed up to a high cupboard, and tugged hard at the door. It was stiff and opened suddenly, so that Corr fell over and a swath of velvet landed on him. He soon realized that Needle, Thripple, and some of the other workroom animals had moved some of their sewing projects into these high, safe cupboards. On trying to fold it up again, he found that the thing that had dropped on top of him was a cloak.

If Corr had known anything about fabrics, he would have realized at once that this unfinished cloak, made of deep yellow velvet and lined in white, was an exceptionally warm and valuable one. But all he saw was a very useful garment, the hem still tacked and the collar unfinished. Hoping nobody would mind, he bundled it up and ran down to the kitchen, and from there to the underground lake. With the tide still high, he could make his way out to sea from here.

Folding the cloak, he stowed it safely away. He mustn’t draw attention to himself. The bay was full of otters, clearing up flotsam and jetsam, some of them in the small boats Fingal had saved from the storm. Nobody would notice another one, even if he did seem to be getting close to the mists.

His heart was beating hard and fast, and his paws shook a little on the oars. Inside, he still felt he was just Corr the otter. But he was also a Voyager on his first great quest, and like all Voyagers, he must go alone. He had made sure to pack a box of hazelnuts. Sepia liked those.

Crispin held out a paw to raise Padra, kneeling before him.

“Come up to the Throne Room, Padra,” he said. “Water may be your natural element, but it isn’t mine. Whatever you have to say, you can say it there.”

They climbed the stairs to the Throne Room without speaking. Once there, Padra knelt again, placing his sword and circlet at Crispin’s paws.

“Your Majesty—Crispin,” he said, and his voice was heavy with sorrow, “I have let a young animal go into danger, without your permission.”

“Get off your knees and sit down, Padra,” said Crispin. “Tell me exactly what this is about.”

Padra did not move. “I will stay here until I’ve told you,” he said. “Dear Crispin, we went to the shore and saw the bodies of the dead. Sepia is not among them.”

“Heart be praised for that,” said Crispin. “So there’s still hope, even if it’s a faint one. I don’t see how she could have survived that storm. Padra, if this is about Sepia, don’t blame yourself. I was the one who took her to Arder Bay, not you. She asked to come—she was so worried about Twirl and the other little ones. I could have ordered her to stay away and she would have obeyed, but I let her come. If anyone should resign it’s me, but I have made a vow to the animals of Mistmantle to be a good king, and they look to me to keep it. Put your circlet back on.”

“It’s not just Sepia,” said Padra. “There’s more than that. Corr came to talk to me in private. He knows he’s a Voyager, so he asked permission to go beyond the mists and search there for Sepia. He wanted to bring her home if he could, alive or dead, if a way could be found. Failing that, he could at least bring news of her.”

“And what did you tell him?” asked Crispin.

“I told him to go,” he said. “I told him to provision a boat thoroughly, and go. Told him to keep himself safe as much as possible, but I still told him he could go. He said he thought he should ask Urchin, and I told him I’d sort things out with Urchin myself.”

“Fair enough,” said Crispin.

“Yes, but Crispin—Your Majesty—I even said the same about you, when he said he’d need your permission. I told him he needn’t worry about that. I told him, ‘Just go, Corr. I’ll sort it out with the king.’” He looked fully into Crispin’s face. “That was overstepping my authority—it should have been your decision, not mine. Corr is too young for such an undertaking. Who knows what he might find beyond the mists, or what might find him?”

“I will always treasure what I found beyond the mists,” said Crispin thoughtfully, and for a while said nothing more. Padra waited, knowing that Crispin was thinking of Whisper of Swan Isle, who should have been Whisper of Mistmantle.

“Whisper and Cedar both came from beyond the mists,” said Crispin, “and it was a Mistmantle mole who murdered Whisper. Please, Padra, now that you’ve told me, sit down.”

Padra flopped into the window seat.

“Why did you tell him he could go?” asked Crispin.

“Because he’s our only hope,” said Padra simply. “If Sepia is still alive somewhere, only Corr can find her. He’s a Voyager, and sooner or later he had to use that gift. He might find a swan to carry her home, and even if she can’t get home, he can help her get to safety on Swan Isle or Whitewings. She’d be made welcome there, and at least we’d know where she was. Corr could bring us news of her. The worst thing is not knowing where she is, and whether she’s all right.”

“So why did you keep this from me?” asked Crispin.

“Could you have sent Corr into danger?” he said. “Even for Sepia’s sake? Your heart might have wanted him to go, but he’s your subject, too, and you are pledged to protect him. So I made the hard decision, but I had no right to.”

“Yes,” said Crispin, “but”—he looked past Padra out of the window—“what would I have done, if you were the king and I were the captain? I would have done exactly as you did.”

“But I’m not the king and you’re not the captain,” Padra pointed out.