Urchin and the Rage Tide (27 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

N THE BOAT BEYOND THE MISTS
Crown moved, painfully, to turn and hold his one good wing over Sepia. He must keep the sun from burning her by day, just as he must keep her warm by night. He wished there was something he could say or do to make the mists part. He had begged the Heart to do something, something different, just for Sepia. He poured water into her dry mouth and drank some himself.

“Sepia,” he said, “Corr has gone for help. Even now, they’ll be planning something. He’ll be back soon with medicines and food and everything you need. Your queen will know what to do. Just hold on, hold on, Sepia.”

Cool water dripped into her mouth. Sepia tried to open her eyes and see who was helping her, but even that effort was too great. She supposed she must be dying slowly, because she had lost all sensation in her paws again. She no longer knew where they were. Her ears twitched a little, but she wasn’t sure how.

Memories floated in and out of her dreams. She saw herself again, the youngest of a big family, small, and just the tiniest curl to her paw. There was a cave where she’d go all by herself to sing, and the sound would come back from the walls and the shimmering stones. There had been a furious dash through the forest to warn the king of treachery—or had she dreamed that? Catkin, Linty, a boat, and Urchin—where was Urchin?

Shadows fell. Evening came. She tried to curl up more tightly, and could not, because her limbs would not do what she wanted them to. Perhaps she was in the sea. Catkin and Linty had been in the boat; then she had fallen into the sea—no, that had all happened long ago. This was a different boat.

Crown spread the winter cloak over her, tucking it around her with his beak, and settling again with his wing over her, nestling his warmth against her. She smiled weakly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, but even that was so hard that it might be best never to speak again. The sea and the creeping of death told her not to.
Sleep
, said the sea,
sleep, Sepia
, said death.
No need to wake again.

In Mistmantle Tower, Queen Cedar slipped away from the celebrations to the bedchamber where the glass bottle of medicine stood warming beside the hearth. She held it to a candle flame, shaking it gently. Then she held it up to the light, put it down, added another tuft of her own fur, and warmed it in her paws as if she could coax it to be ready more quickly. In the meantime, she’d busy herself with other things. Crispin would need her.

Among the animals gathered on the shore and those who were rebuilding their homes, and the tower animals putting their workrooms and kitchens to rights, the news spread that Urchin of the Riding Stars was now a captain. They welcomed the good news with cheers, dancing, and hats thrown in the air, even if they followed it with “oh, but poor Sepia…” But Urchin, still in the Gathering Chamber, felt awkward about appearing among the other animals with a circlet on his head. He felt he wanted someone to tell him how to be a captain, when from now on he’d have to get more used to giving orders than receiving them.

Apple and Filbert had left and it seemed as if the celebration was coming to an end. The other captains were taking off their robes, so Urchin took his off, too. If there hadn’t been other animals there, he would have pressed his cheek against it. Crispin took it from him.

“I was a page once,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten how to put a robe away. Now…”

Suddenly, his face was graver. Urchin felt that things were coming to a conclusion. Cedar and Juniper were standing together close to the king.

“Will you speak to everyone here?” Crispin asked them, and turned back to Urchin. “Urchin, Needle, Hope, please go to Juniper’s turret. Wait for me there.”

Urchin, Needle, and Hope climbed the stairs silently and huddled together in Juniper’s tower. They didn’t know what it was that Crispin had to tell them, but uneasiness made them nervous.

“He always knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?” said Urchin.

“That doesn’t necessarily make it any better,” said Needle. They sat in awkward silence, and it was a relief to hear Crispin’s step on the stair. He smiled reassuringly as he sat down on a stool by the hearth, but his eyes were sad.

“Are you all right, sir?” asked Urchin.

“Yes, Urchin,” he said quietly, “and soon everything will be all right, even though it might not seem so immediately. What I have to tell you now is hard, very hard, but it’s also necessary and right. You may ask questions if you like, but wait until I’ve finished.”

They nodded, and waited.

“You know that I was badly injured in the Raven War,” he said. “You probably know that my old wound has always been with me. You don’t know how serious it was—for a while, nobody did. But the raven’s talon penetrated right to my heart, and damaged it. It’s time to tell you what only Cedar, Padra, and Juniper have known—my wife, my best friend, and our priest. I’m dying.”

No!
The word formed in Urchin’s mouth, and he pressed his lips shut. He must not interrupt.

“There’s nothing to be done,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for Pitter and her mendingmoss, and Cedar’s care ever since, I’d have died long ago. But that injury is draining me now. I can only get weaker and slower.”

Urchin took Needle’s paw. He could tell she was biting her lip and wanted to cry. Hope shuffled to Crispin’s side and laid his head against the king’s paw.

“Thank you, Hope,” said Crispin, and stroked the hedgehog’s head. “You always know the right thing to do. Now, all of you, remember Juniper’s prophecy.
One must come and one must go, one must go and one will come. Sorrow before joy.
Juniper and I have talked about this. It’s about Sepia and me. Sepia can’t get back through the mists. I’ve been away twice, and we all know about going through a third time. It will probably kill me, but I’m dying anyway. And what I believe—and Juniper almost didn’t want to agree with me, but he knows it’s true—is that if I go, willingly, out of love for the island, there will be a perfect balance and Sepia can come home.”

Urchin wanted to cover his face with his paws, but he mustn’t. He was a captain now. He had often thought he would give his own life to save Sepia, but this wasn’t his own life.

“May I speak now?” he asked. Crispin nodded.

“I could go instead. I’ve left twice. I could die for Sepia.”

Crispin smiled. “And what could I say to her, if she came back and found that you weren’t here? It has to be me, and only me. I’m the king. It’s my privilege and my responsibility. And remember what I just told you. I’m dying. Do you think I’d willingly leave Catkin to be queen when she’s so young? Do you think I want to leave my family, especially when Almondflower’s so little that she might not remember me? But this way, I won’t grow feeble and take to my bed. They won’t watch me turn old and grumpy. Urchin, Needle, Hope, I never expected to be king, but I’ve tried to be a good one.”

“The best ever,” said Needle. “And now you’re giving your life for the island.”

“No,” said Urchin, and as the king’s eyes met his, they knew that they understood each other perfectly. “You’ve already given your life for the island, every day. Now you’re giving your death.”

“It’s all I have left to give,” said Crispin. “And I want you to understand that if it only saved Sepia’s life, it would be worth it. But it isn’t just Sepia—it’s all she will bring to the island, and all our future as an island. Juniper believes that there is great change coming, and it will be good. The Heart has a way of turning things around.
Sorrow before joy.
That’s how it is. Urchin, you and I have both been forced to leave the island against our will in the past, but great good has come of it. If King Silverbirch hadn’t tried to kill you, Cedar wouldn’t have come here, and Whitewings would never have been liberated. It’ll be all right this time, too—more than all right.”

“It can’t be all right if you die, sir,” said Needle in a very small voice.

“It can only be all right if I die,” said Crispin, and in spite of her sharp spines he hugged her. “If my life has counted for anything, I want my death to count for something, too.”

He released her, and took Hope’s paw. “Take care of these two for me, Hope,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Hope.

“Urchin,” said Crispin, “you’ve had hardly any preparation for being a captain, but I know you’ll be a good one. Take good care of Catkin. Wear your circlet every day, and wear it well. Remember that sometimes it’s when we’re simply being ourselves that we make a difference. The most important thing I ever did—absolutely definitely without a doubt the most important—was pick up a half-drowned baby squirrel from the sea.”

He turned, and seemed to be watching the tide. Then he looked around once more at Juniper’s turret—the hearth, the cups, the basket of logs, the plain little bed, the open windows with the herbs and flowers spilling from the window boxes.

“Not long to go,” he said. “I should go down to Cedar and the children. Cedar and Juniper will have told the other senior animals by now. The Circle will let the rest of the island know, but only when I’ve gone, so nobody can try to make me come back. Oh, and, Urchin, one more thing. Now that you’re a captain, you’ll need my permission to marry.” He picked up a leaf, and scored his clawmark through it. “You do want to marry Sepia, don’t you?”

Urchin felt his face blush. He wished nobody else had been there.

“I was going to ask her,” he said. “I wish I’d asked her before the rage tide. She might say no.”

Crispin laughed. “I shouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “I know Sepia, and I know she’ll have you, Urchin.”

“If she lives,” whispered Urchin. “Sir, if you go, she’ll get back—but that doesn’t mean that she’ll live, does it?”

“No, but it gives her a chance,” said the king. “And if she dies, at least she’ll die at home, with the animals she loves. She has a strong spirit, and she’ll have all the care Cedar can give her.” He put the leaf into Urchin’s paw. “There’s my token. Permission to marry her, Urchin. And, Hope, what would we do without you?” He snatched up another leaf, scored it, and gave it to Urchin. “Hope of the Circle! Get him admitted! See to it, Captain Urchin!” He shook Hope’s paw and Needle’s, seized Urchin in a strong hug that Urchin would feel forever, then leaped from the window and disappeared down the wall.

“Let him go, Urchin,” said Needle as she put her arm around Hope.

Eager to check on Crown and Sepia, Corr crept from the castle before sunrise and began the long swim to their boat. After several hours, and weary with swimming, Corr reached the little craft and flopped into it. Crown raised his head. Corr saw his red-rimmed eyes and grief overwhelmed him.

“She’s still alive,” croaked Crown.

“And you,” said Corr, “you look—”

“Terrible,” said Crown, “I know. I haven’t slept. I haven’t dared fall asleep.”

“I’ll take over,” said Corr. “I’ve brought Spring Gate water.” He opened the sealed flask of spring water that hung around his neck, and raised Sepia’s head. Her face was thinner than ever. Her eyes barely flickered open.

“Drink this, Sepia,” he said. “Spring Gate water. Everyone sends their love. Urchin, the king and queen, Cedar, everyone. Longpaw and all your family. Can you hear me, Sepia? Brother Juniper and Needle, and your choir, all your little choir. They’re looking forward to you coming home, Sepia. They’ve been practicing their songs for you.”