Urchin and the Raven War (33 page)

All the next day, quiet paws pattered around the tower. Everyone knew that Urchin of the Riding Stars and Gleaner were badly wounded, and Fir was dying. They all wanted to help and to show that they cared, but nobody liked to intrude.

Very early in the morning, Prince Crown carried Crispin around the island. He visited animals, heard about their injuries and the damage to their homes and crops, and stopped to talk to Corr’s family before flying back to survey the damage to the tower. Queen Larch and Queen Cedar joined them, standing on the rocks outside the tower, shading their eyes as they looked up at broken windows.

“We’ll need new glass made,” said Crispin. “Fortunately it’s summer, so it can wait. We need to get the rest of the broken glass taken out. It’ll give our glaziers a chance to show their skill; it’s a long time since the glass kilns were reopened. The main thing they need is sand, and we have plenty of that; but just now it’s more important that every animal has a home and a food supply.”

“Please, King Crispin,” said Prince Crown, “on my father’s island, when the ravens had gone, the royal quarters were to be cleaned first. If he were king here, the tower would be repaired first, then the ordinary homes.”

“Your father and I have different ways of doing things,” said Crispin. “He believes that the animals are there for the king, and I believe that the king is there for the animals. I don’t want animals to die for me, but because I’m king—if necessary—I’d die for the animals. That’s being king. At least, it is here.”

There was a silence as Crown’s eyes met his.

“When I’m king,” said Crown quietly, and sounding a little embarrassed, “I want to be a king like you.”

Crispin laid his paw on the ring of dark feathers on the top of Crown’s head. “You’ll be a good king,” he said. Then he turned to Queen Larch, who was picking up a scrap of honey-colored wool from the floor. “You must have thought of using nets and meshes as soon as Prince Crown came to you,” he said. “That was brilliant.”

Larch looked uneasy, and fidgeted with the scrap of wool. “It’s been done before on Whitewings,” she said, “and it’s not part of our history to be proud of. When Urchin first came to our island, the swans were all captives with chains and collars. That was because King Silverbirch and Smokewreath the Sorcerer had used fine meshes to catch them and imprison them in the first place. The Whitewings swans still talk of Urchin as the one who won their freedom for them. So, when Scatter and her friends arrived, we knew that what had worked on the swans would work on the ravens. And when we told the swans we needed them to free Urchin and Cedar and their friends, we couldn’t hold them back.”

“And I must fly over the mists again,” said Prince Crown. “Shall I take Pitter home to Swan Isle?”

“Does she want to go back?” asked Queen Cedar. “I don’t think she had much of a life there. From what she told Sepia and me, she doesn’t have much to go back to.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Crown. “I’d take her under my protection and make sure she was happy.”

“All the same,” said the queen. “I think she’d love to stay, at least for a while longer.”

“She can stay as long as she likes,” said Crispin. “In the brief time we’ve known her, she’s saved my life and the Heart alone knows how many others.” He inclined his head to listen. “I can hear singing.”

“Sepia’s rehearsing the choristers,” said Cedar. “The little ones seemed to think there was something very important to rehearse for. You know how secretive they are.”

Corr, not sure what to do next, wandered down to the jetty. He was glad to see Fingal twirling idly about in the water with Tide and Swanfeather, and slipped into the sea to join them.

“I suppose I ought to go home now,” said Corr.

“Home?” said Fingal. “You mean, fishing-nets home? Do you think so? Do you miss them?”

Corr turned a somersault to give himself thinking time.

“I sort of—I’ve missed them more than I thought I would. Especially when, you know, when it got very tough. When I was…” He didn’t like to admit that he’d been afraid.

“Scared?” said Fingal. “We all get scared. I get scared. Even my brother does. But he’s a captain, and captains aren’t allowed to show it.”

“Being lost was worst,” said Corr.

“Sorry, my fault,” said Fingal. “I should have taken better care of you. So you just want to patch up your boat and go home, then?”

“No!” said Corr. He turned another somersault. “I miss them. I really, really want to tell them about everything I’ve been doing and who I’ve met, and it’s not to show off, it’s just, I want to share it with them. But I think I’ve changed—I mean, I’m the same otter, but I’ve done a lot, and I can’t pretend I haven’t. I don’t think I could just go back to mending fishing nets as if none of it had happened.”

“Good,” said Fingal. “Because the king might have something to say. I mean, you only warned him of the ravens…”

“Yes, but—”

“… rescued Princess Catwing or whatever she’s called these days…”

“… that was all of us—”

“… and done all that net-making stuff. I think King Crispin will want a word with you. Stay around a bit longer. I’ve been repairing my boat. I came in here to get the sawdust out of my fur. Those vermin were using my boat! It was due a coat of paint anyway. Do you want to give me a paw? We’ll take it to Twigg and ask him to do something with yours too.”

The idea of staying here, messing about in boats with Fingal, was completely wonderful. “Sounds like the best thing ever,” said Corr, and rolled over to look at the sky.

In the evening, as Juniper kept watch by Brother Fir, and Needle sat beside Urchin at the Spring Gate, the singing began. Sepia had gathered her choir to rehearse on the shore, and their sweet silvery voices rose and fell, weaving and layering their harmonies until every animal stopped what it was doing to listen. Otters heard them and lolloped from the water. Arran heard it and felt tears in her eyes. Needle, holding Urchin’s paw, heard it and saw Urchin turn his head and, briefly, open his eyes. Then, hushing them gently, Sepia ushered them to the battlements, where they sang for the Whitewings creatures who had helped them, and for the king and queen. The queen opened a window so that Gleaner would hear them, and for the first time since the attack, Gleaner slept without nightmares of the Silver Prince. But most of all they sang for Brother Fir, who smiled in his sleep, as if their song could carry him to the Heart.

In the morning, Urchin knew before he opened his eyes that the tide had carried him home to Mistmantle again. He felt stronger, as if he could sit up. As he slowly blinked awake he saw Sepia smiling down at him, but the voice he heard was Needle’s.

“You had us really worried!” she scolded. “Don’t you ever do that again!” She was about to hug him, but decided it would be safer for him if she didn’t. “I know I said to you before that somebody was going to die. Well, it wasn’t you, so you’re not allowed to. And anyway, you’re not royalty.”

“Pardon?” said Urchin, his eyes still on Sepia’s smile.

“I saw it in a Threading,” she said. “Myrtle drew the death of royalty. But all the time it wasn’t one of our royalty; it was that stupid bird. I never thought of that. I really don’t like Myrtle’s gift.”

Urchin closed his eyes again. He was tired already.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LEANER HAD NEVER LIKED
Queen Cedar. She had no right to be on the island at all, never mind being queen. She would never have a trace of Lady Aspen’s beauty and elegance. But even Gleaner conceded that she was a decent enough healer, and the rest of the nurses who looked after her were reasonable.

Several times a day they helped to move her, because she could no longer move herself. They plumped pillows and turned her bed to the light. Still having some use of her forepaws, she could feed herself, but only with difficulty. Her legs seemed to have nothing to do with her anymore.

The thought of never walking again brought tears to her eyes. She had left the Tangletwigs for the last time, and it was as if she had left Lady Aspen without saying good-bye. The cairn in the woods would become a thing of memory. But she kept Lady Aspen’s bracelet tucked under her blanket.

There was a sudden splutter of giggles from the mole maids outside. And what is so funny, thought Gleaner, about a poor injured squirrel lying here unable to walk? Then there was a loud knocking at the door, and, without waiting for an answer, Fingal burst into the room with his arms full of roses.

“Gleaner!” he cried. “Gleaner, wonderful, beautiful Gleaner, Gleaner of the Tangletwigs, the heroine of the island!” He saw the frown on her face, dropped the flowers into the water jug, and knelt to take her paws. “I’m not teasing you, Gleaner,” he said. “You really are the island’s deliverer. You’re the one who killed the Silver Prince! Now, excuse me taking a liberty, but I promised this to whoever finished him off.”

He wrapped her in his arms and planted a loud and enthusiastic kiss on each cheek.

“I salute you, Gleaner,” he cried, springing to his paws. “Pardon me, but I have duties to attend to. But,” he added, bending to whisper in her ear, “I think a picture in the Threadings is a pretty good chance.”

The Threadings!
Gleaner lay back, her face still tingling with whiskery kisses as he left the room. She turned her head so she could lie back and look at the water jug, and smiled, feeling happier than she could ever remember. Nobody had ever given her roses before.