The Urchin of the Riding Stars (10 page)

On a late afternoon, Urchin was on guard duty at the Spring Gate, with the dying sun in his eyes. He was chafing his paws against the cold as Padra appeared, and put a mole on guard.

“Good news,” said Padra. “Come with me.”

“Needle’s brother?” said Urchin hopefully.

“First things first,” said Padra, hurrying on through the tower. “Husk and Aspen’s wedding will be soon.”

“Oh,” said Urchin. “Is that good?”

“It’s excellent!” said Padra. “Husk’s ordering singers and robes and jewels and whatnot, so he’s leaving the king alone. Quick sharp, before he gets back.”

They hurried through the tapestried corridors to the Throne Room, where Urchin stayed a pace behind Padra, kneeling as Padra knelt, glimpsing the king’s tired smile. Behind the throne stood Granite with his shoulders squared. Urchin’s fur bristled.

“Padra,” said the king, and Urchin thought his speech was slurred. “We used to patrol the shores together. You used to take the prince out in your boat! He loved the water!” A tear trickled down his face, and as he lifted a paw to brush it away, Urchin lowered his eyes. “Is there something you want, Padra?”

“Good news, Your Majesty,” said Padra. “The hedgehog baby born to Mistress Ramblen is fine and healthy, and will thrive. There’s no need to cull.” He looked up into the king’s eyes. “A beautiful baby boy hedgehog, Your Majesty.”

“If he can thrive, let him,” mumbled the king, and dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. “A hedgehog baby.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” cried Urchin, then turned hot as he remembered he hadn’t been invited to speak. He felt the king looking at him, and shyly raised his head.

“Weren’t you here with Husk?” asked the king curiously. “He’s to be married, you know. What would we do without Lady Aspen? The queen adores her. I offered him a wedding gift, but he only wants jewels for his wife. Padra, you should marry. Loneliness is terrible. If you want to marry your otter friend, you have my permission.”

For once, Padra seemed lost for words. It only lasted for a moment.

“I’ve no idea if she wants to marry me, Your Majesty,” he said, “but I hope she can be our new captain.”

The king’s paws twitched. “Oh, Padra,” he said. “I have already made Granite our new captain.”

“Plagues, lice, and pestilence!” muttered Padra as they strode from the Throne Room. “Fleas and worms to the pack of them!”

“But we can have more than three captains,” said Urchin, hurrying to keep up.

“Not with Husk in charge,” said Padra.

“You saved Scufflen,” said Urchin.

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Padra. “Go and tell Needle.”

Urchin ran to the workrooms. He wondered if Needle would still be there, but everyone seemed to be working late. She came to the door looking anxious and flustered, with bits of thread caught on her spines. Urchin told her the news and stood well back in case she tried to hug him.

“I’ll get permission to go and tell Mum,” she said. “I think they’ll let me go, but there’s so much work all of a sudden. You know about the wedding? Look at this!” She opened a door.

Urchin’s eyes widened in astonishment. Lace, as white and fine as mist, was everywhere. It hung from frames and trailed across the room.

“She’s going to be so beautiful!” said Needle. “But there’s lengths and lengths of embroidery to do—and she’s supposed to have a tiara with jewels, so the moles are all digging furiously—and we have to make a new captain’s robe—they said it’s for a squirrel, but he must be a tall one. And Captain Husk had already ordered new Threadings. Come and I’ll show you.”

Urchin followed her into the long workroom where the nearly finished Threadings hung in their frames. They were beautifully stitched, with glowing color and gold and silver thread, showing, as usual, the kings, queens, heroes, and captains of the past.

“More squirrels than anything else,” said Urchin.

“I know,” said Needle. “We ran out of squirrel-red wool. Captain Husk bought some more from the ships.”

There were a few hedgehogs, but hardly ever a mole or an otter. Urchin went from one to the next—squirrels on thrones, squirrels with swords, squirrels in trees. There was said to be an ancient underground mole palace somewhere on the island, in the roots of a tree. It was probably only an old tale with no truth in it, but Urchin had always liked that story. The Old Palace was in a tapestry, too, but with a squirrel lord on a throne instead of a mole.

“The rocks,” said Needle.

“Sorry?” said Urchin.

“The rocks,” said Needle. “Mostly, I get to do the rocks, because I’m new. Thripple does the clever bits—robes and things.”

“I was looking at the faces,” said Urchin. “Have you noticed? All the females look like Lady Aspen. And all the males look like Husk.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROST BEGAN TO SETTLE IN THE MORNINGS
. There was frost that froze on fur and whiskers; fine white frost that crunched under paws in Anemone Wood; delicate frost that crisped the fallen leaves and sparkled on the moss. Nights were sharp and bitter, with the moon rising high above Mistmantle Tower in a clear sky. Fires were lit in hearths, and the nibbled cores of fir cones were thrown to the flames. Padra and Urchin spent long evenings with Fir.

Preparations for the wedding filled every day. Guards of honor were drilled. New cloaks and robes were made and old ones repaired. The Gathering Chamber was decorated. Stores were heaped up in the kitchens. All the talk in the woods and water, on the shores, everywhere, was of the wedding. When Husk was not in the Throne Room, the king was guarded by Captain Granite.

The night before the wedding, swords, silver dishes, and trumpets were polished until they flashed in the candlelight. Whiskers were smoothed, fur was washed, claws were trimmed. Apple came to the tower with a small pot of deep red paste made from wax and pollen for Urchin to rub on his ear and tail tips to enhance their color. Urchin thanked her, but decided against using it. He thought Needle might like it, so when Apple had gone he took it to the workrooms.

He found Needle still at a bench, and still stitching with fine white thread onto snowy silk, though she looked near to tears with exhaustion. A hunchbacked female hedgehog stood beside her, packing frothy white things into boxes. White sheets were spread over every surface, and even on the floor. When Urchin hopped in and opened the pot of red paste, Needle shrieked and curled into a ball.

“Go away!” she wailed. “Put the top back on that,
now!”

“It’s only paste!” said Urchin. This wasn’t like Needle.

“Get it out!” screamed Needle from inside the ball. “Take it away and don’t let it touch anything! And wash your paws!”

The other hedgehog gently stroked the top of Needle’s head. Now that Urchin could get a good look at her, he saw that her face had a squashed and lopsided look that should have been ugly, but her eyes were kind.

“It’s all right, little Needle,” she soothed. “No harm done.” She looked past Needle to Urchin, who still stood uncertainly in the doorway. “She’s tired. And it’s very important that we don’t get any marks on the wedding clothes, so we can’t have colored paste in here. Don’t worry, you weren’t to know that. I told her she should go to bed, and I’ll finish off here when I’ve delivered these. I’m Thripple, I’ve been teaching her.”

Needle uncurled very slowly. By the time Urchin returned from washing his paws, she had calmed down.

“Sorry,” she said wearily. “I’ve had enough of Lady Aspen’s wedding robes. We’ve still got her train to finish. Those things Thripple just packed, they’re for the bridesmoles, they have to be delivered to the royal chambers. And it’s all pure white. White on white on white. It hurts my eyes. And the slightest touch of a stain will ruin it, so don’t bring any more sticky red pollens in here,
please
, Urchin.”

“Sorry,” said Urchin. “I can take those boxes to the royal chambers, if you like.”

“It would be a big help,” said Thripple.

Needle managed to smile. “I’ll see Scufflen tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve made him his own little robe out of leftover bits. We’ve all got some time off after the wedding, so I can go home and take it to him. That’s the only thing about being here. There isn’t much time off, and I hardly ever get to see my family and the rest of the colony. I’m looking forward to putting his little robe on him, even more than the wedding and the feast. Will you be wearing something special?”

“Sort of,” he said. “Just a green cloak that’s been altered to fit me.” He wasn’t sure, but he hoped it might have been Crispin’s once. Even so, the color that suited the real red squirrels never looked quite right on him. “Are those ready to take?”

Thripple piled up boxes in his paws and warned him not to try climbing out of windows. Urchin trotted a little precariously to the royal chambers, peering past the boxes as he went. He was nearly at Lady Aspen’s chambers when somebody bumped into him heavily from behind. The top box tipped, rocked, and tumbled. White silk flowers spilled wildly over the floor.

“Clumsy!” said Gleaner from behind him, and bustled past importantly. “Now, don’t try to pick them up, you’ll only get them dirty. Leave them to me.”

“You’re welcome,” said Urchin.

“I’m really very busy, but I suppose I’d better do it,” said Gleaner, but she didn’t seem too busy to stop and talk. She stood blocking the corridor, a small phial of violet glass clutched in her paw. “Lady Aspen and I have very important things to do. I have to look after the queen tomorrow. She’s extremely ill.”

“Is she worse?” said Urchin with concern.

“She’s very ill indeed, and Lady Aspen’s most worried about her,” announced Gleaner. “And as the wedding is tomorrow, I’ll be looking after her because I know everything to do.” She looked over her shoulder and added quietly, “You can’t trust mole maids. I’ll have to miss the wedding, but I don’t mind. The queen needs me.”

“Gleaner!” called Aspen from inside the queen’s chamber.

“I’m sorry, my lady, Urchin’s keeping me talking,” said Gleaner, and took the remaining boxes from Urchin’s paws. “I’ll tidy those up presently.”

“Captain Padra’s regards to the queen,” said Urchin, and darted away before Gleaner could tell him to run along. He wondered how Needle could stand the workrooms. He’d already seen enough of little white lacy things to last him a lifetime.