Urchin and the Heartstone (33 page)
A harsh wind followed them, cruel with sleet, but it drove them hard to Mistmantle. They navigated by the stars at night and by guesses in the day, but in the deep winter the days were short and the nights were long. They helped at the oars, brewed up cordials for themselves and the crew, and slept by turns in nests beneath the deck. They kept their cloaks wrapped about themselves even in their nests, and in the night watch on deck Urchin and Juniper saw frost on each other’s whiskers. When Urchin slept, huddled in a tightly clenched heap, he dreamed of roaring fires in Mistmantle Tower. He and Juniper talked of their childhoods, and Urchin realized that something in Juniper’s story didn’t quite fit. When he felt they understood each other well enough, he mentioned it.
“You’re not that much younger than I am,” he said, “and the culling didn’t come in until Sepia was born. I think you’re older than Sepia. So Damson must have hidden you before the culling law came in, before she absolutely had to.”
Juniper looked out to sea for a while. Then he said, “I know. I’ve thought of that. She must have had another reason for hiding me, but when I’ve tried to ask her, she changes the subject. I can’t push her about it, can I?”
They talked a lot about what they'd do when they reached the mists. The swans were learning to use their wings, but the mists were long, and it looked unlikely that they could fly all the way over them, let alone carrying a passenger. They were hopeful of Lugg or Cedar at least getting through. If the rest of them were kept out, and there was no swan on Mistmantle to fetch them, they d just have to return to Whitewings and go all the way back through tunnels. Nobody except Lugg liked the idea, and even he admitted it would be a long way to go about it.
“We could climb the mast,” suggested Juniper. “Then we wouldn’t be coming by water. We’d be over it.”
“I think it would still count,” said Urchin. “But if the mists are there to protect the island, they should let us through.”
“Firelight, moonlight, the secret,” said Juniper.
“I don’t suppose you know what that means?” said Urchin.
“No idea,” said Juniper with a shrug. “But I think it’s something to do with getting back. And I don’t feel sick.” Lugg trotted quietly to the side of the ship. “I think if the moles had invaded Mistmantle, I’d feel sick. Firelight, moonlight, the secret.”
When the sails needed to be furled or unfurled, the squirrels took turns running up the rigging. Urchin could see that Juniper found it harder than he did, not because of his withered paw—that never seemed to bother him—but because he became breathless quickly. Urchin knew that Juniper had sacrificed his health by following him to Whitewings. He called up to Juniper that they could swap places if they liked, but Juniper shouted down that he could climb just as well as Urchin, and was soon pulling himself up into the crow’s nest.
The trip was harder for Lugg, who endured it as best he could in spite of being seasick all the way. He persisted in calling the bow “the pointed end,” the stern “the blunt end,” the mast “the sticky-up bit” (unless the sails were unfurled, when he called it “the washing”), and the bowsprit “the sticky-out bit.” As for port and starboard, he said it was all the same to him when he leaned over it.
On the third night, the sky was so cloudy that it was hard to navigate, but the wind still seemed to be set for Mistmantle. Urchin, yawning enormously, rubbing his eyes and huddling into his cloak, scurried across the deck to take over from Cedar. He hugged a cup of hot cordial.
“Dawn takes forever,” she said, chafing her paws against the cold. “It always does when you’re waiting for it. But it seems longer than ever tonight.”
“M-midwinter,” stammered Urchin through chattering teeth. “Lugg’s got the stove going and Juniper’s heating up cordials.”
“Hot cordial!” said Cedar, and dashed away. She was right about the dawn. Urchin stood at the wheel for what seemed like hours, and it was still dark. The cordial cooled quickly, and the heated core it had given him had faded before he noticed that the sky seemed a little paler and grayer than before, but when Juniper came to take over, the horizon still could not be seen. The chill had entered Urchin deeply.
“It’s still gray,” he said, shivering.
“It’s clearer behind us,” said Juniper, his fur fluffed out for warmth as he joined Urchin on deck.
Urchin looked around. Behind them the sky was pale blue, and the wave tips showed clearly.
“But it’s foggy ahead,” he said, and suddenly he leaped across the deck, stumbling on numb paws, twirling his tail as he sprang down the hatch, shouting, “Cedar! Lugg! We’re in the mists!”
They stood on deck, all of them, their eyes shining, their ears pricked as they gazed at the white wall of mist. Lugg stretched up on clawtips, peering forward with his nose twitching. Cedar pressed forward over the bow, her chin tilted upward, tears in her eyes.
“I’ve seen the mists,” she said in a shaky voice. “Even if I never get to Mistmantle, I’ve seen the mists. I know it’s in there.”
Juniper took her paw. “The Heart won’t keep us out,” he said. “There’ll be a way.”
“Oh, good,” said Lugg, sounding unconvinced. “Don’t suppose you know what way? Should have gone by tunnels. Could have been hacked to death by mad moles, but better than a boat. Never again.”
“But we’re moving,” said Juniper. “We’re in the mists, and we’re still moving. So far, so good.”
N THE WORKROOMS OF
M
ISTMANTLE
T
OWER
, Needle stitched steadily, making Fir a new tunic for the coronation in hope that there really would be a coronation. A little heap of pebbles lay in front of her. Hope had not managed to find the Heartstone, but he had found any number of pretty pebbles to give to his mother and closest friends. Needle was neatly embroidering a pattern of leaves around the hem of a tunic, but on this winter day the light was poor and it was time to stop.
“You’ll strain your eyes,” said Thripple. “You’ve done enough for one day. Off you go.”
Higher up the tower, in Fir’s turret, Padra looked down from the window with his son Tide in his arms. Fir sat on a stool by the fire with the baby girl otter in his lap. Bright brown eyes looked back up at him.
“She has your expression,” he said. “One would think she’s always going to laugh.”
“She is,” said Padra. The baby heard his voice, squealed with delight, and wriggled as he turned Tide toward the window.
“Look, Tide,” he said. “That’s Watchtop Hill. No, not that way, that’s Brother Fir. They’re building a bonfire for the riding stars.”
“Does this young lady have a name yet?” asked Fir.
“We liked Swan, because of the way Urchin and Crispin came home,” said Padra. “But we won’t call her that, because she’s not a swan, she’s an otter. Then we thought of Swanwing. Then Swanfeather. We both really like that one.”
“Hm,” said Fir. “Swanfeather of Mistmantle.”
“It’s better than Wriggle, which is what we call her at the moment,” said Padra. “It’s what she does all the time.” He moved to the next window. “And they’re building another fire on the beach. They’re going to make a great night of it.” With a sigh, he sat down opposite Fir. “The fact is, Brother Fir, the whole island’s desperate for a party. What they really want is the coronation. It’s been a long hard winter and there’s more of it to come, and they need something to celebrate instead of gazing into the mists watching for Urchin and Juniper. And Lugg—he may be a tough old soldier, but he’s not invincible. Mistress Cott and the family are being very brave, but my heart goes out to those two little grandsons.”
“Tipp and Todd,” said Fir. “Yes.”
“They’re always hanging around wanting rides in boats, and when any of us do take them out, they’re so desperate to see as far as they can, they’re in danger of falling in. They’re anxious to have him back, What will the riding stars bring, Brother Fir?”
“Ask Miss Swanfeather,” said Fir. “She has as much idea as I have.”
“Look at me!” squeaked Hope, on the shore. “I’m climbing the bonfire!”
“What a big brave hedgehog!” said Sepia. In fact he had climbed onto the heap of firewood to be taken to the tower, but she hadn’t the heart to tell him.
“Here’s Needle with your mum,” said Fingal, lifting him down.
