Urchin and the Raven War (26 page)

With a squawk of pain and anger, the raven fell sideways. Crispin was on his paws again, and it seemed that they were all dragging each other through the tunnel entrance. Cedar wiped her sword on the ground.

“You owe that one to Cedar,” said Padra. “She got to it first.”

“Verminous claw-thugs,” muttered Cedar. “Tell me about Catkin!”

“Fingal wasn’t going to let her drown!” said Needle. “She’s perfectly safe. Shouldn’t we be running?”

“They can’t follow us in here,” said Padra. “I doubt they could even see the entrance. Crispin, are you all right?”

“I am,” said Crispin. “Urchin?”

“I lost my sword,” said Urchin. “Sorry.”

“You nearly lost your paw,” said Crispin. “Swords can be replaced. Straight to the Chamber of Candles, before anything else happens.”

“Padra,” said the king quietly as they filed through the long corridor, “where did you spring from?”

“Didn’t do much springing,” said Padra. “I held them off as long as I could when you gave orders to leave the tower, but the vermin overpowered me and left me trussed up in a cell. Your old cell, you’ll be happy to know. However, for the last few hours the tower has been crawling with animals.” He looked around at Urchin. “Especially that animal. What with him and Hope and Sepia all pattering about up and down behind skirting boards and stairways I never knew existed, all full of bits of useful information, how’s a prisoner supposed to get a decent sleep? There was a lot of scrabbling under the window of my cell, then up popped Hope and untied me. I couldn’t get out the way he got in, but with a bit of work I had the bars off the window, then I waited until the ravens were distracted, and ran for it. Crispin, your dungeons are useless.”

“So those reports of flashes of silver from the tower …” said Crispin. “Was that you, Urchin?”

“It was all of us,” said Urchin, holding his right wrist in his left paw.

“It was supposed to distract the ravens from Catkin,” said Needle. “And from you too, but mostly from Catkin, so the otters could rescue her. We hadn’t expected riding stars.”

Pain grew in Urchin’s wrist. It was beginning to throb where the raven had forced the sword from him. Their harsh cawing had gone on for so long, and so loudly, that it was as if he could still hear them as he stumbled on to the Chamber of Candles. Then the door was opened, the warm glow of candles met them, and Juniper’s arm was across his shoulders.

“Urchin, are you all right?” Juniper drew him into the center of the chamber and went to welcome the others, leaving Urchin to stand wide-eyed in the soothing light, still holding his wrist. It was as if a door had slammed shut against ravens, croaking, talons, beaks, and broken glass. He stood in a different world, where Fir sat propped up on pillows, blankets and cushions were stacked neatly in a corner, a half-finished net lay on the floor, and a saucepan sat on a brazier, giving off a waft of spiced wine. But the best thing of all, that made Urchin’s heart strong and took the edge from the pain, was the sight of Catkin kneeling by the warmth of the brazier with Sepia holding a blanket around her shoulders and hugging warmth into her. A cup of something steaming hot was in Catkin’s paws, and Hope was piling pillows around her. There was a cry of joy as Cedar sprang forward, and a squeak of “Mummy!” from Catkin. Then Crispin, Cedar, and Catkin were all hugging each other in a tangle of red fur, paws, tails, and blanket. Myrtle, Needle, and Sepia slipped to the net and began busily knotting and twisting, as if they had only just left off.

“What happened to your wrist?” asked Juniper. Urchin looked and saw how puffed up his arm had become. It was swollen from paw to elbow. Kept still, it didn’t hurt too much, but moving it made him catch his breath.

“Keep it raised,” said juniper. “I’ll put a comfrey dressing on it and bind it up. You look as if you should rest.”

“There’s some comfrey distillation here,” said Sepia, and hurried to look at Urchin’s wrist.

Urchin had never felt so tired in his life. There hadn’t been time for weariness before. But now Crispin was beside him, and the things he had dreaded to say still had to be said. Crispin’s kindness, asking after the hurt wrist, was almost unbearable.

“It’ll soon mend, sir,” he said, not looking the king in the eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to that raven sooner, Urchin,” said Cedar.

The queen apologizing to him was a little more than Urchin could bear just now. It didn’t help that Catkin was running to hug him, clinging to him with damp fur and small eager paws.

“I’m sorry I didn’t rescue you, Urchin,” she said. “I really tried! I really fought them!”

“I should have rescued you,” he said, but she only hugged him again and told him not to be silly. “Fingal and Corr and all of them came as soon as they could,” she gabbled to her parents. “They would have done it sooner, but they had to wait until it was dark and the ravens were distracted and Urchin and everyone were shining swords out of the windows to draw their attention away. They all came for me: Fingal, Corr, Tide …”

“Tide was there?” said Padra.

“Oh yes, and Swanfeather. They bit through the cords and we swam back to the cavern; they gave me a ride and I had to keep bobbing up to breathe, and they popped up sometimes too, a long way away from me, to distract the ravens. It was wonderful!”

“So,” said Crispin, “Fingal, Corr, and the twins rescued you and took you back to the cavern. Where’s that?”

“It’s one of the caverns around the underground lake,” said Needle. “The lake Fingal found years ago when we were all looking for the Heartstone. He’s been exploring there a lot. He’s made that cavern into a place of safety. A bit like the Mole Palace but a lot smaller and nearer.”

“And wetter,” said Hope.

“And not so comfortable,” said Needle. “But it’ll do.”

“They took me back there,” said Catkin, “and I was freezing. There was a fire, but only a little one. So they got me up here, in the warm.”

“Where we could look after her,” said Sepia.

“Sepia,” said Crispin, “you seem to have a calling for drying off Catkin in a crisis.”

Sepia raised Urchin’s paw and wound the bandage around it. Urchin thanked her, but he didn’t feel fit for Sepia’s company just now. She’d never failed Catkin.

“We kept telling each other what was happening,” said Needle. “And, sir, we sent messages all over the island. Everyone’s making nets—like that one, but sticky—to catch ravens. We’re really organized, Your Majesty, but we hadn’t allowed for the riding stars.”

“Riding stars!” said Padra. “And we missed them!”

“They weren’t that good,” said Catkin.

“So,” said Needle, “I knew about Catkin and the rescue because I listened to Urchin through the floorboards. I tried to keep you informed by the Threading.” Her mouth stretched, and her voice became higher as she fought against tears. “I hated pretending, sir, and all those things I had to say!”

“You were never a very convincing traitor,” he said, and hugged her in spite of the prickles. “And it worked. I know the Threadings Code.”

“Myrtle doesn’t,” she said. “Not yet. But she put in a sunflower.”

“She couldn’t have put in anything better, “Crispin said, and turned to Urchin, who hadn’t spoken for a long time. “Urchin, have I told you to learn the Threadings Code?”

“No, Your Majesty,” said Urchin quietly.

“You should!” said Crispin. “A bird for freedom, circle for safety. What was that bit about the swords between the ravens? They’re not going to kill each other, are they?”

“They might!” said Sepia eagerly. “Urchin did that—Oh, sorry, Urchin, it’s your tell.”

Urchin turned to put more wood on the fire.

It was a great relief to Urchin when they were all busy making meshes, which Crispin seemed to think was a wonderful idea, and he could quietly ask the king for a word in private. Carrying a lamp, he followed Crispin into the corridor, where they could speak alone.

“I’ve let you down, Your Majesty,” he said, “and not just in something small.” He lowered his gaze. “I was with Catkin and she was caught, and that should never have happened. So”—he forced his voice to speak the words, finding it even harder than he had expected—“if I still had a sword I’d lay it down before you, but I couldn’t even hold on to that. I ask… Your Majesty …”

One more effort. “I can’t stay in the Circle after this,” he said.

There was a pause, but not as if Crispin were angry, testing him, or thinking about what to say. It was more like a breathing space.

“Tell me exactly what happened, Urchin,” said Crispin.
“Exactly.
Every detail. Take your time.”

Urchin began from the defense of the bay and the discovery that Catkin was with them. Then there had been the message from Grith—“and I thought it was strange, I should have pressed him about the token…there wasn’t time….” And the ambush.

“I see,” said Crispin. “Thank you, Urchin. Now imagine that you’re the king. A young Circle animal has just told you the story you’ve told me. What would you do?”

Urchin tried imagining it. Then he tried to look at it in a few different ways, and ask himself questions. He opened his mouth to answer that perhaps the young squirrel shouldn’t have trusted the king’s token, but then realized it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, so he shut his mouth and looked at the ground.

“Urchin?” said Crispin gently.

“I’d say…” Urchin found that his voice didn’t want to do anything at all and could only manage a low mutter, “I’d say he hadn’t done anything wrong, sir.”

“And you’d be right,” said Crispin.

“But she was still caught, sir!” cried Urchin. “She nearly died! Brindle died!”

“That’s because, between you, you couldn’t take on a whole flight of ravens,” said Crispin. “If you thought you could, you have an exaggerated idea of your abilities.”

“Yes, sir,” said Urchin, feeling a little better.

“You will make mistakes,” said Crispin. “We all do. At the time of Husk’s rise to power, who was senior captain?”

Urchin knew the answer, but he didn’t want to say it.

“Urchin?” said Crispin.

“You were, sir. But. ..”

“But nothing, Urchin. It’s a poor excuse to say that Husk was too clever for me. I should have recognized what he was doing much sooner, and put a stop to it. That still comes back to haunt me.”

“Sir!” said Urchin. “Don’t! Don’t talk about yourself like that!”

Crispin smiled a little. “I’ve made worse mistakes than yours,” he said. “I just wish I knew where Grith is now. If you did still have a sword, Urchin, and laid it before me, I’d give it straight back to you and tell you not to be so silly. I’ve no intention of releasing you from the Circle. I need animals like you. And by the way, thank you for risking your life, losing your sword, and very nearly dying to save me from a raven. How’s the wrist?”

“Hurts a bit, Your Majesty,” said Urchin. “Better than it was. And Catkin was very brave.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” said Crispin. “Now let’s go back into the Chamber of Candles, and you can tell me what you’ve done to make the ravens fight each other. If you’ve achieved that, you’ve made very good use of your captivity.” He looked past Urchin at somebody running toward them. “Crackle’s in a hurry. Is that a honey pot she’s carrying?”

He guided Crackle and Urchin into the Chamber of Candles. Myrtle and Needle were whispering together as they wove the net, while Hope and Sepia dragged a finished one across the floor and said something about taking it to Fingal. Fir appeared to be asleep, but his eyes opened a little as Crispin came back in. His voice was slow, wheezy, and low, but perfectly clear. He stretched out a trembling paw, and Crispin took it.

“You need do nothing much now, Crispin,” he said. “Be still. The Heart will fight for you. The enemy have called for The Voyager.”

“Juniper,” asked Urchin quietly, “what’s Brother Fir talking about? We don’t have a Voyager, and if we did, why would the enemy call him?”

“Because they don’t mean to,” said Juniper, and before Urchin could ask him to stop talking in riddles, added, “You don’t think an enemy would call a Voyager on purpose, do you?”

Brother Fir closed his eyes. “He has come,” he said. “He is very near to us.”

The fire made Urchin realize how tired he was, and how hungry; but he was too weary to eat, and certainly too weary to care about mysterious prophecies. Juniper put a cup of spiced wine into his good paw.

“I don’t understand it,” said Urchin. Even speaking was a huge effort. “I don’t understand anything. The tower’s a mess, the Heart alone knows where the Taloness and the stupid prince are. The ravens are supposed to be calling for our Voyager, and I didn’t know we had one. We’re still so outnumbered it’s ridiculous, and Fir says Crispin doesn’t have to fight. Myrtle and Needle—I never understood all that Threadings stuff. …”

“Shh!” said Juniper. “You should sleep while you can. It’s going to be all right. I don’t know how, but we don’t have to. It will be, that’s all we need to know.” He brought a pillow from the heap of bedding. “Curl up by the fire and sleep.”

“Juniper,” said Urchin, “in the Threadings, what’s a sunflower?”

“Joy and celebration,” said Juniper, spreading a blanket over him.

That didn’t make sense either. It occurred to him that he was glad it was his right paw the ravens had attacked, not his left, or his mother’s bracelet might have been broken. It circled his wrist as safely as ever. He fell asleep dreaming of woven webs, woven Threadings, and woven bracelets, not knowing which was which.

As Urchin slept, animals all over the island—in trees, in burrows, on shores, and in tunnels—wove and webbed and knotted, whispered and prayed. Nets were hung from trees, over burrows, across cave mouths, and over the shattered windows of the tower. In the Chamber of Candles, Myrtle drew sunflowers on the floor before pulling a blanket over herself and sleeping with her head in Needle’s lap. Hope was ordered by the king to stop working and sleep, so he did. Padra found a heap of thin rope nobody had started on yet, and twisted in into knots.

“It’s been a long time since I did this,” he remarked, and looked across at Urchin to make sure he really was asleep. “He’s good, Crispin. He really is.”