Urchin and the Raven War (34 page)

Leaving the chamber, Fingal met Padra on his way down from the Throne Room. They were running down to the Spring Gate, when they heard shrieks and giggles of delight—very young shrieks and giggles—from a normally quiet corridor on the far side of the Gathering Chamber.

“Sounds good,” said Fingal. “D’ you think they’ll let us join in, whatever it is?”

But by the time they reached the corridor, the giggles had stopped. Tay the otter stood there, drawn up to her full height, her arms folded. Looking up at her was Sepia, more cross than upset, with a huddle of bewildered little squirrels sheltering behind her. Some looked as if they had oil in their fur, some were soapy, and all were very wet.

“They have worked very hard!” Sepia was saying. “They needed time to play and have some fun, and I’m not supposed to watch them all the time. I had to go and see Urchin. Anyway, they haven’t done any harm, and they’re only little.”

“What you think they need, Sepia,” said Tay, “has nothing to do with the case. You are responsible for these animals, and I have never, never in my life witnessed such appalling behavior in Mistmantle Tower.”

“Oh, I have,” said Padra behind her.

Tay turned indignantly as if Padra had no right to be there. Fingal could tell from the tone of his voice that, for once, he would not try to be pleasant.

“I’ve seen far worse behavior than this in the tower,” said Padra quietly. “I’ve seen battles and deceptions and an innocent captain convicted of murder and sent into exile, and so have you, Mistress Tay. So what’s happening here? Hello, Sepia.”

“I came down here,” said Tay, “in order to ascertain the state of the building after the raven attack. Hearing much silly and inappropriate noise, I investigated and found these undisciplined little horrors—Sepia’s choristers, all of them—sliding along the corridors. Really, Sepia, you ought to control them!”

Padra ignored her. He knelt down before two very small squirrels, one with an oily sheen to his fur and one crowned with such a froth of soap bubbles that her ear tufts were almost invisible.

“This looks very exciting,” he said.

“Please, Captain Padra sir,” said the boy. “Please, it wasn’t Miss Sepia’s fault, she wasn’t here, and we’d heard all about, you know, about how the ravens got stuck in the Throne Room, and how, sir, Needle of the Cir.. Threa…Needle, sir, and Crackle the pastry cook put stuff on the floor and made it slippy and the ravens all went sliding about, and we thought—”

“You did not think!”
pronounced Tay.

“Please don’t interrupt, Tay,” said Padra. “It sets the little ones a bad example. So, you two, don’t be afraid. I’m not cross. You wanted to find out what it would be like to slide down the corridors, is that right? This one slopes downhill a little bit, doesn’t it, and goes round the corner.”

“Please, Captain Padra sir, yes, Captain Padra sir.”

“They are running wild!” said Tay. “Sepia, you shouldn’t have this choir if you can’t manage them.”

Padra turned to face her so suddenly that she flinched.

“Tay,” he said, “nobody on this island speaks to Sepia like that. Leave her and the little ones alone.” He turned to the animals again. “Tell me, what did you use to make your slides with?”

They exchanged glances. “We got a bit of oil that they use for lamps,” said one. “But there wasn’t much, and everyone got all stuck with it, so we tried some soapy stuff. It all got a bit mixed up.”

“I see,” said Padra. “Well, I’m afraid we have to get this corridor cleaned now; but let me tell you something: the best place for sliding is that long slope outside, beside the tower staircase. First, you need to ask Sepia if you may. Then you need tea trays. Go and ask very nicely at the kitchens, and take the tea trays back when you’ve finished with them. And be sure you all have a good wash. And thank you for singing so beautifully last night. Thank you, especially, Sepia.” He waved a paw at a mole page hurrying from the Gathering Chamber. “Fetch Jig and Fig to keep an eye on this lot, will you? Sepia’s been looking after Urchin and conducting the choir with the other paw. She must be exhausted.”

The choir were soon on their way to the kitchens, the little animals looking up at Padra with squeaks of thanks and admiration. Tay marched away in disgust, and only Fingal, Sepia, and Padra were left. Fingal looked along the corridor. It shimmered wetly.

“My turn!” he said, and hurled himself along the corridor, gathering speed as he disappeared around a corner. There was a bump and a cry of “Oh,
yes
!”

“He’s happy,” said Padra. Now that Sepia wasn’t standing up to Tay she looked droopy with weariness, and he noticed that her fur hadn’t been brushed, but her tired eyes shone. “Sepia, you really are exhausted, aren’t you? How’s Urchin?”

“He’s sitting up and talking,” she said, almost too weary to smile. “He’s tired of being in bed, and dying to walk. When I went down just now the king was with him, so I didn’t stay—Oh, there’s Juniper.” Juniper and Whittle came into sight, earnestly discussing Brother Fir. “Juniper, don’t go to Urchin; the king’s with him.”

Juniper, Hope, and Whittle arrived in time to see Fingal loping with difficulty up the corridor. The fact that he kept sliding back down didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“You should have followed it around to the left,” said Sepia. “You could have got out at the laundry room and come round the outside.”

“Who cares!” called Fingal. “Anybody want a go?”

“No, thank you,” said Sepia. “I’m scruffy enough already. I’m going for a wash and a little sleep.”

“We all need a wash,” said Padra. “The children smell of raven repellent, and the adults smell of ash. Hope, what are you …”

Hope launched himself down the corridor and vanished around the corner with a cry of “Ooooh!” then a squeak. Whittle hesitated, then joined in.

Juniper watched them, his healer’s satchel over his shoulder. He was a priest. He still had wounded animals to care for, and Brother Fir, watched by the queen in the little turret room, was dying. But that meant that soon he would be the only priest on the island, and might never go on a slide again.

“I’ll hold your satchel,” said Padra.

The opportunity was too good to miss. Juniper gave Padra the satchel, pulled off his priest’s tunic, and threw himself down the slide. Urchin was missing this. Pity. He’d have to take Urchin’s turn for him.

Urchin was sitting up with a bowl of hazelnuts on the table at his elbow. Arran had made one last attempt to persuade him to eat fish, which she said would do him so much good; but Urchin couldn’t stand it, and she had finally given up, afraid that he might be sick if she insisted. Then Apple and Filbert had come, bringing hazelnuts and dithering about whether to stay in the presence of King Crispin.

“Of course you should stay,” said Crispin. “But he’s only allowed visitors briefly, in case he gets too tired. We’ll face the queen’s wrath if we stay too long.”

Apple and Filbert glanced at one another.

“Well, we did want to talk to our Urchin,” said Apple. Crispin stood up.

“I’ll leave you together,” he said, and, from behind them, winked at Urchin. “I’ll be back shortly to throw you both out, on the queen’s orders.”

“Oh, Your Majesty,” said Apple, suddenly looking flustered, “if you can spare a moment, me and Filbert would be most grateful if you’d stay, seeing as how you’ve always been so kind.”

Crispin sat down again. Apple and Filbert glanced at each other, and it was Apple who spoke first.

“It’s like this,” she said. “I never thought a good squirrel would come along and find me, but he did.”

“She’s as good a squirrel as you’d meet in a lifetime in all the island, Your Majesty,” said Filbert. “I’m a shy chap, never had the courage before to ask for a lady’s paw. Besides, I never found one as nice as my old mum, and here she is; so Apple and me, we want to get wed. And it’s not like we were important enough to need Your Majesty’s permission, but we’d like your blessing all the same.”

“And,” said Apple, getting in quickly and folding her arms, “if my Urchin is happy with it, that’s what we need to know, Urchin, because you’re my little lad, and, come to think of, I’d probably marry Filbert even if you wasn’t all right with it, but we’d like it a lot better if you was.”

“Apple, Filbert,” said Crispin. “Blessings on you both. I’m delighted.”

“Yes!” said Urchin. “I mean…I’m astonished. But, yes.”

Floundering for the right words to say, he imagined them under a tree root on a winter evening, sitting on either side of a crackling fire, roasting chestnuts, stretching out their hind paws to the blaze. Perhaps they would hold forepaws. “It’s wonderful,” he said.

“That’s all right, then,” said Apple. “Eat your hazelnuts and drink up your cordial.”

In the evening, Crispin, Cedar, Catkin, Oakleaf, and Almondflower wandered along the beach. Oakleaf and Catkin skimmed stones across the water. Urchin and Juniper had taught them to do that. Almondflower toddled precariously along the beach, picking up pebbles to give to her mother. Then, when Cedar’s paws were full, she put up her paws for Crispin to carry her. Tide and Swanfeather bobbed up to join them.

“All the island’s been happy this afternoon,” said Crispin. “Everyone’s washing. Themselves, their children, their clothes. Washing the bitter taste out of their fur, washing away dust and the soot from the fires, washing the raven taint away. I’ve seen them all over the island, splashing each other in the sea and the waterfalls. It’s wonderful what you can see when you’re riding a swan.”

“What will you do when Crown goes home?” wondered Cedar.

“Remember what my paws are for,” he said. “But it’s a good way of meeting a lot of animals in a short time. Corr’s family is happy for him to stay here, if it’s what he wants. They don’t want to hold him back, and he’ll still see them. His Great-aunt Kerrera is quite a character.”

“I had a long talk with Pitter,” said Cedar. “She desperately wants to stay, so I thought we could put her in charge of growing mendingmoss at strategic parts of the island. Crown says he’ll speak to his father and the Swan Isle squirrels when he gets back, about letting her stay here. But he doesn’t want to go home yet either. He’ll wait for Fir.”

They walked on. In the evening sun, Thripple and Needle sat on the rocks, trimming hats. Myrtle sat drawing in the sand. When Crispin and his family came to them they stood up, and Needle popped a bonnet onto Almondflower’s head.

“Thripple says we shouldn’t even think about the new Threadings just yet,” said Needle as the bonnet tipped over Almondflower’s eyes.

“Quite right,” said Crispin. “Give ourselves a breathing space.” The bonnet tumbled off, and Crispin picked it up. “That’s very pretty.”

“It’s a wedding bonnet for Apple,” said Needle.

“You don’t mean she’s getting a new hat!” exclaimed Crispin.

“I offered to make her this one for a wedding present,” she said. “But”—from the basket beside her she took a pale, dried rosebud—“she took these off her old one. She still has to have these wretched rosebuds.”

They walked farther around the shore, stopping to take a deep breath when they came within sight of the mooring post where Catkin had been tied. The pain of that night stirred in them again, and when Catkin ran to Crispin’s side, he hugged her tightly.