Urchin and the Heartstone (35 page)
RCHIN STARTED TO TELL
C
RISPIN
all he had heard about the Mistmantle hedgehog rebellion, but when he heard that it was all over, the surge of relief and thankfulness sent him running down the rope to the jetty. Sepia and Needle reached him first, but it was Apple who hugged him, passing Swanfeather to Sepia so that she could wrap Urchin in her warm and powerful embrace that smelled of soup and spice. The tears in her eyes made Urchin hurt at the thought of her long, worried wait for him. He tried to apologize for being kidnapped in the first place, but it was no good—Apple was talking so much and so fast that it was no use trying to say anything. Along with Juniper and Damson, he was dragged to the warmth beside the fire, where the smoke made him rub his eyes and gaze all he wanted at Mistmantle Tower, as the bonfire and starlight showed it against the night. Warm dry cloaks were wrapped around them, and someone brought cups of hot, rich soup that tasted of Mistmantle, and not of gray dust. Lugg, hugged by his wife and daughters and with a grandson in each arm, had disappeared among a mound of moles. Urchin looked around for Cedar and saw Crispin escorting her, and the crew, from the ship. Needle brought him walnut bread, and Fir hobbled toward them.
Urchin had forgottten the depth and goodness in the old priest’s face. Joy and love shone in his eyes.
“I suggest all you valiant travelers come to my tower,” he said. “Hm. It will be crowded. But the night is passing, and I don’t think any of us will sleep.”
When they were crowded into Fir’s turret, Urchin finally knew that he was home, and was staying. The apple logs were on the fire and the old saucepan on the hearth. He found himself wedged between Padra on one side and Juniper on the other.
“You smell of Apple’s cordial,” whispered Padra. “She hasn’t forced it down you already, has she?”
“No, and I haven’t got lice, either, before you ask, sir,” Urchin whispered back.
“Lice wouldn’t go near it,” said Padra. Urchin curled up with his arms around his knees. He was back among animals who hugged you and squashed up beside you and didn’t mind much what you smelled of.
As the stars faded and the sky paled, Urchin, Juniper, Cedar, and Lugg told their story and Needle, Padra, and Arran told all that had happened on Mistmantle. The more Urchin heard, the more he realized how long he’d been away, and how much he’d missed. No wonder he couldn’t keep his eyes open…. Cedar was talking about her hopes for the future of Whitewings and Crispin was watching her…Oh, yes…I know who she reminds me of…obvious…his eyes were closing again. Was Padra talking about babies? What babies? Oh.
When morning was completely morning and Urchin had dozed enough to be wide awake again, he went back to the shore. Padra, Crispin, and Cedar were talking to the ship’s crew and discussing the return of the ship with some Mistmantle earth, something to grow in it, and anyone who’d rather live on Whitewings than Mistmantle. Urchin couldn’t understand why anyone
would
rather live on Whitewings than Mistmantle.
“You might, if it were the only home you’d ever known,” said Crispin, “and if all your family and friends lived there.” Cedar didn’t say anything.
Various young animals, with a lot of splashing from Fingal, were unloading the ballast from the ship and playing with it. Hope trundled about, choosing pebbles for Thripple. Fir and Needle came down, Fir smiling brightly.
“Your Whitewings friend is an expert healer,” he said. “She may be able to help poor Sepia.”
“She healed me,” said Juniper. “I need to talk to you about that, Brother Fir.”
Hope trotted over to Urchin with a pebble. “That’s for you,” he said, and ran away again, making a detour around Arran, bumping into a rock and apologizing to it.
“There’s one for Captain Lady Arran, and one for Sepia…”
“I remember who Cedar reminds me of now,” said Urchin, looking at Cedar. “I didn’t know until I saw her with Crispin, but she’s very like Whisper.”
“Oh, is she?” said Arran with sudden interest.
“…and one for Brother Fir…oops…”
Needle gasped. She knelt on the sand by Hope.
“…Oops, I dropped it again….” said Hope.
“Fir!” shouted Needle urgently. “Brother Fir!”
“It’s a nice one,” said Hope.
Fir hobbled over with Juniper beside him. For the first and only time in his life, Urchin heard Brother Fir shout.
“Your Majesty! Crispin! Here!”
Juniper scooped up the pebble and dropped it into Fir’s paw. It lay there as if contented; pale, flecked with pink and peach with a thread of gold. Crispin and Padra stared down at it. Animals, hearing Fir’s shout, ran to see what was happening.
“What is it?” asked Cedar.
“It is the Heartstone of Mistmantle,” said Fir gravely. “Well done, Needle, who never stopped searching. Well done, little Hope.”
“Did I find the Heartstone?” said Hope. “Where’s Mummy, can I tell her?”
“Yes, Hope,” said Needle. “Does that mean we can have the coronation now?”
“We’ll wait for the Whitewings moles to turn up first and sort them out,” said Crispin.
“And then crown him,
please
, Fir, quickly, before he thinks of anything else,” said Padra.
“Can I tell Mummy about that too?” asked Hope.
“Tell everyone!” said Crispin.
“That explains why we had so many ships from Whitewings,” said Fir. “Hm. I understand it now. Husk must have taken the Heartstone in its box and tipped it into the ballast heap so that it would be taken away from the island. But it was trying to find its way back. From Whitewings it must have been loaded onto a ship coming to Mistmantle, but then, lying in another ballast heap, it would have been taken away again unnoticed. It may have happened many times. It’s the Secret, you see. The Secret that brought you home.”
“There are things about Mistmantle that Husk never understood,” said Crispin.
“Dear king, there are things about Mistmantle that none of us understand,” said Fir. “Where we cannot understand, we can still love. Hm! Dear Mistress Cedar, if you are to stay for the coronation, perhaps you would like something suitable to wear.”
“Mum will make you something,” volunteered Hope gladly, and took her paw. Crispin watched Hope lead her to the tower.
By midday, exhaustion was catching up with Urchin. Most of the young squirrels wanted to go to Watchtop Hill to play in the snow, and were told that they could do what they liked so long as they behaved themselves and were ready for the coronation when the time came. Needle had finally finished some sewing that seemed very important to her. Urchin reported to Padra.
“I’ve forgotten how to give you orders,” said Padra. “Go and throw snowballs at Fingal for me.”
Urchin spent a wonderful afternoon with the others, throwing snowballs, making slides, and building snow squirrels with pebble eyes and tails that always dropped off. Even Gleaner joined in, though she couldn’t resist telling Needle that whoever Cedar might be, she didn’t match up to Lady Aspen, and when Needle threw a snowball at her she ran up a tree and sulked. When it was too dark to go on, they all realized how wet and cold they were, and slid and tumbled and bounced their way to their homes. After a hasty supper at the Tower, Urchin ran through the familiar corridors to the Spring Gate and the little chamber next to Padra’s, and to the scene he had dreamed of.
The small, plain bed waited for him. The fire had been lit. Urchin gazed into the flames. There could be nowhere, nowhere in the whole world as beautiful as this, with the sea swishing outside and Padra and Arran in the next room. At last he left the fire and curled up, pulling the blankets into a nest around him and trying to stay awake. He had looked forward to this so much, he mustn’t sleep through it now. But as the warmth seeped into him, he could at least close his eyes.
Padra and Arran tiptoed into the chamber.
“What has he been through?” said Padra. “Will we ever know it all?” He leaned closer. “He’s wearing a bracelet. What do you think that’s about? A girl?”
Arran looked carefully, and shook her head.
“It’s very old. Faded and worn. And the hair in it is his own color.”
“I wonder if he’ll tell us,” said Padra.
In the morning, Urchin met with Crispin, Padra, and Fir in the Throne Room, and told them about his parents. They listened quietly, and it seemed to him that they listened as if they were listening to a grownup animal, not a young page. Then Fir excused himself because, he said, he was expecting visitors at his turret.
Cedar was first to arrive. “I have seen Sepia,” she said, settling herself on the low stool he offered. “I may be able to help. But I must ask you to pray, because I don’t know if I can do this. Sometimes I don’t really heal them. Sometimes, when it’s beyond my skill, I think the Heart heals them, if they can receive it. It was like that with Juniper. He’s extra-sensitive, isn’t he? He’s aware of things at levels most of us don’t notice. Flame and I talked with him a lot while he was with us. He sensed danger about the Whitewings ship, and about Smokewreath, and I think Smokewreath sensed him, too, and was uneasy, as if something about Juniper threatened him. There’s something special about Juniper.”