Urchin and the Rage Tide (25 page)

Juniper’s gaze rested on the velvet bag still around Crispin’s neck.

“Are you thinking of the Heartstone?” he asked.

“I’m trying
not
to think of the Heartstone,” admitted Crispin. “Let’s look at the facts. Husk tried to get rid of it by sending it away, but it kept returning to Mistmantle until it returned forever. When it finally did come home, you, Urchin, Cedar, and Lugg came with it. The Heartstone brought you through the mists. It could bring Sepia, too. But it’s not that simple, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” said Juniper. “The Heartstone is far deeper and more complex that any of us can ever know.”

“I couldn’t help wondering,” said Crispin thoughtfully, “if we kept the Heartstone in its bag so that Corr could take it, he could row the boat home with her in it, and put it around her neck, so that she’d get through. Simple. But it’s as if there’s something I’m not seeing.”

“Oh, yes,” said Juniper as if he were talking to the empty grate. “There is.” He looked up into the king’s eyes. “It’s the Heartstone, Your Majesty, not a magnet. Sepia once came to me to tell me about something she’d done. It’s not something I’d normally tell you, but in the circumstances, and in the strictest confidence, I will. That night when she rescued Catkin, she came up here intending to take the Heartstone so that she could be sure of getting them both back safely.”

“Sepia did that!” exclaimed Crispin.

“Yes, Sepia,” said Juniper. “She was afraid of being carried off through the mists and she knew that the Heartstone had brought Urchin and me home, so she thought it would do the same for her. But she never got a paw to it. Brother Fir woke up, and she told him what she meant to do. He was very understanding, the way he was about most things.”

“Yes,” said Crispin. “He would be. But it’s hard to believe that Sepia did that.”

“There you are,” said Juniper. “You know in your heart that it’s not an acceptable thing to do. Sepia had to learn that the Heartstone isn’t something we can use, or just pass from paw to paw. It’s not a magic charm or a tool to get us through the mists. We have to treat it with respect. It’s a gift, but a powerful one. We don’t have the right to make use of it.”

Crispin finished the cordial and put down the cup. His paw rested on the familiar shape of the sword hilt at his side, and it occurred to him that it was a long time since he’d had a fencing match with Urchin. It would be good to do that again.

“If we can’t use the Heartstone,” he said, “I believe there may be one other way. There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Then Juniper remembered the words of the prophecy. When he began to understand it, he thought his heart would break.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPIA LAY CURLED UP IN THE BOAT
, dreaming and crying out. In her dreams she saw her song cave, but the walls seemed to grow dark and close in on her. Shuddering convulsed her. Somebody slipped water into her mouth, and she coughed. She heard the sounds of battle, reliving a long-ago day of flashing swords and torn Threadings. There was a tall hedgehog with his paws around her throat—but now somebody was singing to her. She tasted honey, the sweetest honey with a taste of flowers and sunshine. Rain fell on her face, and somebody wrapped a cloak around her.

She dreamed of her friends, of the shore, and of singing. Then she was in another boat, with a wild-eyed squirrel springing at her—she screamed. The ravens were coming, the ravens that flew at her in her nightmares—somebody was saying her name. She wanted it to be Urchin, but knew that it wasn’t.

Silver on the sea. She remembered, long ago, a track of silver across the sea. It had brought her home, but there was no trace of silver now. Pain, weakness, and the longing for home made her whimper.

Crown pulled the cloak around her to keep the rain from falling on her. That cloak had probably saved her, that and his own protecting wing. He tried to see through the mists, watching and listening for Corr to come back.

“Heart,” whispered Sepia.

“Heart keep you,” said Crown.

“Heart,” prayed Urchin as he stood on the shore and looked out to the mists.

Heart, thought Needle, turning her face away, not wanting to cry on the pillow she was sewing for Sepia.

Heart, thought Princess Catkin as she pattered into Sepia’s chamber with a soft white quilt and flowers, beause making Sepia’s room ready helped her to believe that Sepia would sleep there again.

In the priest’s tower, Juniper remembered something else from long ago. “Crispin,” he said, “that night, when Sepia went out to Catkin’s rescue—Brother Fir told her to trust the Heart, and not the Heartstone.”

Trust the Heart and not the Heartstone.

“Thank you,” answered Crispin. “I know what to do now.”

The island was a beautiful place, an island of plenty for all—not just food, drink, and shelter, but love and work, happiness and strength—all the things that made every waking day good. The Heart had broken with love for Mistmantle, and more hearts would break for the island’s future.

“We still have a day until the medicine is ready,” said Juniper.

“I’ll use it well,” said Crispin. “Good night, Juniper. Thank you.” He stopped to take a last look from Juniper’s tower, marveling at the simple and everyday beauty of turf, sea thrift, rocks, sand, and sea. “I love Mistmantle so much.”

Juniper decided that, as he wouldn’t sleep, he might as well spend the night in prayer. All night, he lifted his heart to the Heart for Urchin, for Catkin, for Oakleaf, and little Almondflower. For Captain Padra, who had always been at Crispin’s side. For Crispin and Cedar, who walked paw in paw along the shore, before turning back at last to the tower and the soft, cool pillows waiting for them. He prayed for Crown and Sepia in the little boat bobbing beyond the mists as cold and darkness fell, and there were tears on his face.

Urchin slept lightly that night in a boat near the jetty, wrapped in his cloak, ready to put to sea if he needed to. He slept at last, and woke to the feeling that, although the air was as quiet and still as only the early morning could be, there were other animals about.

He sat up, eased the crick in his neck, and looked around. Silently, the islanders were gathering to watch for Sepia. Lady Cott the mole, her daughters Wren, Wing, and Moth, and her grandchildren were huddled together outside a tunnel entrance. Sepia’s family was there. Pitter and Scatter hugged each other for comfort. Padra and Tide watched. Needle and Scufflen gazed out to sea. A familiar tread behind him made him turn his head reluctantly from the long, unyielding sea and the mists. Apple was on her way with Hope.

“It’s no good sitting there, Urchin,” she said. “Won’t bring her home, staring out at the sea.” Hope climbed into the boat beside him. “She’ll get back, don’t you worry, I’ll have some lovely cordial ready for her, it’ll do her the power of good, I’ll give it to the queen for her, didn’t it help bring you around when you were ill? I had a proper good chat with her and King Crispin this morning.”

“This morning?” repeated Urchin.

“They were up bright and early, the king and queen,” she said. “Reckon they’re having a little break. They were going up to Anemone Wood and having a little chat with folks on their way. Took a bit of a trip around the coast.”

“He must be checking for storm damage,” said Urchin—but that didn’t make sense, because Crispin had already done all that.

“I have something to tell you, Urchin,” said Hope. “The king says you’re to go to the Gathering Chamber this afternoon at high tide.”

“Did he say why?” asked Urchin.

“No,” said Hope.

“And is the medicine…?”

“The queen says no, it isn’t,” said Hope, and squeezed Urchin’s paw. “Sorry.”

At high tide Urchin ran up to the Gathering Chamber. Even though his heart and mind were reaching out beyond the mists, the habits of behavior remained. He smoothed his ear tufts and tail tip, adjusted his sword, and strode into the chamber.

He had never tried to understand how an occasion, or a place, could feel happy and solemn at the same time, but it was like that now, with the Gathering Chamber windows open and a breeze wafting the curtains. The chairs had been removed, and the Threadings hung at last in their places again as if there had been no storms and no floods. The door to the antechamber where ceremonial robes were kept stood open. Cedar, Catkin, and Oakleaf were there, the queen on her throne with Catkin and Oakleaf sitting at her feet, and Padra, Arran, and Fingal behind her. Docken stood by the window with Thripple, Hope, and Hope’s little sister Mopple, and Needle was near them. Spade the mole, Moth, Juniper—why were all his old friends here? Was it a meeting of the Circle? And as he wondered, the king emerged from the anteroom with such a light in his eyes and such a buoyancy in his step that he reminded Urchin of the Captain Crispin of long ago. It was only seeing Crispin looking so young that made him realize how much older he’d grown since he had become king, and, most of all, since the war against the ravens. Urchin bowed. This was his hero.