RCHIN STARTED TO TELL CRISPIN 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.”
“Hm,” said Fir. “I should think that Smokewreath was sensitive, too, but he turned his gift to his own ends instead of offering it to the Heart. Yes, Juniper has great potential. He has loyalty and strength of character, more than he realizes himself, I think. Fortunately his heart is turned toward what is good and true. I would be greatly troubled otherwise. But good intentions are not enough, and he needs training. Most important. We must both teach him.”
“Both?” she said, and crossed to the window, where she looked down at the woods and the bare trees. The hope in her heart might just be too good to be true. “Does that mean I’ll be allowed to stay?”
“My dear,” said Fir, “if you think King Crispin will send you away, you’re very much mistaken.”
When she had gone, he chuckled quietly to himself at the idea of Crispin wanting her to leave. His next visitor was Juniper, who stood anxiously, curling his claws.
“It’s a bit awkward, Brother Fir,” he said, and twisted his weak paw around the good one, wishing he hadn’t come. “You know I nearly died on Whitewings?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Well, I…I…I think I really did die.”
“Yes,” said Fir without surprise. “And then what?”
“I sort of saw things,” said Juniper, encouraged. “Things I’d forgotten. I remembered something about my mother, or I think that’s who she must have been. I saw a squirrel face. I fell a long way, and there was a scream. I heard a voice. And that’s all. That’s all I remembered. The next thing I knew I was warm, and everything around me was safe, and Cedar was with me. But in the meantime—it sounds stupid, but I think my heart had stopped. I didn’t feel afraid of Smokewreath after that, but I think he was frightened of me.”
“Yes, I see,” said Fir.
“I didn’t know what to make of it, sir,” he said. “But now Urchin’s found out about his parents, and…and…”
“Yes?”
Juniper bit his lip and tried not to fidget. “Well, he knows about his parents and I still don’t know about mine, and…well, I couldn’t help being jealous, sir, when he found out. Then I thought, what’s to stop me finding out about mine? So that’s what I plan to do.”
“It may not be possible,” said Fir.
“I’m not stupid, sir,” said Juniper. “I’m not much younger than Urchin. The culling law hadn’t been brought in when I was a baby. So I think Damson had another reason for hiding me. She won’t tell me, but I thought you might know.”
“Dear Juniper,” said Fir, “I have no more idea about your beginnings than you have yourself. Has it occurred to you that you may not like the answer?”
“Yes,” he said, “but I still need to find out.”
“Hm,” said Fir, “well, well. If you are determined to find out, it will be a hard journey to make, and it may be a sad one. But it may be that you need to know your past before you can go forward to your future, and your future is vital. I see great potential in you, Juniper. I hope you will study with me.”
“But I’ve never studied anything!” cried Juniper.
“Better start soon, then,” said Fir. “As Cedar observed, you have great gifts, but they must be trained and disciplined or chaos will result. Your gift of sensitivity is not a good or a bad thing in itself. What matters is what you make of it. You could become a great blessing to the island, or you could destroy yourself and everyone around you. Will you be my pupil? Will you be trained to fulfill your potential?”
“Oh, yes, Brother Fir!” cried Juniper.
“As a priest?” said Brother Fir.
Juniper was quiet for a while. Then he said softly, “If you think I’m called to it, Brother Fir. I’ll do it willingly. But I don’t think I’m good enough.”
“Thank the Heart for that,” said Fir.
After Juniper had gone, Fir settled himself by the hearth and contented himself with warmth and firelight. Firelight and moonlight, anyone could see that meant Cedar and Urchin. The Heartstone was the secret. The true, that was dear old Lugg. So the holy, of course, is the only one left. Yes. And may the Heart let me live to see him ready to take my place.
Padra ran down the stairs and found a rosemary bush walking in the other direction. But the rosemary bush wore Apple’s hat, and had Apple’s paws sticking out underneath it, and proved not to be a bush at all, but only a heap of branches.
“For the Gathering Chamber, Captain Padra, sir,” she said. “The moles are off busy doing I don’t know what, moley things, and there’s squirrels off rehearsing and whatnot, and less of us to do the work, and I was that pleased to hold your little girl, right little wrigglepot, Heart love her, isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Of course she is,” said Padra. He helped her carry her burden to the Gathering Chamber, and they paused in the doorway. Crispin and Cedar were talking at a window. Apple lowered her voice to a confidential whisper.
“Better drop this lot and go back for the rest,” she said. “He hasn’t hardly taken his eyes off her, Heart bless him, and quite right, too. We’ll no sooner have him crowned than we’ll have a big wedding to dress up for.”
“Give them a chance,” Padra whispered back. “She’s only just got here.” They were interrupted by Urchin running up the stairs and bowing.
“Reporting for duty, Captain Padra, sir,” he said.
“Urchin,” said Padra. “My orders are as follows. Try to stay on the island long enough to finish your training. In the meantime, ask the king for a token to give to the Whitewings crew to invite them all to the coronation, and to Scatter’s guards. She should be there, too. But, Urchin”—he glanced at Crispin and Cedar and laid a paw on his shoulder—“don’t go to him yet.”
“You must know the worst of me,” Cedar was saying. “I pretended to serve the king while I waited to put Larch on the throne. You could say I’m as foul a traitor as your Gorsen.”
“Nobody,” said Crispin, “could call you traitor. You served your true queen and your island in the best way you could, at great danger to yourself. And as a loyal servant of Whitewings, you can tell me what to do with all these Whitewings moles. Lugg’s troops were ready for their attack, so we have a prison full of them. And the ship’s crew. And Lord Treeth. And Scatter, of course. I want to give Scatter a chance here.”
“I suppose they should be sent home,” said Cedar thoughtfully. “The crew and Scatter should be all right. But Lord Treeth and the soldiers might be more trouble than they’re worth. Larch has only just established herself as queen, and she has so much on her paws already.”
“Then I’ll keep them here under guard for a little longer,” said Crispin. “When we return her ship with a load of Mistmantle earth, I’ll send a message asking Her Majesty’s permission to keep her subjects here until they’ve learned how to behave.”
“Yes, the soldiers will probably obey her when they’ve got it into their heads that she’s the queen,” said Cedar. “I’m not sure about Lord Treeth. He could be a real threat to her.”
“Then I’ll keep him here until she asks for him back,” said Crispin. “He’ll protest, whatever we do, so it makes very little difference to me. And now the tyranny of Whitewings is over, your cause is won, and there are no more battles to fight. I hope you can enjoy your freedom and be happy on Mistmantle.”
Oh, please, thought Cedar. She dared not ask how long she could stay, but she gazed out over Mistmantle as if she could soak up its freshness. Please.