Delphine and the Silver Needle

by Alyssa Moon

  COMMANDANT ROBEAUX SLIPPED DOWN FROM the exhausted horse onto the cobblestones of the castle courtyard, and cursed under his breath. He turned back to the rest of his legion, all in various states of disarray.

  “How could you let that needle disappear?” he roared.

  The rats managed to look everywhere except at him.

  He growled in irritation. After years of castle duty—a pointless assignment given that the mice controlled the entire grounds—he had finally stumbled upon the key to advancing his station. Only for it to slip through his paws like mincemeat.

  One sullen rat piped up. “What’s the big deal with a needle, anyway?”

  Commandant Robeaux turned the full power of his gaze on the whiner, who had the decency to cower under his look. “Haven’t you ever heard of King Midnight’s obsession with needles? He has a whole wall of them in his throne room.”

  “Never even met King Midnight,” the rat muttered, and a few of the others nodded.

  The commandant scoffed. “Well, I have, and I’ve seen his wall of needles. Eleven of them, all as large as human needles, covered in markings just like that one. And let me tell you, he’s been saying for years that if anyone were to ever find another, it’d be worth its weight in gold. More than gold. And he’d make the rat who delivered it the new leader of his army.” He crossed his arms, but there were still glazed expressions on the faces of most of his squad members.

  “There are needles everywhere,” said another rat, picking her teeth with a claw. “Just steal another one.”

  “Not like that one, there aren’t,” spat back Commandant Robeaux.

  It was useless, trying to convince this lot of the importance of the needle. He pointed to the cleverest of his rats. “Victorine. Figure out where that coach was going. We’re finding that needle, even if it means killing that nasty little mouse. The rest of you, hurry up and get back to our side of the castle before we bring the whole treaty down around our ears. And don’t lay a paw on a single one of those castle mice!”

  But as Robeaux gazed into the distance, he wondered if they should shift tactics. Treaty be blasted. He was going to get that needle to King Midnight, at any cost. Nobody would prevent him from finding glory this time.

  The next morning, Delphine looked and felt exactly as if she had fallen off a moving coach the night before. Alexander, on the other hand, somehow appeared as fresh and dapper as a mouse who had slept in a comfy bed instead of on the hard dirt. She gritted her teeth in irritation as she tried to pick bits of dry leaves off her skirts. It was useless.

  “Refreshed?” he asked cheerily, and she fought the urge to smack him.

  “I’m just happy to be here,” she replied in a forced bright tone. She tightened her travel cloak around her and started walking, needle in one paw. Alexander fell into step next to her.

  She looked at him. “Are you following me?”

  “Simply ensuring your safety. And curious about your destination?”

  Delphine considered as she walked. “Not back home, not until I know that the rats won’t follow me there. If they knew where I lived . . .” The thought was too awful to bear.

  Alexander coughed politely. “My lady, perhaps the best course of action would be to return to the castle. May I escort you?” He was walking at a painstakingly slow pace.

  “The rats are there,” Delphine said as she marched on.

  Alexander caught up to her. “True, but . . . do you by chance have an alternative destination in mind?”

  “Of course I don’t.” She turned to face him. “But I have to do something! I have nothing, no clues, no idea where to go. All I have is—”

  “The needle?” he supplied.

  She nodded, tight-lipped.

  “And you’re certain that it can’t help point you in the right—”

  She groaned. “Yes. I’ve been staring at it since before I can remember. There’s nothing there.” But she unwrapped it from the linens anyway, holding it out to him.

  He studied it carefully, then sighed in defeat. “Hmm . . . yes, indeed. I don’t see any clues, either.” He took the linens from her paw, rewrapping the needle carefully. “Why do you have Tymbale linens, anyway? That brotherhood has been gone for years.”

  Delphine stared at him. “What?”

  “The linens.” He pointed at the embroidered design. “That’s the crest of Tymbale Monastery. When I was little, I studied the old crests of all the houses and clans and brotherhoods and sisterhoods and knighthoods. It’s incredible how many there are, but you can get really good at recognizing them if you take the time.”

  Delphine was tearing the linens off the needle, spreading them out to get a better look. “You know what this crest is?!”

  He looked at her a little oddly. “It’s Tymbale. I—Didn’t I just say that?”

  “Yes, but . . .” She grabbed him. “I’ve asked every guest who’s ever come to the château to look at it, and nobody has ever recognized it.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I had a lot of free time as a child.”

  Must have been nice, thought Delphine, remembering the countless hours she had spent on chores and housework before and after school.

  “This is . . .” She paused to gather her thoughts. “This is a real clue. You said ‘Tymbale Monastery’? Then I’m connected to that monastery somehow. Maybe I came from there. Maybe my birth parents lived there!” Her face lit up. “Where is it?”

  “Where is it?” Alexander gave a glib laugh. “I have no idea where it is. That sort of information isn’t important when memorizing old crests. Symbolism is important. The design, the colors, the shapes, that sort of thing.”

  Delphine fought the urge to scream. “So then,” she said very slowly and deliberately, “what can you tell me about Tymbale?”

  “Well . . .” He took the linens again and gazed down at the crest. “If I recall correctly, it was founded by badger monks, who designed the crest centuries ago. These three shapes here that look like unicorn horns represent courage . . . but they’re green, which stands for loyalty. Then this orange thing . . . maybe it’s a crest of feathers? That means ambition, but also . . . obedience.” He looked up at her, confused. “That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  She snatched them out of his paws. “No, it doesn’t, Alexander. Because those aren’t unicorn horns. Those are cypress trees. They’re green because they’re trees.”

  “Trees?”

  “I’ve been staring at this crest over my bed every day of my life. I’m pretty certain.”

  He pointed at the orange plume of feathers. “Then what’s this?”

  “A fox. Obviously.”

  He scrutinized it. “A fox . . . Wait a minute. Delphine! I know what this is referencing!”

  She cocked her head at him.

  “Fox Rock. East of here. It looks exactly like a fox. I remember it from my cartography studies. And—oh!” He jumped in excitement as something else occurred to him. “It’s right next to a cypress forest!”

  “Great.” She wrapped up the needle once more. “Then we go to Fox Rock, and I’ll figure it out from there. Lead the way.”

  Alexander wrinkled his nose. “This has been admittedly enlightening, but I really must insist that we return to the castle, for your safety—”

  She turned, no idea which way she was headed other than it was away from Alexander. “I’m going to go find Fox Rock. You can come with me or not.” She started walking. A moment later, she heard Alexander coming up behind her.

  “My place is with you, my lady. I leapt onto that coach to protect you, and I shall continue to do so.” She could practically hear him puffing up his chest as he spoke.

  Hunger was fast setting in. Delphine had been watching for wild nut trees or berry bushes for hours with no luck. Then, through the thick branches in front of them, came a strange sight. Something huge and orange was peeking through the undergrowth.

  Alexander peered over her shoulder. They could make out the sha
pe better as they grew closer: giant, smooth, resting on massive green leaves, vines twisting neatly up from the dirt.

  “A pumpkin!” breathed Delphine.

  She couldn’t guess how it had been missed by all the hungry forest dwellers, but there it was, large and plump enough that Delphine and Alexander could have hollowed it out and lived inside.

  Her mouth watered as she thought of all of her favorite pumpkin dishes—tarts, soup, éclairs, nutmeats, sausages, butter crêpes. . . .

  Alexander came up beside her. “What is this thing?” He drew out his sword, ready to poke at it.

  “Wait!” Delphine reached for his arm. “Don’t just go filling it full of holes. There’s a right way to do this, and it’s certainly not by starting down here at the bottom.”

  He grumbled at Delphine’s instruction, but removed his cloak and sword belt, placing them alongside the pumpkin as Delphine did the same with her own cloak and the needle. Then she gestured for him to follow as she climbed up on top.

  “You start here”—she pointed to one side of the stem—“and I’ll start there, and we’ll gnaw all the way around in a circle.”

  The look on Alexander’s face was spectacular. “Gnaw?” he said disbelievingly. “You mean with my mouth? On that thing?”

  “It’s a pumpkin, and yes. Haven’t you ever eaten pumpkin?”

  “Well, yes, but . . .” He twisted his cap in his paws. “I didn’t know that it came from something that looked like this.”

  “I’ll show you what to do,” she continued. “It won’t hurt you, I promise. Watch.” She demonstrated how to neatly nip through the surface of the pumpkin. “And then you just keep going. Look, I can do the whole thing on my own if you like, but—”

  Her gambit worked. “No, no! I wouldn’t dream of it.” He jammed his cap back on his head a little more firmly than necessary. “I’m ready.”

  Working in tandem, they moved around the stem. Then, with a few stern kicks, the whole round top fell inside with a wet thud.

  Alexander jumped. “It’s empty?!”

  Delphine was realizing just how sheltered he had been growing up in the castle. “Yes, Alexander,” she replied. “Pumpkins are basically hollow inside.” She crawled down into the interior. “But not entirely!” she called, gathering an armload of the slimy pumpkin pulp and dragging it back up toward the entrance. “Take this!” She shoved the glop up through the hole.

  “Beetles and boils!” came Alexander’s voice. “You expect me to touch that?”

  She sighed. Why had she even asked? “I’ll do it.” Worming her way around the edge, she hauled the glob of pulp onto the top and let it slide over and down to the ground.

  Alexander looked slightly ill.

  “Well, one of us will be having a delicious dinner. The other one can just watch.” She fished out a few more armfuls, then dragged the pulp to the edge of the clearing and piled together some dry twigs into a little fire. Alexander hovered, fascinated.

  “You’ve never seen anyone build a fire before, have you?” she finally said.

  He shook his head, still watching. “I thought you lived in a château.”

  “A château that is in the countryside . . . and we have picnics and bonfires all the time. Don’t you?”

  He shrugged gracefully. “Of course. Catered by the royal kitchens, staffed by the royal servants, with live music and marble furniture to create that certain ambience.”

  “Marble furniture? For a picnic?” It was Delphine’s turn to shake her head in disbelief.

  The pumpkin seeds sizzled and spat in the fire. When they were brown and crispy, she flipped them out with the quick poke of a green twig she had broken off a nearby bush. The shells were so hot that the mice burned their paws on them, but they were too hungry to care. They gobbled them down, picking out the morsels of sweet nutmeat.

  “Those were delicious,” Alexander said drowsily, his head pillowed against a log.

  Delphine rolled her eyes. “Not so bad after all?”

  “Not so bad.” He yawned.

  Thin afternoon sun trickled down into the little clearing in the middle of the forest. Delphine sighed. Her belly full and her fur warm, she felt her eyes grow heavy.

  Even before she had awoken completely, Delphine knew something was wrong. She held perfectly still, cracking open one eye just enough to survey the scene. There was Alexander, snoring away. The fire, burned down low but embers still glowing. The pumpkin, nestled in its vines. Then a movement caught her eye, just behind it. A rank odor hit her nose, and she knew instantly.

  Fox.

  “Alexander,” she whispered as quietly as she possibly could.

  He snored on.

  “Alexander.”

  Terrified to move, but more terrified to remain where she was, Delphine felt around until her paw met a pebble. She tossed it in Alexander’s general direction, not taking her eyes off the pumpkin.

  She heard it thud softly against something, probably his leg. He snuffled. “Quiet!” she hissed. “Listen carefully. There is a fox, just behind the pumpkin. If it hasn’t spotted us already, it will any moment. The only hope we have is to fight.”

  She dared a glance over in Alexander’s direction. He was wide-awake by now. He slid his paw down his side. “My sword!”

  “I know. The needle, too. We put them over there, remember?” She nodded toward the little pile of leaves to the left of the pumpkin. “We just need to get to them.”

  “You want to run toward the fox?” He would have been screeching if he hadn’t been keeping his voice to a whisper.

  “What other choice do we have? We can’t outrun a fox. But we can fool it. I have a plan.”

  Alexander listened as she talked, nodding slowly. “Not a bad idea. It’s still absurd, of course.” He gathered himself. “But I’m ready when you are.”

  She waited for a moment, listening, then squeaked, “Go!”

  They sped toward the leaf pile as fast as their paws would carry them. The closer they drew, the stronger the fox’s odor became. Delphine could feel it filling up her nostrils like the smell of mildew and death. She scrabbled for the needle and could hear Alexander grabbing up his sword.

  Then a dark, wet nose nearly as large as Delphine’s head came around the pumpkin, drawing in a deep sniff of air. They froze. Long white fangs appeared as its lips curved back in a deadly smile, its pitch-black eyes shining with evil.

  “Climb!” Delphine screamed. The mice leapt at the pumpkin, grabbing tight to the surface with their claws. They scrambled to the top and dove down inside. The fox pounced, fangs crashing together where they had been standing moments earlier. It snarled in rage.

  Delphine and Alexander slithered underneath the stem piece that they had pushed inward, now lying at the bottom of the pumpkin. It was cold and wet, but it was also thick and sturdy. It would make an excellent shield against the claws of a fox.

  The pumpkin rocked to and fro as the fox struggled to shove its snout into the opening, but the hole was far too small. It snarled again, refusing to give up. Delphine prayed it wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to roll the pumpkin over, though even if it did, she believed their claws could grip deep into pumpkin meat for a very long time.

  Luckily, they didn’t have to test that theory. The fox’s snout withdrew, replaced a moment later by a paw. The fox swiped from side to side, clawing in every direction. But Delphine was ready.

  Needle and sword drawn, the two mice knelt behind the pumpkin lid, watching as the sweeping paw drew closer and closer. “Wait for it,” whispered Delphine. “One, two, three!”

  Just as the paw passed above their heads, they stabbed forward in a concerted effort. The fox yelped in surprise, then clawed more furiously than before.

  “Begone, vile creature!” squeaked Alexander. He stepped out from behind the lid, then slipped on the slimy interior and fell flat on his face in some of the remaining stringy pulp. Delphine watched in horror as he struggled to get free but instead be
came even more intertwined with the pulpy strands. The paw flashed downward once more.

  Delphine leapt forward, needle outstretched, jabbing like wildfire at the fox’s paw, until it finally withdrew with another yelp. A moment later, they could hear the thumps of the fox’s footfalls as it retreated into the forest.

  She turned to the pumpkin-covered lump that was Alexander. “Would you like some help extricating yourself?”

  He wiped a large glob of pulp from his surcoat, ears pink with embarrassment. “That would be lovely.”

  They slept underneath a pile of geranium leaves and found themselves soaked by the dew in the morning. Not the best start, Delphine thought. But at least they were on their way to the monastery. “We’ll catch the next vehicle headed east,” she said as they breakfasted on leftover pumpkin seeds.

  Alexander shook his head. “Too dangerous. The rats know we traveled here by coach. They’ll assume we’ll continue to do so, and check every coach within a thousand paw’s-lengths. We should keep walking.”

  Delphine stared at Alexander. That was the last thing she had expected him to suggest, and it sounded like a recipe for disaster. She couldn’t imagine he’d ever walked farther than the castle gardens in his life. “Are you sure?”

  Alexander straightened to his full height. “I shall withstand any travails to protect you, my lady.”

  Let him find out just how hard it is to travel like a common mouse, Delphine thought. “Very well,” she said. “Let’s go, then.”

  Delphine doggedly set the pace. It was a long day, and by the time the sun was touching the horizon, she was ready to lie down right there in the grass. But she knew better. Alexander, blissfully ignorant of the dangers, had rallied to keep going “and make use of the moonlight” until Delphine pointed out an early owl coasting overhead. After that, Alexander was even more enthusiastic than she was about finding a safe place to hide for the night.

  Day after day, step after step, they traveled, hiding in the undergrowth whenever a coach passed. The roads were dusty when dry, and slippery when soaked by rains. They spent their time alternating between choking on dust and squelching through mud.