“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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HE GATHERING CHAMBER WAS SO CRAMMED that Urchin wondered how the smaller creatures could keep breathing. Every ledge, seat, and windowsill was occupied. Squirrels even sat on lamp brackets, and the new gallery was so crammed that Urchin, wearing a deep red cloak and carrying a sword, couldn’t help glancing up at it in case it collapsed altogether. If that happened, a band of hedgehogs, the crews of the Whitewings ships, Scatter, Apple, Damson, and several small moles would land on the otters. Rosemary and holly, twined with gold ribbons and bright with berries, hung from the walls, and garlands stretched from the ceilings. Cloaks were bright, caps and bonnets were proud with ribbons and greenery, and Apple had trimmed her hat with feathers given by the Whitewings swans. Choirs sang. Everyone sang. And when Padra, as senior captain, and Fir, in a new embroidered tunic, proclaimed Crispin king, the cheering echoed and thundered as if the Chamber could not contain it.
The Heartstone was placed in its box so that Needle could carry it to Fir. Crispin had chosen Needle to do that, as she had looked for it for so long. On Crispin’s paw it shone as peacefully as if it had come home, and never wanted to move again. Urchin knew what that felt like.
Scatter was there, looking very tiny, wedged between two large squirrels. Her eyes shone as she watched the ceremony. She wore a small and elegant hat, which Urchin guessed might have been a present from Thripple. Thripple was like that.
Enthroned, Crispin sat upright and alone—but Padra stood to one side and Lugg on the other, with Arran behind them. The otters wore their turquoise blue and silver robes, Lugg wore deepest red, and Crispin was clothed in a mantle of green, so worked with golden leaves and spiderwebs and tiny animals that Needle could hardly take her eyes from it.
In old, gnarled paws, Fir lifted the crown high. Animals craned their necks to see it, whispering to each other of the craftsmanship. Oak leaves and acorns were woven into a wreath and, small but clear in the workmanship, worked in white shell, were stars and a swan. A shiver ran through Urchin. Stars and a swan. He had been there.
Prayers were said. Crispin made his promises to the islanders, and heads were bowed as the animals made their promises to him. And Urchin, joining in, with his paw on his sword, remembered that this was the young squirrel who had picked him up from the shore on the morning of his birth. He glanced over his shoulder at the Threading of another flame-red squirrel.
It’s all right now, Lady Whisper, thought Urchin. He’ll be all right.
As Fir pressed the crown over Crispin’s ears, it was as if a sigh of joy and relief ran through the Gathering Chamber. With a billowing of cloaks, every animal knelt. And a sweet, clear voice sang from the gallery like an enchantment.
Here we bring Crispin,
Swanrider Crispin,
Sing for the king to the mist and the tide…
It was Sepia. Urchin looked for Cedar and caught her eye.
“Thank you!” he whispered, and she smiled back.
When the procession had left the Chamber, Urchin followed Padra and Crispin to the anteroom. Tables were set up in the Gathering Chamber for the feast. Even in the depth of winter the Chamber had become misted and hot, and Urchin went to open a window, welcoming the cold fresh air. It was snowing again, and it would lie till tomorrow.
There was one thing still to do. Urchin, helping Padra and Crispin with their robes, told them what it was.
“The sword the ambassadors offered you?” said Crispin. “It’s still in the Throne Room. Do you want it?”
“No,” said Urchin earnestly. “No, I don’t want it. It was meant to trick me, and it was used against you. But I don’t want it lying around, either, and as it’s mine I think I should do something about it. All that’s happened, Whitewings and everything, it isn’t properly finished until this is done. And I’d like a witness, please.”
Later that evening, while Sepia and Needle danced at the party, a small boat rocked its way across the dark waves toward the mists. When it was as far out as it needed to be, Pa
dra shipped the oars.
Urchin held up the sword in the moonlight. Its exquisite workmanship was as beautiful as ever, but its pattern of twists and knots seemed to tell him of deceit and imprisonment and the trickery of silver. Pushing back his cloak, balancing himself carefully so he could throw hard, he flung the sword forward toward the mists. For a moment it twisted and flashed, and there was a gentle splash as it hit the water.
An overwhelming sense of peace fell on Urchin. It filled him and made him warm, like the feeling of being loved. Softly, as he had said it in his prison cell on Whitewings, he whispered, “Good night.”
Then he took his place beside Padra, and side by side, they rowed back to Mistmantle.
Praise for The Mistmantle Chronicles
“McAllister creates a beautiful world where animals are carried away by the gentle waves of the sea and others are born on nights of riding stars. It’s hard not to root for little Urchin and his friends when some very big evil threatens to ruin their beautiful world.” – The Washington Post
“[Urchin’s…] adventures twist and turn beautifully. McAllister continues to build an enchanting world on Mistmantle. –
VOYA
About the Author
M.I. McAllister is the author of all the books in the Mistmantle Chronicles. She is married to a minister and has three grown children. She lives in England. Learn more at www.margaretmcallister.co.uk.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Urchin and the Heartstone Page 23
