it out yet,” suggested Urchin, to be helpful. He didn’t know anything about babies, but it made sense to him.
“Yes!” said Needle, brightening up. “Yes, that’ll be it! He just hasn’t wanted to uncurl his claws yet! He’ll be all right.”
“I’d better go, then,” said Urchin. “I’m looking for Captain Padra.”
“Why didn’t you say?” said Needle. “He just went up the stairs to Fir’s turret.”
Padra had been in the turret for some time while Urchin was with Needle. He often went there when he needed to think out loud, though as a sea animal he disliked heights. Instead of looking down, he stared out at the wide, gray sea.
“The work parties start earlier and earlier,” Padra said. “Winter’s coming, when everyone just wants to keep warm and get enough to eat. I know the work has to be done, but we managed for years up to now without animals being rounded up before dawn and heaving timber about all day.” He turned impatiently. “It’s far worse since Crispin went.”
“Hm,” said Brother Fir. “And why is that, do you suppose?”
“Either the king’s still angry and is taking it out on everyone else,” said Padra, “or he knows some reason why we need to do extra work and he hasn’t told the rest of us, or ”—his tail swished in irritation—“the instructions aren’t from the king at all. I think this is all Husk’s idea, but he couldn’t get away with so much when Crispin was here.”
“Hm,” said Fir.
“Husk spends more time with the king than anyone else does,” said Padra. “I think he’s the one giving orders, but like everything else about Husk, it can’t be proved.”
“You are still seething about the trial,” observed Fir, and was interrupted by a polite little tapping at the door. “That’s Urchin’s knock.”
“Wait outside, Urchin,” called Padra.
“Why should he?” said Fir, and bent stiffly to put a saucepan of cordial to warm by the fire. “Let the lad come in, have his drink, and hear what you think about Captain Husk.”
“Of course not!” said Padra. “He’s only a young page; we can’t involve him!”
“Ah, but he already is involved,” said Fir. “And too young to be left in danger, and he certainly will be in danger if he isn’t warned.” He turned a gaze of deep intensity on Padra. “We’re not talking about just any young squirrel lad, you know.”
“He has a great future, I think,” said Padra.
“Oh, please, Padra!” said Fir. “Do I have to do your thinking for you? Is it something to do with that otter-shaped head? Think, can’t you? After a night of riding stars, something important always happens. After the last one, the prince was killed and Crispin was exiled. But on the one all those years ago, before you and Crispin were captains, nothing dramatic happened at all. Unless you count the arrival of one lost, scrappy baby squirrel.” He raised his voice. “Urchin, come in!”
Urchin hopped into the chamber, wondering why they’d kept him waiting. He bowed smartly to Fir, then to Padra.
“Heart bless you, Urchin,” said Fir.
“Heart bless you, too, Brother Fir, and reporting for duty, Captain Padra, sir,” gabbled Urchin.
“Oh, report for a hot drink while you’re about it, what’s the hurry?” said Fir, filling a wooden cup from the saucepan. The aroma of hot, spiced fruit rose from the cup, and Urchin folded his paws gratefully around it.
“Your captain has time to waste with a creaky old squirrel like me,” went on Fir. “But don’t get him angry, Urchin. He’s still cross about Crispin’s trial.”
“If you can call it a trial.” Padra glanced at Fir, knelt to be nearer to Urchin’s level, and lowered his voice. “I think you’re too young to be told this, Urchin, but Fir thinks you should know, and he’s usually right. I don’t know how Husk fixed the casting of lots, but I suspect he did. And he was better placed to kill the prince than anyone else was. I
“Yes!” said Needle, brightening up. “Yes, that’ll be it! He just hasn’t wanted to uncurl his claws yet! He’ll be all right.”
“I’d better go, then,” said Urchin. “I’m looking for Captain Padra.”
“Why didn’t you say?” said Needle. “He just went up the stairs to Fir’s turret.”
Padra had been in the turret for some time while Urchin was with Needle. He often went there when he needed to think out loud, though as a sea animal he disliked heights. Instead of looking down, he stared out at the wide, gray sea.
“The work parties start earlier and earlier,” Padra said. “Winter’s coming, when everyone just wants to keep warm and get enough to eat. I know the work has to be done, but we managed for years up to now without animals being rounded up before dawn and heaving timber about all day.” He turned impatiently. “It’s far worse since Crispin went.”
“Hm,” said Brother Fir. “And why is that, do you suppose?”
“Either the king’s still angry and is taking it out on everyone else,” said Padra, “or he knows some reason why we need to do extra work and he hasn’t told the rest of us, or ”—his tail swished in irritation—“the instructions aren’t from the king at all. I think this is all Husk’s idea, but he couldn’t get away with so much when Crispin was here.”
“Hm,” said Fir.
“Husk spends more time with the king than anyone else does,” said Padra. “I think he’s the one giving orders, but like everything else about Husk, it can’t be proved.”
“You are still seething about the trial,” observed Fir, and was interrupted by a polite little tapping at the door. “That’s Urchin’s knock.”
“Wait outside, Urchin,” called Padra.
“Why should he?” said Fir, and bent stiffly to put a saucepan of cordial to warm by the fire. “Let the lad come in, have his drink, and hear what you think about Captain Husk.”
“Of course not!” said Padra. “He’s only a young page; we can’t involve him!”
“Ah, but he already is involved,” said Fir. “And too young to be left in danger, and he certainly will be in danger if he isn’t warned.” He turned a gaze of deep intensity on Padra. “We’re not talking about just any young squirrel lad, you know.”
“He has a great future, I think,” said Padra.
“Oh, please, Padra!” said Fir. “Do I have to do your thinking for you? Is it something to do with that otter-shaped head? Think, can’t you? After a night of riding stars, something important always happens. After the last one, the prince was killed and Crispin was exiled. But on the one all those years ago, before you and Crispin were captains, nothing dramatic happened at all. Unless you count the arrival of one lost, scrappy baby squirrel.” He raised his voice. “Urchin, come in!”
Urchin hopped into the chamber, wondering why they’d kept him waiting. He bowed smartly to Fir, then to Padra.
“Heart bless you, Urchin,” said Fir.
“Heart bless you, too, Brother Fir, and reporting for duty, Captain Padra, sir,” gabbled Urchin.
“Oh, report for a hot drink while you’re about it, what’s the hurry?” said Fir, filling a wooden cup from the saucepan. The aroma of hot, spiced fruit rose from the cup, and Urchin folded his paws gratefully around it.
“Your captain has time to waste with a creaky old squirrel like me,” went on Fir. “But don’t get him angry, Urchin. He’s still cross about Crispin’s trial.”
“If you can call it a trial.” Padra glanced at Fir, knelt to be nearer to Urchin’s level, and lowered his voice. “I think you’re too young to be told this, Urchin, but Fir thinks you should know, and he’s usually right. I don’t know how Husk fixed the casting of lots, but I suspect he did. And he was better placed to kill the prince than anyone else was. I
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