will,” said Padra bluntly. “But they do need to realize what they’re doing.”
“Killing themselves is what they’re doing!” insisted Fingal.
“That’s why we need to break the hold Mossberry has over them,” said Padra. “The waters will soon be chaotic, and if they think they’re just going to float back home through the mists because Mossberry says so, they’re dangerously mistaken. And they must not drag their children along with them.”
“It’s insane!” exclaimed Fingal, and muttered something about the rain. “To try to go through the mists? And tonight! Not even an otter would take the water tonight! Hail and fire, how can they do that to their children?”
“They’d go through fire and water for Mossberry,” said Padra. “He’s like Husk—bit of character, bit of dash, bit of something else, and some silly animals believing all he says. And he’s not at all sane.” He stopped suddenly, and pointed. “There!”
Below them, where the cliffs became shallower and the paths wider, a small trickle of animals could be seen winding their way down the rocks toward the coast. Fingal, turning his head away against the rain, said softly, “Look! The king’s sent reinforcements.”
Urchin turned to look. Here and there, in twos and threes, half hidden by the rocks, were small bands of animals. At this distance and in the shadows it was hard to tell who was who, but he could recognize Tipp and Todd among them, and Russet and Heath. He could just make out the outline of small boats drawn up at the water’s edge.
“Come on, then,” said Padra. “Crispin’s reinforcements are all keeping in the shadows, so it seems we’re not meant to be seen. I suppose the idea is not to cause a panic. So we get down to the shore quietly, around by the headland, and get there before the Mossberryists do.”
Fingal and Urchin followed him through narrow, rocky paths until Urchin felt sand under his paws instead of rocks, and the cliffs towered above him. The three of them pressed their backs against the rocks, staying in shadow. At a subtle movement beside them, all three reached for their swords.
“It’s only me,” said a low voice.
“Crispin!” whispered Padra. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“I’m not staying in a warm burrow while you’re down here,” whispered Crispin. “I need to be here.”
A small figure stood beside the king, and a little behind him. When Urchin saw who it was, his heart seemed to shudder and hurt.
He was usually glad to see Sepia, but he didn’t want her to be here, in the most dangerous part of the island, when all the other animals were safe. He wondered why King Crispin had let her come here—but Padra had just said that animals might be willing to take their children beyond the mists. There was the little squirrel they had met on the hill, for a start. All the very young animals, especially Sepia’s choristers, adored her.
He could see now why the king had brought her. She had asked to be there as someone for the little ones to run to, and Crispin had agreed.
“There,” whispered the king. “That cleft in the rock. That’s where Mossberry intends to bring them out. I don’t want to lose a single animal tonight, but if Mossberry insists on throwing himself to the waves, he will. I just don’t want him taking whole families of deluded animals with him.”
Sepia watched the opening in the rock, and Urchin watched Sepia. Once, she looked up suddenly as if she felt she was being watched, caught his gaze, and gave a nervous smile.
“Take care,” he mouthed at her, and she nodded, still smiling. Not knowing whether she had understood him or not, he leaned his head back against the cliff. He’d been meaning to ask her something so important—in fact, he’d been putting it off and waiting for the best time—but he couldn’t very well ask her anything here and now.
In the shadows, Crispin turned his head.
“Ready,” he said, “but don’t move
“Killing themselves is what they’re doing!” insisted Fingal.
“That’s why we need to break the hold Mossberry has over them,” said Padra. “The waters will soon be chaotic, and if they think they’re just going to float back home through the mists because Mossberry says so, they’re dangerously mistaken. And they must not drag their children along with them.”
“It’s insane!” exclaimed Fingal, and muttered something about the rain. “To try to go through the mists? And tonight! Not even an otter would take the water tonight! Hail and fire, how can they do that to their children?”
“They’d go through fire and water for Mossberry,” said Padra. “He’s like Husk—bit of character, bit of dash, bit of something else, and some silly animals believing all he says. And he’s not at all sane.” He stopped suddenly, and pointed. “There!”
Below them, where the cliffs became shallower and the paths wider, a small trickle of animals could be seen winding their way down the rocks toward the coast. Fingal, turning his head away against the rain, said softly, “Look! The king’s sent reinforcements.”
Urchin turned to look. Here and there, in twos and threes, half hidden by the rocks, were small bands of animals. At this distance and in the shadows it was hard to tell who was who, but he could recognize Tipp and Todd among them, and Russet and Heath. He could just make out the outline of small boats drawn up at the water’s edge.
“Come on, then,” said Padra. “Crispin’s reinforcements are all keeping in the shadows, so it seems we’re not meant to be seen. I suppose the idea is not to cause a panic. So we get down to the shore quietly, around by the headland, and get there before the Mossberryists do.”
Fingal and Urchin followed him through narrow, rocky paths until Urchin felt sand under his paws instead of rocks, and the cliffs towered above him. The three of them pressed their backs against the rocks, staying in shadow. At a subtle movement beside them, all three reached for their swords.
“It’s only me,” said a low voice.
“Crispin!” whispered Padra. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“I’m not staying in a warm burrow while you’re down here,” whispered Crispin. “I need to be here.”
A small figure stood beside the king, and a little behind him. When Urchin saw who it was, his heart seemed to shudder and hurt.
He was usually glad to see Sepia, but he didn’t want her to be here, in the most dangerous part of the island, when all the other animals were safe. He wondered why King Crispin had let her come here—but Padra had just said that animals might be willing to take their children beyond the mists. There was the little squirrel they had met on the hill, for a start. All the very young animals, especially Sepia’s choristers, adored her.
He could see now why the king had brought her. She had asked to be there as someone for the little ones to run to, and Crispin had agreed.
“There,” whispered the king. “That cleft in the rock. That’s where Mossberry intends to bring them out. I don’t want to lose a single animal tonight, but if Mossberry insists on throwing himself to the waves, he will. I just don’t want him taking whole families of deluded animals with him.”
Sepia watched the opening in the rock, and Urchin watched Sepia. Once, she looked up suddenly as if she felt she was being watched, caught his gaze, and gave a nervous smile.
“Take care,” he mouthed at her, and she nodded, still smiling. Not knowing whether she had understood him or not, he leaned his head back against the cliff. He’d been meaning to ask her something so important—in fact, he’d been putting it off and waiting for the best time—but he couldn’t very well ask her anything here and now.
In the shadows, Crispin turned his head.
“Ready,” he said, “but don’t move
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