hilltop.
“Good morning!” he called. “What a splendid woodpile!”
As a captain, he wore a gold circlet on his head and a belted sword at his hip. Thrilled and flustered at the same time, Urchin bowed awkwardly and wondered if his fur was dirty or sticking up. That was the trouble with being pale. The dirt showed. And he wished he’d been found doing something more impressive than looking after a toddler. He stammered a good morning.
Apple curtsied and wobbled a bit. “Good morning, Captain Crispin, lovely morning, Captain Crispin, sir, we’ve built our bonfire, sir, we’re all ready for the stars tonight, we’ll be having a grand supper up here, I’ve brought some of my apple-and-mint cordial, would you like some cordial, sir?”
Urchin’s claws curled in embarrassment. Apple’s cordial was famous for repelling insects, but it tasted terrible.
“Thank you, Mistress Apple, but I’ll do without that pleasure today,” said Crispin. “But I’d like to speak to young Urchin, if I may. Urchin, will you come with me?”
Urchin, astonished, tried to stammer a reply. He glanced at Apple for help, didn’t get any, and only just remembered to hand the young squirrel to Needle. He dusted down his fur as he ran to Captain Crispin’s side, and they walked down the hill path.
Crispin asked Urchin how Apple was, and what work had been chosen for him, and how the autumn harvest gathering was doing, while Urchin tried to guess at what the best answers would be and to say something intelligent without showing off. But Captain Crispin was so friendly and natural, that in time, he forgot to be shy. Finally, Crispin turned to him and asked, “Will you be on Watchtop Hill tonight, to watch the stars?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” said Urchin.
“Only, if you’d like to, you could come to the tower,” said Crispin. “Captain Padra and I are going to Brother Fir’s turret room to watch from there. Probably the best view of the island. You’re invited, if you’d like to join us.”
Urchin felt a shiver of joy through his fur even though he was sure he must have misheard. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he managed to say, “Me, sir? The tower?”
“Certainly you, Urchin, if they can manage here without you,” said Crispin, “and if you don’t mind missing the bonfire. Make your own way to the tower, around twilight, and I’ll tell the guards to expect you. They’ll direct you to Fir’s turret.”
“Thank you, sir!” gasped Urchin.
“Thank you , Urchin!” said Crispin, and with a leap he was bounding down the hill. Urchin watched him until he was out of sight, then ran full tilt to the nearest tree, shinned up it, and turned somersaults for pure joy. A night of riding stars, the tower, and Crispin!
CHAPTER TWO
RCHIN’S FUR HAD BEEN WASHED AND BRUSHED until it shone softly in the lamplight inside Mistmantle Tower. He wore a cloak, a new dark red one, partly because the nights could get cold, but also to honor the occasion. He couldn’t go to the tower without a decent cloak. The guard pointed him toward a staircase, and he was springing up three steps at a time before he reminded himself that this was Mistmantle Tower, and he was here to meet two captains and a priest. After that he ran up lightly, imagining a sword at his hip.
He passed the workrooms where Needle would start work tomorrow. They were locked now, but he could picture them full of parchment, canvas, silk, needles, shuttles, and every shade of every color he could dream of. Rolls of canvas and stone jars of paint were stacked outside the doors, with skeins of soft wool.
Mounting the next staircase, he was startled by color. The walls here were hung with Threadings and paintings showing ancient stories of the island’s past and its heroes. Some of the pictures were old and needed dusting, but Urchin still gazed. The animals looked as clear and vivid as if they lived. The colors and patterns enchanted him. Then he pulled