Free The Urchin of the Riding Stars by M. I. McAllister Page B

fine and healthy, and will thrive. There’s no need to cull.” He looked up into the king’s eyes. “A beautiful baby boy hedgehog, Your Majesty.”
    “If he can thrive, let him,” mumbled the king, and dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. “A hedgehog baby.”
    “Thank you, Your Majesty!” cried Urchin, then turned hot as he remembered he hadn’t been invited to speak. He felt the king looking at him, and shyly raised his head.
    “Weren’t you here with Husk?” asked the king curiously. “He’s to be married, you know. What would we do without Lady Aspen? The queen adores her. I offered him a wedding gift, but he only wants jewels for his wife. Padra, you should marry. Loneliness is terrible. If you want to marry your otter friend, you have my permission.”
    For once, Padra seemed lost for words. It only lasted for a moment.
    “I’ve no idea if she wants to marry me, Your Majesty,” he said, “but I hope she can be our new captain.”
    The king’s paws twitched. “Oh, Padra,” he said. “I have already made Granite our new captain.”

    “Plagues, lice, and pestilence!” muttered Padra as they strode from the Throne Room. “Fleas and worms to the pack of them!”
    “But we can have more than three captains,” said Urchin, hurrying to keep up.
    “Not with Husk in charge,” said Padra.
    “You saved Scufflen,” said Urchin.
    “Yes, I suppose so,” said Padra. “Go and tell Needle.”
    Urchin ran to the workrooms. He wondered if Needle would still be there, but everyone seemed to be working late. She came to the door looking anxious and flustered, with bits of thread caught on her spines. Urchin told her the news and stood well back in case she tried to hug him.
    “I’ll get permission to go and tell Mum,” she said. “I think they’ll let me go, but there’s so much work all of a sudden. You know about the wedding? Look at this!” She opened a door.
    Urchin’s eyes widened in astonishment. Lace, as white and fine as mist, was everywhere. It hung from frames and trailed across the room.
    “She’s going to be so beautiful!” said Needle. “But there’s lengths and lengths of embroidery to do—and she’s supposed to have a tiara with jewels, so the moles are all digging furiously—and we have to make a new captain’s robe—they said it’s for a squirrel, but he must be a tall one. And Captain Husk had already ordered new Threadings. Come and I’ll show you.”
    Urchin followed her into the long workroom where the nearly finished Threadings hung in their frames. They were beautifully stitched, with glowing color and gold and silver thread, showing, as usual, the kings, queens, heroes, and captains of the past.
    “More squirrels than anything else,” said Urchin.
    “I know,” said Needle. “We ran out of squirrel-red wool. Captain Husk bought some more from the ships.”
    There were a few hedgehogs, but hardly ever a mole or an otter. Urchin went from one to the next—squirrels on thrones, squirrels with swords, squirrels in trees. There was said to be an ancient underground mole palace somewhere on the island, in the roots of a tree. It was probably only an old tale with no truth in it, but Urchin had always liked that story. The Old Palace was in a tapestry, too, but with a squirrel lord on a throne instead of a mole.
    “The rocks,” said Needle.
    “Sorry?” said Urchin.
    “The rocks,” said Needle. “Mostly, I get to do the rocks, because I’m new. Thripple does the clever bits—robes and things.”
    “I was looking at the faces,” said Urchin. “Have you noticed? All the females look like Lady Aspen. And all the males look like Husk.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    ROST BEGAN TO SETTLE IN THE MORNINGS . There was frost that froze on fur and whiskers; fine white frost that crunched under paws in Anemone Wood; delicate frost that crisped the fallen leaves and sparkled on the moss. Nights were sharp and bitter, with the moon rising high above Mistmantle Tower in a clear sky.