The Heir of Mistmantle

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Authors: M. I. McAllister
Tags: adventure, Fantasy, Childrens, The Mistmantle Chronicles
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“Thank you for asking me.”
    “Now we’ll hear Captain Lugg’s report,” said Crispin.
    “Your Majesties and friends,” began Lugg, with a neat and rather stiff bow to the thrones, “there are some very silly things being said by very silly animals who like exercising their mouths without troubling their brains first. A lot of troublemakers, Your Majesties.”
    “And what are they saying?” inquired Brother Fir mildly.
    “They’ve got it into their heads,” said Lugg, “that Linty didn’t take the baby just because she’s crazed with grief. They reckon she couldn’t have kept her hidden all this time without help, and there must be someone backing her up. And they say"—he glanced uncomfortably at the queen, and Urchin could see how awkward this was for him—"they say that"—he squared his shoulders, put a paw to his sword hilt, and took a long deep breath—"that Husk’s come back.”
    Urchin felt his fur prickle. Needle gasped—she couldn’t help it—then looked at the floor and pretended she hadn’t made a sound. Sepia bit her lip hard.
    “Can’t be, of course,” said Lugg, “but there’s animals saying it.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” exclaimed Urchin. “Even if Husk were still around, Linty wouldn’t work with him! She’d want to kill him!”
    “Exactly what I said,” replied Lugg, “but they’re saying she’s so frightened of him that she’ll do what he says, or else she’s mad enough to do anything, or he’s killed her and hidden the body and took the baby; and as far as I’m concerned they might as well say moles are all taking wing and flying, and the rain falls down as best beer. This weather’s getting to their brains. But Linty or no Linty, they’ve got this idea that Husk’s back and it’s got stuck in their little skulls like an otter down a mole hole, if you captains will pardon the expression.” Tay raised her eyebrows alarmingly. “And you, Mistress Tay.”
    “But we know Husk’s dead,” said Padra. “Some of us were there when he fell. Do they think they’ve seen or heard anything?”
    “Well, some of them are saying it’s his ghost,” said Lugg, “but it beats me how a ghost can handle a real live fur-and-claws baby. There are—you know how it is—there are those who think they’ve seen him, but…”
    Needle’s paw flew to her mouth.
    “I shouldn’t worry, miss,” said Lugg. “Couple of moss-brained hedgehogs at dusk, last night. They say they saw a squirrel on the ridge near them steep cliffs. Saw him against the skyline. Swore it was Husk, but I daresay they’d swear to anything.”
    “Didn’t they go nearer to find out?” asked Needle.
    “Too scared, miss,” said Lugg, “and too drunk. I’m surprised they only saw one of him. Didn’t have the sense or the guts to check what they’d seen, as you would have done yourself. Ran off and told every one who’d listen.”
    “So now,” said Padra, “the island is wriggling with rumors that Husk has come back for revenge. Rumors like this are dangerous. They spread fear of old horrors returning. They’ll always be looking over their shoulders now. They’ll become frightened to go anywhere, do anything, or trust anyone, so it’s important to sweep these rumors away. Mostly, that must be up to those of us who witnessed Husk’s"—he hesitated for a moment—"Husk’s fall.”
    “His fall, yes,” said Crispin firmly. “That’s the point. You were going to say, ‘his death. ’ Let’s face this. None of us actually saw him die, we only saw him fall, and heard him. Does anybody doubt that he’s dead?”
    “I have no doubt at all,” said Fir.
    “He’s dead,” said Padra.
    “Good,” said Crispin, “because we have to be absolutely sure of what we saw and heard that day. Animals who hear these rumors will be coming to ask us about it, trying to find out if he’s really dead. Examine your memories. Be sure that you’re sticking to the truth. If you have doubts about it,

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