The Tale of a No-Name Squirrel

by Radhika R. Dhariwal

  The bee came and stood before them, the bulk of her being towering over Des like an iron column. Then she smiled. “I zhall take you to Queen Apize.”

  “Ma’am, we wouldn’t want to bother you. If you could just tell us where to go, we’ll find the Queen ourselves,” said Squirrel, not wanting an escort.

  “We cannot let vizzitors into our city unezzcorted,” said the bee. “My name izz Nizza. You will follow me.” As she spoke, Nizza raised her shield and, all of a sudden, her voice melted into a throaty song.

  “Davaaz uzzaq abiz, Zust ho lim lim, Zunder banaz lapiz, Khuzza jo zzim zzim.”

  As she sang, the other bees unfolded a bridge as bright as an orange peel. Nizza marched across it, into the city, obviously expecting them to follow her.

  Squirrel looked at Azulfa, then Des, wondering what to do. But one look at their resigned expressions made him realize they had no other choice. They would have to let Nizza lead them to the Queen. So, with a sigh, Squirrel marched off behind the big, scary bee—into the walled city of Mellifera.

  As soon as Squirrel entered Mellifera, he said, “Ms. Nizza, could we go straight to the Queen? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

  “You muzzt wait till Court to meet her. Till then, you will be with me.” While speaking, the big bee looked only at Des. Squirrel noticed that her stern eyes had melted into heart-shaped goop.

  With a smile, the bee batted her small, stubby eyelashes, and placed her chunky hand on Des’s back. Then she began to gently putt him forward, as though he were a delicate golf ball.

  Nizza led them through a garden of large, speckled flowers with bees skidding from bud to bud, past a group of wax pillars that melted gently into a golden pool with bees cooling the wax with their wings, and through a bevy of bees polishing pink apples till they shone like star rubies.

  Squirrel was marveling at the strange, golden, buzzing city of Mellifera until he saw Des stop and point to a row of oversize, golden, hexagonal pumpkins. Each pumpkin had a door and a window carved into it. “Are those some sort of giant Howl-o-ween decorations?” Squirrel noticed that Des was squirming uncomfortably. He presumed this was because Nizza’s hand was resting heavily on his lower back.

  “Howl-o-ween? We don’t have time to zelebrate that wolf fezztival here in Mellifera. Thoze are our apartmentz—we call it the comb. Thoze beez are repairing a home that melted in the zun.” She pointed to a line of bees wearing loose pajamas, T-shirts, and bandannas. Each bee had a mirrorlike bowl full of gooey wax strapped to her tummy.

  The bee in the front of the line reached into her bowl, shoveled the wax into her mouth, and began to chew. She put her mouth to the ramshackle apartment and blew. Out came a waxy bubble.

  Using just her mouth, the bee flattened the waxy bolus, spun the ball into the broken wall, and repaired part of the cell. When she was done, she moved to the back of the line. Another bee, with a fresh pail of wax, moved to the front and began chomping on her wax gumball.

  “So they make the entire comb with their mouths? Can you do that too?” Des asked Nizza.

  Nizza smiled and struck a pose that Squirrel guessed was supposed to be appealing. Unfortunately, she ended up looking a bit like a circus chipmunk. “I can’t do that. But I can do many other thingzz with my lipz. What about you?” she asked, puckering at Des.

  Des began to cough as though he had a moth stuck in his throat. “Ms. Nizza,” he managed, “the only thing I want to do with my lips is eat.”

  Moments later, they were stuffing their faces with rhododendron lamb, honey chicken, pollen potato gravy, fried paprika petals, and zingy grasshoppers. A round of dessert followed.

  “A-plus,” said Des, licking the last creamy crumb of his nectar cheesecake till his plate sparkled. The only things that twinkled more were Nizza’s eyes as she watched Des lick his plate.

  Squirrel, too, had finished his meal and was looking around the buzzing bazaar.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a row of wax columns. Behind the columns was a squat, very official-looking beehive.

  “That izz our Bank and Mint. That izz where we make our money,” answered Nizza, staring goo-goo-eyed at Des as he belched the letters of his name.

  “Your money?” said Squirrel. “You don’t use gufflings here?”

  “Of courzze not. We uze zalikz.”

  “What ’bout bizkits? Gromms?” asked Squirrel.

  Nizza shook her head.

  “But . . . I don’t have any zaliks. How do I pay for this meal?” asked Squirrel.

  “The bank will change your money to zalikz, of courzze,” said Nizza, giving Squirrel a look that made him feel as stupid as a stuffed turkey. “You and the crow, go change the money. I’ll stay with him.” She put a finger on Des’s spotted earlobe and stroked it.

  “Ummm . . . be right back,” said Squirrel, getting up with Azulfa and trying very, very hard not to laugh at Des’s desperately uncomfortable face.

  Squirrel shoved his paw into his bulging pocket.

  “I got one thousand zaliks for just one bizkit! One thousand!” he announced to Des. He dumped a fistful of golden wax coins on the table and said, “There. Paid. Now let’s check out the rest of your Grand Bazaar.”

  They wandered down a winding alley until a building shaped like a flying bee caught Squirrel’s attention. “That’s the BuzzEx building!” he said. As a slave to the owner of the PetPost Mail, Squirrel had always admired the speed at which the BuzzEx worked.

  “It izz,” said Nizza. “That izz where we zend mezzagezz to other citiezz. We can get a mezzage to any place fazzter than the zun takez to zet.”

  “Excellent!” said Des, his ears perking up a little bit. “Soon as we get the Marbled Honey, I’ll send a message home. Smitten told me to let ’em know where I’m off to next. They worry less when they know where I am.”

  “Izz thizz Smitten your girlfriend?” demanded Nizza, her body bristling.

  Politely Des explained that Smitten was his brother-in-law. Squirrel was impressed by how well Des was handling this crazy bee—especially when she looked as angry as a bull in a rodeo.

  When Nizza had been mollified, she led them past a waterfall where a dozen wide-winged male bees lounged about idly, sipping pollen beer and tanning themselves. Squirrel thought that the men were comparing wing size.

  “Those are the first men we’ve seen here,” said Azulfa.

  “Yezz, they’re the dronez. We don’t have much uze for men in Mellifera. Their only purpoze izz to mate with Queenzz from far-away citiezz. We ourzelvz prefer foreign men.” She tried to lick Des’s ear, but the dog shrank away from her, his tail between his legs and his cheeks burning a flamingo pink.

  They ambled along the marketplace till Squirrel felt something yank his arm. Des was dragging him away from Nizza and Azulfa toward a shop. The mannequins in the window were covered in armor from head to toe.

  “Really want to get myself one of those bee spears, mate. Plus I need a break from that bulky, sulky, licky bee. Eeefff, gross!” said Des, shivering with disgust as he ducked into the store.

  Chuckling, Squirrel followed. He knew he should tell Azulfa and Nizza that they were taking a detour, but what was the harm? They would only be a moment.

  Squirrel entered the store. Immediately he wished he had not. Torrents of white light bounced off the polished armor and hit his face. He shut his eyes, wondering if he had somehow landed on a star.

  When he finally got used to the brightness, Squirrel saw Des rummaging through a pile of weapons—iron-ore shields, arrows made of porcupine needles, barkwood clubs, and whips of twisted lion hair. He looked around. No store attendant was in sight, but he noticed a flight of stairs leading upstairs. The attendant must be there, he guessed.

  “I can’t seem to find that spear Nizza’s carrying ’round,” muttered Des, pulling out a dresslike mesh tunic. “Ooooh! Look at this, though. A rhino-skin vest! And matching rhino horn-boots and helmet. I’ll try these on,” he said, slipping the tun
ic over his head and somehow squeezing his paws into the knee-high boots. He put the helmet on and picked up a shield to check his reflection. “So, whaddya think?”

  “You look like a silver bullet!” said Squirrel, half-impressed and half-appalled by the sight of the silver-clad Despatches Verza.

  “Why, thank you,” said Des, bowing deeply. As he dipped, the helmet shot off his head and smashed into the wall. Clank. In slow motion, Squirrel saw the cannon-of-a-helmet ricochet off the wall and hit a mannequin square in the neck. Clank. Clank. In horror, he watched the fully armored mannequin tip over and crash to the floor. Clankitty, clankitty, clank.

  Squirrel held his breath. For a moment there was pin-drop silence. Then he heard a rustle above and a distinct flutter of wings coming from the direction of the stairs.

  “ ’Elp me get out of this rhino straitjacket,” squealed Des as the fluttering got louder.

  With a wiggle and a wriggle, Squirrel freed Des from his silver casing, and they bolted out of the shop. They ran back to Azulfa and Nizza. Nizza looked rather cross.

  “You were not zupozzed to go anywhere wizzout me,” said Nizza, her hands on her hips. “Where were you?” Suddenly Nizza did not look like a doting dodo at all. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes flickered red.

  “In . . . in . . . there,” said Des, pointing to the store. He looked as terrified as Squirrel felt.

  “The one where that loud crazzh juzzt came from?” asked Nizza tightly.

  Squirrel knew he could not get out of this. He looked down and nodded. When he looked back up, fear clutched him. Nizza was gripping her spear tightly. Her eyes bulged out of her skull.

  Azulfa inched over to Squirrel and Des and put a claw on each of them. Squirrel could feel her get ready to launch into flight, but a ground-shaking rumble made her lose her balance.

  The noise was coming from Nizza. She was shaking violently from head to toe.

  It’s All in the Family

  Squirrel knew he was going to die. Any moment now, Nizza’s spear would pierce him as if he were a cube of soft cheese. Squirrel clamped his eyes shut and waited.

  When nothing happened, he forced himself to peek at Nizza. He was shocked at what he saw. “Nizza, are you . . . are you laughing?”

  Sure enough, Nizza’s body shook like a baby’s rattle. Fat, guttural chuckles burst from her mouth.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Des, hopping out of reach of Nizza’s spear.

  Nizza clapped her chunky hands in glee. “You knocked zomething over in the Armory?” When Squirrel nodded slightly, she said, “Hope it wazz zomething big. That’ll teach Zebi!”

  “Who?” asked Azulfa, relaxing her grip on Squirrel and Des.

  “Zebi runzz the Armory. Zhe izz a zoldier bee, like me. But zhe failed her zoldier examzz three timezz. Three timezz!”

  “Obviouzzly, zhe couldn’t guard Mellifera, zo Queen Apize made her the keeper of the Armory. And now Zebi thinkzz zhe wazz hired for the Armory cozz zhe izz better than everyone. Zhe flutterzz and putterzz around like a mini-Queen! Good you dezztroyed her store. Maybe now zhe’ll underzztand zhe izz juzzt a zhopkeeper!”

  “Well, Zebi just got taken down a notch or two, or rather a mannequin or two,” said Des. “Had no idea how hard it could be to find a spear like yours!”

  “But you can’t buy one of theze! It’zz my ztinger. It’zz a part of my body,” said Nizza, shaking her long spear till it shimmied in Des’s face. “My ztinger izz very big compared to the other beezz. Zebi’z ztinger izz zo narrow and weak-looking, it could be a worm!”

  “You really hate Zebi, don’t you?” asked Squirrel, a bit amused.

  “Hate? No. I couldn’t hate Zebi. Zhe izz my zizter, after all,” said Nizza with a shrug.

  “Your sister?” asked Des, detangling himself from Nizza, who had managed to link her trunklike arm through Des’s.

  Nizza grabbed Des again—this time so forcefully that it looked like Des’s arm might pop right out. “ ’Courzze zhe’s my zizter! In Mellifera, only the Queen can have children. Zhe choozes a mate, matezz with him, and layzz thouzzandz of eggzz. You zee, we’re all related. Even Zebi.”

  “And the Queen mates with . . . ?” asked Azulfa.

  Nizza looked at Azulfa as though she were as dumb as a dust mite. “With a drone from another town, obviouzzly! Every few zeazonz, the Queen takezz her mating flight from the top of the Parthenog. The firzzt drone to catch her will be her mate. But only the fazztezzt and zmartezzt will catch the Queen. After all, thizz drone fatherzz the next generation of Melliferanz. He muzzt be fit. And, after he matezz with the Queen, he will die.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Des, hugging his body tightly. “The drone is willing to die just to mate?”

  Nizza looked at Des, heaving her chest forward so that it almost struck Des’s jaw. “Mating with a good bee izz alwayzz worth dying for.”

  “But what happens when the Queen falls in love?” asked Squirrel quickly, trying to distract Nizza before she began licking Des again.

  “The Queen of Mellifera doezz not fall in love. Zhe muzzt mate with only thoze worthy of her, and after their time together, the drone muzzt die. There izz no room for love. Not for her.”

  “All our Queenzz have followed thizz law.” Nizza paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “All exzept our current Queen.”

  “The Queen fell in love?” asked Squirrel, who was in the mood for a hot cup of brewed gossip.

  “Zhe fell in love with a drone from a faraway land. Every day, they walked around the Parthenog arm-in-arm, chatting about honeycomb zcienze and pollen art, dizcuzzing hive politicz and bee warfare.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Squirrel.

  “Well, Queen Apize had a difficult choice. Zhe could mate with him, but then he would die. Or, zhe could keep him at a ztinger’z length, but never have him completely. Our Queen thought and thought and thought. Finally zhe made the only mizztake zhe hazz ever made: zhe choze not to mate with him.

  “Zhe made him her chief zcout. Thizz way he wazz far enough from her not to tempt her, yet cloze enough zo zhe could zee him often. The arrangement worked very well. But, one day, when the Queen called him, he did not come. Zhe called again and again, but he did not come.

  “Rumor hazz it that he zaw another Queen from a faraway land in her mating flight. He could not rezizzt hizz natural inztinct. He chazed the Queen down and mated with her. He died right after.

  “Queen Apize wazz heartbroken. But zhe learned from her mizztake. They zay zhe carved out a poem on two zpezzial ztonez—ztonez that he got for her from zome dizztant land. They zay that the poem remindzz the Queen that zhe muzzt ztay zztrong and never fall in love again.”

  “What does the poem say?” asked Squirrel.

  Nizza shook her head. “No idea. Zhe hid the ztone in the Bone Tomb acrozz the river, away from prying eyez. No one ever goezz there.”

  “No one ever goes to the tomb?” asked Des. “Not even to visit the dead?”

  “No. It izz zcary!” said Nizza with a shiver.

  Then and there, Squirrel decided that he would never go to the bee mortuary. He was going nowhere near a place that made a broad, strapping soldier like Nizza shiver.

  “Nizza, it looks like a giant version of your stinger,” cried Des, bending backward to look at a tower that pierced the bubble-blue sky.

  “That izz the firzzt time I’ve ever heard the Parthenog dezcribed like that.”

  Squirrel looked up at the long javelin of a building, wondering how he would get to the top. The tower was made of wide bands of orange and white wax, which looked as slippery as an eel. A glassy mango-shaped lake surrounded the tower.

  “Is this where we’ll meet Queen Apize?”

  “Yezz. The Queen’z court izz the chamber at the top,” said Nizza. Turning to Des, she said, “Wrap your pawzz around my waizt and I’ll carry you up. The crow can take the zquirrel.”

  Squirrel thought Des would hesitate, but the d
og just shrugged his shoulders and obeyed the bee. As Des hopped onto Nizza, Squirrel thought he saw his friend grin a little.

  Squirrel chuckled as he got onto Azulfa’s back; Des had begun to enjoy Nizza’s attention.

  He was still laughing when Azulfa launched into flight, but as the wind’s whoosh hit his face, and his feet kicked the air like scissors, his laugh turned into a long, frightened squeal. Until—thankfully—he felt Azulfa land with a jerk.

  They had landed in a glittery hexagonal chamber full of puddles of pink and purple. Bees were muddling dried petals into the water, making the airy room smell of roses and lilies. The syrupy air pressed against Squirrel’s fur—full of wax, of nectar, of honey.

  “Thizz izz the Court of Commonz in Mellifera,” said Nizza. “Anyone can bring a problem to Queen Apize here. Zhe lizzens to each one herzelf and judgezz it. You can azk her for Marbled Honey here.”

  A tremor of excitement shot through Squirrel’s belly. He was here! He was moments away from meeting Queen Apize and asking her for some Marbled Honey. He was moments away from his next drink. His next clue. His next . . .

  “Pssst! Mate. Watch where you’re going!”

  Des had grabbed Squirrel just before he walked into a circle of bees kneeling on the floor, all staring at a throne shaped like an unfurling flower. It was encrusted with bright little wax balls that shone like a million mini-suns. The throne was empty.

  Nizza came up behind Des, grabbed his arm, and led him to a gap in the circle. She sat down, tucking her shins under her thighs like all the other bees. She motioned to Des, Squirrel, and Azulfa to do the same.

  “How long’ll the Queen be?” asked Squirrel, trying to keep his feet from going numb under the weight of his tail.

  “We muzzt wait,” said Nizza. She folded her arms in her lap and stared at the empty throne.

  Squirrel’s leg muscles burned with the stretch, and his head was frothy with impatience. When would this Queen come?