The Tale of a No-Name Squirrel

by Radhika R. Dhariwal

  A fire. Squirrel would be able to brew the leaves in hot water. He could not wait another moment. “So you will take me to the mines? Can you take me now?”

  It was not impatience; it was urgency. He had to be back before anybody woke up. At least he had thought to drug Azulfa with a cube of Skullcap, so she would sleep much longer than anyone else.

  “We give you whatever you want. We owe you biggest debt of all. But only thing is we cannot let you see how to get to the mines,” said Tupten apologetically.

  “So how will I get there?” asked Squirrel, confused.

  “I take you there. But you will wear this,” said Tupten, handing Squirrel a dark-green reed blindfold. “Now put it on. I will lead you there.”

  The sun was up when Squirrel returned to Khoy’s burrow. Yet as he tiptoed through the hall, the stone walls shook with the sound of snores. Everyone was still asleep. Squirrel sighed with relief.

  He felt bad about leaving without saying good-bye to Khoy and thanking him and his family for their hospitality, but he could not risk waiting any longer. He had to escape Azulfa, and this was his best opportunity.

  Squirrel went to the room that the Khoy children had given him and began looking for something to scribble two quick notes with. A blanched ream of leaves sat on the coal desk, but there were no pens or pencils anywhere. He wanted to scream—if he did not act fast, everyone in the house would wake up.

  Panic gave Squirrel an idea. He reached into the sack of coal that Tupten had given him as a reward, pulled out a small piece of coal, and hurriedly wrote two notes.

  Tiptoeing across the hall, Squirrel slowly opened Khoy’s bedroom. Khoy and his wife were huddled together in the cold. They were sleeping without a blanket.

  Squirrel thought back to the warm blanket that he had been huddled under all evening and realized that, on top of his incredible hospitality, Khoy had also sacrificed his own warmth for his guests.

  As quietly as he could, Squirrel placed the bag of coal that Tupten had given him as a reward in the corner of Khoy’s room. On top he placed his note of heartfelt thanks and good-bye.

  Squirrel crept out of the room and down the hall. He entered another room. It shook with snores. He saw Des, wrapped snugly in his blanket, looking completely at peace.

  Gently Squirrel shook his friend. Des awoke with a start. Before the dog could grumble his protests, Squirrel put a finger to his lips and shushed his friend.

  Noiselessly he pulled out the second coal-scribbled note and handed it to Des. Des opened the letter.

  Des, don’t say a word. I don’t want to risk waking Azulfa up. We must get out of here immediately. Azulfa has betrayed us. I’ve drugged her, so she will sleep for a while longer. Enough to give us a head start. We must move now.

  Des was now sitting in his bed, wide-awake. He gestured for something to write with, and Squirrel gave him the piece of coal.

  Quickly Des scribbled, What about the memory?

  I got it. I’ll explain everything later, wrote Squirrel.

  Des looked into Squirrel’s honest, blue eyes and nodded. Taking the coal crayon back, he scribbled, I’m with you. But where are we going?

  Squirrel inhaled sharply, jotted five final words, and placed the coal on the bed. He handed the note to Des.

  Des read it and his eyes became as round as coins. The note fell out of his paw onto the floor.

  The five words read: The Desert of Blood Kings.

  The Ferry

  I don’t know about this,” said Des as he watched a muscular python slither through the water. Her yellow eyes darted over to Des, who stood on a gently rocking boat.

  “She looks hungry,” whispered Des as the python darted her tongue in and out of her mouth with a bloodcurdling hiss. Her bottom jaw unhinged and opened so wide she could have gulped Des down.

  Des stepped back just as the snake lurched forward. Her glossy body sailed right past him and landed on the muddy riverbank. There was a fraction of a tussle, and two frog’s legs disappeared into her mouth, leaving a line of bluish blood on her jaw. The python then slunk back into the river, giving Des a cruel wink as she slid past the ferry. Des shuddered.

  “Did you see that?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Try not to look at her,” said Squirrel. He himself was staring at the two strong gavials, with their hard, horny skin and their flat, hammered heads. Their tails whipped around in the water, propelling the boat.

  “But why’d we ditch Azulfa? She may not have betrayed us, mate. I mean, I know she’s a cranky ol’ bird, but she’s mighty useful to have around,” said Des, eyeballing the river, trying to find the snake.

  “I’ll explain later,” Squirrel said, looking away. He did not feel like talking about Azulfa yet.

  “Fine, but can you at least tell me what the memory said? Do we know where in the desert we need to go?”

  Squirrel looked around. The raft was empty save a monkey, who was so engrossed in a game of cards with himself that it was highly unlikely that he was aware that a uniformed Squirrel and a patchy dog were in the same raft as him. It seemed safe to speak, but Squirrel dropped his voice anyway.

  “It said,

  Go, my son, to arid land,

  Where kingly ghosts roam on red sand

  In a town that speaks of gold

  Find a wise woman, tall and old

  Back to back she hunts for game

  Her spring is rare, and has much fame

  Tell her what it is you seek

  Don’t be too brash, don’t be too meek

  She will think, and she will chew

  Her questions will be chosen few

  She will guide you to the brink

  Of learning where lies your last drink

  But guide is all she can do

  The answer, son, must come from you.”

  Squirrel yawned as he finished speaking. Except for the first two lines of the verse, nothing else made sense to him. “So what do you think?”

  Thought lines creased Des’s forehead. “I agree, mate, the first two lines have to be the Desert of Blood Kings. That’s the only dry land with ghosts of kings. But I’ve never heard of red sand. And how do we find this tall old lady? What do we do?”

  “We do what we’ve been doing so far. We just keep putting one paw in front of the other and keep hoping for the best,” said Squirrel as he yawned and let the wobbly boat rock him to sleep.

  The Madame entered her bedroom. She was still cloaked, but had removed the veil covering her face. Her flat, gray features were scrunched in worry.

  She dumped herself at her desk and flipped through the pages of the Bimmau Meow. She skimmed the news: “Asteroid Shower Expected This Half Moon,” “Lady Natasha Blouse Still Missing,” “Dog Union Revolt Against Biscuit Price Hike” . . .

  She crumpled the newspaper and tossed it on the floor. She was too preoccupied to focus on anything. She looked out her window at the orange morning sky, and her brow furrowed further. She had heard all of nothing. If she did not find out where that stupid Squirrel was going, the Colonel would scratch her out as if she were a vermin-infested rat.

  If she could just discover who the Colonel was, then perhaps she could find some way to defend herself. But she did not have a smidgen of a clue. And, what was worse, she was certain he had figured out who she was, despite the swaths of black cloth she wrapped herself in.

  A hiss drew the fat cat’s attention. Slithering toward her was one of her spies—Narva the python.

  For the first time in half a moon cycle, the Madame smiled. “Any news?” she asked, opening the window to let Narva in.

  “Yesss, Madame. Ssquirrel isss on the Gavial Raft with the dog. I sssaw them. They were going to the Desert of Blood Kings,” hissed the snake.

  “Do you know where in the desert they are going?”

  “Sssorry. The voices were too sssoft.”

  “Hmmm . . . no matter. Now you go back, Narva. And find out what you can about where that red splinter-in-my-be
hind is, and what he’s up to.”

  Narva the python hissed and her tongue darted in and out of her mouth. “Madame, you have a bonusss for me.” It was not a question.

  “Yes, yes,” said the Madame, flicking her paw. “There should be a piglet fattening himself in the garden.”

  “Thank you, Missss.” The python bobbed her head and slid out of the room.

  The Madame watched as Narva slithered down the orchard toward her unsuspecting young prey. Slowly her thick body circled the pig. By the time the pudgy pink pig realized he was in danger, it was too late. Narva wrapped her body around him, squeezing him tightly. Only when the pig’s body went limp did Narva swing her jaw wide open and gobble him up—fresh, pink, and juicy.

  The Madame looked away and let out a purr. Snakes were sickening, but they were excellent informants. And Narva had been particularly useful. She rose from her seat and put on the black cloth that covered her face. With a small shiver, she stalked off to the cave to find the Colonel.

  At least, this time, she had good news for him.

  The sun pulsed in Squirrel’s eyelids. He pressed his lashes together, trying to squeeze out the morning light. His neck was stiff, and his narrow shoulder blades throbbed as his back pressed against hard planks. Trying to get comfortable, he rolled onto his stomach and toppled off the bench, face-first on the damp ferry floor.

  “Hmmph,” he grunted, rubbing his body as he sat up and opened his eyes. He blinked.

  The river, which had been wide with lush green shores when he had fallen sleep, was now barely wide enough for the Gavial Raft to plough through. The banks were lined with the thinnest strip of grass, balding into miles of dirty yellow sand.

  “Of all the Confounded Canine Conundrums! This sand’s not red! Where’s the red sand?” Des was awake, and leaning over the ledge of the raft so far that he could almost touch the bank.

  “It’ll be here somewhere,” said Squirrel groggily as he hoisted himself onto the bench next to Des.

  “But which way should we walk? This place is as empty as the sun’s surface,” said Des. “Should we ask that monkey?” The monkey was sitting in exactly the same position, playing cards, as he had been when Squirrel dozed off.

  “No, it’s too risky,” said Squirrel. After Azulfa, Squirrel had decided not to confide in any more strangers. Not only his life, but also Des’s, depended on them remaining as quiet as possible. “We have to find the sand ourselves.”

  Des’s face puffed up like a dumpling. He was going to speak, but Squirrel looked so firm that he gave in. “Okay, your call. We’ll figure it out when we get off the Gavial Raft—which is now, it seems.”

  Sure enough, the stream had dwindled into nothingness. This was their stop.

  “Let’s go,” said Squirrel. He got up, dropping his and Des’s fare of four bizkits into a tin jar by the door. As the wooden squares tinkled against the tin, the gavials lifted their jaws and the door to the ferry swung open.

  “Squirrel, let me pay for something at least,” said Des, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a tiny purse that could not possibly have held more than three bizkits.

  “You crazy? Look at all you’ve done for me—I mean, you’re in the Desert of Blood Kings, for parrot’s sake. The least I can do is pay for you.”

  Des looked down at his tiny, almost-empty purse and nodded. “Well, all right. But please let me pay for something . . . at some time.”

  Squirrel grinned back. “You got it! Now, let’s go find this red sand!”

  “Tell me this, Madame, how is this good news?”

  The Colonel’s voice was so cold that it made the beads of nervous sweat freeze into icy drops on the Madame’s fur. She shivered under her cloak, but hoped that the Colonel could not tell. She could not appear weak.

  Steadying her voice, she said, “Well, we know he’s in the Desert of Blood Kings.”

  “And how big is that desert?” The Colonel’s words were poisoned darts. “How do you propose to find a midget of a squirrel in such a large desert?”

  “I . . . I . . . I . . .”

  “SHUT UP, YOU FAT FELINE!”

  The Colonel’s fury erupted like dark lava. He sprang out of his throne and pounced on the Madame, pinning her against the wall. His razor-sharp claws pierced her fat shoulder, and she screamed as a stream of sticky blood trickled down her fur.

  When the Colonel spoke, his voice was nothing more than a soft hiss from under his mask. “Madame, I’m giving you two more moons. If you don’t find out what that red rodent is up to by then, your fat body will be a piece of flat, fleshy roadkill. Do you understand?”

  For a long moment he continued to pierce her with his claws, and she knew that he wanted nothing more than to mince her like meat at that very moment. But, eventually, he relaxed his grip, snarled, and strode out of the cave.

  Madame watched as his tail whipped angrily against his black cloak and, for the first time, pure regret filled her fat belly. She could not believe how eager she had been when the Colonel had first approached her, how badly she had wanted to squash the PetPost Squirrel into nothingness. But now, as she clutched her bloody shoulder, she understood how dangerous her alliance with the Colonel had become for her. Even one slight misstep, even a hint of a faux-paw, and she would probably end up as a gray rug in his living room.

  The realization slapped the Madame on her flat face. She removed the veil from her face, and her yellow eyes narrowed. She would not let this so-called Colonel threaten her. She had to protect herself . . . starting right now.

  A Desert and a Deer

  Squirrel and Des trudged through the scorching desert. The landscape had turned from muddy yellow to pretty gold, and the sand had become soft under their heels. But it was peak afternoon, so it was too hot and they were too lost to appreciate the scenery.

  “Okay, Squirrel, enough’s enough,” burst Des. “I’m not taking a step more till you tell me what happened with Zulf.” Des’s breath had such force that a cloud of sand flew off the ground straight into his eyes.

  Squirrel sighed. “I guess this is as bad a time as any to tell you.”

  “You think,” grunted Des, fluttering his eyelids like moth wings to get the sand out.

  Squirrel understood Des’s frustration. Their furs were basted in sweat, the scorching sand had made their heels peel, they had no food, their throats could have been coated in rock salt—and they were no closer to red sand or kingly ghosts.

  “Des, remember when I went into the tomb outside Mellifera? Two Kowas knew I was there. They came looking for me.”

  “How’d you know that they were looking for you?” asked Des. “I thought it was a coincidence . . .”

  “Des, the Kowas were talking about me. Someone had told them to look in Mellifera, specifically in the Bone Tomb. And who could it possibly have been? I mean, the only people who knew about the Bone Tomb were you, me, and . . .”

  Des shook his head. “That’s hardly conclusive, mate!”

  “When I got out of the tomb, Azulfa was looking at me as though she were shocked to see me out of there alive.”

  “That might’ve just been one of her funny expressions. I mean, Azulfa can throw some real odd looks, can’t she? I can’t read her face at all,” said Des.

  “No, I’m sure she hadn’t expected me to come out of the cave,” said Squirrel. “And why’re you defending her?” He felt himself getting annoyed at Des for the first time.

  “I’m not . . .”

  Squirrel went on. “How do you explain the Kowas coming into the tomb? You didn’t see them come in, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. If I had, I would have come in to warn you, or at least helped you fight those thugs.”

  “Well, if you didn’t see them, then Azulfa must’ve, right? Especially with her supersonic hearing,” said Squirrel, looking at Des as though daring the dog to challenge him.

  “Good point,” said Des slowly, scratching his head.

  “I just can’t beli
eve I didn’t see it sooner,” ranted Squirrel, springing up. “Azulfa’s been watching me from day one . . . maybe even before the wedding. She led the Kowas to my tree cottage, she didn’t save me when I almost drowned, she set up a trail to the Bone Tomb, and she would have had them show up in Darling.” Squirrel paused, taking in a breath of the hot, dry air.

  “But why didn’t she just kill us? Or at least, deliver us to the Kowas like little sacks of meat,” said Des. Despite the heat, Squirrel thought he saw Des shiver.

  “Because of the seclasion ladder. Once Azulfa realized that I’m the only one with the clues to Brittle’s Key, she needed to keep me alive. That’s the thing with seclasion, right? No one can find the clues except for me. If I’m gone, the trail is lost,” said Squirrel, the words leaping from his mouth like trapped frogs. “But as soon as we found the key, she would’ve lobbed our heads off. She’s a baddie, Des!”

  Des crumpled his patched ears as though they were used paper napkins. “You’re right. Good thing you shook her off our trail. You think there’s any way she could find us here?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Squirrel, frowning. “The only one who knows where we are is Tupten. And he promised me that he’d never tell anyone I asked for directions to the desert—”

  “Who’s Tupten?” asked Des.

  “Khoy’s uncle. He’s a Micetro. He’s the one who told me to use the Gavial Raft to get to the Desert of Blood Kings. We can trust him. He owes me big. I think everyone in Darling owes me big . . .”

  “Owes you big? How?”

  Squirrel told Des about the Flame Flints of Rodentia, how he had found them in the Bone Tomb, and how he had returned them.

  When Squirrel was done, Des whistled. “Mate, that’s incredible. Absolutely bon-a-hide crazy! I can’t believe I missed all this! I feel like we’ve been on two different journeys. Not fair, mate.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t all fun, you know. In fact, I don’t think any part of it was . . .”

  “You escaped the Kowas, you met the Micetros, you gave fire back to a city . . . ,” jabbered Des. “We’ve unzipped two memories; only got one more special drink to go. And it’s in this desert somewhere. We just need to know in which direction we should walk!”