Squirrel decided it was time for him to try his luck. “I need your help, Ms. Xerice; I need some answers. Can you help me?”
“How can I give you answers to questions I don’t know?” asked the camel.
Squirrel squared his shoulders. This camel liked to talk in circles. “May I ask you a few questions and will you answer them?” he asked, looking straight into the camel’s big eyes.
Xerice chewed a blade of straw. “Son, how many nomads of knowledge do you know?”
Squirrel wanted to groan. “What is a nomad of knowledge?”
“Mate, I think she is a nomad of knowledge,” Des whispered in his ear. “They’re legendary folk who live a long time and know almost everything. You can ask them anything, but they’ll never answer your question straight. Instead they just sort of guide you to the answer yourself.”
Squirrel scratched his chin. “All right, so let me just ask her straight up and see what happens.”
Turning to the camel, he said, “Ms. Xerice, I need to find a liquid and sip it. I was hoping that you could tell me what liquid it is.”
“What do you hope the liquid will do?” asked Xerice slowly.
“If I drink the liquid, it will trigger a memory in my brain. The memory is the final clue in my hunt.”
“And what will this clue lead to?” she asked, jerking her long neck.
“A key to a map that my mother left me.”
“And why is finding the key important to you?”
“You kidding me?” burst Squirrel. “The key will fix everything. It could give me a name! I won’t have to be a slave anymore. No more Deliver this, Squirrel. No more Bring me that, Squirrel. No more Go drown in a pond, Squirrel.” The seasons of being bossed around made his chest simmer like an angry witch’s cauldron. “And, if that isn’t enough, I need to find the key before . . .”
“Before who?” asked Xerice.
“Before the bad guys,” blurted out Squirrel, not knowing what else to say. “I need to find the key first. It’ll solve all my problems.”
Xerice squinted. “So, young one, you hope that the liquid will wash away all your problems?”
“Yes, it will solve my problems.”
“But is there a liquid that can universally solve all your problems?” asked Xerice. Squirrel thought he saw her eyes glint and the wrinkles around her lids go taut, as though she were waiting.
“Yes, a universal solvent, if you please,” said Des with a giggle.
“Des, this is not a time to joke,” said Squirrel. Sometimes Des was just barking mad. Universal solvent? What did that have to do with anything? Universal solvent!
All of a sudden, Squirrel felt something click deep inside his skull. His eyes grew as large as the pool of water in front of him.
“That’s it.” He felt oddly calm. “I know what liquid I need to drink.”
Dipping and Sipping
I need to drink the universal solvent.” Of course! The recipe for Peppered Urchin with Zesty Zucchini in Lavender Emulsion from his mother’s recipe book flashed in his mind. The last thing mentioned in the recipe was the universal solvent.
Squirrel smiled. The universal solvent had to be it. It dissolved most things. It solved most problems. It was the most important drink. And the most simple.
“What you on, mate? What’s the universal solvent?” asked Des.
“Water,” said Squirrel simply.
Des went still; Squirrel could almost see the information trickle to his brain. When the dog finally soaked it up, he began to squeal. “The liquid is water! It’s water!” He shook like a marionette who had just been electrocuted.
“But do you really think that just plain old water is what you seek?” asked Xerice.
“ ’Course not,” piped Des. “It’s water from this spring!”
A smile broke across Xerice’s face. “I wonder which one of you is smarter.”
“It’s him. I would never have figured it out if Des hadn’t said ‘universal solvent,’ ” said Squirrel. “Now, Ms. Xerice, could I just steal a sip of the water from the oasis?” His legs twitched.
Xerice shook her head gravely. “The same rule applies to everyone: only someone who can beat me in a game of cards can drink water from this spring.”
“Oooff . . . If that’s what it takes, sure,” said Squirrel, not hiding his impatience.
“So you make everyone who wants even a sip of water play you for it?” asked Des.
“Well, am I not entitled to amuse myself somehow? Is it wrong for me to enjoy a good game as often as I can find one?” Xerice asked, turning to look at Des, her eyes big and buggy.
“ ’Course . . . ’course you should,” stammered Des. “In fact, the clue that led us to you said, Back to back she hunts for game. And it seems like you do that!”
“Is that what the clue said?” Xerice asked, turning to Squirrel. “Well, why didn’t you just ask anyone in Gandgoon for someone with two backs? Don’t you see that back to back clearly refers to me?” said Xerice, wiggling her double-humped back. “Now, have either of you played Making Family before?”
Both Squirrel and Des shook their heads.
Xerice smiled. “Better for me, then. Anyhow, I’ll tell you how to play. Then let’s see where luck takes you. Making Family is played with the same tiles used for Blackstubbs—except the rules of the game are different. Have you seen Blackstubbs’ tiles before?”
Squirrel nodded. He was suddenly very glad that he and Des had spent most of the past desperate, thirsty night in Gandgoon staring at the goats’ game of Blackstubbs. “The set has four copies of fifteen different tiles.”
“And did you notice that the fifteen different pictures can be divided into five families?” said Xerice, laying out the tiles in front of them.
Squirrel looked at the sixty tiles. Each had a random image on it: a walnut, a millipede, a gazelle, a sand dune, a black buck, a sphinx moth, a mirage, a fox, an ant, a peanut, a cactus, an acacia tree, a pistachio, a desert teak, and an oasis.
“I think I see it,” said Des as he began to sort the tiles into little stacks. “So the groups are: nuts, insects, plants, animals, and the landscape of the desert. Is that correct?”
Xerice checked the tiles and nodded. “Now, if I keep giving a tile to each of us, one of us will collect all three images of the same family, right?”
“You mean, like a moth, a millipede, and an ant?” said Squirrel, rearranging the tiles.
Xerice nodded. She flipped the tiles facedown, one by one, jumbled them up, and then scooped them into a large stack. “Not that hard, is it?”
“No. And the one who gets the family first wins?” asked Des.
“Are you ready to play?” asked Xerice.
“We’ve been ready to play since the spring equinox!” said Squirrel. He could not wait for the tiles to be dealt. He needed to win. He needed to find and drink his last liquid—the cool, clear oasis water.
Xerice distributed three tiles to each of them. They each carefully checked their tiles to see what they had been dealt. Then Xerice picked up another tile and flipped it over. It was a pistachio.
Squirrel looked at the pistachio, trying to decide what to do. In his hand, he had three tiles: a millipede, a peanut, and a mirage. He considered putting down the mirage and picking up the pistachio. But he decided against it.
“Do we all pass?” asked Xerice.
Squirrel and Des nodded, and Xerice flipped over another tile. It was a walnut.
Squirrel groaned. If he had just picked up the pistachio, he could have swapped his millipede for the walnut. He could have won.
“All pass?” asked Xerice, and she flipped another tile. It was a fox.
Des grabbed it immediately and then checked his tiles. A moment later, he pushed two tiles forward: one of the fox, the other of a black buck. “I just need a gazelle. I just need one more tile.”
Xerice winked at Des. “And what do you suppose I have?” She showed her tiles—which were an oasis and a sand dune.
Squirrel felt his narrow shoulders shake. If he had put down the mirage earlier, Xerice would have won already!
He looked back at Des’s tiles. Luckily, the dog was just one tile away from winning. But then again, so was Xerice.
With a single, pointed purpose, he stared at Xerice as she dealt the next round of tiles.
A gazelle, he wished silently. A gazelle. If Des would just get a gazelle, they would beat the camel and win the water.
“Squirrel, I got it!” yelped Des. “It’s a gazelle! I won! I won!” He launched his furry body on Squirrel in a happy maul.
Xerice shook her big head. “I suppose you want your reward?”
“Yes!” screamed Squirrel as she began to lift her body in slow jerks. She swung the weight of her humps back and forth till she stood straight on her four pole-vault legs. For a long moment she stood there, peering down at them from her full, glorious height. Then she sauntered over to the water, picked a leaf pitcher with her rubbery lips, and dunked it into the spring. She ambled back to where Squirrel stood.
Squirrel barely managed to plug his desire to scream, “Hurry up!” As soon as the water was within reach, Squirrel grabbed the pitcher from her mouth. He fumbled with the slippery leaf. A few splashes of the precious water spilled onto the sand. Des yelped.
Taking a deep breath, Squirrel tightened his grip on the pitcher and brought it to his lips.
“Well, here it goes,” he said, taking a tiny sip of the pure, cool liquid.
The water coursed through his body, inflating every nerve, making every muscle sigh with pleasure. The tingle of life surged through him.
Squirrel took another swig of the water, this one a little bigger. He handed Des the pitcher and waited for the pain.
It came. A jolt shot down from the base of his neck, arched across his cranium, and sped through the other side of his brain. His skull ripped with fresh slicing currents.
Squirrel clutched his ears. He breathed in. Any moment now his mother’s voice would play in his ears. Any moment now he would discover the Key of Brittle. Any moment now his life would change forever.
The moment came. His eardrums quivered as soft words strummed against them and Squirrel got lost in the rhythm of his last, final clue.
Squirrel sat rigid, as though he were a fire-baked brick. He could not believe what he had just heard. He let the words chime through his mind again, slowly.
Well done, my son, you got here,
You passed each test, without guides clear,
Now you must solve one last clue
For you’re one step from treasure true
Above your desk, in the nook
In the skin of the big blue book
Lies the key to Brittle’s Map
It’s bright gold on a piece of scrap
The key lets the map be read
By turning letters on their head
And this key is yours to use
Say it, you’ll gain; tell it, you’ll lose
Unfurl the truth long concealed
Learn, my son, the power you wield.
Squirrel swallowed. His mind scanned the words again.
“Squirrel, what did it say?” asked Des, grabbing Squirrel by his narrow shoulders and shaking him so thoroughly that a few strands of Squirrel’s fur flew off his body.
“I’ll tell you when we get out of here,” said Squirrel in a half whisper. Thanking Xerice for her help, Squirrel darted out of the tent and began to jog.
“Squirrel, what happened? What did the memory say?” panted Des as he chased Squirrel.
“We have to go home,” was all Squirrel could say as he kept running.
Des reached out, caught Squirrel’s tail with his paw, and pulled him to a stop. “Stop, Squirrel! Why’re we going home? What about the key?” Des was looking at him as though he had gone as nuts as a bowl of acorns.
“We’re going home ’cos the key is at home, Des,” said Squirrel, jumping up and down.
“Squirrel, stop jumping like a jackrabbit. Now tell me what the memory said. Till then, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Squirrel corked his excitement long enough to repeat the words of the memory to Des. When Squirrel was done, Des too was grinning and hopping around like Bugs Bunny.
“I can’t believe it. The key’s at home! It’s been in your room this . . .”
Des never finished his sentence.
Suddenly the dog’s eyes grew fat with fear. With a shaking finger, Des pointed to the horizon. “Squirrel, over there.”
Squirrel turned to look. The air whooshed out of his lungs and his head began to spin with panic.
Six figures in black cloaks were coming toward them. Only the one in the middle did not wear a hood.
Squirrel felt his numb feet sink into the hot sand.
There, a mere elephant’s shadow away, was Azulfa, a smile on her hard face and her black eyes steely with victory.
The Truth about Ms. Corvidius
RUN!” yelled Des, pivoting on his toe like a clumsy ballerina. He broke into a sprint.
Squirrel did the same. But as plump beads of sweat dripped down his back, Squirrel knew that it was useless. He could never outrun a Kowa. No matter how fast he could run, he could not fly.
Sure enough, Squirrel heard the flutter of wings. A chilly shadow fell across his face. He skidded to a halt as Azulfa dropped onto the sand in front of him and flared her muscular wings to block both Des and himself. Face-to-face, the three stared at one another, each pair of eyes ripe with emotion.
Azulfa moved first.
With a swish she swung her wings out and snapped them together around Squirrel and Des, completely surrounding them. Squirrel tried to move back but was too slow. Before he knew it, he found himself and Des pushed against the strong crow, swept up in a big hug.
“It’s so good to see the two of you,” she cried.
Squirrel squirmed out of Azulfa’s grip and yelled, “Don’t touch me, you traitor! Kill me, but don’t ever touch me. Drop the act. I know what you’re about.”
He wanted to push Azulfa away, punch her if he could, but his paws were clenched in her talons. “You’ve become more suspicious, Squirrel. I’m proud of you,” she said.
When he did not speak, she said, “Squirrel, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t betray you. I’m here to help.”
“Stop lying,” said Squirrel, his voice pulsing with anger.
“I can prove it,” said Azulfa calmly. “Show your faces.”
Slowly the five hooded figures removed their veils. Standing there, grinning, were five faces Squirrel did not expect to see: Cheska, Smitten, Akbar, Bobby, and Lady Blouse.
“No way!” whooped Des as he hugged his sister and slapped his three brothers-in-law on the back. “It’s my family!”
Squirrel could not believe the wonderful mirage. What were his friends doing in the desert? What were they doing with Azulfa?
“Dahling, aren’t you going to say hello?” asked Lady Blouse, smiling at Squirrel.
Squirrel gulped. As though in a dream, he walked up to Lady Blouse and bowed. “Lady Blouse, you look lovely.”
“Why, thank you, dahling,” she said with a small twirl, to show off her black catsuit that hugged every curve of her body.
“But why did Azulfa drag you here?” asked Squirrel, trying not to blush as he watched the Lady. “The desert is no place for someone like you!”
“I didn’t leave poor Azulfa a choice, dahling. When I overheard her speaking to Smitten outside the Pedipurr, I felt just awful. I had to come to rescue you. Otherwise, who would make me those wonderful Pretty Piths? So I insisted that Azulfa let me come, and as you know, I’m a difficult person to resist,” she purred, batting her curly lashes.
“You shouldn’t have,” mumbled Squirrel, so flattered by the fact that Lady Blouse had come to save him that he could not speak. Instead he went around and shook hands with Akbar, Bobby, Smitten, and Cheska.
When he reached Azulfa, he
squinted. He did not know what to make of her. “Azulfa, I don’t get it. I’m sorry, but—”
“If you can stop judging me, I’ll explain. Can you do that?” asked Azulfa.
Squirrel frowned but nodded slowly.
“Good,” continued Azulfa. “Well, when you drugged me at Khoy’s house—by the way, I’m impressed you managed to slip me the Skullcap so sneakily—so yeah, when you drugged me, I didn’t know what to do. But then, I found this crumpled in the hallway.” With that, she removed a small piece of blanched paper with Squirrel’s and Des’s handwriting on it. It was the note Squirrel and Des had passed between them at Khoy’s house. The last five words read: The Desert of Blood Kings.
Squirrel wanted to slap his red forehead.
“So I knew where to find you—”
“And then Azulfa flew all the way to Bimmau to fetch us,” interrupted Cheska. “She knew that if you saw us, you’d believe that she’s here to help you. In fact, I can’t believe how quickly she flew to Bimmau. She found a boat and rowed us all here as quickly as she could. So fast that the oars of the boat are almost broken with the force. We’ll have to find another on our way back.”
Azulfa managed a faint smile. “We will. But, Squirrel, I do hope you believe that I’m here to help you. And also I didn’t send the Kowas after you to the Bone Tomb . . .”
“No, she didn’t. In fact, we think the Kowas found out where you were because of the note Des sent us by BuzzEx. He had written that you were going to a Bone Tomb outside Mellifera, and when we got the message, it had been opened already,” said Smitten.
“What? Who opened it?” asked Des, his tail drooping with dismay.
“We don’t know,” said Akbar, placing an arm on Des’s shoulder. “But we’ll find out.”
“Do you believe me now?” Azulfa asked Squirrel.
“I don’t know what to believe, Zulf. It seems possible, but I still don’t get why you didn’t stop the Kowas from entering the tomb. Or why you didn’t rescue me when I almost drowned in the river . . .”
Azulfa paused, her forehead stretching like chewing gum. She looked as though she were locked in some silent battle. Finally her muscles relaxed and she said softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t help you through the trials. It’s just that . . . I promised that I would watch over you but never interfere unless you were in the most deadly scrape.”
The Tale of a No-Name Squirrel Page 17