Sunday, March 16, 2025

Greed at the End of the Rainbow: A Ginger & Klaus Tale--Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Deceit Discerned

 

“I can see the end of the rainbow!” Pat announced, extending an arm toward the western foothills.  “Right where the slope meets with that boulder; do you see it?”

Klaus squinted across the bar of green grass that lay between them and the spot to which his companion was pointing.  “I can’t see a thing, frankly.  But eyesight has never been my strongest quality.”

“Nor mine,” said Bahar.  “And yet it is plain to me that the rainbow does, in fact, seem to dissipate near a grey blob on the edge of my vision.”

“That’s it!” cried Pat.  “It must be.  He must’ve tucked himself into a crag in the rock, the goon! We’ll be on him before he knows it.”

Klaus studied the leprechaun cookie for a moment and then turned his attention back to the horizon.  Their journey thus far had been uneventful, and he had found himself talking far more than he had desired.  The cookie had an inexhaustible number of questions to lob at both him and Bahar, but he offered very little in response to the questions posed to him.  Klaus did his best not to overthink it or be offended.  The cookie came off the pan just three days ago, he reminded himself.  He is still young and inexperienced, and he has had few adventures, if any.  Maybe Ginger was this curious when she first sprang to life in Mr. Theo’s kitchen.  Just give him a chance.

“Tell me, Pat,” said Bahar, “did more of your kind come to life on your bakeday? Or was it just you?”

“There were some others.  Four, to be exact.” Klaus noticed that there was a look of disdain in his eyes.  “But after a day, those fools decided that they would rather serve Tanas than their maker.  Some enemy must have found his way onto Mount Oniz or something—I’m not sure, I wasn’t around—and told them what Tanas had to offer.  It was a sad thing to come into this world with siblings and then to hear that they have chosen the wrong path twenty-four hours later.” He sighed.  “But I guess not everyone can expect to walk the path of righteousness the way we do, am I right?”

“Right,” said Klaus, weighing his guest’s words.  “And I’m sure you, were you tempted in a similar way, would have too much strength of will and innate power to give in so easily.”

The leprechaun cookie radiated with confidence.  “Why, of course,” he answered, even as his voice faltered.

Bahar stared ahead and placed a paw on the sword that was belted against his right hip.  His brown fur, unadorned other than a pair of orange leather trousers, ruffled in the wind.  “This vole who took your pot of gold—you mentioned that he was large.  How large are we talking?”

Very.  Add another half a vole to yourself, friend, and you would be about his size.”

“There are very few voles who can boast of such length.” Bahar traded a glance with Klaus.  “The few who exist are allied with King Chisha and are perilous.”

“So I’ve heard.  Ginger told me of your Thanksgiving adventure and the deceitfulness of Volsaph.  Good riddance to him and the others who sided with him, I say.”

“That is not what I say.  Many of those who died used to be friends of mine, you know.  They went astray and paid the price for it, but it grieves me to know that they did not forsake their errant way.”

Pat did his best to emulate a shrug with his rigid cookie arms.  “I suppose, Bahar—but they chose that way, didn’t they?”

They proceeded in silence as the wind pushed the clouds from southwest to northeast, blocking the sun.  It was well into the afternoon now, and although the world had darkened beneath the clouds, the warmth felt in the Sprinklevale fields was nearly at springtime levels.  Klaus smiled at a nearby clump of yellow flowers and at the bees buzzing busily to each one; he watched, mouth open in wonder, as a flock of geese formed a “V” shape in the sky and winged their way north; he sidestepped a few aimless worms wriggling between blades of grass.  Although the danger increased for mice at this time of the year—especially during the day—with the reintroduction of newly awakened predators, the beauty of the greening land could not be understated.  Klaus laughed to himself.  Whenever Ginger droned on about how winter was the most wonderful time of the year, he remained silent; he much preferred walking beneath the lukewarm sun of early spring to huddling in his home and hoping his fur and thin clothing would be enough to keep him warm for the day.

Home.  He was surprised at how much he missed it after having spent only half a day away.  Ingrid had been feeling a bit under the weather lately—a bit queasy—and he had almost canceled his plans with Bahar in the morning to care for her.  But she had insisted that he spend some time focusing on anything other than his usual responsibilities, and something in her voice had told him that she was growing a bit tired of seeing him beholden to his routine rather than pursuing his old hobbies.  He did have to admit that putting on a regal face around town for half the day and then throwing himself into his husbandly duties for the latter half grew wearisome at times, and that getting away—even with an unexpected companion and on an unplanned, possibly treacherous adventure—was a welcome change of pace.

He lagged behind his pair of allies and studied the leprechaun cookie for a moment.  As they neared their destination, the cookie’s walking pattern changed.  Before it had been a slow waddle, natural and sure; now he favored his left foot as if he had sustained an injury, or as if he had adopted an awkward gait resulting from overthinking.  Klaus could not see any crumb out of place on the leprechaun’s leg or any other sign of an injury.  Pat looked back at him, then looked ahead, and then looked quickly back at him again and proceeded to waddle the same way as he had done earlier.  An interesting phenomenon, Klaus thought.  Where have I seen that before? It came to him right away: the newborn mice running around Sweetfort, pretending they were at war.  One pup would feign friendship with another and lead him across town to a “secret spot,” which, by its very nature, was irresistible.  The pup would lead his prey with great excitement, his gait changing from a normal walk to something more jittery, and he would look back constantly to make sure his follower had not become wise to the plot. Once the “secret spot” had been reached, the pup’s allies would ambush the deceived mouse playfully and demand that he relinquish his territory to them.  He thought about what he knew of Pat so far, reading between the lines, considering every word that the cookie had spoken, every attitude he had evoked, and every movement that he had displayed.  A lack of humility.  Unbridled avarice.  A change in gait and over-eagerness to reach his destination.  Something isn’t right with this cookie.

Klaus’s mind was still busy with this thought when they reached the boulder.  The egg-shaped stone was huge, much taller than the average man, and rested between the slope of the green, tree-mottled hill and the field.  A small hole could be seen at its base, looking out toward Sprinkleton.  Klaus glanced up and saw that the rainbow did, in fact, end right at the boulder, vanishing into its grey crest.  If there was any truth to Pat’s claim that a pot of gold lay where a rainbow ended, it was certainly inside the rock.

“Here we are,” said the leprechaun cookie.  “And as I thought, the thief tucked himself away in here.  He may be big and brutish, but he’s not stupid; this looks pretty defensible.”

“It is, indeed,” replied Bahar.  “If there is enough space inside, an army could hold out against a foe for many moons.”

“Or risk being trapped—” Klaus looked intentionally into Bahar’s eyes—“for many moons.”

“Yes, I suppose being trapped is a possibility.”

Klaus nodded at him.  “Pat, you’ll have to forgive Bahar.  If this vole is as big as you say, there might be a fight ahead, and Bahar—being a vole, himself—holds to the old religion.  You see, when a battle is ahead, it’s his tradition to trot out to a solitary place and seek Great Boris’s favor.  This meditation imbues him with strength that belies his size.  It’s with this strength that he has, on many occasions, rescued our sweet friends.  Can you spare him a few minutes?”

A flash of impatience could be seen on Pat’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.  “Yes—I mean, of course! We already know where our enemy lies; he’s not going anywhere.  We can wait.”

“Good,” said Klaus, and then he nodded again at his friend.  “Then it’s settled.  We’ll see you back here shortly, Bahar.”

The vole inclined his head.  “Indeed, sweet friends.  I will trot away now, but I will return before you know it.  Thank you for understanding.” Then he was off, dashing to the east until he had disappeared into the horizon.




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