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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