Braver, Page 9

  The music stopped. The dancing stopped. The mice turned to look, their gazes falling upon the three travelers.

  12

  STELLA’S STAR

  With hundreds of mouse eyes upon him, Melvin shuffled back and forth, looking as uncomfortable as a worm dangling from a hook.

  “Why are they staring at you?” Lola whispered to him.

  “I’m not sure. They certainly don’t look happy to see me.” He curled his tail around himself. While most of the long-tailed mice stayed in a cluster, watching with narrowed eyes, one mouse set down a serving tray, then walked forward. She was twice the size of the average mouse and wore a lacey white apron. Like the others, she was brown in color with a long white tail. Though her size was nearly ratlike, her features were purely mouse, from the rounded ears to the delicate paws. She stopped in front of Melvin and gave him a long once-over.

  “They’re looking at you, they are, because rats often cause trouble around here,” she told Melvin. “On account of us having so much food in Bounty.”

  Melvin cleared his throat. “I assure you, ma’am, I will not cause any trouble.”

  She frowned. “You’re a swamp water rat, aren’t you? If you’ve come looking for garbage, we don’t have any, we don’t. We compost everything in the Farmlands. So you might as well be on your way.”

  Melvin folded his arms, his discomfort turning to annoyance. “Oh, how terribly disappointing,” he said. “Because as a swamp water rat I think of nothing else. It wouldn’t be possible for me to possess a finer palate, or good taste, for that matter.” His tone was sarcastic and a bit rude. His tail had dropped back to the ground, twitching agitatedly. Lola’s mouth opened with surprise. She waited with apprehension. Would the mouse ask them to leave before Lola had asked any questions?

  But to Lola’s surprise, the mouse cocked her head. Was that a little twinkle in her eyes? She turned to the crowd. “Go on now,” she called out. “Stop your gawking. I’ll take care of these travelers, I will.” With a wave of her paw, the music resumed and the mice returned to their festivities. The enormous mouse put her hands on her round hips. “I’m Stella, owner of Stella’s Star and mayor of Bounty. What can I do for you?”

  Lola stepped forward. “I’m Lola Budge and this is Melvin and Blue. We’re looking for the other wombats. Did you see them?”

  Stella frowned. “Wombats? You’re the first wombat we’ve seen in ages, you are.”

  “My mum and dad and all my neighbors were taken from our burrows and put into a cage. The cage was put on a cart, and the cart was put onto a paddle-wheel boat, and the boat floated up the Fairwater River and then the cart was taken off the boat and pulled up the Royal Road. But we don’t know if the cart took one of the other roads or if it came this way. Did you see it? Did it come through town? Did anyone see it?” Lola’s words came faster and faster the longer she talked. “I really need to find them. Can you help me?”

  A look of puzzlement spread across Stella’s round face. “You’re not a typical wombat, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Stella looked at Melvin. “And you’re not a typical swamp water rat.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” Melvin said as he picked a downy penguin feather off his shoulder.

  Blue waddled up to Stella, opened his beak wide, and cried, “HUNGRY!”

  “But that is definitely a typical penguin.” Stella chuckled and reached out to pat Blue’s head. Her expression turned serious when she looked back at Lola. “Your story is a terrible one, it is. I’m sorry to hear about your family. But I haven’t seen any wombats in town. And I’d know if they’d been here. Everyone comes to my establishment, they do, for food, drink, and merriment.”

  Had Lola’s worry come true? Had the cart gone down one of the other roads? Her ears fell back and she glanced over her shoulder anxiously.

  “But I’m confused, I am,” Stella said, interrupting Lola’s worries. “Who would put a bunch of wombats onto a cart?”

  “A night monster,” Melvin said.

  “With a gold tooth,” Lola added.

  Stella took a sharp breath, then looked around, eyeing the dark alleys between the buildings. “Are you saying there’s a Tassie devil on the loose?”

  Lola nodded. “Yes. She’s the one who took my family.”

  Stella’s long tail stiffened. “We need to tell the queen. Right away.”

  A loud thud sounded as the door to Stella’s Star flew open. It wasn’t loud enough to disturb the revelries, but it did draw Lola’s attention.

  “Oh, dread,” Melvin grumbled, his face falling into his open paw as a pair of swamp water rats emerged. Bob and Stanley stumbled out, wiping their mouths with the backs of their paws. They wore their shovels on their backs and carried their buckets. A little mouse followed, shaking a fist at them. “You didn’t pay for your brew, you didn’t,” he called. He also wore a lacey white apron.

  “Pay?” Bob opened his mouth and belched. “Why should we pay? That sweet stuff was delicious.”

  “Delicious?” The waiter puffed out his tiny chest. “Of course it was delicious. We are known kingdom-wide for our berry brew, we are. It’s the specialty of the house. Made from seven different berry juices.”

  Stanley snorted and, with the tip of his tail, poked the waiter in the chest. “Hey little mousy, delicious is a bad thing. We don’t want delicious. We want disgusting.”

  “Oh really?” The mouse’s snout twitched and he glared up at Stanley. “Are you a professional restaurant critic?”

  “I should be,” Stanley said with a chuckle. “Your brew was too fruity. And there were no dead flies floating in it. Thumbs down from me.”

  “Aye, that’s a good one, Stanley, only you don’t have any thumbs.” Both rats broke into laughter, tottering on their feet as if about to fall over.

  “All you rats are the same,” the little waiter said. “Smelly—”

  “What did you call us?” Bob whipped his shovel off his back and shook it at the waiter, who squealed with fear. Once again, the music stopped. The musicians, dancing couples, and frolicking youngsters turned and stared. A rare few began walking forward, seemingly unsure, but getting ready for a fight.

  A long-suffering sigh came from Melvin as he and Lola watched the scene unfold.

  Stella stomped over to the rats. “Your behavior won’t be tolerated in this town, it won’t. You owe coin for the drinks, you do. Delicious or disgusting, they aren’t free.”

  Though Stella was large in mouse terms, Bob’s muscular frame still towered over her. “I’m not paying for something I didn’t like. Give us some rubbish and we’ll happily pay.”

  Stella balled up her fists. Lola couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was Stella going to fight an enormous rat? “You have three seconds to pay before I consider you a thief,” she warned. “One … two…”

  After a few quick motions, Bob found himself facedown in the dirt, with Stella sitting cross-legged atop him. “Oi! You’re crushing me!” Bob cried.

  Stella pointed at Stanley. “You’ll be next.”

  “Okay, okay,” Stanley said, holding up his paws in a show of peace. His eyes roamed nervously over the slowly growing crowd of mice around them. “But we are a bit short on coin at the moment.”

  Melvin sighed again. Then he walked over to Stella. “Would you allow me to pay for their drinks by giving you some lovely products? I’m afraid I don’t have any coin either.”

  And so Stella selected some paw cream, while the waiter chose some whisker cream, and they seemed satisfied. “You two can sleep in the field tonight, but don’t come anywhere near my establishment again,” Stella told Bob and Stanley.

  Bob and Stanley collected their buckets and shovels. “Whatcha still doing with the wombat?” Bob asked. “And where’d you pick up a baby penguin?”

  “Not a baby!” Blue’s pout seemed to grow fiercer each time he needed to repeat the phrase.

  “It’s a long story,” Melvin said. “I
suggest you two do as Miss Stella says and go sleep in the field. We can talk in the morning.”

  The musicians, who had been holding their instruments with bated breath, played again with renewed vigor. Dancers grabbed their partners and the little waiter began to fill empty mugs. “And that’s why we rats have a bad reputation in this town,” Melvin told Lola as they watched Bob and Stanley stumble toward the nearest field.

  “Thank you for your help,” Stella said to Melvin. “The least I can do is offer you some vittles.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything disgusting on the menu, I don’t.”

  “I assure you that my palate is quite sophisticated,” Melvin said. “I will enjoy whatever you have to offer.”

  “So will I,” Lola said, her stomach grumbling. “But penguins only eat one thing.”

  “Fish!” Blue hollered.

  “I’ll see what I can find, I will.”

  They sat at an outdoor table. It was tricky for Lola to balance on the little mouse-sized stool, so she pushed two together. Melvin tied a napkin around Blue’s neck, and Blue clapped his flippers in anticipation of the meal to come. Stella returned with a plate of salad greens for Lola and a bowl of corn chowder for Melvin. He held it to his nose and sniffed. “Do I detect parsley and young onions?” He took a sip. “Yes. Delightful.” The little waiter brought mugs of frothy berry brew. Stella opened a tin with a knife and a tangy fish scent filled the air.

  “Fish!” Blue cheered.

  “Anchovies,” Stella told him, dumping the oily contents onto a plate. Blue slurped them up as fast as he could while Stella opened two more tins. “I keep them in the pantry, I do, for the messenger pelicans.”

  Lola, after first edging herself back from the especially smelly fish, pricked up her ears. Her eyes turned to Stella with a newfound sudden surge of hope. “I’ve been looking for a messenger pelican,” Lola said. “Have you seen one around?”

  “They were all called back to Dore last month, they were. The queen needed them.”

  “Why would Queen Myra need all the pelicans?” Melvin asked.

  “I don’t know, I don’t.”

  A pair of mice waltzed past the table. “What are you celebrating?” Lola asked.

  “We’re celebrating the royal visit. The queen is coming to the Farmlands, she is. And she’ll be stopping right here in Bounty.”

  Lola nearly choked on a crisp leaf of sprawling pigface. “The queen? Queen Myra? She’s coming here?”

  “It’s true.” Stella lifted her tail, then sat on a stool. She took a sip of brew. “She’ll be here tomorrow. Her royal workers have finished laying the track that connects Dore to Bounty. Tomorrow morning Queen Myra will arrive on a train and visit our town.”

  “What’s a train?” Lola and Melvin asked at the same time.

  “I don’t fully understand, I don’t. But I’ve been told that it’s a new way to travel. It’s like a bunch of carts that are connected in a line, but instead of their wheels rolling over the ground, they roll on tracks. And the cart in front is powered by steam and it pulls the other carts.”

  Lola put a paw to her chin in confusion. She thought of the cart that had pulled her parents away, of dozens of them. All connected together and filled with wombats, rats, mice, and all the rest. At the front of the long, snakelike chain sat a large boiling pot where the Tassie devils clustered and prepared for their meal. Lola shuddered and shook herself free of the vision, knowing it couldn’t really be anything like that. Not if the queen was coming with it, right?

  “It’s very exciting, it is. This train will carry our harvest to Dore much faster than we ever could by cart or wagon. Now the critters of Tassie Island will get the freshest food ever, they will.”

  If the queen was coming to the Farmlands, then perhaps Lola’s travels were over. “I can talk to the queen tomorrow,” she said, almost bouncing in happiness. “I can tell her about my family.”

  Stella patted Lola’s paw. “Queen Myra will be very upset to hear what has happened. I’m sure she’ll do everything she can. Our queen loves us. She’s looking to the future, she is. She’s building this train so all the peaceful critters who live on this island can be connected. Isn’t that a lovely idea?”

  Lola and Melvin exchanged a look of concern. Lola wanted, with all her heart, to believe that Queen Myra was a noble queen, as Lola had been taught. But she couldn’t shake the nagging possibility that the queen already knew about the gold-toothed monster and the missing wombats. It was possible that the wombats had been taken under her orders. But they had no real proof yet, and it would be unfair to make such an accusation in public.

  “Yes, I will tell her everything,” Lola said. “And maybe she can help us get Blue back to Penguin Bay.”

  Stella set her mug aside. “As the mayor of Bounty, I will personally see to it that you get an audience with the queen, I will.” Lola was so happy she jumped off her stools and threw her arms around Stella in a great big hug, engulfing the mouse almost entirely. Stella chuckled and smiled, but firmly pushed Lola away, wriggling free from the hug. “You are definitely not a typical wombat.”

  They finished the meal. Lola and Blue patted their bellies and smiled with satisfaction.

  “Closing time!” Stella yelled. The music stopped and the musicians began to put their instruments away. The mice bid their farewells and scurried back to their homes, or inns and campsites for those visiting from the smaller villages.

  While Melvin and Blue could have stayed in one of Stella’s rooms, the only sleeping accommodation that would fit Lola was the storage warehouse. The double doors were massive, since a good deal of the fruits and vegetables were much larger than the mice themselves. Stacks of crates, cords of wheat, and baskets filled the space, all stuffed to bursting with fresh crops. Stella pointed to some piles of loose hay. “That should make a nice nest.” She bid the travelers a good night. “I’ll see you in the morning, I will. We’re going to meet the queen!” After an excited squeal, she shut the doors behind her.

  Lola was grateful to sleep inside. Grabbing pawfuls of hay, she made a comfy nest for her and Blue, covering both of them with her traveling cloak. Melvin lay next to them in his sleeping bag. But how would Lola be able to sleep with such anticipation running through her veins? Tomorrow she’d meet the queen. Tomorrow the queen would explain that everything had been a huge misunderstanding. Tomorrow everything would be better.

  “Home?” Blue asked as he cuddled next to Lola.

  “Not yet,” Lola told him. “But soon.” She didn’t read from The Tales of Tassie Island. Instead, as a full moon rose in the sky, covering the Mouse Farmlands in a soft glowing blanket, Lola told Blue a story about a queen named Myra, a good queen, who helped a little penguin find his way home.

  But even now, doubt remained.

  13

  THE STEAMING DRAGON

  Morning light shone through cracks in the warehouse’s doorway. Lola blinked, slowly waking. Blue had moved in his sleep, rolling partially under Lola’s head like an extra fluffy pillow—albeit a fishy one. She sat up, feeling a sense that something other than the sun had woken her. Something like …

  Pawfalls?

  She climbed out of the straw nest, hurried to the warehouse doorway, and opened the door. Dozens of mice were scurrying past, all heading in the same direction. And they appeared to be wearing their fanciest clothing, including bonnets and colorful overalls. “Where are you going?” she asked a mouse, whose long white tail was decorated with a pink ribbon.

  “We’re going to see the queen, we are,” the little mouse squeaked, at first taken aback by the wombat’s size. “The train’s almost here.”

  Lola’s heart thudded. She ran back inside. “Melvin! Blue! Get up! Get up! The train is coming! The queen!”

  Blue rolled over and buried his face in Lola’s cloak. Melvin, not one to hurry in the morning, began to grumble about how he didn’t want to be seen by Her Royal Majesty in such a disheveled state and that he nee
ded, at the very least, to comb his fur. Then he scratched his arm. Then his other arm. He bolted upright. “Oh, dreary days, I think I have a flea!”

  Lola knew that her mother and father would tell her to polish her claws, scrub her nose, and pick straw from her fur, but that would take too long. “Please watch Blue,” she called. “Don’t let him wander.” And off she went.

  She followed the mice to the edge of a cornfield where a wooden platform had been built, with a roof to keep out the rain. A sign was tacked to one of the posts:

  BOUNTY TRAIN STATION

  ARRIVAL SCHEDULE: SOMETIME

  DEPARTURE SCHEDULE: SOMETIME THEREAFTER

  The mice pressed close together, some holding bouquets of flowers, others holding little welcome signs. Youngsters bounced up and down and everyone chatted excitedly. “The queen, the queen!” Lola wanted to bounce, too, but was afraid she might land on an innocent bystander. “Hellooo,” she said, waving down at the little critters.

  “Hellooo, hellooo,” they hellooo-ed back.

  Two long silvery strips of metal ran in front of the station and ran far into the distance, like an endless ladder lying on the ground. Lola was still having trouble imagining what the train looked like and how it moved. Steam-powered? What did that mean, exactly? She was about to ask the mice around her when a loud voice said, “Make way, make way. Your mayor is here, she is. Make way.” The mice shuffled aside as Stella pushed through until she stood beside Lola. A sash was tied across her chest and read: MAYOR. “Are you excited to meet the queen?” she asked, looking up at Lola.

  Lola could barely find the words to answer. She’d never dreamed that she’d actually meet Queen Myra. Why would she? She was supposed to live out her life in the Northern Forest with the other wombats, in peace and quiet. But now, on that very morning, she would speak to Her Royal Majesty. She would tell the horrible story about her family and the queen would make things right. Lola tried very hard to push away her doubts. Queen Myra would prove to be the gracious, loving queen that she’d always been. “I’m very excited,” Lola replied with a quiver of her whiskers.