4 Astucieux

   “Hello, Vole my love,” said a gentle voice as Vole climbed through the hole in the back wall of the vanity. “Any breakthroughs today?”

   Vole shrugged, “No, not really, Mum. I thought I was on to something there for a moment, but it slipped away from me.”

    Astucieux gave a sad and tender smile to her son. “You know, my love, when you were just a pup, I would marvel at your ability to work things out for yourself. Oh, how you would trick your brothers and sisters when it came time for feeding! You would nip their tails and steal their place when they pulled away from me to investigate. This you did when only a babe, my treasure, so I am quite sure that you will resolve this problem you now face as well.”

   Vole sighed and looked at his mother with new hope for revelation.

  “Mum, what do you think a cloud feels like?” asked Vole. “I mean I know that it’s merely a mass of water vapor, any mouse knows that. But I wonder just what they feel like. Are they cold, or wet or even both? Do they tickle like the cobwebs that stray across my face in the tunnels? Are they merely phantoms that will flee from me should I venture to close. I simply must find a way to get to them and learn what they feel like.”

   “You know that Shimmer could take you to them,” Astucieux said. “She has told me as much, and I know that she has offered this to you, and that you have refused her.”

   “I know that she could, and then I could be done with this whole business, but...” Astucieux smiled then, knowing the words that Vole would say next. “...if it can be done without Shimmer’s help, then that is how I think it must be done. I just haven’t quite got my tail around it yet, but I will. You believe that I will, don’t you Mum”

   “Oh my love, I knew from the start that you would soar at whatever you set your heart to,” she answered with a tenderness only found in a mother’s voice to her child. “That is precisely why you are named Vole.”

   Vole smiled at this, as he always did when Astucieux made mention of the meaning of his name. For his mother’s ancestors had hailed from France, and Vole knew, that in the French tongue, vole was simply the word that meant “fly”.

Vole went to his mother and embraced her tightly. Her delicate hands held his head to her breast and gently caressed him behind his ears.

   “You are my brightest star, little Vole,” she told him softly. “And your light will shine in my heart for all of time.”

   They held each other for a time, but the silence of the moment was broken by a sudden scraping sound from above their heads. Vole’s eyes darted upwards, thinking that the roof above was caving in. His mother only let out a giggle.

   “Do not fret, dear,” she consoled. “That is only your father up top. He has instructed me to remain within, for he has concocted a great surprise for me. I have tried to persuade him to give me hints, but he is stubborn and tells me that I must wait for it.”

   “Sounds as if he’s chewing right through, if you ask me,” Vole remarked. “Surprise! A big hole in our roof!”

   Astucieux laughed at her son’s cynicism. She released her hold on him and turned him to face the doorway. Then, with a playful pat on his behind to get him moving, said, “He has forbidden me to spy upon his doings, but as I recall, has said nothing about you going up to....investigate.”

   Vole smiled at his mother and her deviousness, and started for the door.

  “Oh, and Vole,” she said suddenly, “When you are finished with your mission, please find me once again. I have another for you to undertake. I need you to deliver a letter to Harriet out in the gardens. I only wish I could have gone to her myself, but your sister Aileen is ill with grief, and I must stay here for the time being.”

   “What’s wrong with her?” Vole asked, but then realized the reason. “Is it because of...Erin?”

   “Yes,” she answered. “She is heartbroken at the news and refuses to get out of her bed. They were playing hide and seek with each other in the rose bushes yesterday, only hours before...the owl.”

   Vole’s eyes turned downward, away from his mother’s. His gaze fell upon a mystery that had confounded him since he was very young. For there in the floor, carved in a graceful script, was a curious sequence of three letters, of which Vole had no clue as to their meaning.

   “So, when you’ve reported back to me of your father’s activities up there, return for this letter and take it to Erin’s mother, please. And do not let on that you are spying, for he shall be suspicious, knowing my nature all to well,” she ended with a crooked smile.

Vole looked once again at his mother and nodded his head in understanding.

   “I will, Mum,” Vole said with a mischievous laugh. “He won’t suspect a thing.”

   As Vole turned once more to leave, he glanced again at the riddle on the floor. He would really have to research the possible meaning behind these odd letters one day soon, he thought. Vole silently spoke the three letters to himself as he climbed back out the door, hoping for sudden enlightenment to their true meaning.

“L K H”, he whispered. “L K H”.