The Storyteller

“‘Oh, could you spare some of that lovely white material?’ the little queen asked excitedly. ‘Just a little bit, so that we can make a few warm clothes?’

“‘Well, you’ll have to pay for it, of course,’ one of the cats said.

“‘Our fabric is the best and most durable,’ another of them added.

“‘It protects against the rain, snow, and fire,’ a third one remarked.

“‘Everything has its price,’ all three said.

“‘Oh, but we don’t have anything we could give to you,’ the little queen sighed. ‘You see, our clothes aren’t made for the icy winter here. Don’t you see how urgently we need your fabric?’

“‘How could we see that?’ an elderly cat asked crankily. ‘We are blind. Visitors tell us our fabric is beautiful, though. They say that if you look at it for a long time, rainbows spring from its folds. But we have never seen that ourselves.’

“‘Oh, you poor creatures!’ the little queen exclaimed.

“They sat down to take a closer look at the fabric that covered the island; and, indeed, after a while, a rainbow shot up in front of them, gleaming and sparkling in all the colors of the world. A second one followed, and then a third. The rainbows began to swirl into each other, as if they were threads themselves. They danced and spun around; they formed spirals and knots up there, in the clear, cold winter air—blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, red, violet—and everyone got a bit dizzy looking at them.

“‘How beautiful!’ the little queen said finally. ‘Isn’t it so sad the cats are blind?’

“‘Glasses,’ the lighthouse keeper murmured. ‘Maybe they aren’t blind after all; maybe glasses are all they need. I left my own glasses on the ship …’

“‘I’ll go and get them!’ the little queen said. She picked up one of the white cats to carry it with her, for the cats looked so soft and nice, but the cat complained. ‘Come on, you can warm my hands till we reach the ship,’ the little queen said. ‘Like a muff made of white fur.’

“‘If you insist,’ the cat said begrudgingly.

“On the beach, the silver-gray dog with the golden eyes was pacing to and fro nervously.

“‘Just imagine … this fabric can create rainbows!’ the little queen shouted, out of breath. ‘Oh, if only we had clothes made of such fabric!’

“The silver-gray dog just growled. ‘Don’t put that fabric on,’ he said. ‘Little queen, don’t do it! Ever! Whoever wears that cloth sees nothing but rainbows and forgets about danger!’

“‘Oh, you! You just don’t like anything!’ the little queen said. ‘Think of the rose girl … you wanted to bite her when she first joined us!’

“‘I will go and see what the others are doing,’ the silver-gray dog snarled. ‘So we don’t lose them to rainbows.’

“The little queen climbed aboard the ship and put the cat down on the deck, where it curled into a ball on the planks and fell asleep instantly. She looked for the lighthouse keeper’s glasses everywhere, but she couldn’t find them. At last, when she was on her knees searching under one of the benches, someone knocked on the rail very politely. The little queen looked up, and there was a man there, clad from head to toe in glittering white fabric.

“‘Come aboard,’ the little queen said. ‘Is it true that one sees only rainbows when one is wearing that fabric?’

“The man didn’t answer. He plopped down on the bench. ‘Oh, little queen,’ he said. ‘I am so tired! I have come far, far across the water, just to see you.’

“‘To see me?’ the little queen repeated, surprised.

“At that moment, the man reached out and grabbed her, pulling her closer. His grip was strong. The little queen gave a cry of fear and pain. Only now did she see that the man had a blond mustache.

“‘Your diamond heart is more beautiful than all the rainbows in the world,’ he whispered. ‘And it is mine, rightfully mine. For you owe your very existence to me. I am your father.’ His white gown slid to the floor; the little queen saw the blood-red coat he was wearing beneath. And the next second, the red hunter lifted her up, as if she weighed no more than a sheet of paper. But then he stepped on a rose branch the rose girl had lost, and thorns pricked through the sole of his boot. He lost his balance and fell, swearing loudly.

“When he sat up, the little queen saw the silver-gray dog racing toward the ship. The rose girl and the lighthouse keeper were behind him. The red hunter stood up. He had let go of the little queen as he fell, and now she fled into the cabin and slammed the door. Then, there was a terrible noise from outside, on the ship’s deck. Some things fell down, and wood splintered; she heard the heavy breathing of two people and pressed Mrs. Margaret to her breast.

“Finally, she glanced through a crack in the wood of the cabin door. Outside, two bodies were rolling over the planks between toppled-over benches and torn sails. It wasn’t a dog that was fighting with the red hunter. It was a wolf. A big gray wolf. The red hunter sprang to his feet and swung his rapier, from which he cast dangerous, glowing sparkles.

“‘Oh, my sea lion, my dog, my wolf!’ the little queen whispered. ‘He will kill you!’

“But she couldn’t do anything; she was too frightened. And she felt very ashamed of herself.

“She saw that the wolf’s fur was dark with blood in some places. Then the wolf collapsed and lay on the floor very still. The red hunter put his rapier away. He kicked the wolf with his boot one last time, stepped over it, and walked to the rail. Caressing the wood, he smiled contentedly. ‘This could be my ship,’ he said. ‘I will not sail her, though. She is too green. I will take nothing from here but the little queen’s heart. I will cut it from her body with my rapier …’

“The little queen wanted to cry. Now, she thought, I’ll die after all, and I still don’t know anything about death. But then something unexpected happened. The big gray wolf moved. It stood up very slowly, very silently, and approached the red hunter from behind. When it was directly behind him, it stood on its hind legs and laid its paws on the railing, on either side of the red hunter; the red hunter turned his head. In his eyes there was nothing but surprise; there was no time for fear. The wolf sank its teeth into the hunter’s neck.

“The little queen covered her face with her hands. She sat like that, all alone, in the darkness of the cabin, until the rose girl opened the door and took the little queen into her arms.

“‘The red hunter is dead,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t have to be afraid any longer. We were hiding in the folds of the white fabric and didn’t see what happened. Did you?’

“‘I don’t know,’ the little queen replied. ‘I didn’t see anything.’

“Outside on the deck, the white cat blinked at them lazily. She had been asleep until now. The lighthouse keeper raised the sails that hadn’t been torn, and they sailed on. A little while later, the sea lion poked his head out of a wave.

“‘Little queen!’ he said. ‘The black ship still hovers on the horizon! There are more hunters there, more greedy hands. Don’t ever forget that.’ With those words, he dove down, back into the deep water. He left a red trace of blood behind.”

Abel ran his fingers through Micha’s hair. She was sleeping. “I didn’t realize she had fallen asleep,” he whispered. “How long has she been sleeping?”

“About since the rainbows,” A

He sighed. “I’ll have to tell the story again.”

“Yes,” A

Abel nodded. “But the rose girl was wrong,” he whispered. “It’s wrong not to be afraid.”

“Abel …” A

He looked up. His eyes were so dark they weren’t blue anymore. Unless it was a shade of blue at night. “No,” he said. “I wish I had.”