The White Assassin Read online

  Turning their gaze to the back of the manor, Cobweb and Montague spotted the rats they’d been searching for.

  “Thicket, Stono, there you are,” said Montague. He spoke properly, like a Trillium rat. “Billycan wants to see you two.”

  Grabbing Carn’s arm, Thicket pulled him to his feet. “This here be Corn,” said Thicket, shoving him in front of the seconds. “Just back from the woods, killed lots a snakes out there!”

  Montague looked at him strangely—not suspiciously, just surprised to see a face he did not recognize. “Corn, you say? How long have you been gone? I don’t seem to recall your face.”

  Carn wished he didn’t have to talk like an idiot, but knew his life was more valuable than his pride. “Don’t know for sure, been a long while now,” he said, “real long.”

  Cobweb looked at Thicket. “Did you say he was killing snakes?”

  “Yep,” said Thicket proudly, “just like Billycan!”

  Tapping his chin, Cobweb sized up Carn. “Billycan will want to know of this. Another rat who can take on the snakes. I’m sure he’ll be interested in speaking to you, Corn.”

  “He can come with us right now,” said Thicket, pulling Carn toward the door.

  “Now, Thicket,” said Montague, “you know no one can go inside without Billycan’s approval. You’ll fall into bad favor, and you wouldn’t want that, now, would you? I’m sure Billycan will be quite intrigued with Corn’s skill, but it will have to keep for now.”

  Thicket jutted out her chin. Her expression turned into a sulk. “Fine,” she said, folding her arms.

  Smiling, Cobweb patted Thicket’s shoulder. “Don’t pout, now,” he said softly. “We’ll be off to Nightshade in a matter of days, all of us getting a whole new life—a better one.”

  Carn’s body stiffened at the news. Mere days! This changed everything.

  “Off you go,” said Montague, motioning to the door. “He’s waiting for you in the parlor.”

  Thicket and Stono bounded up the back stairs and into the manor. Carn stood uneasily with Montague and Cobweb, hoping they’d just move along and go about their business. It seemed nothing had gone as planned since he entered the horde. The two seconds immediately started questioning him.

  “So, Corn,” said Cobweb, “how do you go about killing snakes? How do you do it?”

  “Uh … first I stomp on ’em,” said Carn, thinking fast, “breaking some bones, and then I grab their skulls from the back, before they even sees me. Crack their jaws apart.”

  “You’re brave,” said Cobweb. “Our whole family was killed by snakes, and much of the horde as well. I can’t think of more vicious creatures.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell Billycan about your special ability,” said Montague. “You could be of real help to our cause. If you can kill snakes, you can surely kill rats. Billycan needs our help to reclaim his city, his kingdom that was stolen from him by treacherous Nightshade rats. Billycan says we can all live there, away from the snakes and this accursed heat. Well, we have our duties to attend to. Carry on, then.” The seconds walked off to do a check of the perimeter.

  Relieved, Carn leaned against the manor. But he had to get to Telula tonight. He had to get word to Juniper that the attack on Nightshade was now only days away.

  Billycan crouched on the stained settee in the front parlor of the manor. He was furiously writing on a piece of parchment, constantly dipping his feather pen into the pot, loading up more ink. A drop had trickled down the feather and onto his paw, staining his white fur black.

  Staring at his blackened digits, he wondered for a moment what it would be like to be someone else, to start over with a completely new identity. The thought quickly passed. He had starting writing again when the heady reek of body odor hit his nostrils. Stono’s scent was particularly pungent.

  Thicket and Stono had been standing in silence on the tattered parlor rug, waiting for Billycan to address them.

  “Stono,” said Billycan, not looking up, “bathing is not a crime, you know. You could bring down a herd of oxen with that rancid stench.” He finally looked up from his papers. “We’ll be leaving for Nightshade shortly. A truck is scheduled to be here in a matter of days. You’ll have your orders as soon as I’ve finished going over the last of the city’s blueprints. Stay out of trouble. I can’t risk one of you getting injured because of your continuous roughhousing. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir,” answered Thicket.

  “That’s all, you may go,” said Billycan, waving them away.

  “Uh, sir,” said Thicket timidly, “we found a snake killer—just like you.”

  Billycan cocked his head. “Did you say a snake killer?”

  “Yep, a new rat, Corn. He kill the snakes, just like you.”

  “New,” said Billycan guardedly. “What do you mean, new? How did you not know of him before?”

  “Corn been out hunting all this time,” replied Thicket. “A few years, he say.”

  “Well, Miss Thicket, why don’t either of you remember him if it has been only a few years?”

  Thicket looked at Stono. They didn’t have an answer. They both shook their heads and shrugged.

  Billycan rolled his eyes in frustration. “Oh, never mind,” he said, “you two can’t seem to remember yesterday, let alone last year. Regardless, Thicket, Billycan is glad to know about this rat. He may prove to be quite helpful. Now I’ve plans to work on, so off with you both.” He brandished his pen at Stono. “Oh, and Stono, you will bathe tonight. Billycan can see the fleas on your hide from here. I will not have you festering in front of me.”

  Stono frowned resentfully, stomping his foot.

  “Am I to have a problem with you, Stono?” asked Billycan with a flinty glare.

  After a brief hesitation, Stono spoke. “No sir,” he grumbled.

  “Good,” snapped Billycan. “Now get out.”

  The swamp rats ambled out of the manor. From the corner of his eye, Billycan watched as a wolf spider slowly traveled up a leg of the settee. Suddenly he pounced on it, crushing it violently with his ink-blackened fist before it had a chance to flee.

  With a flick of his wrist he flung the crippled spider to the ground, its broken legs twitching on the Oriental rug. He stared at it intently until the thing finally stopped moving. He found all creatures’ deaths quite fascinating.

  Thicket had dragged Stono off by his ear to the plantation’s murky pond to get clean, or at least to get the stink off him, finally giving Carn some breathing room.

  His stomach knotted, he had been unable to eat the last two days’ rations. He was now achingly hungry. He was watching a pair of grub worms squirming in the grass, seriously considering them, when he noticed a rat watching him, utterly transfixed—a female.

  Their eyes locked. She was brown like the rest, but her coat was dark, like his. She was dainty, fine-boned. Gazing at him, she batted her eyes, tilting her head coyly. She edged nearer, flashing a surprisingly elegant smile.

  “She’s flirting with me,” said Carn to himself, as though the world had ended. “Of all the times—she fancies me for a mate!”

  Carn tried to ignore her, but she kept taking petite steps closer. “Oh, for Saints’ sake,” he muttered. In normal circumstances, Carn would never rebuff the advances of such a pretty girl, but given his situation, not to mention the fact that she was a swamp rat, their union was plainly not in the cards.

  Never did he think he’d be thankful to see Thicket proudly marching back to him with a clean, or at least less offensive, Stono on her arm. “See?” she said. “Don’t Stono look fine?”

  “Real fine,” said Carn, turning his back on the still advancing female.

  Breaking into a toothy grin, Stono pointed over Carn’s shoulder. “Thicket, look there,” he said spiritedly.

  Thicket’s gaze locked on Carn. “Well, look at that,” she said slyly. “Looks like you got a new friend, Corn!” She and Stono laughed like hyenas. Thicket mischievously kicked Carn in the
rump, knocking him down directly at the feet of the female.

  Exasperated, Carn wiped the mud from his snout. “Just wonderful,” he grumbled under his breath. He slowly rose to his feet, realizing he couldn’t get out of talking to this rat. He noticed she was cleaner than the rest of the swamp rats. Her chocolate coat was shiny and dense, no patches of the mange or other ailments that ran rampant through the horde.

  Thicket butted in between them. She pulled the female over to the side and whispered in her ear. The two giggled wildly. She promptly grabbed the female by the wrist and yanked her over to Carn.

  “Corn, this be Oleander,” said Thicket, pushing the female in front of him, “my cousin.”

  “Hey there, Corn,” said Oleander.

  “Hey,” he mumbled coldly. He folded his arms and stared at the ground, not wanting to give her any suggestion he was interested.

  “I hear you be a snake killer,” said Oleander.

  “So what if I am?” he snapped.

  “He be an ornery one,” said Oleander to Thicket.

  “They all be ornery!” said Thicket. The girls laughed madly, jumping up and down.

  Carn rolled his eyes. This was a complication he did not need—not now.

  Stono grunted at Thicket. “Leave ’em be, Thicket. Corn don’t need help from you!”

  Thicket grimaced at Stono, but surprisingly did as he asked. “Fine, then,” she said curtly.

  Abruptly Stono grabbed Thicket around her waist and threw her over his shoulder, his improved hygiene making him boisterous. “Put me down, ya big oaf!” she protested. Stono ignored her, carrying her off toward a willow as she banged on his back and burst into more laughter.

  Carn and Oleander stood in awkward silence. Before he could speak, Oleander grabbed him brusquely by the neck. He tried to wrench away from her tight grip, but she was strong like Thicket. He knew the swamp rats were primitive, but this type of forwardness was downright shocking.

  “Oleander,” he barked, trying to jerk away, “let me go!”

  They fell to the ground. “Quiet!” she whispered in his ear, her heavy drawl evaporating. “Do you want to get us both killed? Now listen closely. We don’t have much time!”

  “What?” shouted Carn in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she said. “I know you’re not a swamp rat. You must meet me by the ancient willow, just after dark.” The horde was beginning to observe their exchange. Using her feet, she rolled him on top of her, pretending to tussle with him in the grass.

  “What ancient willow? Where?”

  “It’s the largest tree you’ll find, just outside the front gate. You can’t miss it.”

  Carn spun her back over. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Did you already forget my name?” she asked with a subtle southern inflection. She laughed softly. “I’m Oleander.”

  “I don’t understand,” whispered Carn.

  “It’s all right,” she said calmly. “We’re not all as dim-witted as you think.” Her dark eyes flashed in the sunlight. “For now, that’s all you need to know. See you after nightfall, then.” Abruptly she sprang up and dashed out of view, hiding herself within the ranks of the horde.

  Carn lay on the ground, utterly dumbstruck.

  The sun had set. The horde had settled in a heap. Carn lay nervously next to Thicket and Stono, trying to figure out how to slip away without Thicket wanting to go with him.

  Carn turned on his stomach and spied the corroded gates at the edge of the plantation’s gravel footpath. Like old bones, the gates hung open—skeletal creations, falling off their hinges, ruined relics of their former grandeur.

  A mosquito stabbed Carn in the flank. He whipped around abruptly, flattening the insect with his fist. Blood burst from the insect’s belly and onto his palm.

  Thicket awoke. “Corn, what you doing?” she asked groggily. “Ain’t you sleeping yet?”

  “Can’t sleep,” he said, grabbing the opportunity. “I be eaten alive by mosquitoes—going to the pond to wash off. Maybe then the mosquitoes go and bother someone else.”

  “I’ll go, too,” she said, about to arise.

  “No, no,” said Carn, “you stay with Stono.” He grinned shyly. “I wants to go find Oleander. She told me she may be at the pond tonight. I can’t stop thinking ’bout her.”

  Thicket sat on her haunches, smirking mischievously. “I knew it! You likes her, too! All right then, I stays put. Go gets yourself to the pond.” She tossed a clump of dirt at him. “You be looking grungy, so takes yourself a bath before you find Oleander. Now that Stono be clean, you stink worse than him!”

  Carn smiled. Despite Thicket’s lack of anything even mildly resembling etiquette, there was an uncomplicated sweetness about her. “I be back soon.” He quickly got to his feet and trotted out of sight before Thicket had a chance to change her mind and follow.

  Carn sped toward the gate, hoping no one had followed. He spotted the old willow Oleander had mentioned. It stood just outside the perimeter of the plantation, beyond the marked borders Telula had shown him—snake territory. If a snake spotted him, it would think him a swamp rat, devouring him before he’d even have a chance to explain he was on it’s side.

  The tree looked deserted. He saw no signs of Oleander or anyone. Maybe it was a ruse, and Oleander a lure sent by Billycan to lead him into a trap. Carn sniffed the air. After eleven years in the Kill Army, he was a veritable expert on the white rat’s scent, an odd fusion of black mushrooms and cane molasses.

  His chest heaving, Carn neared the ancient willow. It was a huge, knotted thing, wider than any tree he’d ever seen in Trillium. Its trunk looked as if it might come to life, swallowing him whole. Lumpy and puckered, its twisted exterior resembled a mass of knotted wooden mouths, poised to strike, ready to devour his flimsy rat bones.

  He slipped through the corroded bars of the gate. An owl screeched. Carn leaped in fright. It seemed the hazards of the swamp were endless. How he longed for Trillium and its self-absorbed Topsiders. Its cats and dogs, the maddening pigeons, the cars careening down the overcrowded streets—he would give anything to be faced with the enemy he knew.

  “Over here,” whispered a giggly voice from the other side of the tree. “Cat got your tongue?” It was Oleander. She bounced into view as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her shiny coat and pointed teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

  “Keep your voice down,” pleaded Carn. “Billycan could be anywhere!”

  “Don’t be silly. We watch him day and night. Our guards say he’s stomping around the manor right now, brooding over something or other. Now, first things first. Please tell me your name is not Corn. Such a ridiculous name, it can’t be real!”

  Carn’s cover was already blown, so what would it matter if he revealed his name? “I didn’t have much time to think about it. My real name is Carn.”

  “Well now, Carn, that’s much better!” she said brightly. “ ‘Corn’ is a little too backwoods, even for us.” She giggled again.

  Insulted, Carn felt his cheeks grow hot. “No one else seemed to question it.”

  “I’m only teasing. It was a fine choice for a name—really. I’m just happy to meet another rat like myself.”

  Carn crinkled his nose, peeved he had not disguised himself better. “How did you figure me out?”

  “It was easy!” she said excitedly. “First off, you talk to yourself—a lot. Once, when Stono and Thicket were off eating dinner, I spotted you sitting in the grass, grumbling to yourself about Nightshade, how you missed it so—the same city Billycan speaks of. He says it belongs to him, which I’ve doubted from the start. Other things gave you away, too, things the horde never would have noticed. You haven’t eaten your rations in two days. Even ill, a member of the horde would have gobbled them up without a second thought. And you don’t walk like a swamp rat, all slack and droopy. You walk with purpose, like a soldier.”

  “I was a soldier,” admitted Carn.
He looked at Oleander curiously. She seemed so smart. “Why aren’t you like the others? I thought all the swamp rats were a bit slow-minded—no offense, of course.”

  “None taken. For the most part we are exactly that—slow-minded.” Oleander sighed. “The horde has existed for over a hundred years. Our lineage has plenty of dreadful qualities, which I suppose eventually overwhelmed all the good ones—aggression, bad judgment, the need to fight, not to mention an utter lack of common sense.”

  “But you seem as smart as me.”

  “I’d say smarter!” she said with a smirk. “As it turns out, every so often one of us pops out right, just like you, or Montague and Cobweb. Where you’re from, I’m sure very few rats come out inferior; in my world it works the other way around.”

  “But who’s been teaching you? How did you learn to speak—well—like me?”

  “There’s a small group of us. The elders of our group pass on their knowledge to the next generation. The original members of our little faction learned from the humans who built the manor. Tar, one of our forefathers, used to hide in the parlor and listen to every lesson the humans taught their children. They were a smart group, several families of scientists all living together, raising their children while doing some kind of research. The scientists left this place lifetimes ago, but since then each new generation of our kind has taught the next. Those crazy snake worshipers who bought the manor years later were all bitten by their own snakes. They didn’t last too long!” She laughed.

  Carn looked perplexed. “Why do you pretend to be like the others? Maybe you and your group could help the rest of the horde.”

  Oleander’s cheery face turned dismal. “The ones who’ve tried were driven out. Years back, a few even got killed for it. The horde didn’t understand that they were being offered help, and a couple of rats—well, they didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but they did.” She paused for a moment. “It’s hard being different.”

  “What about the seconds, Cobweb and Montague? Why were they accepted into the horde?”