The White Assassin Page 4
“From the outside, they seem like nice enough fellows. Are they really aligned with Billycan? Do they know you or your group exists?”
“The elders of our group have never been sure of the gray rats, not being family and all, so they’ve never breathed a word. I’ve proposed we tell Cobweb and Montague the truth, maybe we can help each other, but they said no—both of them working for Billycan and all. The elders are rather set in their ways. I doubt they’ll ever recognize Cobweb and Montague as members of the horde.”
“If the horde is so set against outsiders, why would they accept Billycan?”
“Oh, he made a big show of things, saving the lives of three rats about to get pounced on by water moccasins. The horde thought he must have been sent to them, this white rat with red eyes. They believed him to be their savior. The elders knew straight off he was not what he seemed, but we were outnumbered. There was nothing we could do to keep him out.”
Oleander sat at the base of the tree and leaned against its trunk. Carn sat next to her. “Your elders are right about Billycan,” he said. “Let there be no doubt, he’s vicious and depraved in every way, a murderer. He should be in Nightshade’s prison corridor. He’s set on revenge and will use your family to carry it out, leading everyone to their death if necessary.”
“So Nightshade City wasn’t taken from him as he claims. We suspected as much,” said Oleander.
Carn scoffed. “The Catacombs were our original home, taken over by Billycan and a monster of a rat named Killdeer in a brutal battle known as the Bloody Coup. Eleven years later the Loyalists, good rats, freed the citizens of the Catacombs. Killdeer wound up dead and Billycan escaped like a coward, afraid to answer for his crimes. Nightshade’s Chief Citizen, Juniper Belancort, was the one who headed up the cause. He is the reason we are all free today. Billycan is dead set on revenge, which is why he’s planning on taking the horde to Nightshade.”
“I see,” said Oleander. “So you’ve met him. You know Billycan, then?”
Carn suddenly felt exhausted, as if the act of speaking had drained him completely. “Working as his aide for eleven years in the Catacombs, following each and every order he ever muttered—yes, I know him well.”
In the dark hours of morning, Oleander and Carn crept back into the heart of the horde. They awoke next to Thicket and Stono, acting as if they were now together, a couple, claiming to have met at the pond during the night. Thicket could not have been happier to have Carn court her favorite cousin, and gladly welcomed Oleander into their group.
Carn’s main objective was to finally get to Telula. It had been several days now, and the Council must be thinking the worst. He had to get them the news.
Oleander and her small faction had been hoping to devise a plan to get rid of Billycan. Carn thought they could join forces with the others—rats, bats, and snakes—all fighting as one.
They had just finished breakfast, a mealy muck of dried fish and tadpoles. A feeble excuse for a meal, but Carn was glad to have food of any kind. He needed to think clearly, so many new revelations were whirling about in his head. As the foursome sat in the sun, digesting their shabby rations, Montague and Cobweb approached.
“Ah,” said Cobweb, looking at Thicket and Stono, “there you are. Billycan wants to see you two directly. He has devised a final plan for the attack, and you two need to learn your directives.”
Stono let out an unpleasant belch. The dried fish, most likely gone bad, was not agreeing with him. “He wants us to be learning what?” he asked.
“Your directives,” said Montague. “You know, Stono. What you’re supposed to do, your orders for the attack on Nightshade.”
“Oh,” said Stono as another rolling burp escaped his mouth, this time with an equally disgusting scent attached.
Thicket jumped up impatiently. She grabbed Carn’s paw, yanked him to his feet, and dragged him in front of Cobweb and Montague. “What ’bout him?” she asked. “Don’t Billycan want to see Corn the snake killer?”
“Tomorrow, Thicket,” said Cobweb. “Billycan will meet your friend tomorrow night. Our lord and leader has a special night planned for you and the rest of the horde. We’ve dug a pit for a lone boar spotted roaming the area. We are to have a bonfire feast tomorrow night, and then we’ll go to Nightshade the following day, all with bellies full of roast boar—a reward from Billycan.”
Stono clapped his paws in delighted anticipation.
“Billycan said he’d meet with Corn during the feast,” said Montague. “He’s certainly intrigued.” He patted Carn on the shoulder approvingly. “He’s very interested in meeting you, Corn.” He looked over at Oleander, who deliberately clung to Carn’s arm. “And Oleander as well, I see.”
“Yep,” said Thicket happily. “They be thick as thieves!”
“Well, then, the four of you have quite an honor in store. Billycan has requested the three of you to dine by his side during the feast. Oleander, you’ll attend with Corn, then,” said Cobweb.
“Come along, you two,” said Montague, “Billycan is waiting.”
The two seconds, along with Thicket and Stono, left for the manor. Carn exhaled anxiously. “What am I going to do?” he asked Oleander. “Billycan will kill me on sight!”
“Hush, now,” whispered Oleander. “Things will be fine. We’ll meet your bat friend tonight, and later I’ll introduce you to my father, Mannux, Chief Elder of our group. We’ll figure this out, I promise. Everything will turn out all right.”
“How do you know that?” asked Carn gloomily.
“Because it can’t end any other way. It just can’t.”
The sun had set. The horde slept comfortably in the grass. It was cool, a welcome relief from the normally sticky night air. Carn was eager to meet with Telula.
Oleander giggled in the grass. Thicket sat up and looked at her cousin. “What you laughing ’bout?” she asked. Oleander cupped a paw over Thicket’s ear and whispered something. The two started cackling like old crones, and Thicket slapped her cousin’s knee.
Stono frowned at them, jerked awake by their snickering. “What be wrong with you two? I’m trying to sleep. Now hush up!” he snapped grumpily.
“Aw, Stono,” said Thicket, “these two want to talk in private, is all.”
“They want privacy, then give it to them,” he said crossly. He nodded at Carn. “Corn, go over to the cypress by the pond, no one go there but me and Thicket. That be our place.”
Carn stood up and grabbed Oleander’s paw, pulling her up with him. “Let’s get to the pond, then,” he said impatiently, worried that they would miss Telula.
Stono chuckled. “Take your time, Corn. You got the rest of your life for that courting nonsense. Other things be more important now.” Stono smiled fondly at Thicket, patting her on the shoulder. She curled up next to him, wrapping her tail around his middle.
Carn studied Stono. Every time Carn thought he was just as bumbling as could be, he’d say something meaningful, utterly insightful.
“Night, you two,” said Stono, watching the pair run off.
“Night,” called Carn as they disappeared into the dark.
CHAPTER THREE
Dig Him Up
THEY RACED TOWARD THE POND, but then made a wide circle so as not to be seen heading to the side of the manor. They sat against the side of the house, hidden by the pile of firewood where Carn and Telula had agreed to meet.
Carn examined the trees, looking for any sign of her. At last he spotted her, a shadowy, flapping blur against the darkening sky. She flew down onto a low branch of the nearest tree.
Carn took Oleander’s
paw. “Telula,” he called in a whisper. “It’s Carn.”
Telula dived swiftly down from her perch and landed atop the firewood. She looked at him, wide-eyed. “Carn, you’re alive!” she whispered happily. “We all thought—”
“I know,” said Carn. “I’m sorry I worried you all, but I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone will be so relieved—” Spotting Oleander, Telula froze for a moment, distressed. “And who is this?” she asked guardedly.
“Don’t be alarmed,” answered Carn. “This is Oleander. She’s not like the others. She’s from a secret group within the horde, all smart like us.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Oleander said softly, staring up at the bat. “Carn speaks highly of your colony and how you’ve all been so obliging to his kind—well, my kind. I know you think the horde a coarse and violent sort, but they just don’t know any better. They’re good on the inside—truly.”
Telula felt embarrassed. How harshly she’d judged the swamp rats. “If you are a friend to Carn, then you are a friend to my colony. Our rat friends are numerous. We should have known there was more to the horde than what we saw from the trees … ignorance on our part, I’m afraid.”
“Oleander and her group want to be rid of Billycan, same as us,” said Carn, climbing up on the logs to get closer to the bat. “Telula, you have to warn Juniper. Billycan is planning an attack on Nightshade in two days. There will be a feast tomorrow night, and then he’s taking the horde to Nightshade.”
“Oleander, who is the leader of your group?” asked Telula. “Who is the elder in charge?”
“That would be my father, Mannux,” said Oleander.
“All right,” said Telula, thinking. “I’ll inform Juniper and Dresden of these new developments. My colony can get Juniper and the others into the manor, if Mannux and your group can keep Billycan occupied at the feast.”
“No problem there,” said Carn with a guilty cringe. “I’m … well … his guest of honor.”
“Carn!” scolded Telula. “What were you thinking? Unremarkable, remember?”
Billycan looked out past the front gates of the manor. The moon had all but disappeared. A gluey fog had blown into the swamp, swallowing it entirely, as though heralding bad tidings. Except for the breeze whispering through the cypresses, the swamp was still—a welcoming calm. The horde slept in back, the sputtering of their snores too far away to hear.
Ears perked, Billycan watched anxiously as the light from the fire pit bounced with tall shadows. There it stood—the boar. Billycan observed from the parlor window as the mud-caked razorback scraped its great body against the ancient willow and then pushed its way through an opening in the rusted gate. The thing had been wandering for days, hopelessly separated from its clan. It had torn up large mats of earth, searching for roots, mushrooms, and insects—whatever it deemed digestible.
The boar was now perilously close to the horde. It would be only a matter of time before it sniffed them out through its muck-encrusted snout, plucking them off the ground, happily crushing them in its decaying teeth. The sooner it was killed, the better.
Billycan had commanded the horde to dig a hole, big enough for the razorback to fall into but small enough that it could not turn about or clamber its way to freedom. Once confined in the pit it would be an easy slaughter, one that Billycan looked forward to. Size was of no consequence to the white rat. A few lethal gashes to the jugular and the hog would be dead.
Billycan jumped up from the sill as the black boar neared the hole. Now inspecting the pit, it walked along its edge. “Go on, then, go on,” he said eagerly. “Fall, pig, fall!”
The razorback teetered on the edge. It spotted a fleshy root growing out from the pit’s wall and stuck its massive head into the hole. Kneeling down, it stretched for the root. “That’s it … that’s it,” coaxed Billycan. “Only one more inch, boar, one tiny inch and that juicy root will be yours and you will be mine!”
The boar pulled delicately at the root with the tips of its teeth. The root loosened from the wall, falling toward the boar.
“No!” yelled Billycan, banging on the window with his fist. The hog grabbed the root firmly and tugged it out with ease, returning quickly to safe ground. Billycan let out a baleful shriek. His stomach had been grumbling for days, and the thought of another gummy fish dinner sickened him. He needed meat. His entire body ached for it, and he had promised the horde a grand feast on the eve of their journey to Nightshade.
Montague rushed into the parlor. Billycan kicked the window frame and glared out into the swamp.
“Sir, are you all right?” asked Montague.
Still seething, Billycan slowly turned to Montague, his eyes churning odd shades of cherry and crimson. “They’ll eat anything, won’t they?” he asked dryly.
“Who sir?”
“The boars, the boars,” Billycan snapped impatiently. “They’ll eat anything, yes?”
“Yes sir, they’ll eat anything in sight, from weeds to weasels and everything in between.”
Billycan tapped his chin, thinking. “Has the horde had any deaths lately?”
“Well,” said Montague, a bit discomfited by the inquiry, “one of the old ones, Argus, he didn’t wake up about two days past, died in his sleep.”
Billycan’s sneer shifted into a grin. “Where is the body?”
Montague hesitated. “He … he is buried out by the pond.”
“Dig him up,” ordered Billycan. “Toss his body into the hole—tonight. He will make fine fodder for the boar. We will trap the hog quickly, using the dead one as bait.”
“But his family—they will protest. Sir, it’s … it’s not right,” said Montague. “It’s not proper. Even the horde will be troubled by such an act.”
Still perched on the sill, Billycan looked coolly at Montague, who squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. “Never again dare tell me what you deem right or proper. It is but a body, nothing more and nothing less. The horde’s bellies grumble, as does mine.”
“But it seems so … reprehensible. Even the horde buries its dead in respect. Argus helped raise Cobweb and me. He was an elder. He—”
“Silence!” barked Billycan. “Argus was a doddering fool like the rest of the horde! He was no elder. He was simply old, a monumental difference!” Billycan bounded down from the sill and stormed toward Montague, baring slick, yellowed fangs. He shoved Montague hard in the chest, making him stumble backward. “Need Billycan remind you, young rat, what life has in store for you if the horde fails in Nightshade? You will die or be imprisoned forever!” Billycan’s piercing voice dropped to a growl, his eyes now furrowed gashes of red. “Do you expect the horde to take over an entire city on empty bellies, weak and drained? Do you wish them dead?”
“No sir,” replied Montague. “You’ve just never made it clear why these rats took your city. What purpose does it serve us to destroy them, these Nightshade rats?”
“It serves my purpose!” shouted Billycan. “I want those self-righteous rats eradicated! I want the horde to rip them limb from miserable limb! I want them tearing through the corridors of Nightshade in an all-out killing spree! I will not be humiliated, not again!” Billycan spat white froth, stomping in a twisted circle as he lurched about the parlor floor. “If you wish to save the precious carcass of your so-called elder, then you do so at the horde’s expense. They will be the ones to suffer from your selfish need for propriety. The choice is yours!”
Billycan pushed his snout into Montague’s. Montague recoiled, forced to inhale the white rat’s icy breath—a stench of rot and soot. Billycan seized him by the throat, digging his claws in, his voice now an eerie whisper. “Hear me now, rat. If you do not obey me, you will not go to Nightshade. You and Cobweb will be left here forever, belonging nowhere and to no one, orphans for all eternity.” Billycan suddenly jumped back up on the sill as though nothing had happened. He looked out the window. The boar was gone. “You are dismissed.”
Carn and Oleander starte
d back toward the horde by way of the pond. The moon fought through the cumbersome fog, its light bouncing off the water, creating a pool of vaporous white.
Grabbing her arm, Carn abruptly forced Oleander to a stop. “What is it?” she asked.
He motioned across the pond. “Look there,” he whispered. “Who’s that by the water’s edge?”
Oleander squinted, trying to make out the two shadowy figures. She suddenly pushed Carn into the grass and out of sight. “It’s Montague and Cobweb.” She cautiously poked her head up. “I don’t think they saw us. What are they doing out here at this hour?”
Carn peered through the wet grass. “They’ve dug something up … there’s a pile of earth by them. They’re holding—something. I can’t make it out. It looks dead, whatever it is.”
Gasping in horror, Oleander put a paw over her mouth. She sat up in plain sight, suddenly not worried about being spotted. Shaking, she leaped up and made a mad dash for the water’s edge. Carn had no idea what was going on, but was not about to leave her on her own. He raced at her heels, finally catching up to her as she approached the two seconds.
She came upon Cobweb first, shoving him forcefully to the ground. He looked at her in dazed surprise. “What are you doing?” she demanded angrily. “You fiends, you monsters, how could you?”
Carn saw why she was so enraged. They had dug up a body. The shriveled corpse lay next to the hole. He remembered the family burying the elderly rat.
“Speak!” yelled Oleander, glaring at them furiously, “I’ll tell the entire horde right now if one of you doesn’t say something!”
Cobweb looked at her, incredulous. “Oleander,” he asked, “how are you talking like that? Why do you sound … like us?”
Oleander kicked the wet ground, spraying moist clumps of earth on Cobweb. “Because I am like you! We’re not all so simple,” she growled. “You self-righteous liars! My father told me our group could not trust you two, but I insisted you were good, honorable rats. I was clearly a fool! Has Billycan changed you so much, or were you always this wicked?”