Nightshade City (23 page)

“Julius Nightshade,”
he sniped mockingly, “friend to Trilok, the Citizen Minister, the weasel who tried to spur the Catacomb rats to rally against us, to keep us from what should have been ours all along! His parasitic legacy still spreads through our subjects like a lethal pestilence.”

A cavernous voice thundered from the back of the War Room. “Julius Nightshade,” the voice roared, “a scoundrel, a greased snake slithering amongst us, an ugly blemish on our noble heritage!” Everyone quickly turned round to the back of the packed room. Killdeer strutted down the aisle between the seated majors. Groomed to perfection, he swaggered past the majors without a hint of the alcoholic haze he had been in hours before. He wore his Kill Army-issued sash, the navy and crimson gabardine strapped across his chest, his polished silver medallion shimmering in the torchlight.

Billycan was stunned by the transformation. Killdeer slowly strode to the front of the room and approached him. They stared at each other, both a bit leery. Killdeer turned. “Majors, it has been brought to my attention that there has been talk of late—unflattering talk in reference to me, suggesting that maybe I’m not quite the leader I used to be.” The majors looked uncomfortable, all guilty of having condemned the High Minister. “Well, let me assure you, the talk was warranted—all of it! No one likes to admit their shortcomings, especially one in a position of such power, but admit them I must, at least if I’m to lead you properly once more. Your Commander, Billycan, has told me in no uncertain terms that I have been a hideous, wine-soaked stain on the High Ministry, the Kill Army, and our beloved Catacombs.”

He looked Billycan squarely in the face. “But all that is going to change, starting now. We have a battle to wage. We have demons to slay, demons long thought dead. I would like to tell you that Belancort and his Nightshade City will mean nothing to us, that they are insignificant, irrelevant—that we will crush them effortlessly, but
Commander Billycan has taught me over the years never to underestimate our enemies. We will fight with everything we’ve got. Lives will be lost, but not our way of life. The Ministry and army will remain intact! Not only will we keep the Catacombs, but we will take over Nightshade and claim it as our own!” Killdeer raised his arm in concert with his voice, resounding through the War Room. “We will triumph! Juniper Belancort will die! His corpse will at last rot in the underworld, where it rightly belongs!” The majors jumped to their feet, shrieking and yowling, screaming out the shrill war cry of their ancestors. Killdeer could rally the troops like no other.

The High Minister approached Billycan amidst the clamor. He grabbed the white rat, embracing him firmly, slapping his back. He whispered in his ear. “You were right, old friend. I am guilty of all that you charged. We have a battle to win. We will once again crush and conquer. We will prevail!”

Billycan’s body shook with unfettered admiration. He grated his teeth, clenching his barbed jaw—electrified by the Minister’s resurgence. He grabbed hold of Killdeer’s shoulders. He stepped back and looked at him, amazed. It seemed his long-lost brother had miraculously returned from the dead.

S
UTTOR WAS AWAKE
. He lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling, worried about his brothers. As much as he had embraced the Kill Army, he knew it was no place for him. It had been a necessity, a way to insure the safety of his brothers. He
was
thankful and relieved to be out.

He knew word about his alleged abduction had almost certainly spread in the Kill Army barracks. He could only imagine what his little brothers might think, hearing grisly rumors about his fate. He was sure they would fear the worst.

Vincent awoke. He turned over on his cot and noticed Suttor. “How long have you been awake?” he asked sleepily.

Suttor gazed at the grooves in the ceiling. “Long enough to work myself into a dither. Mind you, I’m glad to be out, but I must get my brothers. I can’t leave them there alone—wondering if I’m dead or alive. Kar barely fits his Kill Army dress sash. It hangs on him like a bedsheet. He should be playing with toys, not marching in formation.
And Duncan, he can’t make it in the army without me. He’s always daydreaming. I can’t even let him trim his own whiskers, for fear he’ll cut himself.”

Vincent rubbed the crust of sleep from his eyes. “We can figure this out. First, let’s get some food. I’m sure Lali has put out a spread. You need food in your belly. It will help you think. After that, we’ll go find Juniper and work things out. He’s a brilliant rat, as smart as my father, I’d say. If anyone can help you, he can—and he will. He told me last night he would. He would never go back on his word—never.”

Suttor sat up. “Can we go right now? I really don’t think I can wait any longer,” he said, wringing his paws.

Vincent eyed his waking brother, who moaned lazily as he stretched. “Of course we can. Victor, are you coming?”

Victor yawned and spoke at the same time. “Yes. I’m hoping Lali has a few more of those egg custards.”

The boys made their way to Bostwick Hall. It was busy, almost hectic. With city building and the planning of the Combs invasion, the hall was used as a meeting place and provisional mess hall. The Council had built a makeshift kitchen lining the back wall. Juniper believed that at times like this, the one thing a rat should not have to worry about was its belly. There were designated groups that searched Topside for food, the Hunter Rats. Having lived aboveground for so long, Juniper and the Council knew where the best edibles were to be found and the best time to retrieve them. Food was plentiful.

Rats were eating, talking, going over strategies, spread out at tables, or standing in clusters throughout the hall. Suttor scanned the faces. Rats were laughing, smiling, telling stories. It reminded him of life before his parents’ death.

Lali ran around the kitchen as usual. A group of Hunter Rats had
brought back some chocolate they found Topside, most likely Hallowtide remnants. Lali was scurrying behind the kitchen line, speedily frying up chocolate griddle cakes, when she spotted the Nightshades and Suttor. “Boys, come here,” she called with good cheer. The boys ambled over, and Lali handed each of them a cake. “Vincent, Juniper told me you’re an admirer of my corn bread, but I have something new for you to try. Go on, now, give it a taste.”

Vincent took a big bite. It had been so long since he’d had anything with chocolate. Even the Topsiders’ hoarded that particular sweet. “Lali, this is good,” said Vincent, packing the rest of the cake in his mouth, “really good.”

“Well, I did have some help,” said Lali, nodding over her shoulder with a little grin. Clover was working just behind Lali, chopping up bits of chocolate and coating them in sugar.

Vincent swallowed the rest of the cake with a hard gulp and quickly wiped the crumbs from his face. He wished he’d seen Clover before he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. He waved shyly to her, still choking down the griddle cake. “Good afternoon,” he finally got out.

“Good afternoon,” said Clover. “It’s a fine one, isn’t it?” She brushed the chocolate and sugar from her paws and joined Lali by the griddle.

“Certainly is,” replied Vincent, still pulling cake from his whiskers. “So, how are you feeling today?”

“I feel wonderful,” said Clover. “Nightshade truly is a whole new world.”

“Well, you look wonderful,” said Vincent. His face suddenly felt hot as he realized how that may have sounded. “I mean you look, well, you know—healthy. Not that you don’t look
wonderful,
because you
do
look wonderful—but I …” Vincent gave up before he sank
himself deeper. Victor nudged him in the shoulder, thinking it quite funny to see his brother so tongue-tied.

Clover smiled kindly. “You look wonderful too,” she said. Vincent’s neck hairs stood on end.

Lali winked at Vincent. Cupping her paw around Clover’s ear, she whispered something to her. Clover giggled and swatted Lali on the shoulder. “Lali, you’re terrible,” she said, her cheeks turning rosy. Vincent pretended not to notice, but he knew—hoped—that whatever was said was about him. Suttor waited slightly behind the Nightshades, looking despondent.

Lali tried to pull him into the conversation. “Suttor, how are
you
feeling today? Better, I hope.”

Suttor tried but could not muster up a smile, even a phony one. “Yes, better—thank you.”

Lali pointed to the center table. “Juniper’s over there,” she said to Vincent. “Take Suttor to him. He and the Council are already thinking up a plan to get those boys out.”

Lali smiled at Suttor tenderly. She leaned over the wooden counter between her and the boys and spoke softly. “Suttor, family means everything round here. Juniper knows the importance of it better than anyone. He almost lost his,” she said, nodding towards Clover. “He would never allow you to suffer that fate.”

Juniper and the Council were eating rapidly at the main table, filling their mouths with spiced fish, meat, and pastry. Juniper concentrated on his brimming plate of food and not much else. Vincent tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Boys!” said Juniper, looking up from his meal. “Finally awake, I see.”

Spotting Suttor standing off to the side, Juniper got up from the
table. “Suttor,” he said, taking his paw and shaking it firmly. “I’m glad to see you’re all right. That was a nasty blow you took.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Suttor replied softly.

“Well, we saved some seats for you three,” said Juniper, motioning across the table. “Come join us. We’ve a lot to talk about.”

Lali trotted up behind the boys, setting heaping plates of food in front of them. “Eat up,” she said. She set a particularly full plate in front of Suttor.

Suttor stared at the food, piled high. Far from hungry, he felt rather green at the sight of heaping sausages and sardines.

Juniper watched Suttor thoughtfully. “Now, Suttor, I’ve spoken to Oard, the earthworms’ tribal leader, and he’s getting word to our friend Mother Gallo. Can you tell me a little bit about your brothers? From what I gather, they were mere babies when you entered the army. We need to know what they look like now.” Juniper took a huge bite of beef and gravy, talking through his mouthful. “Now, it’s two brothers, yes?”

“Yes, Duncan and Kar,” said Suttor.

“Good, that’s a start. Mother Gallo will be seeking them out. Her status in the High Ministry allows her full access to the Kill Army. We are once again enlisting her much-needed help, but this time we plan on returning the favor. Now, Suttor, what can you tell me about them?”

Suttor sat for a moment. “Uh, well, there’s little Kar. He’s very small. He has black fur, except all four paws are solid white, and he has a big white splotch taking over most of his face, like someone spilled cream on him. Duncan is about Victor’s age, a little younger. He’s a little on the chubby side—well, more than a little, I’m afraid—with carrot-colored fur. Between his girth and his hue, he’ll be a hard one to miss.” Virden scribbled down the information as Suttor spoke.

Juniper inwardly chuckled at Suttor’s descriptions. “Thank the
Saints your clan runs thick with unusual markings. This will simplify our search. Anything else we should know about them or their day-to-day comings and goings?”

“Just that they do everything together—they’re still so young, they’re both in training, no active duty. Mealtimes are at seven, twelve, and six sharp. That would be the best time to get word to them.”

“Virden, do you have all that?” asked Juniper.

“Yes,” said Virden. “This should be more than enough. I’ll track down Oard. He said he’d stay close to Nightshade.” Virden got up to leave. He patted Suttor on the back. “Don’t worry, lad. We’ll find them.”

Suttor reconsidered his plate of food. He began to feel a little hungry after all.

After dinner, Mother Gallo and her boys sat in a circle around the smoldering fire pit. She had roasted some walnuts and sausage, received from High Cook Longtooth. Longtooth was, by and large, foulmouthed, cranky, and unpleasant. But for whatever reason, she had taken a shine to Mother Gallo, always giving her the best and freshest food available that day. With three growing boys to feed, Mother Gallo tolerated the tetchy cook; her generosity was well worth the price.