Nightshade City (28 page)

Oard spoke so all would hear. “Juniper, you and I have been through a lot together. This has been a sad day indeed for our tribe, but when it’s your time—it’s your time. Noc was aware of the perils, but he knew those perils could not outweigh the hopes of fresh new soil for our tribe. We are not going to mourn Noc. We are going to celebrate him. Noc would want it this way. Do not feel pity for us. We knew full well the danger involved the moment you approached us. Now, as I just said to my tribesmen, no more sorrow. Am I perfectly clear?”

“You are, old friend,” said Juniper.

“Good. Then let’s get back to work,” said Oard commandingly. “Now, Juniper, Quip has some important news for you, information that will change the entire scope of our attack. Quip, tell Juniper what you and Noc learned on your mission.”

Quip reported what he and Noc had overheard: about the midnight speech in Catacomb Hall, and about Killdeer’s plans to find Nightshade City. Juniper was troubled. “Foiber and Schnauss, those two ogres, are to interrogate every Catacomb rat? This is a witch hunt. Foiber and Schnauss mistake fear for deception, fidgeting for trickery. This will lead to bloodshed.”

“There’s more,” said Oard. “We have found the Topside location of the kitchen’s chimneys. They are easily accessible, with plenty of room for even a rat as large as you. You and your men should have no problem scaling down the chicken wire.”

“Killdeer’s speech forces us to speed up our plan. We can’t allow these interrogations to happen. How many chimneys are there?”

“We located five in total,” said Oard, “tucked away in the north alley of the Battery District’s Brimstone Building, behind a green city Dumpster. If perchance the Nightshade rats tunneling in are discovered, whoever enters through the chimneys can quickly come to their aid.”

The new strategy was to have half of the Nightshade rats enter the Combs through the kitchen chimneys, while the others would follow the original plan of entering through the abandoned quarters, ensuring that Catacomb Hall would be surrounded on all sides, with the Kill Army caught unaware, listening to the Grand Speech.

“All right, then, we make our move tomorrow night, just in time for this midnight speech. I will run the operation Topside. Virden, Cole, Suttor, Vincent, and Victor will each lead a group down one of
the five chimneys. They will be the first to shimmy down to the kitchen. I will be the last, making sure everyone has gone down safely.”

Vincent raised his brow, confused. “Juniper, you want us to lead?”

Juniper smiled. “Don’t look so surprised, lad. No one in this room thinks you too young. Yes, indeed, we want
you
to lead.”

The three boys exchanged glances, trying not to grin.

Juniper motioned towards the twins. “Ulrich and Ragan will organize the remaining rats who will be tunneling in from Nightshade. They’ll lead groups into the Combs through the partially filled-in tunnels we have dug to the already-deserted quarters and meet us in Catacomb Hall. After we liberate them, the Catacomb rats will be directed down the tunnels and back to Nightshade.”

“Juniper,” said Vincent worriedly, “what if there are rats who don’t want to go—rats who want to stay in the Catacombs?”

“Everyone has a choice,” said Juniper. “If there are rats too afraid, or if, Saints forbid, they actually support the High Ministry, then they can stay put. The Catacombs are crumbling—no longer safe. If any rat wishes to remain after we arrive, they do so at their own risk. Our intentions are benign. No one will be forced to come with us.”

One soldier at each checkpoint could be easily overpowered. Juniper suspected there would be few soldiers who would die in defense of the Ministry, but surely there would be some. He hoped that when it came down to it, these confused boys would realize that dying for the likes of Billycan and Killdeer was certainly not worthwhile.

The rats and worms worked late into the night, planning the particulars of the operation. Virden and Cole sat with Vincent, Victor, and Suttor, carefully going over their duties until all three had it right. They had only one chance for a crucial surprise attack. There was no room for error.

Following a long day of planning for his speech, Billycan sat alone in his bleak quarters, a paw under his chin, staring at the blank wall in front of him. He went over and over the speech in his head, fine-tuning his rhetoric. Someone in the Combs had to know where Nightshade City was. It would be pointless to send soldiers out to do a search of the Reserve—that was far too much territory for rats to cover. Billycan had to find the secret passageways to the city from within the walls of the Combs. Their subjects were in for a violent night, one Billycan thought they most certainly deserved.

The white rat had just consumed a tin of oily sardines and three slices of a tart yellow cheese. He needed sleep. Lieutenant Carn was scheduled to wake him at five o’clock sharp. He put his feet up on a small crate, folded his arms, and slouched down in a crooked horseshoe shape. With his nodular spine, the only way he could slumber comfortably was sitting up in a rigid wooden chair.

He stared at the wall, trying to clear his head. His mind drifted back to when he was young, alone in plastic cage 111 at the lab. He thought of Dorf, his first and only real friend. He called Killdeer a friend, but he knew that his portly associate would betray him without so much as a second thought. Sometimes he wished himself back in the lab, if only to see Dorf one last time.

Nightshade Passage was filled to capacity. Juniper and Cole were finalizing details. Everyone else had gathered into small groups. The rats that would not be going on the raid were sharpening weapons and adding to the ones already stockpiled. Their spears were not up to par with those of the Kill Army, but since the Kill Army soldiers had no idea of the impending ambush, they would probably be lightly armed, many not at all.

Mother Gallo was sitting with Virden, going over the standard
protocol for Killdeer’s speeches: how long they usually ran, where Killdeer and his officials stood, and so forth. Lali and Clover were once again running about, making sure everyone was fed.

Clover had begged to go along tonight, but Juniper would not allow it. Once she resigned herself to the idea of being left behind, her anxiety shifted to those who
would
be going, especially Vincent. The son of Julius Nightshade would make a prime target for the majors, the most brutal of the Kill Army throng. She glanced at him, took a deep breath, and kept working.

The Nightshade brothers and Suttor had roped off their own area of Nightshade Passage. They had put together a provisional fighting ring to show the less experienced rats how to protect and defend themselves. The rats gathered around them, forming a circle, as Vincent refereed a mock fight between Victor and Suttor. The spectators watched in awe as Victor and Suttor masterfully demonstrated their superior fighting techniques. Suttor was trained by way of the army. The Nightshades had learned in the corridors of the Catacombs, where fights for food were a common occurrence. Other young rats tried to steal often, not just to fill their bellies, but for fear of not having Stipend for Billycan. Vincent and Victor had learned early on how to defend themselves.

Victor was playing the loser in this round, acting out his part a little too well. He dramatically dropped to the ground when Suttor pretended to slice him in the jugular with his sharp metal rod. Victor grabbed his throat and gagged, shaking violently with fake convulsions and making a chortling sound as if blood were gurgling in his throat. The older rats laughed, while the smaller ones stared in horror.

“Victor, that’s enough!” snapped Vincent. He shot a look at his brother, not wanting the inexperienced rats to be too terrified to fight.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Victor, picking himself up off the floor, “just trying to make it more real.”

“It will be real enough tonight,” said Suttor firmly, handing Victor back his weapon.

“That it will,” said Victor. He noticed some of the boys still staring at him, petrified by his realistic performance. “Don’t worry, boys. You’ll be fine tonight. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll practice with you? Trust me, if I can learn it, you can.” The boys smiled feebly and scuffled over to Victor, who started showing them some simple yet effective moves.

“All right, then,” said Vincent to the others, “remember, once we’ve entered the Catacombs, I want everyone to stay in packs of three. That way, if you’re surrounded, you can form a triangle of sorts and fight from all sides.”

Juniper had been listening in on their training session. It brought back memories of his youth—listening to Julius Nightshade and his big brother, Barcus, explain the ways of combat to him. Vincent was as natural a leader as Julius had been. It seemed as if they shared the same soul. Juniper desperately hoped they would not share the same fate.

Billycan jolted awake. He jumped from his chair and searched wildly round his darkened room. He grabbed his billy club, pointing it in front of him as if defending himself from an invisible foe. There was no one there.

The white rat’s heart banged in his hollow chest—it had been only a nightmare. Dizzy, he collapsed back into his seat. His throat ached. He started to cough uncontrollably, spitting up froth and drool. Wiping his mouth with his paw, he noticed a metallic taste on his tongue. The spit on his paw was mingled with blood. The thick, red gel clung to his spiny digits.

He had dreamed he was being attacked. A large, shadowy figure had ambushed him in a dark corridor. The assailant pushed Billycan to the ground, easily overpowering him, and proceeded to strangle him. Billycan clawed at the unknown attacker but could not break free; his hold was too great. He yelled for his majors, but no one could hear him. As the rat applied more pressure to Billycan’s throat, he began to gasp, his red eyes bursting from his skull. Seconds before the shadowy figure would have crushed his throat, he’d awakened, breathlessly hunting for his make-believe enemy.

He stared at his blood-stained paw. Was someone trying to kill him in his sleep? The albino rat did not believe in the supernatural. That was for the old ones, all their silly talk of the spirit world, their ancient incantations. It could not be Juniper. He was still alive. The living could not enter your dreams, but the dead, the ones whose lives were stolen by another, could enter at will, or so the old ones claimed. Billycan had scores of victims to choose from, including Julius Nightshade. Billycan sneered, thinking of Julius, the once blasted thorn in his side, always trying to defend his precious citizens. Julius was most assuredly dead; Billycan had seen to that, but it seemed his spirit was back to goad him one final time.

The Collector reached for his last oily sardine. He needed something to soothe his throat. As he came to his full senses, he started to chuckle. He realized how foolish he must have looked dancing about his quarters in his sleep, swinging his billy club wildly through the air. He must have nicked his throat on a fish bone. That
must
be it. He howled in laughter, realizing how comedic the whole scene must have appeared. He heard a knock at the door. It was Lieutenant Carn, there to wake him.

“Enter,” he said, trying to stop his giddy snorting.

“Good evening, High Collector,” said Lieutenant Carn. “It’s five o’clock, sir.”

Billycan couldn’t stop his sniggering. “Lieutenant Carn, you’re one lucky soldier. Had you shown up a few minutes earlier, you would most surely be dead!” He laughed heartily as he put the head of the remaining sardine in his mouth, then arose from his chair. “Don’t look so serious, boy. Even Billycan can jest from time to time. C’mon, then, let’s go. Billycan has much work to do, as do you. I’m starving. Off to the kitchens first.”

Billycan took one last look round his quarters before shutting the door. No one was there. He shook his head at his foolishness, letting out a piercing shriek of laughter, startling the bewildered Lieutenant Carn as they walked down the gloomy corridor.

Juniper stood atop the platform in the center of Nightshade Passage. “All right, everyone, gather round, gather round,” he called. “We are mere hours away. This is the climax of our story, resulting in a tragic conclusion or an illustrious first chapter in our great city’s history.

“Our kind has never had it easy. We have toiled through the centuries to find a home of our own, away from predators, away from Topsiders. We were driven into the earth, into the shadows of the Catacombs. But guided by wise and courageous leaders, we didn’t just survive those early days underground, we flourished. Each passing generation grew stronger and smarter than the last. We prospered. But our success inspired jealousy and greed, violence and evil. Our leaders were overthrown; our freedoms usurped. That is what brings us to this day. We fight to stay true of heart, to
never
become like those who capitalize on our misery, using our sons as shields and our daughters as slaves.

“Now, rats of Nightshade, we have a chance to let our founders, our ancestors, know that their good works will not stay buried with them.” Juniper looked determinedly at the mass of anxious faces.
His voiced boomed off the vaulted ceiling of the hall. “It is time for our deliverance! Our weapons are sharp, our strategies sound, our hearts—sure. We are ready!”