Shadow of the Father (41 page)

Even though he was staring directly into the torchlight, he nearly missed what happened next. Whisper rolled almost all the way onto his back, and the right arm that had been beneath his body came up in a blur of motion. The assassin made a funny half-jump, then leaned forward further and didn’t stop leaning until he had pitched forward onto the ground. Sinch only briefly saw the black handle of Whisper’s dagger sticking out of the bottom of the assassin’s muzzle before he fell atop it.

Whisper got to his feet and pulled the dagger from his shoulder without wincing. He brandished it at the mice behind him. “Is there any other who questions my judgment?” he said.

“He’s a
fox
,” a female voice said in weak protest.

“He was not born here,” Whisper said. “There may be worth to his promises. And we have all lost friends, or family, these last two days.”

“That is our burden,” a male voice said.

“And it continues to be. But what if our burden were vigilance rather than vengeance? We will not stand down or leave our way of life, but neither will we continue to fight needlessly. For all those Shadows who sacrificed before us, for all those who stand ready, let us take this chance.”

He drew a cloth from a pocket at his waist, rubbed the blade of the dagger on it, and then sheathed it. The other mice facing him murmured amongst themselves, but none stepped forward. “Very well,” Whisper said. “Light the torches, and let us see this foreign-born fox who claims dominion over the Shadows. Fox! You may lower your bow and step forward.”

 
Yilon swayed and almost fell when the tension left him. He was aware that this leader of the Shadows was trying to maintain status by giving him permission to come forward. In this case, he thought, it would not hurt to advantage the mouse’s advantage in the sewer. But he couldn’t resist a small rejoinder as he stepped forward. “I lowered my bow several minutes ago,” he said, lifting it and slinging it across his back.

The leader stared through the darkness and then laughed. “You are indeed a strange one,” he said as torches flared to life behind him. “You and your friend both.”

Yilon smelled Sinch a moment before he saw him, the mouse a crouching shadow in the growing torchlight. Before he had time to say anything, Sinch had jumped from a crouch to wrapping his arms around Yilon, giving him a quick kiss on the muzzle and releasing him before Yilon could hug him back. “You’re great,” he whispered into Yilon’s ear, padding around to walk behind him as he approached the leader. Yilon curled his tail around to the side to brush Sinch as they walked, not trusting himself to say anything to his friend this close to the Shadows.

The leader stood in front of a group of perhaps ten other mice, all painted black and wearing the same black robes he was. Yilon was not used to looking down on such a crowd of people. The leader was the tallest, and even his ears came up only to Yilon’s muzzle. Still, his black eyes glittered with pride as he welcomed Yilon, arms folded across the chest of his black robes. “I am The Whisper Of Death In The Night,” he said.

Yilon felt the need for something more formal than just his name. “I am Yilon, son of Volle Lord of Vinton, son of Lord Wiri of Vinton.” The names of the lords of Vinton felt less and less relevant. “Appointed heir to the throne of Dewanne by Lord Sheffin of Dewanne.”

That sent a murmur through the crowd of mice. Whisper raised a paw without looking behind him, and the mice fell silent.

Yilon studied Whisper even as Whisper studied him, waiting for the other to say the first words, partly deferring to his authority, and partly because he had no idea how to conduct the remainder of the meeting. At length, Whisper dropped his arms and turned to the mice behind him. “Ice and Edge, stay here. The rest of you, back to your posts.”

The small crowd dispersed, except for two who stepped forward.

“Edge, you will retrieve our prize. Ice, bring us the Shadow’s Tooth.”

The last two Shadows moved off into the tunnels. Whisper spread his paws to Yilon, palms us. “There are no rituals to guide a meeting like this. I am turning our existing rituals to a new purpose.”

“It’s okay,” Yilon said. “You can make up whatever you want. We will start a new ritual together.” He put an arm around Sinch’s shoulder. “I’m planning on doing a lot of that. Like bringing mice into the palace.”

Whisper made a startled noise and then shut his jaw. It wasn’t until the Shadow had composed himself and Yilon saw the white gleam of a smile in his black muzzle that he recognized the sound as a laugh. “You are ambitious indeed,” he said. “Very well. The first ritual is the bonding of blood.”

“Blood?” Sinch said.

Yilon hadn’t heard the other Shadow return, but he was there behind Whisper, holding a small long box made of silver in intricate filigree shapes, sharp-toothed patterns that curled around gems that gleamed darkly red. Rather than open the box, Whisper glanced at it and then walked part of the way down the nearest tunnel.

“We do not reveal the Shadow’s Tooth in light,” he said over his shoulder. “Come.”

Yilon glanced at Sinch and then walked to the edge of the circle of light. He could just see Whisper’s outline. “Let’s do this at the edge of light and dark,” he said.

Whisper turned, tilted his muzzle. “Very well,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Ice?”

The Shadow behind him held out the box, its curves and gems flickering faintly with the distant torchlight. He lifted the lid and brought out a dagger that did not catch the torchlight. Yilon smelled tarnish and must as Ice held the dagger out, point up. It looked insubstantial, a ghost’s tooth in the black sewer. “Your arm,” Whisper said. “We pierce the wrist, not the paw, not the fingers.” He held out his own arm, the writ over the knife point.

“Pierce?” Yilon said.

Whisper’s eyes shone. Neither he nor Ice made a sound. Yilon sighed and extended his left arm over Whisper’s, paw pads down.

Whisper turned his arm over to grasp Yilon’s forearm. “Take my arm,” he said.

Yilon curled his fingers around the mouse’s cold, bony arm. Their wrists lay flat against each other, immediately over the point of the shadow dagger.

“Now,” Whisper nodded to Ice.

Yilon reached for Sinch’s paw with his right, squeezing his eyes closed and bracing himself. He counted five beats of his heart before he felt a line of fire trace the inside of his wrist. Not through it; over it. He opened his eyes and saw Ice sliding the Tooth between his wrist and Whisper’s, scoring the flesh on either side so that the blood would run together.

Whisper’s smile looked remarkably smug. “It would hardly do for we, who live by our skill, to cripple our new initiates, would it? We merely bond our blood. The compact is made and witnessed.”

“You had me fooled,” Yilon said, releasing Whisper’s arm as the Shadow released his. “I wonder if I’m going to spend an hour in Dewanne without getting cut.” When he lifted his arm to his muzzle, he smelled Whisper’s blood and got the mouse’s scent for the first time, a rich, clean scent that was hard to follow beneath his own vulpine musk.

“Now we celebrate our bond with the traditional meal,” Whisper said. “You and me alone.” His eyes fell on Sinch, standing behind Yilon. “Unless you have changed your mind.”

Sinch bowed slightly, his paw remaining in Yilon’s. “I am more inclined to do so now than I was an hour ago,” he said. “But I think I will take more time to consider it.”

“As you wish,” Whisper said. He turned to Ice, who took the dagger and replaced it carefully in the box. “Put that away and bring some food.” The Shadow bowed and stepped back into darkness.

Yilon had turned to look at Sinch, who met his eyes with a slight smile. It surprised him that Sinch would have turned down the Shadows twice, especially now that they had sealed an alliance. “I think you’d be the best of them,” he said.

The mouse’s smile broadened just a bit. He watched Whisper walk past them, toward the torches. “I already serve a lord,” he said.

Yilon squeezed his paw, at a loss for words. “You don’t have to serve me,” he said, softly.

“I know I don’t have to,” Sinch said. He tugged at Yilon’s paw. “Also, I don’t feel like eating meat.”

Yilon stared at the mouse’s smile, which was now a grin. “Meat?”

“Can’t you smell it on their breath?” Sinch waved his paw in front of his nose.

“I guess I didn’t notice.” Yilon curled his tail back around to brush Sinch’s leg. “They eat meat?”

Sinch nodded. “That’s probably what they’re going to get.”

Yilon lifted his nose, but couldn’t smell anything beyond the rank filth of the tunnels. “Is it good meat, at least?”

“They live in a sewer,” Sinch said. “What do you think?”

Yilon laughed, stopping himself as Whisper accepted a familiar-looking leather satchel from one of the Shadows that Yilon assumed was Edge, though he couldn’t have picked him out of a crowd. And he wasn’t focusing on the mouse; he was staring at the satchel as Whisper brought it closer to them.

It looked much the same as when he’d last seen it. A glistening smear of brown along the back hadn’t been there two days before, but otherwise it was so familiar he couldn’t believe it was real. But the weight as Whisper was carrying it looked right, and a moment later, even over the smell of the sewer, Yilon caught the scent of leather and metal. Whisper weighed it in his arms and then set it on a small ledge nearby as Ice walked up behind Yilon and Sinch with a small bowl whose reek of meat drove the leather smell out completely from Yilon’s nostrils.

He couldn’t even tell what kind of meat it was. Whisper took the bowl and sniffed it, then extended it forward. Yilon took a deeper sniff himself and had to suppress his cough. It wasn’t completely bad; he’d had meat that old in Vinton before, and in the dark, rank sewer, the smell wasn’t too repulsive.

“This will not be as significant for you as for a new initiate, but it is significant for us. By sharing a meal, we are accepting you as an equal.” His eyes narrowed. “This has never been done with a fox.”

Yilon bowed his head. “I am honored.”

Whisper picked a bone whose meat shone with fat, and held out the bowl again to Yilon. It felt like much less of an honor when his fingers were in the greasy bowl. He picked out the first lump they closed around.

Ice took the bowl back and disappeared. Whisper raised the hunk of meat to Yilon as though making a toast. “We welcome you to… the home of the Shadows,” he said. “We share this food as we share our trust. You will stand as… by our side. You will be…” He paused. Yilon could see him working through the words of the ritual in his head.

The sight, strangely enough, made him relax. It made him realize that he was not the only one treading unfamiliar ground, making up promises. “I will be honored to be an ally of the Shadows,” he said, lifting his lump of meat. “With this food, I seal the bond between the… between the world above and the world below.”

Whisper raised his eyebrows and inclined his head approvingly.

“Then let us eat.”

The meat tasted about as bad as it smelled, but Yilon chewed and swallowed. It sat in his stomach as he watched Whisper do the same, and then chew on the bone, the crunching magnified in the small space. He brought the bone he was holding back to his mouth and bit down, feeling it crack between his teeth, the sweet marrow just touching his tongue. Sinch looked away, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from him or from Whisper.

In the darkness behind the torchlight, he saw movement, and made out the shapes of two Shadows watching them—Ice and Edge, perhaps. But Whisper was putting the bowl down and reaching for the leather satchel.

“In the normal course of the ritual,” he said, “here I would present you with a dagger. Instead, I think this will do.” He held the satchel in both paws, against his stomach, and then held it out, not to Yilon, but to Sinch.

Yilon was about to protest, and then remembered something Maxon had told him. “Go ahead,” he said to Sinch’s look. “I’m not supposed to touch it before the Confirmation.”

Sinch took the satchel and slid his head under the strap, curling an arm protectively around it. “Why not?”

“Tradition, I guess.” Yilon looked around. “Besides, look what happened last time I tried to take charge of it.”

“You touched it before and Corwin didn’t say anything.”

“Only the satchel. I think it’s just the crown that matters.”

Whisper cleared his throat. The rough noise reminded Yilon of Maxon, making him smile as he thought how horrified the steward would be at the comparison. “We will be watching,” he said, “for your honor or betrayal.”

Yilon nodded, cupping his ears forward. “I have grown accustomed to the feeling of being watched in this city. And I in turn will be listening to the shadows.” He tried to think of something dramatic to say. “Because we all live in both light and shadow, and neither should be ignored.”

Whisper paused to consider that, and then nodded curtly. “You can find your way out?”

“I believe so.” Yilon hitched the bow across his back. “Should I return, it will be in peace.”

“And, we trust, as the ruler of the city. Go with Gaia.” Whisper raised both paws in front of him, cupped as though around a small sphere.

Yilon echoed the gesture. “Go with Gaia,” he said, and turned to follow Sinch down the tunnel, into the darkness.

 
Sinch could hardly believe the weight in his paws, the crown retrieved, Yilon against all odds alive and walking out of the sewer at his side. When they’d left Whisper behind, he said, “I can’t believe you came here by yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to let someone else pay the price for my actions,” Yilon said. “Not again.”

Sinch couldn’t see his expression, but his tone was sharp and determined. “That’s the sort of thing a lord should say,” he said.

They’d reached the near grate. Sinch felt rather than sensed the presence of the sentry, but didn’t acknowledge him or her. He could see Yilon’s muzzle now that the thin moonlight was falling on it, and he heard the slow exhaled as Yilon sighed. “It’s all about keeping promises,” Yilon said. “Not just keeping promises, but making the right promises and then keeping them. And figuring out what the right promise is.”