“So the scientists fled,” said Cole, setting down the last page of the journal, “taking cages full of Trillium rats with them. They say they stopped many places, but it was not until they got to the swamp that the rats seemed at ease again. Back in Trillium, the rest of the rats took to hiding, driven underground to save their own lives.”
“Indeed,” said Virden, “the scientists stole away to the swamp so they could do their research in peace and safety. They built the manor themselves, turning it into one giant home for the scientists and their families.”
Vincent smiled. “Like us.”
“The diaries go back nearly a hundred years,” added Carn, “and all are filled with the scientists’ observations, such as how we share physical traits with humans—we sweat, our eyes make tears, things normal rats cannot do.”
“Normal rats don’t sweat?” asked Victor. “They don’t shed tears?”
Suttor nudged him and covered his nose. “There have been many times when I wished you didn’t sweat.”
“One of the entries details how we communicated with the scientists through some sort of sign language,” said Carn.
“Though we couldn’t speak to them, we all understood each other,” added Oleander.
Mother Gallo thought of little Ramsey, the Topsider boy who helped them the night Nightshade City was officially born. How easily he’d understood her.
Oleander got up from her chair and flipped through the journal on the Council table until she found a particular page. “Our ancestors used to sneak into the manor parlor, wanting to learn with the human children. They thought no one knew.” She tapped a claw on the parchment. “Here, listen.”
We’ve let the rats out on their own, giving them full run of the manor. They seem in no hurry to leave our company, but still curious to explore the new world around them. Almost every day, during the children’s lessons, the rats slink into the parlor and silently gather under the davenport. They think we don’t take notice of them, but we do—all twenty of them listening intently. Since we’ve let them roam as they please, their personalities are blossoming, each one as unique as our own children. With the help of an open window, Tar has taken to the roof, slipping in and out by way of the attic. Always staring up at the sky, he sits up there for hours. Coriander, well, she’s quite the mischievous one. Cook has discovered her time and time again rummaging through the cupboards, cleverly mixing spices together, tasting each new concoction as if she’s trying out recipes. Of course Cook has her doubts, but I deem any day now Coriander will waltz out of the kitchen carrying roast mutton and plum pudding with a most triumphant grin upon her face! Then there’s wise Garrick, constantly searching the library, always with his nose sandwiched between pages of a book. Following a small illustration, he built a birdhouse out of twigs and stones he’d found in the yard. The house was remarkable, just like the one in the picture, yet my praise did come with a scolding. He knows he and the others are not allowed in the yard. The snakes would make a feast of them. I’m afraid one of these days we will lose one of our precious rats, their thirst for knowledge getting the better of them, but I dare not think about that right now. I simply cannot.
“We’re still piecing things together,” said Cole. “We have the swamp diaries, and they mention more diaries in the museum archives, but Virden and I were nearly caught trying to find them.” He shook his head. “It’s all a puzzle, especially the diary entry that claims we came from inside a volcano.”
“We lived in an above-ground city back then,” said Suttor. He glanced at the torches affixed to the wall. “I can’t imagine living with constant daylight.”
Virden nodded. “Well, when Trillium was still called Brimstone, just a small, budding city, that’s exactly what we did.”
“I like the sound of that . . . ‘Brimstone,’ very mysterious,” said Oleander.
“Brimstone, otherwise known as sulfur, is a product of volcanoes,” said Virden. “The name was quite fitting at the time.”
“It’s all so remarkable,” said Juniper. “The secrets of who we are, finally unfolding.” He glanced at the Council. “Elvi, are you all right? You look like you’re miles away.”
Elvi shook her head as though coming out of a trance. “Oh,” she said, “I was just thinking of a rat I used to know in Tosca. He would be very interested in our recent discoveries.”
“Really, and who was that?”
“Just another ignorant Toscan with outlandish ideas. By now he’s quite insane.” A wisp of smile formed on her lips. “When I left Tosca things did not look good for him.”
“What a pity,” said Mother Gallo, patting Elvi’s paw.
Clover cocked her head. “Are you sure, Elvi, that all the Toscans are as ignorant as you’ve always said?” She gazed thoughtfully at Oleander. “The bats always believed the swamp rats were that way, but plainly that was not the case.”
“I suppose some could have normal intelligence,” Elvi replied with a sniff, “but nothing like us.” All eyes on her, she shifted awkwardly in her seat. She smiled around the table. “I do see your point, but I lived in Tosca for a good part of my life. I know the Toscan rats. They are nothing like us.”
“We believe you, dear,” offered Mother Gallo. “Our Clover likes to see the good in everyone.”
Elvi raised a curious eyebrow. “Even Billycan?” she asked. “Do you see the good in him?”
“Yes,” said Clover, nodding her head resolutely. “I do. That night in the Catacombs, when we were surrounded by Killdeer’s loathsome sisters, the old Billycan would have killed us without hesitation, as the first step in regaining control . . . but he didn’t.” She glanced at Vincent and Victor. “As far back as any of us can remember, Billycan hated everything about Julius Nightshade. And now I have Billycan to thank for keeping Julius Nightshade’s and Uncle’s dream alive . . . for keeping all of us alive.”
“Well said, my dear,” said Juniper.
Rolling her eyes, Elvi muttered under her breath, “Next thing you know she’ll be calling him Uncle Billycan.”
Mother Gallo’s ears perked up at the remark.
There was a knock at the door. “It’s him,” said Suttor, rising to his feet.
Suttor opened the door to a sizable rat with fur the color of carrots. Once a chubby fellow, Suttor’s little brother had thinned out. He was now a strapping young rat with a strong, square jaw, broad shoulders, and muscles to spare.
“Duncan,” said Juniper, “thank you for coming.” Juniper had a fondness for Duncan. After all, it was he who had told the Council about the Topside chimneys that led down to the Kill Army kitchen in the Catacombs—an instrumental part in Nightshade’s victory.
Glancing timidly around the room, Duncan nodded at the Council. Though he was much older now, he was still a daydreamer.
Shrinking down in her chair, Elvi pulled the hood of her cloak farther down over her face until only her snout was visible. She folded her arms around herself and hid her paws in her sleeves. Mother Gallo nudged her softly. “Elvi, what’s got into you today?” she whispered.
“Everyone, young Duncan has an interesting story,” said Juniper. “When he was a boy, living in the Catacombs, he had quite an adventure in the Trillium City Museum.”
“After our parents died,” said Suttor, “and before the Kill Army had come to round us up, Duncan ran off. He slipped past the guard at our sector’s exit, who was preoccupied with another citizen, and set off Topside on his own.”
“You’re lucky you were not seen by the guard. He would have skinned you alive,” said Ulrich.
“It was a foolish thing to do,” said Duncan. “I know.”
“How did you survive Topside all alone, lad?” asked Ragan. “It’s dangerous enough for a full-grown rat.”
“I found my way to the city museum quite by accident. I lived there for about a week until I decided to come home.” Duncan sighed longingly. “I—I loved it there. It was so different from the gloomy Catacombs, so much to ex
plore.”
“And you still remember it,” asked Virden, “after all this time?”
Cole smiled proudly at his adopted son. “Duncan’s memory is as sharp as a tack when it comes to that museum. I wish I’d known he knew the place so well before you and I set out on our little investigation last year.”
“Agreed,” said Virden. “The museum is near impossible to navigate without a map of some sort. Your help will be most valuable, Duncan.”
“I’ll gladly guide you through the museum,” said Duncan. “I wanted to take my brothers back to the museum after I returned, but the army quickly rounded us up. There was something special about that place—and more than just the fact that it was far away from the Catacombs. If I hadn’t missed my brothers so much, I never would have left.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bed Bugs
BILLYCAN ENTERED THE STOREROOM as if his worst enemy waited inside. His mind raced back to the Bloody Coup. He’d carried out his plan with ease that night, but he remembered wondering at the time where Hecate was.
How naturally High Major Hecate had taken to his ways! Before Hecate, Billycan never valued the few females who had joined Killdeer’s ranks, but she changed all that. His eyes flashed with twisted approval as he recalled her talent for torture. She’d enjoyed it just as much as he did, possibly more. How effortlessly she’d killed, a deft hand with both sword and dagger.
“The blasted flood!” he shouted. He slashed at the golden tapestries that covered the walls, shredding them to ribbons, carving the wall with deep claw marks. “It ruined all my plans for her!”
Certainly the Great Flood had many benefits at the time. It was the event that had allowed them to take over the Catacombs. It had covered up his crimes that night, too—the murder of Julius Nightshade and his wretched wife and children. If only he’d gotten to those scrawny brothers sooner, before they could escape! Hecate was supposed to be by his side that night, taking the lead! Vincent and Victor would have been hacked to pieces along with their Loyalist father. They never would have escaped! How different everything would have been. Before he saw her back in Nightshade, he’d thought she’d simply been stranded in Tosca all this time since the flood—but no! She’d been plotting, scheming, ruling a kingdom, dripping with silk and jewels. “Garish little shrew! Selfish little fiend!” he screamed.
“The little traitor snake, with her lying serpent tongue!” Billycan roared, his wrathful shrieks growing louder with every word. He scrambled up a stack of crates and grabbed for the velvet curtains that hung from the ceiling, swinging across the room as he ripped them to the ground.
His chest burned. He couldn’t breathe. Panting, Billycan grabbed his knees and put his head down, thinking his heart might burst if he couldn’t catch his breath. As he looked up he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stared intently at himself. Foam dripped from his mouth down his chest. His teeth were bared, ready to rip out the throat of anyone who might dare cross his path. His eyes glowed an acrid copper. The sight made him smile.
Dragging himself to his feet, Ajax stretched his body, every muscle stiff after sleeping in a chair all night. He took a step back and stared at Billycan and Silvius, his eyes darting between the two. They’d both fallen asleep in their chairs in identical positions, the left leg swung over the right, their arms folded neatly across their chests. Even their heads were in the same position, both upright against their chairs and leaning to the same side. But for the marked difference in age and the black scar on Billycan’s snout, he’d have had a hard time telling them apart. He cleared his throat.
Billycan quickly roused, his red eyes coming into focus. He rubbed his brow and craned his neck. “Silvius and I were up most of the night, talking. He thinks Hecate had been poisoning him long before she took over Tosca, clouding his thoughts with something she put in the tea.”
“It makes perfect sense. She was always experimenting with herbs and plants from the jungle, testing her vile concoctions on unsuspecting rats,” Ajax said irritably. “By the way, where did you go last night?”
Yawning, Billycan cracked his neck. “Nowhere. I was here all night.”
“But . . . I saw you. You stormed out in a rage. I reasoned Silvius had said something that set you off.”
Billycan shook his head. “I fell asleep sometime after Silvius.” He picked up a map that had fallen to the floor at his feet. “I was studying this.”
Ajax scratched his head. “Hmm . . . perhaps I dreamed it. Yesterday was a strange day, after all.” He looked at Silvius. “This is the strongest I’ve seen him in some time. After Hecate took control, she had him locked up in a cell, told everyone he’d gone mad with jungle fever, that we were in mortal danger if we allowed him to be free. I knew better—most of us did—but we were helpless against her henchmen. They threatened harm to our children if we did not conform.” Ajax snarled. “I should have been stronger. She blew into Tosca, weaseling her way into Silvius’s good graces. Before I knew it, it was too late. I’ve faced down jungle beasts all my life, but against her and her nasty band of rats I was helpless. We all were.”
“You were right to obey her. I doubt you’d be breathing right now, had you not. As for her tea, it’s clear now how she’s fooled Juniper and his Council.” Billycan gazed at Silvius as he slept. “I have to stop Hecate from whatever revenge she has planned for Juniper and the others before it’s too late.” He felt his throat, remembering the lab tag that had existed there for so many years of his life. “There’s something else I need to do . . . for me”—he nodded at Silvius—“and for him.”
“You can’t just pick up and leave, you know.”
“You Toscans are self-sufficient. You don’t need me to lead you.”
“The Toscans like having you. You bring them happiness, just as Silvius did in his day.”
“You should be leading them, not me. They’ve known you all their lives. They trust you.”
Ajax bowed his head. “I was a makeshift leader, I suppose, after Hecate left, but I felt guilty about what she had done to us. I still do. I should have thought of a way to defeat her. Instead I allowed her to enslave us.” He sighed. “You remind me of Silvius, in more ways than mere looks. You told me the truth about your past, and though those who knew you then may disagree, you are kind. Generous.” He smiled. “If you are deceiving us, you’re a far better liar than Hecate ever was. I saw the cracks in her story from the very first day she arrived. With luck the Nightshade rats will have seen her true colors by now, too.”
Billycan could only hope Ajax was right and Hecate had finally revealed the wicked rat she really was and been locked up, unable to do harm. She had never been known for her patience. How much longer would she wait?
Except for the original members, the Council had dispersed. Suttor, Duncan, and Kar made their way back to their quarters after stopping in the library to get some studying in.
“Duncan, you did well in the Council meeting,” said Suttor. “You’ve always wanted to do more for Nightshade. Now you can.”
“Lali will be happy,” said Kar, Suttor and Duncan’s little brother.
Under his orange fur, Duncan reddened at his brothers’ approval. “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t wait to visit the museum again.” He looked distant for a moment. “But it will remind me of Mother and Father.”
“Don’t be gloomy,” said Suttor. “You’re going to help all of Nightshade City. Mother and Father would be so proud of you.”
“They can see us,” added Kar in a whisper. “Lali says they’re up with the Saints, watching over us.”
“Without a doubt,” said Suttor. “They are up there, making sure we’re all right. It’s a miracle we’re all still alive. I think Mother and Father had a hand in keeping us safe.”
“I still hear their voices sometimes,” said Duncan. “When I’m all alone, I swear I can hear them talking, especially Mother.”
“I don’t remember what they sounded like,” said Kar, far too young at the
time of their death to recall much about his parents.
“Mother had a soft voice,” said Suttor, “like alfalfa honey. She sang a lot, too—better than any rat I’ve ever heard.”
“Father was funny,” said Duncan, “and when he laughed, it would fill up our whole quarters.”
“Yes,” said Suttor. “He had a booming voice that would shake the walls of the Catacombs!”
Kar looked down shyly, glad to be with his brothers. Staring at his empty paws, he suddenly realized that something was missing. “My books!” he said urgently. “I left them in the library again! Lali will be furious!”
“Calm down,” said Suttor. “We’ll go get them, problem solved.”
Suttor ruffled Duncan’s bushy orange fur, just able to reach the top of his towering brother’s head. As they reached their quarters, Suttor said, “You stay here. If Lali or Cole comes home, tell them I was helping Kar finish up his studies and we’ll be back shortly.”
“See, Kar, they’ll be none the wiser,” said Duncan. “That’s what brothers are for.”
“Yes, to cover your back!”
“Come on, then,” said Suttor. “The library closes soon.”
Duncan unlocked the door and entered his family’s quarters. Striking a match against the wall, he lit the nearest candle, carrying it over to the kitchen table. His bed caught his eye. He didn’t remember leaving the covers in such an awful mess. He would have sworn he’d made it this morning, but with the excitement of the Council, he’d probably forgotten. “Silly rat,” he said to himself.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, happy to be home. “Duncan . . . ,” said a dreamy voice, “is that you?”
Duncan’s eyes widened and his hackles rose. He jumped up from the bed and whipped around. “Who’s there?” he demanded, eyeing the room for some sort of weapon.
Lords of Trillium Page 4