"The color of long-forgotten snow, for we do not get snow in the Underland. Although I imagine it to be very beautiful," Vikus said a bit wistfully.
"It is," said Gregor. "There's snow everywhere right now. It makes everything look better." It did, too, when it had just fallen. It covered up the dirt and the trash, and for a while the city looked clean and fresh. And then it turned to slush. "So, this white rat...?"
"It is the stuff of legends. Even when he lived in the Overland, Sandwich knew tales of the white rat. Historically, one will appear every few centuries, gather other rats about it, and create a reign of terror. It is remarkable in cunning, strength, and size," said Vikus.
"Size?" said Gregor. "You mean it's even bigger than the other rats down here?"
"Considerably so," said Vikus. "As legend has it. And at this point in time, the only thing that stands between this creature and the Underland is you. The warrior. You are a threat to it. That is why the white rat has been so carefully concealed. The rats do not want you to find it. But you also have a vulnerability." Vikus tapped the third stanza, and Gregor read on.
What could turn the warrior weak? What do burning gnawers seek?
Just a barely speaking pup
Who holds the land of Under up.
"Do you know what is meant by 'pup'?" asked Vikus.
"Ripred called Luxa and Henry pups once, when they wouldn't obey him," said Gregor. And suddenly he wondered how much the large, scarred rat who had helped save his father knew about all this.
"He undoubtedly said it sarcastically, and to remind them he was in charge. For, to rats, a 'pup' is a baby. The only baby we know of who is close to you is Boots," said Vikus.
Gregor felt his eyes pulled to the last stanza of the prophecy.
Die the baby, die his heart,
Die his most essential part.
Die the peace that rules the hour.
Gnawers have their key to power.
"So, they think that if they" — Gregor could hardly say it — "kill Boots, something will happen to me."
"It will break you somehow," said Vikus. "And if that happens, the rats will overtake the rest of us."
"No pressure or anything," Gregor said, but he felt very scared. "You're sure it's Boots?"
"As sure as we may dare be. Your closeness to her is well known. That you sacrificed yourself, that you leaped rather than let King Gorger kill her — this made a great impression on everyone. Can you think of another baby it could be, Gregor?" Vikus asked solemnly.
Gregor shook his head. It was Boots. And they were right about one thing: If they killed her, something in him would break. "So, why did you bring her down here? Why didn't you just leave her in the Overland, where she was safe?"
"Because she was not safe. And neither were you. The crawlers watch you night and day, to protect you," said Vikus.
The roach he had trapped in the mayonnaise jar that morning flashed before his eyes. "You mean the little ones?"
"Yes, they are in communication with the larger ones below. But the rats watch you as well. They have been tracking your family's movements since shortly after you left the Underland, waiting for a chance to take your sister's life," said Vikus. "It was not possible in your home. But today you ventured out with her very near one of the gateways."
"We went sledding in Central Park," said Gregor.
Then Ares spoke up. "The Overlander was chased in the tunnels by gnawers. He had to drop into the Waterway to escape them."
"Then the crawlers must have rescued Boots just in time. She was the rats' target today, Gregor," said Vikus.
"Why not just kill me?" Gregor asked numbly.
"They would be happy to. But they have seen you leap and live to tell of it, so they are less confident in such a goal," answered Vikus. "And at the moment they are more concerned with the prophecy. It is by killing Boots that they mean to destroy you."
"I still think we would be safer in the Overland. We just won't go to Central Park. We'll keep Boots inside...." But Gregor wasn't really sure it would be safer.
"I will send you back directly, if that is what you wish. But they will find her, Gregor, now that they are set on it. In their minds, it is a race. They must kill Boots before the white rat is killed. Only one may survive. Believe it or not, we brought her to the Underland to protect her," said Vikus.
"And to protect yourselves," Gregor said flatly.
"Yes. And to protect ourselves," said Vikus. "But as our destinies are intertwined, it seemed one and the same thing. So, what will it be? Shall we take you home, or will you play out your hand with us?"
Gregor thought about the scraping sounds he sometimes heard in the walls of their apartment. They made his mom nervous even though his dad said it was probably just mice. But what if it was rats? And what if they were just a few inches of plaster away, watching Boots? Watching and waiting and reporting to the giant rats below.
There was a skittering sound at the door. Gregor looked over to see Boots riding in the door on the back of a giant roach with a bent antenna.
"Ge-go!" She giggled. "I ride! Temp take Boots ride!"
She was so happy...and tiny...and powerless... he couldn't watch her twenty-four hours a day...he had to go to school...there was no one else to protect her...even he had been worthless today...if it happened again, the rats could kill her in a New York minute. Not even.
"We're staying," said Gregor. "We're staying until this thing is over."
CHAPTER 5
"Go, Ge-go!" Boots told Temp, tapping her heels on the roach's shell, and he obediently carried her over to Gregor. She slid off and ran over and hugged his leg.
"Hey, Boots," he said, ruffling her curls. "Where've you been?"
"I go ride! Fast! Fast ride!" she said.
"Do you remember Vikus?" Gregor asked, gesturing to him.
"Hi! Hi, you!" Boots said happily.
"Welcome, Boots," said Vikus. "We have missed you."
"Hi, bat!" Boots said, waving to Ares, although Gregor had been ignoring him.
"Hey, Temp," Gregor said to the cockroach. "Next time, do you think you could tell me before you run off with Boots? You freaked me out."
"Hates us, the Overlander, hates us?" asked Temp.
Oh, great, now he'd hurt the roach's feelings. They were so thin-skinned. Well, thin-shelled. "No, I don't hate you, come on. It just scared me when you took Boots. I didn't know where she was," said Gregor.
"With us, she was, with us," said Temp, confused now.
"Yeah, I know that. Now. But I didn't know in the park," said Gregor. "I was worried."
"Hates us, the Overlander, hates us?" repeated Temp.
"No! I just need you to tell me if you're going to take her somewhere," said Gregor. Temp's antennas drooped noticeably. This was going nowhere fast. He shifted gears. "But, Temp? Thanks a lot for getting Boots away from the rats. You did a great job."
Temp perked up. "Rat bad," he said with conviction.
"Yeah," Gregor agreed. "Rat very bad."
At that moment, Luxa appeared in the doorway. Her silvery blond hair had grown out a little, she was a bit taller, but it was the lilac circles under those violet eyes that caught Gregor's attention. He wasn't the only one who'd been having a rough time lately.
"Welcome, Gregor the Overlander," said Luxa, approaching him but not touching him.
"Hey, Luxa, how you doing?" asked Gregor.
Her hand reached up distractedly and gave a quick nudge to the gold band around her head. Almost like she wanted to shove it off. "Fine, I am fine."
She wasn't fine. Clearly the girl hadn't been sleeping well. She did not look happy. But she still had that arrogant tilt to her head, that half smile. She still stood like a queen. "So, you have come back after all."
"Didn't have much choice," said Gregor.
"No," said Luxa stonily. "You and I never seem to have much choice. Are you hungry?"
"I hungry. I hungry!" said Boots.
"We missed dinner," Gregor sa
id, although his stomach was too knotted up to feel hungry.
"You need to bathe and dine and then sleep. Solovet says you must begin training on the morrow," said Luxa.
"Says she so?" Vikus asked, sounding a bit surprised.
"Yes. Did she not tell you?" said Luxa, giving Vikus a mocking look to which he did not respond. They had a funny relationship. Vikus was her grandfather but, since her parents had been killed by rats, he was also the closest thing she had to a father. And he was supervising and training Luxa to take on the full responsibilities of being the queen of Regalia when she reached sixteen. Gregor thought it must be complicated for them, being so many things to each other.
"I will see you on the field, Gregor, Ares," Luxa said, and left.
Gregor and Boots were taken to the bathrooms by a couple of Underlanders he'd never met. The young woman took Boots into the locker room for girls, while a guy escorted Gregor to his side.
He caused a scene by running out of the bathroom, dripping wet, with just a towel around him, to ask the guy not to burn their clothes. Ares was right, turning their clothes to ashes was standard, but Gregor knew it would cost a lot to replace them. And he really didn't want to lose his boots.
"But...your clothes carry much scent. The gnawers will know you are here," the guy said uncertainly.
"Oh, that's okay. I mean, they already know I'm here. Two of them chased me to the Waterway," said Gregor. "So, could you just...I don't know, maybe you could put them in the museum or something. That's all Overlander stuff, right?"
Relieved at the suggestion, the guy went off to ask Vikus.
They were fed a big meal: beef stew, bread, mushrooms, those things that reminded Gregor of sweet potatoes but weren't, and some kind of cake. Boots ate with gusto, which reminded him she'd had little more than a bowl of oatmeal and a peanut butter sandwich that day. At least the rest of his family would have the scalloped potatoes for dinner. If anyone could eat.
Oh, this whole thing was his fault! If only he'd kept an eye on Boots, the roaches never would have run off with her. But then, the rats could have reached her first. He guessed he ought to feel grateful to everybody here for rescuing her, and he did, on one level. But on another, he resented them for dragging him back into their troubled world. What was it Vikus had said? "...as our destinies are intertwined, blah, blah, blah, blah." He wanted no part of it, but here he was. Again.
Boots conked out the minute her head hit the pillow, but Gregor felt restless and anxious. He couldn't sleep thinking about his family, the threat to Boots, and the looming presence of some giant white rat out there somewhere, waiting for him. He finally gave up and decided to take a walk around the palace. It should be fine; he wasn't trying to escape or anything this time.
The doorways he passed seemed to lead to people's living quarters. The common rooms, like the High Hall or the dining rooms, were open. But on Gregor's floor, curtains blocked most of the rooms from view. Stone doors must not have been practical, and the only wooden door he'd ever seen in the Underland led to the room filled with Sandwich's prophecies.
Gregor had been walking about ten minutes when he heard voices coming from one of the rooms. They were somewhat muffled by the curtain, but still audible because the people were arguing. It was Vikus....
"You should have told me about the training. I should have had a say in it!"
And who was he talking to?
"Yes, yes, we could have gone round and round while you tried to think of some way to protect him, but it is not possible. No matter what you want."
It sounded like Solovet. She was Vikus's wife, Luxa's grandmother, and the head of Regalia's military. Usually she spoke in a gentle, stately voice. But Gregor had heard her barking orders in combat. Solovet's ability to swing between gracious lady and soldier unnerved him because he never knew which one to expect. She sounded more like the soldier now.
Gregor didn't want to eavesdrop, so he turned to slip away. But then he heard his name and couldn't help listening.
"And what of what Gregor wants? Does he have no say in this? He pushed away the sword, Solovet. He does not wish to fight," Said Vikus.
"None of us wish to fight, Vikus," said Solovet.
Vikus made a sound like "Hm," which suggested he thought maybe somebody in the room enjoyed fighting.
"None of us wish to fight," Solovet repeated in a steely voice, "but we all do. And the prophecy calls Gregor 'the warrior,' after all. Not 'the peacemaker.'"
"Oh, the prophecies are often misleading. He is called a warrior, but perhaps his weapons are not the ones we are familiar with. He did very well last time with no common weapon," said Vikus. "I am telling you he pushed away Sandwich's sword!"
"Yes, when he was safe and he thought everything was over. But I remember he asked for a sword on the quest," shot back Solovet.
"But he had no need of it. He was better off without it, I think," said Vikus.
"And I think that if you send him out unarmed this time, you guarantee his death," said Solovet.
Then there was silence.
Gregor retreated from the doorway as quickly as possible and somehow made it back to his room.
The little sleep he had that night was filled with disturbing dreams.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning Gregor was exhausted and in a bad mood. Another Underlander he'd never met served him breakfast. He left Boots under the care of the woman who'd bathed her the night before, and headed out. Today, he was supposed to start his training. Whatever that was.
After walking down a few halls, Gregor realized he had no idea where to go. Luxa had mentioned something about a field. Did she mean that sports arena? It was the first thing he had seen in Regalia, the large stone oval where the Underlanders played some kind of ball game on bats. It was a twenty-minute hike from the palace.
Gregor eventually made his way to an exit flanked by two guards. Outside the doorway was a platform attached by ropes. When he asked the guards if they would lower him to the ground, they reacted with surprise. "Did not your flier arrange to meet you in the High Hall to carry you to training?" said one.
Ares and Gregor had parted ways the previous night without exchanging a single word. "No, Ares must have forgotten," he said.
"Ah, yes, Ares," the guard said, and gave his partner a significant look.
Although Gregor was angry with Ares, he didn't like what it implied. "I forgot, too," he said. "I should have reminded him."
The guards nodded and made way for him to step onto the platform, which they then lowered the two hundred feet to the ground. Although the passage was smooth and uneventful, Gregor clutched the ropes tensely. The Underland provided endless opportunities to renew his fear of heights.
The city was bustling with pale-skinned, violet-eyed inhabitants going about their business. A lot of people stared at him, but if he caught their eye they gave him a respectful nod. A few even bowed. They knew him, or at least of him. He was the warrior who had saved their city from destruction. He actually enjoyed the attention for a while, and then he realized that they were probably thinking about how he had to go after that giant white rat. He wondered how many soldiers they would send with him to kill it. Something that big, that vicious...it might take a whole army!
When he arrived at the arena, it was clear that he was late. Groups of Underlanders of all ages were spread around the moss-covered ground doing various kinds of stretches and calisthenics. It didn't seem all that different from how they warmed up in track practice. As he looked around for Luxa, a voice caught his attention:
"Overlander! You are back!" And before he knew it, Mareth had him in a rib-crushing hug. The soldier was one of his favorite Underlanders.
"Hey, Mareth," he said. "How's it going?"
"Very well, now that you are here. Come, you are to do general training with me," Mareth said, pointing Gregor toward a bunch of kids his own age.
As they jogged across the field, they passed a group of children dril
ling with swords. None of them looked more than six years old. Apparently it was never too soon to start training for war in the Underland.
Gregor spotted Luxa and took a place near her. They only had time for a nod before the class was back in session.
Mareth led them through a series of stretches. Gregor wasn't naturally limber. But Luxa could twist herself around like a pretzel.
Then there were some strengthening exercises, pretty standard push-ups, sit-ups, leg lifts. Finally, they ran laps around the arena. Gregor loved to run both sprints and distance. He felt satisfaction that he was the only one in his group able to keep pace with Mareth, who congratulated him at the end.
The glow from Mareth's praise quickly evaporated as they moved on to tumbling. They had gymnastics every year in gym class, and it was just something Gregor lived through until basketball started. He was too tall and lanky for it and seemed to end most moves by falling flat on his back. Which is what he did now.
Luxa stood over him, trying not to laugh. "When you roll, you cannot unbend your knees until your feet are on the ground," she said, offering him a hand up.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, letting her pull him up. Gymnasts were always giving you helpful tips like you could actually win the battle with gravity if you just concentrated hard enough. Mareth called for her to demonstrate a trick, and off she went into some amazing run of twisty flippy things, landing on her feet as easily as Gregor would hop off a curb. The other Underlanders broke into spontaneous applause, and Luxa gave them one of her rare smiles. Then she came back and tried the hopeless task of teaching Gregor a cartwheel.
While she was explaining the mechanics for about the eighteenth time, "Hand, hand, foot, foot, not two hands then both feet," something caught her eye, and her face fell.
Gregor followed her gaze to the entrance of the arena, where a group of five kids was standing. He hadn't seen them before. "Who's that?"
"My cousins. They must have just arrived in Regalia," Luxa said stiffly.
Gregor looked at the group in surprise. "I thought your only cousins were Henry and, what's her name, the nervous girl?"
The Underland Chronicles: Books 1-5 Paperback Box Set Page 20