Lords of Trillium

by Hilary Wagner

  “Did Duncan have tea, too?” asked Vincent.

  Suttor searched his mind, working through the foggy jumble of what occurred. “I can’t remember. It’s all a blur.”

  “Let’s get him to Virden,” said Juniper. He ripped off his cloak and laid it on the ground. “Gently now, we must lift him.”

  The four rats placed Duncan on Juniper’s cloak, now a makeshift stretcher. “Virden!” called Juniper. “We need you. It’s Duncan!” They moved through the crowd and when they reached the center aisle, they laid Duncan at the base of the altar.

  Suttor knelt at his brother’s side and spoke to him as Virden listened to his chest and checked for any signs of life. “Please, Duncan, you must wake up,” he whispered. “You’ve so much to do. You’re going to take us through the museum, remember?” He wiped away tears. “You’re going to be somebody . . . somebody important, like I always knew you would.”

  Glancing up at Juniper, Virden shook his head. He could feel no pulse. Clover took Kar in her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder while Cole held Lali back from Duncan’s body, her grief-stricken cries muffled against his chest.

  A rat began to laugh.

  Suttor jumped to his feet, his pain turning to rage. “What are you laughing at, rat?”

  Major Ragwort’s yellow eyes glinted. He leered from the top of the altar down at Duncan. “With the lack of brains on that heap of orange fluff, I did the world a service—gave him a right thrashing, I did!” He laughed. “You’re lucky you’re not lying there next to him, boy!”

  Suttor flew forward, leaping over his brother and onto Ragwort, knocking him and the rats detaining him to the ground. He grabbed Ragwort’s throat. Juniper, Carn, and Victor jumped on top of him, desperately trying to peel him off, but he would not relent. With a swift kick in the chin from Suttor, Carn tumbled back, knocking into one of the rats holding Hecate. She took her chance. With one arm free she dived for the ground, sweeping up the fallen rat’s crossbow and striking the other guard detaining her with the heavy end. Now free, she twisted around and took aim, launching the heavy arrow into the scuffling rats just before two citizens tackled her.

  “Uncle!” screamed Clover, clutching Kar to her chest.

  Stumbling, Juniper lurched forward, bumping into Vincent, and clutched his stomach.

  “Juniper?” Vincent seized Juniper trying to steady him as he wobbled. “He’s hit!” he shouted. “Juniper’s hit!”

  Victor grabbed for Suttor, still struggling to get hold of Ragwort. “Suttor, stop!” he shouted. “It’s Juniper!”

  Suttor wouldn’t listen. Victor jumped from the altar, landing on Suttor’s back, managing to get him in a choke hold. Growling, he held down Suttor’s arms until he finally stopped flailing. “Juniper’s been hit. Snap out of it!” he barked. “You must get hold of yourself! Look around you! Your brother’s not the only one who lost his life tonight, and Juniper may be next!”

  At last Suttor stopped struggling. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see all the devastation that had occurred—devastation he had not noticed before. Puddles of blood were soaking into the floor; blood smeared the hanging flowers. Several rats were lying on the ground in crumpled positions. They were not moving.

  Reaching down, Juniper felt the arrow protruding from his stomach. Grabbing hold of the blood-slickened wood, he yanked it from his belly, grunting as he did so.

  “Papa!” cried Julius as Mother Gallo held him back.

  “Steady, now,” said Virden. He and Vincent guided Juniper to the nearest chair. “Let me have a look.”

  “No,” blurted Juniper. “I—I think I’m all right.”

  “Not with that much blood, you’re not.”

  “Please, Juniper,” said Vincent, “don’t be foolish.”

  “It—it looks bad, I know,” said Juniper, panting. “Knocked the wind out of me, to be sure. But . . .” He opened his satchel. He pulled out a round silver tag—the one he always kept with him as a reminder, his brother’s lab tag. It had been damaged, the edge of it nicked by an arrow. With some difficulty he pulled the strap over his head and turned the satchel over. It had a hole though and through. He smiled dimly at Julius and Nomi, who clutched their mother, looking on in sheer terror. With a groan, Juniper sat up a bit so they could see the wound. “See, it looks far worse than it is.” He glanced at Billycan, holding up the tag for his children. “This tag—it saved my life.”

  After wiping away the blood, Virden inspected the size and location of the wound. He nodded at Mother Gallo. “The old chap’s right,” he said.

  Mother Gallo let out a long breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Hecate suddenly made a strange sound, a bubbling, gurgling sort of sound. She grabbed at her throat. Choking, she removed her paws, revealing a silver dagger buried up to the hilt. The guards holding her let go, and she fell to the ground, thrashing briefly, and then she simply stopped.

  Juniper regarded her on the ground. She was dead. He looked at Billycan. “We had her under control. Which one of your rats did this?”

  Billycan looked down at her body with little concern. “Honestly, brother, she just tried to kill you.” He shook his head. “Besides, these rats don’t use knives. They didn’t do this.”

  “Then who did?”

  Ripping off her dirtied yellow sash and letting it fall to the ground, Texi stepped down from the altar. “It was me.”

  “Texi, why?” asked Juniper. “The rats had her detained.”

  “When you got hit, I watched her from the altar. She looked right at me, smiling like a fox. I saw a flash of something in her paw. I . . . I thought it was a weapon.” She sniffled. “She always told me—one of her ‘life lessons’—that sometimes our enemies are staring us right in the face and we just don’t know it.” She wiped her eyes. “This time I knew. It was her.”

  Vincent looked at Hecate’s body, nudging a limp arm with his foot. He reached down and picked up a small silver blade, small enough to conceal with little difficulty. He held it up. “She was going to finish the job, Juniper.”

  “She may not always make the kill, but she never misses,” said Billycan, “I’ll give her that.”

  “You saved my life,” said Juniper, looking down at Texi. “You could have helped Hecate, but you didn’t.” He knelt down and raised her quivering chin. “You’re a good rat who does the right thing.” A slight smile formed on her mouth. “And knowing that is the greatest life lesson of all.”

  “Duncan!” shouted Suttor, crawling over to his brother.

  Duncan was sitting up, leaning on his elbows, looking around the square.

  “Are you all right?” asked Suttor.

  “I think so. My head hurts . . . and I’m hungry.”

  “He’s definitely all right,” said Victor.

  Pushing through the crowd, Lali fell to her knees and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t ever do that to me again!” she exclaimed. “Do you understand me?” Duncan nodded, squirming slightly, as Lali kissed him all over his face. “Never again.”

  “What happened in the prison corridor?” asked Suttor.

  Feeling the lump on his head, Duncan swallowed hard. “Elvi suggested I bring tea to Suttor, to get over my fear of the prison corridor.” He looked up at Juniper. “When I unlocked the door, I thought the rat was another guard. I . . . I didn’t know.” He eyed the bodies of rats lying on the ground. “I caused all this.”

  “Duncan, this wasn’t your fault,” said Juniper.

  Silently, Cole gathered Kar from Clover and walked over to his family. He got down on one knee. “You caused nothing, son. She did. This was all her doing, not yours. She used you.”

  Juniper looked around the city square, taking in the dubious horde of rats Billycan had brought with him. “Billycan, where did all these rats come from? Where did you find them?”

  Before he could answer, Billycan felt a gentle tugging on his leg. He bent down and scooped up Julius in his arms. “How are you,
lad?” he asked. “My, how you’ve grown.”

  “Father, where have you been?”

  “I’ve been to a great island, a mysterious island, in a dangerous land.”

  “Did you see tigers?” asked Julius curiously.

  Billycan chuckled. “I saw something far more important than mere tigers—especially to us.”

  “What was it?”

  “I met a rat who looks just like you and me.”

  “You mean . . . another albino?” Julius asked in a whisper. Billycan nodded. The little rat shivered. “Just like us?”

  “Precisely like us. I’ll tell you all about him later.” He glanced at Juniper. “Julius, there is someone I need you to meet.”

  The sea of armed rats broke, clearing the center aisle, revealing a lean brown rat. Unlike the others, she was majestic—polished. Her gait was refined, and even the tilt of her sleek head seemed noble.

  As she stopped before him, Julius gazed up at her. He held out a small white paw, feeling as though he must use his best manners, as his mother had taught him, with a lady such as this. “I’m Julius,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  She glanced at Billycan, a troubled look on her face. “I know who you are,” she said, leaning down toward Julius. “I’ve heard all about you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, I’m told by Billycan you’re a very brave young rat—that you faced down Killdeer’s sisters all on your own.”

  Looking down at his feet, Julius blushed. “Well . . . Texi was with me.” He looked back at her big eyes. “What’s your name?

  “My name is Gwenfor.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Topside.” She gestured at the armed rats. “We live on the docks at the Hellgate Sea.”

  “But I thought the dock rats were cutthroats—pirates of the sea,” he said. “You look too beautiful. Are you really a dock rat?”

  She nodded. “Just like my mother and father before me, now I lead the dock rats.” Her face looked uneasy again. “It seems you, too, were born from leaders.”

  Mother Gallo suddenly clutched Juniper’s arm. She hadn’t seen it at first. She hadn’t been looking. It wasn’t until Gwenfor was face to face with Julius that she noticed her jaw was the same angular shape as his. His long snout resembled Billycan’s, but it had the same distinctive slope as Gwenfor’s. His eyes were perfect almonds—just like hers.

  “Filthy dock rats!” shouted Major Ragwort from the altar where he was being detained. He spat blood, his mouth still bleeding from Suttor’s attack. “You reek of salt and sewer water!” One of the dock rats holding him smacked the back of his head, but it didn’t stop his raving. “Killdeer should have gone through with his plan to eradicate you all those years ago.”

  Ignoring Ragwort, Gwenfor turned to Juniper. “Chief Citizen, let me take these shameful excuses for rats away from this place.” Foiber cursed her from the aisle, his captors tightening their hold. “Trust me, they will get exactly what they deserve.” She looked down at Julius. “And they will never bother your family again.”

  “Gwenfor, we are most grateful for your help,” said Juniper. “If there is ever anything I can do to repay the favor, you need only ask.” He glanced at the captured rats. “As for this ragged lot, we have plenty of room in our prison corridor. Trust me, they won’t get out a second time.”

  “Very well,” said Gwenfor. “I suppose our work is done.” She bent down and leaned in very close to Julius. Her voice was stern. “Now listen to me. The world above your head is no place for you, little rat. It’s perilous and full of threats, but it is also my home. So if ever you find yourself Topside with no safe place to go, simply sniff the air and let the smell of salt bring you to me.” Gingerly she took his chin in her paw. “You stay with your papa and mama, do you hear me? They will look out for you.” Hesitantly, she kissed the top of his head, then stood up. “Chief Citizen, my rats and I will escort these criminals to your prison corridor.”

  Juniper nodded to Ulrich and Ragan, who began leading the prisoners out of the city square. “Thank you,” he said. He glanced at Julius. “For everything.”

  “Where I live, a son of mine would be a target for any rat wanting to claim my command.”

  “You are free to see him anytime you like.”

  “No,” said Gwenfor decisively. “It’s better this way.” She watched the children crowding around Mother Gallo. “You are very lucky. You lead your city and are still able to keep your family close.”

  Juniper could see Gwenfor’s chin trembling. The dock rats were a proud clan. He changed the subject. “Perhaps we can help each other. Gwenfor, have any of your rats gone missing?”

  Gwenfor’s hackles rose. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “Nightshade has had three teams of our Hunter rats disappear in the last few weeks. My Hunters are smart. They would never allow themselves to be taken unless it was beyond their control.”

  “I’m missing nearly twenty,” said Gwenfor gravely. “My rats never leave the docks without my permission. I will not allow it. That’s how I keep them alive.” She exhaled. “I must admit, I had become lenient. I had rats doing their rounds well into the early hours—easy to spot. A dozen went missing. I sent my best trackers into Trillium to find them. Now they’re gone, too.”

  Juniper was almost relived to hear the news. At the very least, he knew it wasn’t just Nightshade rats who were being targeted. It was a cruel comfort. He took in the room. Nearly every citizen was staring at Billycan, many trembling—still haunted by memories of the Catacombs, more afraid of him, the one who had just saved their lives, than they could ever be of Hecate. How could he prove to them that they were safe, that Billycan was no longer out to destroy them?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The City Morgue

  ARMS FOLDED, Vincent leaned against a wall and silently took in the hushed scene. He glanced around the Council Chamber for Victor, who was strangely absent.

  Carn and Ragan whispered in a corner, shaking their heads, feeling foolish that they never suspected Elvi, their thoughts clouded by her toxic tea.

  Mother Gallo, Oleander, and Clover sat in a tight circle, talking quietly about the damage done—and how, even from beyond the grave, Killdeer’s tyrannical reign had claimed lives, both of his loyal followers and of innocent Nightshade rats.

  Virden broke the stillness.

  “For Saints’ sake, stop moving,” he barked, “or this needle will end up in your forehead!” Ulrich squirmed as Virden tended to the large gash running across his face. “Why, Juniper took it in the stomach and didn’t say a word when I stitched him up.”

  Ulrich grunted in response.

  “Don’t be so hard on him,” said Texi, holding one of Ulrich’s paws in her own. “What he did was very, very brave.” Ulrich moaned in pain, trying to smile at her.

  “Indeed it was brave,” said Virden. He chuckled. “If only our stubby-tailed friend could have that same bravery now.” He tied off the final stitch. “There, good as new.”

  With great difficulty Ulrich stretched out his jaw, gently feeling the black stitching with the underside of his paw.

  Texi held up a small mirror for him. “It’s not bad,” she said, mustering her most hopeful smile. “Quite distinguished, really.”

  “Bless the Saints!” Ulrich exclaimed. “I’m absolutely appalling!” He sighed miserably and glanced around the room. “A fine rat I am, grousing over a cut on my face. What of those who lost their lives tonight?”

  Virden patted his shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, old fellow. The High Ministry is defeated at last.”

  “Ha!” shouted Vincent, springing up from his leaning position as Juniper and Billycan entered the Council Chamber. “We thought that once before!” His chest began to heave. “The cloud of the High Ministry will always hang over our heads. Even now, he’s back.” He growled in Billycan’s direction. “He may have changed, but how can we be sure? He, even more than Killdeer
, was responsible for all the murders over the years—the murders of our families, our friends! We cannot dare trust him! We trusted Elvi, and look where that got us. Now we’re supposed to believe he’s a changed rat? It never ends! Never!”

  Vincent closed his eyes, waiting for the earnest, hopeful words that only Juniper could summon. He’d heard them all before. Juniper’s heart was always in the right place, but his goodness, his need to do right by all, was often infuriating. Vincent had always reasoned, now more than ever, that sometimes you had to be unkind; sometimes you must rule with an iron fist, not to be cruel but to ensure the lives of your people.

  “Where is Victor?” he asked sharply. “Wasn’t he with you? He should be here.”

  “I don’t know, son,” said Juniper calmly.

  “Has anyone seen my brother?” demanded Vincent, glaring around the chamber.

  “I have,” said Billycan.

  “You?”

  “I know where he is. I’ll take you to him.”

  “You can walk next to me,” said Billycan, eyeing Vincent from the corner of his eye. “I won’t bite.”

  Vincent wasn’t taking any chances. He followed Billycan cautiously down a winding corridor to the lowest level of Nightshade City, all the while keeping a firm hold on the blade he’d taken from one of Hecate’s fallen henchmen. “I’m quite fine where I am, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself,” replied Billycan without a hint of emotion.

  “Where are you taking me?” Before Billycan could answer, the scent hit Vincent’s snout. It was scent he knew all too well—the scent of death.

  “Here we are,” said Billycan as they rounded a corner. They came upon a long, thin room. Except for one flickering torch, it was dark and deathly still—the city morgue.

  In all the time he’d been in Nightshade, Vincent had never been to this part of the city, perhaps purposely staying away from the one place that he knew would force all the horrible memories of the Catacombs to come flooding back. Why would Victor be here?

  Hesitantly, Vincent followed Billycan into the dim chamber. He’d learned to be afraid of little, but death always unnerved him, the finality of it all. He believed in the Saints, but sometimes he wondered if they were real.