by Lisa Fiedler
“It’s okay, Chosen One,” said Garfield, noticing the mouse’s hesitation. “I promise.”
Hopper relaxed and followed the others through the gate. He was immediately relieved to note that the sooty smell of burned-out buildings had been replaced by the clean and promising scent of fresh sawdust and the indescribable aroma of newly appropriated human castoffs that had been gathered in the name of repurposing. As they made their way through the streets, Hopper heard tools banging and clunking, as well as the rumbling wheels of carts piled high with building materials. To his ears it was like a symphony of possibility.
The last banging he’d heard inside these walls had been that of steel traps being laid, their metal doors slamming shut on innocent rodents. He much preferred the noisy buzz of carpentry and construction.
Garfield led them all to the top step of the palace, where Hopper and Firren and the uplanders were afforded an eye-popping view of the industrious rodents toiling happily below.
Hopper recognized some of them as former residents of the city and others as camp refugees, but there were also a number of rats, squirrels, and chipmunks he’d never seen before. And mice! Mice! Too many to count. As far as he could tell, none of these were of the Mūs tribe (whom Pinkie presumably still had under lock and key behind the gray wall), but their mousely presence was particularly gratifying to Hopper, since on his first visit to Atlantia no mice of any variety had been allowed inside the city. Titus had intentionally vilified the entire species because he lived in fear of a Mūs Chosen One coming to finish Dodger’s mission, to remove him from his throne.
“Funny how things turn out,” Hopper muttered wryly.
“What’s that, Chosen One?” asked Garfield.
“Never mind.” Hopper sighed. He intended to ask where all these new rodents had come from, but his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Titus. Only now did he begin to wonder if the old rat’s feelings about Dodger and the Mūs and even Hopper himself had been far more complicated than anyone had ever known. Feelings that had nothing to do with politics or military power. He thought back now to the day the emperor had stood in the square and humbly but fiercely retracted all the horrible things he’d taught his people about the Mūs. Hopper realized now how genuine Titus’s remorse had been, and he suddenly wondered what it was he didn’t know about the emperor’s past that might account for his complex attitude about the Mūs and the hunting ground and life in the tunnels. . . . Perhaps no one knew exactly what had happened in Titus’s youth to make him what he was. But Hopper was suddenly gripped with a very strong hunch that there was a much deeper story behind all of it.
His ponderings of Titus were forgotten when he saw another familiar face. A soldier rat was bounding up the palace steps to greet him.
“Polhemus!”
“Isn’t this amazing?” Polhemus cried, taking the steps two at a time to clap Hopper on the back. “Atlantia will thrive once more!”
“It is amazing,” Hopper agreed. “And wonderful. But where did all these rodents come from?”
“They were led to us,” Polhemus replied with a nod toward the towering palace doors directly behind Hopper.
Curious, Hopper turned his gaze to the doorway, and a flash of gold caught his eye. A tiny robed figure was approaching him. Hopper tensed, fearing it might be Pinkie. It would be just like her to storm the fallen city and claim it as her own. He doubted Garfield and Polhemus would be so cheerful if that were the case, but he reached for his sword nonetheless. Of course, his weapon was long gone.
He raised one clenched fist, prepared to strike if the robed creature was, in fact, his loathsome, heartless sister about to attack.
But as the gold-clad figure drew closer, Hopper could see that the Mūs face peeking out at him from the shadow of the glimmering hood was not the tyrannical Pinkie.
It was Sage.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMERGING FROM THE PALACE right behind him were Christoph and Temperance.
Hopper’s mouth dropped. “I don’t understand! You’re responsible for all this rebuilding? I thought you three had gone off on an infinite journey, riding the train to wherever it might take you.”
“As it happens,” said Sage, “it took us back here.”
“You told us the means by which we could return to this place, should we ever need to find you,” Christoph reminded him.
“We did precisely as you said.” Temperance nodded. “We took the two train.”
“But we found you gone,” said Christoph, his tone solemn. “Nothing remained but destruction.”
“We are not fond of destruction,” said Sage. “We knew this place had once known greatness. And so we set about rebuilding.”
Christoph swept a paw to indicate the busy rodents working below. “On our train journey we met many rodents who were lost and alone, near to starving out there in the tunnels.”
“We brought them all here with us,” said Sage. “We had hoped to find you and the prince, but of course all we found was wreckage and ruin. Since we needed a place to set down roots, we chose this one. And soon many who had fled Atlantia—Garfield and Polhemus and the swordsmith, Fulton, to name a few—returned. We joined forces in the hopes of becoming the next generation of Atlantians. The rodents we brought here with us are all hard workers, as you can see. Look how much we’ve accomplished in just a short time.”
Sage was not exaggerating. From his vantage point on the palace steps Hopper could now see just how much progress had been made by these rodents who were working together to repair their adopted city. Some were hauling away the wreckage left by the battle and the exterminators, others were dragging in all manner of human artifacts to use as building materials, and still others had assembled in the town square to discuss the exciting future of Atlantia.
Hopper remembered the last such meeting that had taken place in the square, and again he thought of the emperor. “What of Titus?” he asked. “Has he turned up?”
“No sign of him,” Polhemus replied with a shrug. “But he’s not likely to have lasted in the tunnels this long. The pampered ones don’t know how to fend for themselves, and there was none more pampered than the emperor.”
Except maybe me, thought Hopper, remembering the royal banquet the emperor had held for him and all the luxuries that had been showered upon him during his time in the palace. He expected to feel relief in knowing that Titus was no more, but instead he was filled with a powerful sense of regret. Titus had done evil things, it was true, but he had been brilliant in his way. If only he had used his wiles in the name of goodness. It was this potential that Hopper mourned.
Now Firren excused herself to go find those of her Rangers who were already here among the next generation of Atlantians. “I’ll take them with me to make a sweep of the tunnels,” she told Hopper. “I want to see what’s going on out there, perhaps locate the rest of my Rangers and bring them back. I’ll be on the lookout for Pup, of course.”
Hopper smiled his thanks. “Be careful, Firren.”
She gave him her word that she would, and she was off.
“What did she mean by that?” asked Sage. “Why would she keep a lookout for Pup?”
“Isn’t he still back at the Mūs village, enjoying his part in Pinkie’s reign of terror?” asked Christoph.
“If only he were,” said Hopper with a long sigh. “But Pup’s decided that the only way to prove his worth to our sister is to take down Felina himself. That’s why I came back. To stop him from confronting her. I just hope I’m not too late.” He frowned. “Does anyone know where Felina is? Have you located her lair?”
“We have some educated guesses, and I’ve got scouts searching,” Garfield said grimly. “But so far nothing. Perhaps Firren will have better luck. In the meantime we’ve posted soldiers around the perimeter as a precaution. I believe that for the moment, at least, we are safe.”
Hopper was glad of that, but he also knew they could not rely on such good fortune forever. Sooner or later
Pup would manage to hunt down the white cat, or Felina would learn of the resurrection of Atlantia and she would be back. With a vengeance.
He was going to have to find Pup quickly, before either of those things could come to pass.
“I wonder what La Rocha would advise,” said Sage. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to consult the mystic or read a passage of his sacred writings.”
Hopper’s paw went deep into his pocket, where the crumpled note still sat beneath his collection of fabric scraps.
“I shall come for you,” La Rocha had promised.
Hopper was suddenly angry . . . or perhaps just deeply disappointed. The great mystic whom Sage and the others trusted so much had failed the Chosen One by not keeping that very crucial promise. He’d never come for Hopper. In fact, Hopper had never laid eyes on him.
But then, with a jolt, he realized that La Rocha had come for him . . . in a manner of speaking. Not in person. But the elusive cockroach had left the message for Firren among the Runes, and that had led Firren upland to find Hopper. He’d been looking out for the Chosen One, even if it had been from a distance.
Yes. La Rocha had kept his promise. After all, it had been finding La Rocha’s note in his pocket that had inspired Hopper to speak so confidently to the assemblage in the town square. And when he’d heard how Beverley had given her life to save Ketchum, he’d comforted himself with a wish for La Rocha to bring her peace. After he and Firren had made their treacherous slide down the snowdrift and jumped onto the snowplowing beast, he’d invoked La Rocha’s protection. And when Pilot had soared away in search of Ace, Hopper had silently requested any aid the mystic could provide.
So La Rocha had not physically come to Hopper, but he’d been with him all along; he’d been present always, in the form of the wisdom and courage Hopper felt when he thought of La Rocha.
Hopper turned to Sage. “La Rocha would want us to be brave,” he said, his voice filled with confidence. “He would tell us we must continue our quest to rebuild Atlantia, and to try and save Pup from himself. He would tell us the odds are with us because we are fighting for what’s right.”
“Yes,” said Temperance. “This is true.”
“Of course,” said Christoph.
Sage nodded.
Hopper noticed that his words had caused the former Tribunal members to puff out their little chests and stand a bit taller. Despite all that they had lost, and the dangers that still lay ahead, there was a proud gleam in their eyes and no trace of doubt in their expressions.
And in that moment Hopper understood: this was the power of faith. Faith made it possible to face the unknown. Faith brought hope, and hope brought strength. What La Rocha provided—to the elders, to the wanderers, and to Hopper, too—wasn’t magic or supernatural power . . . it was inspiration. And inspiration was just another word for the desire to do something good and noble and important . . . and believing that you could.
La Rocha’s gift had been allowing Hopper to believe in his own worthiness, in the value of his pursuits. From that came fortitude, and from that came resolve.
But Pup did not believe. He feared and he doubted, and from this came his anger and his need to be recognized. This, Hopper realized, was why Pup needed to prove to Pinkie that he could accomplish something enormous. But it would never matter whether Pinkie believed in him or not. First Pup had to believe in himself.
Unfortunately, his crazy quest to slay Felina was not the way for Pup to achieve that or to earn Pinkie’s respect.
It was, however, an expeditious way to get himself killed!
Hopper could not waste another moment. He had to begin planning his quest immediately. And although he had Firren and Valky and the basketball rats behind him, he knew that his chances of defeating the ferals would be far greater if he had what Pinkie had . . . an army!
Seeing all these new citizens of Atlantia united in their efforts to repair the city gave him an idea.
“Do you think these rodents will fight with me?” he asked Sage. “Do you think they will put down their tools and take up weapons so that I might defeat the feral queen before any real harm comes to my misguided brother?”
Temperance and Christoph exchanged glances, and for one disheartening moment Hopper was afraid they would say no.
At last Sage spoke. “It’s hard to say, Chosen One.”
Christoph nodded. “All these rodents have lost loved ones along the way,” he observed. “Some lost them in their upland homes, before descending into this underground world. Some have lost family members right here in the tunnels, to those hunting cats with their insatiable appetites. So it is possible.”
“They understand loss, and they understand the need to stand against tyranny,” Temperance added. “But this is a lot to ask. It is dangerous—deadly, even. I would hope they would join you in your quest, but I cannot say for sure. I suppose all you can do is ask.”
“Many of these rodents told us that they’d long heard the rumors of Titus’s peace accord and of Felina’s blatant disregard for nature’s justice,” Sage explained, “but most had refused to believe these grisly tales. When we came along and confirmed that they were, in fact, true, the rodents were both disgusted and enraged. They toil so determinedly now because they believe that starting fresh is the only way to erase the ugliness of the past.” He reached into his cloak. “Speaking of Titus . . . we have something to show you, Chosen One.”
“Please . . . call me Hopper.”
Sage had removed from the folds of his cape a golden chain dotted with sparkling blue stones. He handed it to Hopper. “We found this hidden in Titus’s bedchamber. It appears to be a priceless human relic and therefore a suitable bauble for the Chosen One.”
Hopper took the shining circlet of precious metal and glittering gemstones from the elder and sighed. “Yes, Zucker mentioned we’d probably find treasure stashed all over this palace. I can’t imagine where this came from or what it might have represented to Titus, but for us let it be a symbol of our unity. The future of Atlantia will depend upon all of us working together, like the links in this chain. And these twinkling blue objects shall symbolize the peace that will result from such unity.”
“So it shall be,” said Sage with a nod.
“Come now,” said Temperance, taking Hopper by the arm. “Let us show you what we have done inside the palace.”
“Although it suffered the least of all the buildings, we decided to redesign the emperor’s quarters,” said Sage, smiling at Hopper. “It is a symbolic gesture more than anything else. And we plan to commission a beautiful gilded chair to install in your throne room, Chosen One.”
Hopper shuddered. “I think you’ve got me confused with my sister,” he said. “I don’t want to have a throne in the throne room at all. Instead I’d like . . .” He stopped midsentence and blinked. “My throne room?”
“Of course,” said Temperance. “In the absence of royal blood we thought it only natural that you become the new ruler of Atlantia. You shall be called Emperor now. Or perhaps you prefer King?”
“I prefer Hopper,” said the mouse, shaking his head. “And if I am going to rule Atlantia, it will not be as the king or the emperor or the exalted Chosen One. It will be as part of a team. A big team.”
“So . . .” Sage knit his brow in confusion. “No throne, then?”
“No throne, no crown, no lofty titles. No pampering, no excess.”
“I don’t understand,” said Christoph, looking perplexed. “A leader should be exalted. We would have provided the same for your father, had he returned to us.”
“Had he returned to you, he would have refused it,” said Hopper, confident that this was so. “Dodger would not have expected special treatment.”
“But you are our Chosen One,” Sage reminded him. “You should walk in nothing less than glory! Magnificence.”
“I don’t want glory,” Hopper assured him. “And I’m not even sure what magnificence is. If I am to lead, I will not require exa
ltation. Respect and honesty will do just fine. I shall see to it that the rodents of this new and improved Atlantia will have all that those who lived under Titus enjoyed—prosperity, comfort, peace of mind—only this time without the refugee camps and sacrifices making it possible. And when it comes to furnishing the former throne room, here is what I would like to see: as many sturdy, comfortable chairs as we can fit into the space, to accommodate any and all Atlantians who might wish to gather there and discuss the concerns of government. Their presence, as well as their ideas, will always be welcome. We will rule the city together, or we will not rule it at all.”
“Revolutionary!” said Christoph.
“Not really,” said Hopper, blushing. “Just reasonable. And fair.”
“I think fairness will be a most appreciated change of pace,” said Sage.
“So it shall be,” said Temperance, smiling. “So it shall be.”
With that, Sage turned to the multitude spread out around the steps of the palace and called for their attention. Then he told them of Hopper’s new vision for the Atlantian government. Then he explained the urgency of Pup’s rescue and Hopper’s request for their assistance. He implored these rodents, many of whom were perfect strangers to Hopper, to become part of a new Atlantian army, an army that would march out in the name of justice to bring the evil white cat and her band of gluttonous ferals to their knees once and for all.
“Will you help me?” Hopper asked, his voice rolling out over the city. “Will you stand beside me to save my brother?”
There was a long silence, during which the Chosen One held his breath. If they said no, he would understand. They had all been through so much uncertainty and suffering already. They had seen how even the best-laid plans could go awry, so he would never resent anyone who elected not to fight. Unlike Pinkie’s army, Atlantia’s would be optional, a matter of choice.
Hopper looked out over the workers, who had begun to whisper to one another, and felt his hopes dissolve. He was about to accept that he would be fighting only with Firren, the soldiers, and the uplanders who had joined him on his return. But then . . .
