by Lisa Fiedler
Hopper flushed with pride. “Thank you for rescuing me, by the way.”
Zucker shrugged. “All in a day’s work, kid.” He took a sip of broth, then turned a serious expression to Hopper. “Now, I need you to tell us what you know. Firren and the Mūs—she finally has the support of their army?”
“Yes.”
Zucker let out a hushed whoop of joy. “Thatta girl, Firren!”
“Zucker, I’m so confused. Nothing makes sense. I thought the Mūs were bad and Titus was good and Firren was just plain trouble.”
“Well, I can’t blame ya for that. After all, I was the one who told you those things. It was part of my plan.” The prince sighed. “I’m bettin’ you’ve got some questions.”
Hopper barely knew where to begin. “Why did you lie to me about Firren and the Mūs? You told me they were savages.”
“I know what I told you. But think back, Hopper . . . every time I said something negative about the rebels and the Mūs, who was listening?”
Hopper struggled to recall. “Titus’s guard?”
“Right!”
“So you wanted him to think you hated the Mūs?”
“Right again, kid.”
“But why?”
“Because this reign of Titus’s has to end. And Firren, with the Mūs as her allies, is our only hope. And I’ve been feeding my old man false information to make it easier for Firren and her Rangers to infiltrate the camps.”
“So that’s why you didn’t put an end to her, back there in the tunnel?”
“That’s one reason.”
“Then she really doesn’t despise you?”
“Oh no . . . she pretty much hates my guts.” When Zucker shifted against the pillows, the movement caused him to wince. Or maybe it was the thought of Firren that caused him pain. “She doesn’t know I’ve been sabotaging Titus all this time. She thinks I really did switch sides after Dodger . . .” Zucker looked away, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s better like this; Firren needs to attack at full throttle, and if she’s worrying about me getting hurt, she might hold back.”
Hopper remembered how considerate and protective she’d been when he was her captive. He could see how she might let her concern for Zucker’s safety affect her mission; her hating him definitely solved that problem.
“What about the Mūs?”
“The Mūs . . . are complicated. Titus wants us all to believe they are ferocious warriors, which they are. They have a natural gift for battle, but they only engage when provoked. They much prefer to live in peace if possible. It took a lot for Dodger to get them to agree to form an army. After they lost Dodger, they tried to look the other way and ignore the injustice of Titus’s camps. From what you tell me, Firren’s finally made them see they can’t sit idly by anymore.”
Hopper’s next question came out in a whisper: “So you did know Dodger? You knew . . . my father?”
A shadow of sadness passed over Zucker’s face. “Dodger was my best friend. We met in the tunnels when we were young. He was the one who first told me the truth about Titus’s peace accord. I knew he was going to lead his tribe against Atlantia one day, and I vowed to help him.”
“Did you know I was his son?”
Zucker nodded. “As soon as that bandage fell off your ear. That white circle said it all.”
“So the first day, when you told Titus the Mūs were not a threat and Firren wasn’t a danger, you were just throwing him off the scent, to give them a better chance.”
“Exactly. I’m what you might call a double agent.”
“And now Firren is planning a mighty assault.”
“Yep. And as long as Titus doesn’t know that, they’ve got a really good shot at succeeding this time.”
A sick feeling filled Hopper’s gut. He turned to Marcy. “You didn’t tell him?” Marcy shook her head.
“What’s the matter, kid? You look a little queasy.”
“I told Titus!” Hopper blurted. “When I got off the train, I went straight to the palace and told him that Firren had united with the Mūs army and an attack was imminent.”
Hopper curled up at the foot of the bed and buried his face in the blanket. The guilt and disgrace were nearly overwhelming. “If anything happens to Firren and the others, it’ll be my fault. I told the emperor they were coming, and now he’ll be ready for them.”
Zucker sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through his chest, and placed a gentle paw on Hopper’s back. “You didn’t know, kid. And besides, we’ve got a few weeks before the next sacrifice, so—”
“No!” Hopper groaned and sat up. “We don’t. Felina ordered Titus to reschedule the hunting game.”
“Reschedule it? To when?”
Hopper gulped. “Day after tomorrow. There’s no way Firren will be here by then.”
“Maybe she will, kid. That little rat has a lot of tricks up her sleeve, believe me.”
“Even if she does, it’s going to be a catastrophe. The Rangers and the Mūs army will be walking into a deathtrap.” Hopper collapsed into the rumpled sheets. “And what about Pup? And Pinkie? They’re in danger too, and it’s all because of me. Oh, Zucker, what have I done?”
“Easy, kid. Don’t do this to yourself.” Zucker let out a long rush of breath. “It’s not all your fault. I was the one who filled your head with that negative propaganda. It wasn’t like you had the inside scoop.”
Hopper bolted upright, his teary eyes wide, his heart racing.
Something Zucker had said had struck a chord.
“Inside!” he cried.
“Inside?” Zucker raised his eyebrows. “Inside where?”
“The camp.”
It took Zucker a second to comprehend, but when he did, he shook his head. “Ohhh nooooo! Not happening, kid. Ya hear me? Way too much of a risk.”
But Hopper rambled on. “What bigger risk is there than doing nothing? If Firren and the others don’t arrive before the sacrifice, all those innocent creatures will be tortured and eaten. And if she does, and we don’t do something, the palace soldiers will be ready for her, and she and her troops won’t stand a chance.”
Zucker glanced over Hopper’s head to where Ketchum was still guarding the door. The officer shrugged and gave his prince a nod. Hopper was right, of course, and both Zucker and Ketchum knew it.
“What exactly are you thinking?” Zucker asked.
Hopper had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted to get inside that camp and find Pup. He’d hide him or break him out, or, if all else failed, he’d give his little brother a weapon and tell him to fight for his life.
“I suppose you could sneak me in. Tell them I’m a new refugee you found in the tunnels. They’ll be happy about that. With the sacrifice just a day away they’re looking for as many victims as they can get. Felina ordered Titus to double the numbers for this one. Did I mention that?”
Zucker looked grim. “No. You didn’t.”
“Well, she did! So that means Pup’s chances of being sent to the hunting ground are even greater.”
Zucker did not deny it, which made Hopper both more frightened and more resolute.
“If I’m inside, I can warn the refugees. I’ll tell them the truth about the camps. I’ll tell them that the colonist story is a lie and that if they want to get out of there alive, they’re going to have to fight. That way, when Firren attacks, the guards might not be surprised to see her, but they sure will be surprised when the refugees start fighting! I can tell Ketch where Firren’s entry portals are, and we can have your soldiers sneak a whole bunch of weapons in for the refugees to use.”
“Wait a minute,” said Zucker. “If you know where those escape portals are, why don’t we just sneak the refugees out?”
“I thought of that,” said Hopper. “But if all those rodents go missing, the soldiers will notice. They’ll send search parties into the tunnels and bring them right back.”
When Zucker glanced at Ketchum, the officer was biting back a grin. “He’s got a p
oint, Highness.”
Zucker rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, I guess he does. But then he is the Chosen One, right?”
Hopper whirled to face Ketchum. “If I tell you where Firren’s secret entrances are, can you arrange to have Zucker’s soldiers deposit a cache of weapons there?”
“It’s a brilliant plan,” said Ketchum, but he looked skeptical. “But I’m afraid if Titus knows about the attack, it’s safe to assume he’s already begun assembling an arsenal by requisitioning every available weapon in Atlantia, including those that belong to Zucker’s corps. That leaves us with only the ones we brought on our mission to save you. Not nearly enough to arm ourselves, let alone the refugees.”
Hopper felt the disappointment like a crushing blow. Arming the imprisoned rodents and convincing them to defend themselves was the essence of the plan. But how could they supply the refugees with weapons if Titus had seen to it that there was not a single blade or sword left in all of Atlantia?
They would simply have to go beyond the city.
Beyond and above.
It had taken some doing, but Hopper was finally able to convince Zucker and Ketchum that what he wanted to do was not, in fact, suicidal but sound. Moreover, this quest was necessary and unavoidable.
“You came through the upland station just like I did,” Hopper reminded the soldier. “Didn’t you see all that stuff? It was everywhere. And those humans don’t keep their eyes on any of it.”
“I hate to admit it,” Ketchum said with a sigh, “but I think it’s our only hope.”
Zucker hesitated but finally nodded his consent. “Who will we send?”
“Ketchum and me and the twins,” Hopper decided. “And two others, perhaps—strong ones who can carry the haul. But they must be fast and stealthy as well. We’ll instruct them to gather anything jagged or pointy that can be used in lieu of swords, as well as any article that might be turned into ammunition. Fiery things, toxic things, blunt or heavy things.”
Ketchum nodded. “I understand. I’ll go gather our best soldiers, and you meet us on the south side of the palace in half an hour, and we’ll venture upland to carry out this important mission.”
Ketchum turned to leave, then turned back. With a grin he offered Hopper a salute.
Hopper squared his shoulders and returned the gesture with a wary smile.
Soon he would be traveling upland, but even with the twins and three soldiers to protect him, he felt a twinge of worry. He did not want to poke his whiskers into the bags and totes and cases of humans and steal their belongings.
He did not want to, but he had to.
As Ketchum had said, this was an important mission and it was up to the Chosen One, the long-awaited son of the brave Dodger, to lead it.
Zucker motioned to Marcy’s brothers, who were still lingering at the prince’s bedside, eager to be useful. “Hopper, you tell Bartel and Pritchard everything you know about Firren’s plan, especially the whereabouts of the secret exits. They’ll bring the information to General Polhemus.”
So Hopper spent the next hour telling the twins everything he’d seen and heard. He told them about every secret entrance point, every hidden portal, every concealed exit that Firren had mentioned to General DeKalb. He described the kinds of weapons he’d seen or heard about and estimated the number of soldiers the Mūs would be sending. He talked about strategy and tactics.
Bartel and Pritchard were then swiftly dispatched to seek out Polhemus and Garfield and make a full report. They would join Hopper, Ketchum, and the others at the assigned spot to the south of the palace, and together they’d go off to find weapons with which to arm the refugees.
The minute the twins left the chamber, Zucker threw back the covers and put his paws on the floor. With great effort he rose from the bed.
“What are you doing?” Hopper protested. “You’re still hurt. You need to rest. And finish your broth!”
Zucker sighed, picked up the bowl, and swallowed the remaining soup in one long gulp. “There. Ya happy? I finished the broth. But I’m way too worked up to rest any more than I already have. Oh, and for the record, kid, if you’re going into the camp tomorrow, then so am I.”
“You are? Why?”
“Because . . .” Zucker reached into the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a scrap of paper. It was the message Hopper had sent him via Bartel and Pritchard. “Because you’re my friend, that’s why.” Zucker smiled and pointed to Hopper’s signature at the bottom. “See? Says so right there.”
Hopper hesitated only a second; maybe it wasn’t the act of a courageous warrior or a brave rebel, but he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around Zucker and hugged him for all he was worth. It went a long way toward bolstering his courage for the mission, but he knew he needed just one more thing to inspire his bravery.
He released the hug and took a deep breath. “Zucker?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Would you . . . um . . . would you do me a favor?”
“You mean besides taking my life in my hands by heading into enemy territory to fight a bunch of evil cats and palace soldiers?” Grinning, Zucker reached for his sheath and sword. “Sure, kid. Anything you want.”
Hopper opened his mouth to ask but was suddenly overcome by his nerves. Zucker noticed, and repeated his question in a much gentler tone.
“What is it, kid? What is it you need me to do for ya?”
Hopper drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “Tell me about my father . . .”
Some time ago, in the tunnels beneath Brooklyn, New York . . .
ZUCKER HAD NEVER BEEN out in the tunnels before. Titus had strict rules that forbade all Atlantians—even the royal ones—from venturing beyond the city walls. But the prince could not be happier about his newfound freedom. He was curious and confident and hopeful all at once.
It never occurred to him to be afraid.
After he and Dodger tripped along for several yards, Zucker cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, “It doesn’t bother you that I’m . . . ya know . . . royal, does it?”
Dodger crooked a half smile. “Not as much as it bothers you.”
“Do you live near Atlantia?”
“Nope. I’m what you might call an underdweller.”
“Aren’t we all underdwellers down here?”
“Well,” said Dodger with a shrug and a grin, “there’s ‘under,’ and then there’s under.”
Zucker had no idea what that meant, but he found himself enjoying the company of this outsider. Dodger had an energy that Zucker admired, and even though he looked no older than Zucker, Dodger seemed wise—or at least experienced—beyond his years.
The young prince and his new mouse friend chatted amicably about nothing in particular as they scampered along the dirt floor of the tunnel. Zucker’s nose was in a state of perpetual twitching as new scents assaulted him from every angle. There was more darkness than light, but when his sharp eyes adjusted to the shadows, he was amazed at the barrenness of the passageway. No buildings like the ones in Atlantia. No marketplace, no public parks. And almost no rodents to speak of.
Once he had caught sight of a lone and hungry-looking rat creeping quietly along the stone wall in their direction. Dodger had hastened over and whispered something to the stranger. Zucker had not heard the exchange, but the result was that the rat had turned tail and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Zucker had not asked Dodger what he’d said to the wanderer, and Dodger had offered no explanation.
As they went along, Zucker snuck furtive glances at the mouse. He was chubby, with a sandy-brown coat speckled with gray flecks. Most striking was an odd marking on his face—a perfect circle of pure white fur around his right eye.
Zucker was so entranced with the white mark that he was not watching where he was going and nearly collided with a hideous eight-legged creature that seemed to be floating in midair. The sight of the thing nearly scared the daylights out of him.
; “Spider,” Dodger explained as the beast quickly scurried upward on an invisible thread. “There’re plenty of them crawling around down here, but mostly they keep to their webs.” He pointed upward with his tail to a gossamer thing that stretched the width of the enormous tunnel—a feat of engineering and embroidery. The delicate-looking net seemed to glisten in the gloom.
“Not sure how those creepy little bugs do it—those webs may look fragile, but they’re stronger than you’d think.” Dodger laughed. “Just ask the flies! Oh, and try not to brush up against one of those stringy things or you’ll be sticky for days.”
Zucker took note and kept walking. After a while he asked Dodger, “Where are the colonies? I thought we’d have reached them by now.”
Dodger gave him a dubious look. “What colonies?”
“The Atlantian colonies. My father chooses rodents from his refugee camp and sends them out to colonize and build new cities in the tunnels.”
Dodger stopped dead in his tracks. “Is that really what you think the emperor is doing? Even you?”
Zucker nodded, then frowned. “Isn’t it?” A knot of dread had begun to form deep in his belly.
Dodger shook his head. “Not even close, Your Majesty. Not even close.”
“Well, then what is—”
Zucker’s question was cut off by a voice in the distance shouting, “Aye!”
Dodger replied immediately with a clear, high-pitched whistle.
There was a rustling sound of dainty paws in the dirt, and there she was: the prettiest, most charming-looking rat Zucker had ever seen in the whole of his young life.
She blinked her big, dark eyes at him and smiled. “Hello.”
Zucker nodded. It was all he could manage.
After a moment she turned to Dodger. “Is he a new recruit?”
Dodger laughed. “We’ll see.”
The pretty rat slid a grin in Zucker’s direction. “What’s his name?”
