Suttor approached his duties with the tenacity of a lion. His parents had died five years before while searching for Stipend, killed by poisoned bait left in the cellar of a Topsider’s house. He and his little brothers were immediately rounded up and sent to the Kill Army, where he embraced the army culture with as much dedication as a foundling rat could muster. He gratefully swallowed the propaganda Major Lithgo churned out to the orphaned recruits. Suttor had no choice. His only other option was to go Topside and brave the humans. His brothers, still so little, could never have survived.
So there he stood at his post. The detail bored him, but Suttor performed his guard duties as if protecting Killdeer himself. His spine throbbed from standing so stiffly, but there he stood. Suttor fought for plum assignments, hoping to show the majors he deserved a promotion. With a higher rank, he could have a hand in his brothers’ futures, protecting them. For now, he ranked as a mere senior lieutenant, giving him no control over their fates. It constantly worried him. Mother Gallo marched up to Clover’s door. “Good morning, Suttor. Kindly grant me entrance so that I may speak with Miss Clover. It’s regarding the Grand Speech and her role in it.”
Suttor frowned. “High Mistress of the Robes, you have not been granted proper clearance, so I cannot grant you entrance. I have a list, handed to me by none other than the High Collector and Commander of the Kill Army, and I am under strict orders not to permit anyone inside unless they are named on the register, ma’am.”
Mother Gallo twitched her whiskers, slightly offended at the young rat’s tone. “Lieutenant Suttor, am I not on your silly little list?”
“Well, no one has been put on the register, ma’am.”
“Then why for Saints’ sake did Billycan even bother to give you a list? How ridiculous is that?” she asked. Exasperated, she took a more authoritative tone. “Now, boy, you will let me in, or I will go to Billycan myself and tell him you forbade me entrance. I was here just yesterday getting this girl prepared for the Grand Speech, as I’d been ordered to do by none other than your esteemed Commander Billycan, and I intend to finish my duties.” She’d always been quite fond of Suttor and appreciated how dedicated he was to his brothers. But given the circumstances, she would have to be firm. “Now, Suttor, your parents were dear friends of mine and the late Mr. Gallo. I would never steer you into trouble with your superiors. Orders or not, I think you know that much. If it makes you feel better, I will tell Billycan I ordered you to let me in. How do you think he’ll react if this young girl isn’t fully prepared for her debut on the arm of the High Minister? What will the consequences be for barring my entrance then?”
Suttor had known Mother Gallo since he could remember. She and her late husband used to visit regularly, bringing their boys along to play with him and his brothers. The Gallos always brought a tin of fresh biscuits. His mother would brew her famous pumpkin tea, and his father would crack open a fresh jug of Carro ale. Suttor knew Mother Gallo made sense. If he prevented her from doing her duties, it could mean a terrible penalty for him, possibly a demotion. He had no reason to doubt her intentions. After all, she held a position of stature within the Ministry, and the register Billycan had given him surely did not apply to someone of her distinction.
“Come, now, Suttor,” said Mother Gallo. “Give me your list.” She snatched the parchment from Suttor, took a feather pen off her blue sash, and signed her Ministry-issued seal to the register. “There, you see? Now you can show Billycan his silly list and he can chastise me if he takes issue. I may not be a member of the Kill Army, but my Ministry title far outranks yours, lieutenant. Billycan will not punish you. Are we understood?”
Suttor shifted clumsily. “Yes, ma’am, understood. I will show him your mark.” Suttor banged on Clover’s door, announcing Mother Gallo. “The High Mistress of the Robes to see you, Miss Belancort.” He opened the door. “Right this way, Mistress Gallo. I promise you’ll get no more trouble from me.”
She smiled up at the gangly spotted rat. “Now, my boy, you know as well as I do it’s Mother Gallo, not Mistress. You’re a fine boy and a good brother. Your parents would be proud of you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.” She reached up and put a paw on his cheek. “My boys miss you. Come round with your brothers anytime. I’ll make sure you get the proper permission. They would love to spend some time with you, as would I.”
Suttor smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Mother Gallo. I will.”
“Remember what I said: You’re a good boy. Always trust your heart.” She entered Clover’s quarters, and Suttor shut the door behind her.
Clover sat staring at the fire, daydreaming. She’d not heard Suttor’s announcement. Mother Gallo entered the room, startling her. Clover shot up like a flash, relieved to see the seamstress. Impulsively, she embraced Mother Gallo, who patted her gently.
“It’s so good to see you again, dear,” she said. “It seems you’re in better spirits, and I’m happy for that.” Mother Gallo lowered her voice to a whisper. “Now you need to listen closely.” She motioned to the door, pointing at Suttor’s feet, which could be seen under its gap. “He’s a nice boy, but a little too enthusiastic about his job, I’m afraid, so let’s keep our voices down, just in case.”
They sat on Clover’s bed. “I’ve been racking my brain nonstop,” said Mother Gallo. “At first I thought I could sneak you Topside on my own, but Billycan has troops posted at every exit corridor. All the entrances in and out of the Combs have been suddenly blocked off. I don’t know what could be happening, but there is indeed something brewing.”
Mother Gallo’s offer of help came at her own peril; Clover decided she must tell her everything. “Mother Gallo, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I wanted to tell you everything, but I had to be sure I could trust you.” Mother Gallo looked puzzled but remained silent. “As I told you, my parents are dead, long gone, my brothers, too. That’s all true, but that family friend I told you about, the elderly rat who pretends to be my grandfather, well … he’s not elderly at all, and he’s more than just a family friend. He’s my father’s brother, my uncle—Juniper Belancort.”
Mother Gallo gasped. Her mouth fell open. “He’s alive!” she whispered. “How is it possible?” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Clover, you’re telling me your uncle, Juniper Belancort … he’s alive?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of him?”
“Why didn’t he find me?” Mother Gallo looked hurt. “All this time I believed him dead, murdered. Everyone thought Billycan had assassinated him. Dear, I knew your uncle well, very well. I mourned his death for years. It seems like ages since then—I guess it has been. Bless the Saints.” She let out a deep sigh. “How things have changed for everyone. It doesn’t seem right, does it? Eleven years isn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things, but to me it feels like lifetimes ago.”
Clover relaxed a little. “Uncle’s friends saved him from Billycan,” she said.
“The Council,” said Mother Gallo.
“Yes, they took him Topside. They’ve all been surviving in an abandoned Topside warehouse—up until recently, that is. Now they’ve their own city. They’ve been excavating for two years, somewhere under Trillium’s Reserve District. It’s only been inhabitable the last few months or so. Uncle’s a bit like a shadow these days, slipping in and out of the Catacombs as often as he can, always checking in on me, and meeting with his network of Loyalists—getting them out. He’s been planning to get me out too, but timing has never been on our side, and now it looks as though it may never be.”
Mother Gallo’s face brightened. “Juniper’s friends, the Council—Cole, Virden, and the twins—those four would follow your uncle to the ends of the earth.” She clasped her paws. “Oh, Clover, your uncle is a shrewd one! One of the cleverest rats I’ve ever known. His traps—these ingenious contraptions—were set all over the Catacombs before the Coup. That’s what put him in such danger—he was betrayed by someone he thought
a faithful friend. That smart mouth of his didn’t help either—always getting into hot water with that devilish tongue. Never afraid to speak his mind, that rat!”
Mother Gallo tittered like a schoolgirl. Her smile changed from a motherly beam to a grin of girlish dizziness. “Clover, there’s something I want to share with you, bless my late husband’s soul. Before I met my beloved Mr. Gallo—who I adored, mind you—Juniper and I were a bit more than friends. Truth be told, he’d been courting me relentlessly. My father, Papa Bostwick, a very strict rat, did not like your uncle—not at all! Like I said, he had that brazen mouth, saying whatever he liked. As I’m sure you are well aware, your uncle has some strong opinions when it comes to politics—well, when it comes to anything! My father did not like that. I suppose it’s a classic story, the daughter giddy over someone her father despises! We were in love. Whenever there was an event in Catacomb Hall, and there were a lot in those days, we’d slip through the crowd to a secret place and talk for hours and hours. Juniper even stole a kiss or two!” Mother Gallo giggled. Clover giggled too, imagining her burly uncle as a young rat in love. “Clover, it warms my soul to know he’s alive! When was he here last?”
Clover’s shoulders drooped as she thought about yesterday’s events. “Juniper was here just yesterday, when Billycan declared me Chosen One. Juniper pretended to be my grandfather, Timeron, all wrapped up in that filthy black shroud—the same one my grandfather always wore. Billycan almost unmasked him—only a claim of the plague kept him back. Uncle says we’d surely be dead if Billycan had discovered him.”
Mother Gallo got up from the bed and straightened her sash. “Juniper’s right about that. Billycan despises your uncle from the deepest depths of his rotten heart. That appalling black scar across the Collector’s face—your uncle gave him that beauty. Billycan’s loathing for all Loyalists runs deep, but for your uncle, especially so. The Saints were looking out for you two yesterday. Now we must get back to the task at hand. Does Juniper know that the Grand Speech has been moved to this Rest Day? Does he know you’ve been requested by Killdeer to escort him?”
“He has no idea,” said Clover. “He thinks we have two weeks, the customary wait for a Chosen One. He has no way of knowing my dilemma. Even if by chance he arrived here tomorrow, what could he possibly do? They have me guarded round the clock.”
Mother Gallo paced the room. “Dear, has he told you how one gets to his hidden city? It’s far too risky to try to sneak you out, but maybe I could locate him. Knowing your uncle, he already has a plan in the works. Has he given you any information that might be helpful, anything at all?”
Clover tugged the edge of her ear, thinking of recent events. “We had plans in place to get me out weeks ago, but odd things started happening. I pretended to go Topside for Stipend, planning never to return to the Catacombs, but the last few times I ventured up to Trillium City, I noticed Kill Army sector majors trailing me. After that, Uncle told me to stay put.” Clover tried to focus on what her uncle had told her. “Juniper gets Topside through an old corridor. It’s teeming with earthworms. Uncle has some sort of a pact with them. The corridor closed down long before the Bloody Coup. Uncle’s been using it for years as his only way in or out of the Combs. Once Uncle gets Topside, he enters through a Topsider’s brownstone on Ashbury Lane. There is a single hole he made somewhere in the corner of a first-floor room, a room with a long window overlooking the street. The hole leads straight to the main entrance of the city. He says the brownstone has two gargoyles on top, the only one on the block. That’s why he picked it—it’s easy to recognize.”
“Well, there’s nothing left to think about, then. I’ll find Juniper myself.”
Clover grabbed Mother Gallo’s paws. “Mother Gallo, just having you around makes all this almost bearable. I understand you want to help, but you have a family that needs you, and I couldn’t ask you to put yourself in jeopardy.”
Mother Gallo spoke firmly. “Clover, let there be no further doubts. I work for the Ministry. I must. It sets my family free of Stipend and puts food on our table, food I could not provide alone. That being said, I’m not a supporter of our esteemed Ministry. They have beaten down the rats of the Catacombs. Now you tell me about Juniper’s plans—giving us the possibility that all of this can change, a singular opportunity to take back what Killdeer and his followers stole from us long ago.
“Just knowing Juniper’s alive gives me new hope for our future, my children’s future—your future, dear. When your uncle and I were young, we had the Catacombs at our feet. Anything was possible. Your father, Julius Nightshade and Juniper were trusted advisers to Trilok and his Ministry. When they died, it seemed everything dear to us died with them. When the key players of the Loyalist cause were silenced, it silenced us all.”
Mother Gallo gazed thoughtfully at the wall carving of Duchess Nomi. “This stagnant existence is the way most rats think life will always be. Clover, I firmly believe that we weren’t put on this earth merely to endure its many trials and tragedies. The Saints did not design things that way. There is much more to life. We were meant to feel the joy of new babies, the festivity of birthdays and holidays, and the uncontained wooziness of newfound love. It’s all right to ask for help. We all need to do so from time to time.” She smiled softly and gently tapped the tip of Clover’s nose. “My dear, today is your time.”
“Thank you, Mother Gallo,” said Clover, summoning a smile.
“Don’t thank me yet—there is much to be done. Do you know anything about this secret corridor your uncle uses to get in and out—any notion where it might be?”
“I’m not really sure. Uncle said it’s a secret place where he and his friends used to meet, making sure no one could hear them—for fear that there could be traitors living among them. He said they could never be too careful when it came to protecting the corridor. I think only the Council knew of its existence.”
Mother Gallo suddenly put her paw to heart. “Clover, do you recall if it’s anywhere near Catacomb Hall?”
“Yes,” said Clover. “Uncle said it’s behind some falling-down pub.”
Mother Gallo’s lavender skin turned a rosy pink, and her voice fluttered slightly. “The corridor behind Ellington’s Tavern—I’m sure of it! Your uncle and I used to steal away to that very corridor when we were courting. It would have been quite disastrous had Papa Bostwick found out! The tunnel is directly behind the tavern, covered up with rubbish and such. You would never notice it unless you knew it existed. Thank the Saints our Juniper is the sentimental sort!”
Mother Gallo gave Clover a firm hug and headed towards the door. “Now, Clover, you must do your part,” she said. “Play it safe and smart. Act as if all is well and you are the happiest girl in the Catacombs. I will be back before I am to escort you to the speech. We have little time. I must depart.”
“Please be careful, Mother Gallo, and good luck.”
“No need for luck. Nothing could keep me from my course!”
Mother Gallo wove hastily through the bustling crowd in Catacomb Hall, finally making her way to Ellington’s Tavern. She remembered how, in her youth, she would sneak away from her father’s watchful eye and go to the tavern, staying up until dawn, always on the arm of Juniper Belancort. What good times those were, laughing riotously at Juniper’s and Virden’s comical stories, the boisterous pair finding a reason to toast just about anything, and Ragan and Ulrich endlessly telling their ridiculous jokes to stoic Cole, until he’d finally break into wild laughter.
It was nearly lunchtime, and the tavern was starting to fill. The pub’s once-evergreen stain had worn away, revealing its rotting wood frame, which tilted precariously to the left, held up only by the buildings stacked on either side of it. But there it stood, more ramshackle than ever—the secret corridor waiting patiently behind it.
Remaining unseen might be easier than Mother Gallo originally thought. Rats seemed too busy with themselves to bother with her. As she headed towards the rear of Elli
ngton’s, a chubby Kill Army soldier and his gangly companion abruptly stopped her. The portly one sprayed her with a fine mist of spittle as he tried to engage her without slurring his words from one too many glasses of ale. “Good day, madam. Care for a nip of ale with me and my boy?”
“No, sir, but thank you kindly,” replied Mother Gallo. She attempted to make her exit, but the soldier placed a fleshy paw on her shoulder.
“Now, wait a minute, missus,” he said, leaning on his friend. “I’m an assistant major in the Kill Army. Do you really think it’s wise to turn me down? I find you fair of face, and I do like a female with curves on her—more to hang on to!” Laughing heartily, he sprayed the air again, the rancid scent of half-digested Carro ale escaping from his throat.
Mother Gallo took the end of her sash and wiped the droplets of saliva from her coat. “Do you have any idea who you are speaking to? Are you aware I’m the High Mistress of the Robes, reporting directly to High Collector and Commander Billycan? Do you think he would be pleased to know that a drunken underling, who is old enough to be a sector major but obviously too incompetent to move up from a mere assistant, harassed one of his key staff members tonight? Do you think he would throw a parade in your honor, perhaps grant a promotion in rank? Now, tell me your name and what sector major you report to, soldier.” Mother Gallo boiled with rage.
The assistant major’s face contorted in fear. He began to stutter, pleading desperately. “Now, High Mistress, there’s no need for all that! We are sorry—dreadfully sorry—to have disturbed you. We were just having a bit of fun is all. Please do accept our deepest apologies. There is no need to mention this to the High Collector. It won’t happen again.” The soldier stood as straight as he could in his pickled condition, while his scrawny friend tried to keep him from toppling over. Mother Gallo laughed to herself at the ridiculous sight.
Nightshade City Page 9
