Uki and the Outcasts

by Kieran Larwood

  ‘Good day, and welcome to the house of Clan Septys,’ he said. ‘Secret and professional murders and poisonings at reasonable rates. Agonising deaths are extra …’ Halfway through his well-rehearsed speech, he squinted at them until he finally recognised his caller. ‘Lady Jori! What a surprise! But … we weren’t expecting a visit from the clan warren until next month. Is there some kind of problem?’

  ‘Hello, Nox,’ Jori said. ‘Don’t worry. This isn’t an official visit. I’ve been travelling with my friend here and we thought we’d stop by.’

  Nox gave Uki a look, one eyebrow raised. ‘I see. I thought for a moment that a street beggar had followed you in.’ He wrinkled his nose, as if Uki smelt of jerboa dung. ‘And do you wish to see your cousin? He is in the back chamber doing nothing, as usual.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Jori, as Uki squirmed beside her in embarrassment. They followed the old rabbit through a door at the end of the hallway. She leant to whisper in Uki’s ear as they walked. ‘Nox is the head servant here. Been running the house for years and years. He’s horribly rude, and very deaf.’

  ‘Not that deaf,’ said Nox, holding the next door open for them and scowling.

  ‘Thank you kindly,’ said Jori with an exaggerated bow, hiding a smile behind her paw. Uki stepped through behind her, cringing.

  ‘Cousin!’ A shout came from inside the chamber, and before they had even entered the room, a young rabbit had jumped on them, hugging Jori tightly.

  ‘Hello, Venic,’ Jori said, trying to untangle herself. ‘This is my friend, Uki.’

  ‘Come in! Come in!’ said the rabbit. He stepped back, and Uki could see he was almost an exact copy of Jori: the same height, the same leather armour. He even had a flask of dusk potion on his belt. His fur was a darker grey, though, without the white patch over his mouth. And his eyes were icy blue, in contrast to Jori’s grey.

  ‘It’s good to see you, cuz,’ Venic said. ‘Come, sit! Have wine!’

  He motioned to some wooden chairs set out by a quietly crackling fire. The room also had a table with a bowl of dandelion leaves and a bottle of purple-red blackberry wine. A small window looked out on to a courtyard with a neat little garden. It looked like herbs were being grown, but Uki thought there was a good chance they’d all be poisonous.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jori, taking a seat. ‘It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It has!’ Venic agreed. He pointed to the flask on Jori’s belt. ‘I see you’ve passed your trials. How was it?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jori, shrugging. ‘Nothing too difficult.’ Uki took a seat beside her and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Venic obviously didn’t know that Jori had refused to do the final trial. That meant she was safe, for the time being.

  Venic laughed. ‘Not difficult! So modest. I remember having nightmares for months before mine. And after. So tell me. What brings you to the lovely city of Nys? Are you here on clan business? Or … an assignment?’

  Uki shivered. All the time he had spent with Jori, he had forgotten she was trained as an assassin. And this cousin of hers, maybe even Nox the servant – they all killed rabbits. With poison. Probably not a good idea to drink or eat anything here, he told himself.

  ‘I decided to have a little break. The trials were quite … draining. Uki and I have been travelling around Hulstland. We thought we’d visit the twin cities.’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ said Venic. He looked Uki up and down, his eyebrow raised in much the same way Nox’s had been. ‘You wish to stay here, at the clan house? We don’t have any space at the moment but I can move some of the rabbits around.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Uki. The words just popped out, leaving him feeling awkward again. He had been thinking about the high chance of being poisoned and had ended up being rude. ‘I mean, we wouldn’t want to be any trouble. We’re going to stay at an inn.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jori, coming to his rescue. ‘Perhaps that would be best. We’re only here for a few days.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Venic. ‘You must stop by for dinner one night, though. And perhaps I could show you some of the sights.’

  ‘That would be very kind,’ Jori smiled. ‘We were wondering,’ she added, ‘if there were any parts of the city we should avoid? I heard there had been some trouble recently?’

  Venic nodded. ‘There has, I’m afraid. Old rivalries between the city halves. Rabbits in Syn have burnt down one of the bridges and set fire to some of the Nysian banners. There’s been fighting in the streets, name-calling, things like that. It’s all seemed to happen in the last few days. Hopefully it’ll blow over before the match.’

  ‘The match?’ Jori’s ears pricked up.

  ‘Yes, the neekball match,’ said Venic. ‘It’s in two days’ time. Nys against Syn. They have one every month and they’re always a sight to see. I can get you some good seats, if you’re still in town?’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Jori said, giving Uki a wink. ‘Wouldn’t it, Uki?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Neekball. Wonderful.’

  ‘It’s agreed, then!’ Venic jumped from his chair and clasped Jori’s arm again. ‘And we must have dinner. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a … job to prepare for.’

  Uki had a horrible feeling he knew what kind of job it was. He was quite relieved when Jori said her goodbyes and they left the house.

  Kree was waiting outside, draped across Mooka’s back, reaching down to give him seeds to nibble.

  ‘Well?’ she said, when they appeared.

  ‘There has been fighting,’ said Uki. ‘It sounds like it’s coming from the Syn side.’ He looked down the street and across the river. The pull from Valkus did seem to be coming from that direction.

  ‘Oh great, so we’re in the wrong city,’ said Kree. ‘We’d better head over there and start looking.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ said Jori. ‘My cousin can get us seats at the neekball match in a couple of days. That will be the perfect chance. Both the mayors and all their men will be there. Uki will be able to find the spirit easily, and then we just have to cause a distraction and he can … catch it, or whatever he’s supposed to do.’

  ‘Neekball! Pok ha boc!’ Kree spat into the street. ‘I have heard of this sport. It is very cruel to jerboas!’

  Mooka gave a sad neek sound, and Kree patted him.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Jori. ‘But we won’t have a better opportunity to get at the leaders of Syn. This will be much easier than trying to sneak around the mayor’s burrow. What do you think, Uki?’

  Uki blinked. Decisions again. How was he supposed to know what was best? Two days of waiting, but a better chance of catching Valkus … What if those two days were long enough for Necripha to catch up to them? Or for Jori’s clan to find her? But the alternative was even more dangerous: they would have to get inside the mayor’s fortress in Syn, discover Valkus, jab him with a spear and then escape again. All without being caught.

  ‘I think we should go to the match,’ he said, finally. ‘It’s less risky. And if Valkus is going to start a war, he’ll probably do it there with everyone watching. If we’re quick, we can stop it before it even begins.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Jori, rubbing her paws together. ‘I’ll pop back here later and get the tickets. Once we’ve found somewhere to base ourselves.’

  ‘So exciting!’ said Kree, hopping up and down. ‘We will have that spirit locked up on your lovely belt in no time, Uki.’

  Uki smiled and nodded, although he couldn’t help giving a little shiver of unease. They might think this was all a great adventure, but they didn’t have Iffrit’s memories jumbled up in their heads. Valkus was dangerous, he knew. Seriously dangerous. And if they got hurt – or worse, killed – it would all be because of him. He didn’t think he could bear losing someone else he cared about.

  He thought of his mother, lying cold and stiff in that lonely graveyard. Never again, he told himself. Never again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Neekball

>   Despite the thrill of adventure, Kree was less than happy at the thought of spending two whole days in the city. ‘You can’t see where the sky ends,’ she kept saying. ‘You can’t see the sun rise or set. All there is are buildings. Buildings, noise and stink.’

  Uki found it just as peculiar, but to him it was a feeling mixed with wonder. All these different rabbits from far-off, fascinating places. Fur of every colour and length, new sights, sounds and smells. And the shops: each one of them packed with things he had never seen before. There was always something new to stare at.

  Jori, of course, strolled through the streets like she owned them. Even though she might not have visited Nys for years, she seemed to know every alley, every turn. Without her they would have been completely lost, or perhaps still standing just inside the gate, too frightened to move.

  The first thing they did was to visit a jeweller’s. Uki gave him one of the tiny crystals and was stunned when it was swapped for a leather bag filled with silver coins. He’d never even seen money in his village, let alone owned any. ‘Are you sure it was worth this much?’ he whispered to Jori, feeling as though he’d cheated the jeweller somehow.

  ‘More, probably,’ said Jori. ‘But we need money if we’re to sleep and eat. Besides, I quite fancy a hot bath. And you two actually need one. Preferably two or three.’

  They found an inn that looked out over the river, giving them a good view of the other city. They had plenty of coins for a room each and the best stall in the stable for Mooka.

  They also had enough to buy a new set of clothes and a pack for Uki. Jori chose him a pair of black trousers and matching shirt, a leather jerkin and a cloak of the softest grey wool. His spear harness and magpie buckle no longer looked out of place on him. He tried some boots on, but they didn’t feel natural on feet that had never worn shoes, so he stayed bare-pawed, like Kree. It was just city rabbits that wore shoes, after all.

  It was only after he was back in his room, looking at the strange, smart new rabbit in the mirror, that he realised his old clothes were the one thing he had left from his mother. Tatty and threadbare as they were, there was nothing else – apart from some broken pots back beyond the Wall – that showed she had ever existed. He folded them carefully and stowed them in the bottom of his new pack, along with his blankets, water bottle, bowl and pocketknife.

  On the second day in the city, Uki decided he wanted to surprise his new companions with a gift. He wasn’t used to giving things, having never had friends before, but he felt the need to show them how grateful he was somehow. How important it was to him having them there, helping him, worrying about him, even though they didn’t have to.

  He crept out that morning, with his purse, and wandered about the shops searching for the perfect presents. He had no idea how to bargain or haggle, and probably ended up paying far too much, but eventually returned to the inn with a brightly patterned saddle blanket for Kree and a whetstone in an embroidered leather pouch for Jori. He silently left them outside their rooms, just like the Midwinter Rabbit his mother had told him about.

  When they met at their table for breakfast, Kree threw her arms about him and hugged him for at least a minute. Jori gave him a bow and touched three fingers to her head, then her heart. Uki wasn’t sure what it meant, other than she was pleased. Making them happy gave him a warm, sweet feeling inside, like when his mother had praised him for firing his first clay bowl or thanked him for cleaning the hut. Friendship, he thought. It’s the nicest thing. How did I live without it for so long?

  But there was more to their two days than shopping. From their room windows, or the riverside itself, they kept a constant eye on Syn. They saw more and more flags going up, the black circles on the white backgrounds like a thousand staring eyes. The walled mound that held the mayor’s fortress was draped almost totally in banners.

  ‘Waving flags is never a good thing,’ Jori had said. ‘It comes just before waving swords.’

  And it looked like she was right. There were more and more soldiers marching back and forth, stopping many rabbits from crossing into the city, and where the bridge had burnt down, a blockade of sharpened wooden spikes had been built.

  Mrs Twittle, the landlady of the inn, was a good source of information about what was happening. She had grown up in Syn before moving across the river to marry her husband. He seemed to spend all his time asleep by the fire while Mrs Twittle bustled her way around the inn like a whirlwind of aprons and dusters.

  ‘It’s terrible, it is,’ she would say to them every mealtime. ‘As long as anyone can remember – longer even – there’s never been a whiff of trouble between the cities. The odd joke, of course, and a bit of rivalry on the neekball pitch, but we’ve always got on like family. And now they’re burning the bridges! And yesterday there was rocks fired over the river, would you believe? Nearly knocked down two houses! There’s talk about building an army ourselves, just in case, you know. My nephew Minty has gone and got himself a spear and everything. Before you know it, there’ll be proper fighting, just like in the old stories. Kether save us!’

  Uki had also managed to ask her about neekball itself (much to Kree’s disgust). She turned out to be quite an expert.

  ‘It’s a sport, my dear,’ she said. ‘Two teams of riders, all on those hoppity jerboas what the plains rabbits ride. They cover them with armour, so’s they don’t get hurt. The riders wear armour, too. They need it, what with those big wooden clubs with the pointy bits they carry. Bash each other to pieces, they do.’

  ‘So all they do is try and hurt each other?’ Uki asked.

  ‘No. Well … yes … but that’s not really what they’re s’posed to be doing. They have this leather ball, see, and they’ve got to try and throw it into the other team’s box. There’s different holes to chuck it in. The higher up they are, the more points they get. Most of the time they just knock each other’s brains out, to be honest.’

  It sounded like a strange way to pass the time to Uki. And an even stranger thing to want to watch. ‘I guess the match is important,’ he said, ‘if the mayors are going to be there.’

  ‘Oh, bless my turnips,’ said Mrs Twittle. ‘It’s quite the event. We has a match every month. Sometimes in the Nys Nighthawks’ stadium (that’s our team), sometimes in the Syn Smashers’. This time it’ll be here, and I shall probably have all my rooms booked out. Although Kether knows what’ll happen, now we’re having all this trouble with one another …’

  And there had been more dreams, too. The restless spirit, Valkus, somewhere across the river, was leaking thoughts of war and battle. Uki tossed and turned in his bed, his sleep peppered with the sounds of clashing blades and piercing war cries. He woke each morning in a tangle of blankets, feeling as though he had spent the night fighting for his life. And then there was that other thing. The one that was hunting him. Necripha. He could feel it out there, on the plains somewhere, searching, searching. Every hour it got a little closer. It woke feelings in him from his distant ancestors, hiding under bushes and in burrows, watching the sky as hungry kestrels circled above.

  It was following the trail of the crystals, he knew. But was it really after him? Or Valkus and the other escaped prisoners?

  Perhaps all of you, said his dark voice. And when it finds you? It will make the flash of feathers and crunch of bones your forefathers dreaded seem like a midsummer picnic.

  *

  The evening of the match arrived. Uki dressed in his new clothes, folded his cloak into his pack and slung it over his shoulder, next to his spears. He practised drawing one and throwing it, trying to make the action as smooth as possible. Every attempt he fumbled, or got it tangled in his ears. The twelfth time his spear had clattered to the floor, he gave up. Perhaps whatever rabbit Valkus had taken over would be nice enough to jump on to his spear end for him. Even then he’d probably make a mess of it.

  He met the others downstairs and paid Mrs Twittle the money for their stay. She was draped in black-and-white bunting, w
ith flags poking out from the top of her bonnet. She had even painted a Nysian flag on Mr Twittle’s face as he snoozed in his armchair. ‘I’m not actually going to the game,’ she said. ‘But I does like to support our team.’

  She had kindly allowed them to leave Mooka in the stable with their belongings, harnessed and ready in case they needed a quick escape. Luckily, the stadium was only a few streets away. In fact, they could hear the noise of the crowd building already. A dull rumble, at the back of their hearing, that peaked every now and then into a roar.

  ‘Goodbye, then. It’s been lovely having you here,’ said Mrs Twittle. ‘Such polite and sweet young rabbits. Your parents must be so proud.’

  ‘My parents want me dead,’ said Jori. ‘Uki’s are dead, and Kree’s threw her out on to the plains when she was eight.’

  Mrs Twittle’s mouth opened and closed a few times. In the end she decided to change the subject. ‘Have fun at the game, won’t you, my lovelies. Cheer on those Nighthawks for me.’

  Kree growled. ‘It is a cruel spectacle of harmless jerboas being tortured for the pleasure of heartless rabbits. I will be cheering no one.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mrs Twittle. ‘Well. Goodbye anyway. Do come again.’ And she hurried off to polish something.

  *

  As soon as they walked around the corner from the inn, they were swept along amongst a crowd of rabbits. Most were wearing scarves of black cloth marked with the white circle of Nys. Some waved matching flags or had dyed their fur in black-and-white patterns.

  ‘It looks like you were born to be a neekball supporter,’ said Jori, having to raise her voice over the noise of so many rabbits. She was right. For the first time in his life, Uki blended in perfectly.