Lords of Trillium (8 page)

Victor knew his brother too well. “Due time, my backside! If we do it your way, you'll have one foot in the grave before you work up the nerve.” With that, Victor raced to the center of the room. Jumping up onto the makeshift stage where the band was playing, he stomped his foot and slapped his tail against the wood. “Excuse me!” he shouted as loud as he could. “I beg your pardon, one and all, but I've something to say!” The partygoers settled down a bit, but not to his liking. “I said,
excuse
me. Now hush up!” Finally Bostwick Hall quieted. All eyes were on him. He glanced over at Vincent, who sat on his stool trying unsuccessfully to hide his face in his paws. “I've an announcement to make—and it's a whopper.”

Juniper glanced at Vincent's mortified face and then at Victor. “Victor,” he called out in his most serious tone, “what are you up to?”

Giving an unbearably obnoxious smile, Victor winked at his brother. “I'm up to no good, Juniper.
That's
what I'm up to.” The crowd laughed.

“I see,” said Juniper, walking toward Vincent. “And what, young Victor, do you have to announce?”

“I might as well die right now,” said Vincent, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Juniper chuckled. “Son,” he whispered, “we've all been waiting for this moment—Victor the longest. You've no idea how many times he's asked me about the two of you. He loves you both. Clover is as much his sister as you are his brother. Just as Clover needs to hear the words, so does he.”

Vincent got to his feet. He approached the stage, holding his paw out to his brother, who gladly pulled him up. Vincent stared out at the crowd. He saw all his friends. Oleander and Carn held paws, waiting excitedly. Cole gave Suttor a fatherly shove and the two of them laughed quietly. Ulrich stood happily next to Texi, while Virden and Ragan just smiled.

Clover stood in front of the stage, looking up at Vincent confusedly. He jumped back down from the stage right in front of her and took her paw in his, holding it to his chest. There were so many things he wanted to say, but at that moment none of it came to mind except one thing. “The day I met you, I knew that you were special—and not because our fathers were best friends. You were a survivor. You stayed strong and lived through Killdeer's reign, but you never lost sight of who you were, always with your sunny outlook. After all you've been through, you have the most open, compassionate, tender heart anyone could ever know.”

Clover's pulse raced. She looked at Juniper, who smiled at her, wrapping his arm around Mother Gallo's shoulder. “It's all right, dear,” Mother Gallo whispered to her. Julius, Nomi, and the other children gathered around her. “Your heart will lead you.”

“Say yes, Clover!” cried Julius. “You must say yes!”

“Shhh,” said Juniper in a hushed voice, holding a claw to his lips. “That part hasn't happened yet.”

“Say yes!” repeated Nomi, bouncing up and down.

Mother Gallo scooped her daughter up in her arms. “Hush, dear.”

Vincent looked at Clover's expectant face, the face he had first seen four years ago when he'd reached his arms up to help her into the tunnel they'd dug to Nightshade City. “Say yes . . . to
me
.” She looked around nervously. “Marry me, Clover.”

“Oh!” said Clover, her legs weakening. Trying to block out the noise of the crowd, she closed her eyes, recalling the look on Vincent's face the first time she ever saw him, his determined green eyes. Clover's feet suddenly felt rock solid. Her thundering heart wasn't fearful. It was joyful. She took a step toward Vincent. She reached out, holding his face in both her paws. “You mean
everything
to me. You are my family.” She hugged him.

After a moment, Vincent pulled back and looked at her. “Is—is that a
yes
, then?”

Clover nodded. “Yes.” She turned around and looked at the breathless crowd. “Yes!” she shouted. She turned back to Vincent. Through the cheers, laughter, and singing, all she could see was him.

Vincent closed his eyes and held her close, lost in the lemony scent of her fur.

“Silvius,” whispered Ajax, after the long line of Toscans had greeted their king at a spur-of-the-moment celebration feast, “are you
really
all right?”

Silvius looked around the hall at all the smiling faces. “I'm certainly not cured . . . but I feel
better
, more like my old self.” He rested his chin on his paw. “Hearing Billycan's story brought something back in me, something I've not felt in ages.”

“And what's that?” asked Ajax curiously.

“Determination to stop Hecate,” said Silvius, “to never let another rat go through what we went through.” He huffed crossly. “It's never right to let a single soul control the fates of so many others. Before Hecate, we worked together, as a kingdom. You were my adviser and friend, as were many others. Decisions were not made unilaterally by me; they were made by all.”

“You were—and are—a good king.”

“I never wanted to be king,” said Silvius. “I never asked for that. I only wanted to make lives better.”

Ajax smiled, looking around the bustling hall. “Then you accomplished your goal, despite Hecate. We only called you king because you deserved it.”

“Ajax,” said Silvius, “I cannot lead our kingdom anymore. At the moment I feel quite lucid, but I fear it will not last. You
must
lead these rats. I will counsel you whenever I can. You are like a son to me. Back in that dreadful lab, the humans bred us most unnaturally, taking bits and pieces of us with their diabolical needles and injecting the poor would-be mothers of our future children. It was unspeakable. I never knew who my children were, or their mother. That is a heartache that will never leave me.”

Cocking his head, Billycan reached out and grabbed Silvius by the wrist. “Did you know a female named Lenore?” he asked urgently. “She was my mother. Did you know
her
?”

Silvius exhaled. “The lab was very much segregated. The females were kept far away from us males and the children. I'm sorry, my boy,” he said, seeing the hope in Billycan's face. “I did not know her.” He smiled weakly, patting Billycan's paw. “Though I wish I had.”

Billycan bowed his head and closed his eyes. He laughed softly. With this new way of being, this new life, came much suffering. In some ways he wished he had his callousness back. When nothing mattered but getting what he wanted, life was less painful.

“Ajax, you must take the reins of this kingdom right now,” declared Silvius. Ajax's jaw dropped, his black skin turning a pasty gray. “You can do this, lad. You must.”

“But why now?” asked Ajax.

“Because Billycan leaves the island tonight,” Silvius replied. “I'm certainly old.” He laughed. “I may even be crazy, but the stakes are too high for us not to do
something
. We must at least try to warn the rats of Nightshade, unless they've already come to a bitter end.”

W
IPING SWEATY PAWS ON HIS COAT
, Duncan nervously wheeled around a corner. He looked down the dim corridor and listened. The only sounds he could hear were indistinct whispers coming from behind the large metal door of the prison corridor.

Heart pounding, Duncan looked through the barred window of the door and knocked. A moment later his brother arrived.

Suttor smiled. “Duncan,” he said cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” said Duncan, “I just thought I'd stop by and say hello. We never seem to see each other anymore. I brought you some tea.”

“Thanks!” said Suttor, surprised and pleased. He scratched his head. “But you hate this place.”

Duncan looked around nervously. “I—I just don't like it here. It's a bit creepy.”

“Kar dislikes it even more than you,” said Suttor. “At least you two get to work with Lali in Bostwick kitchen, though I'd hate all that cleaning up after dinner. I'll take creepy over cleaning anytime. Besides, it's not so bad down here, gives me time to read and to think, a little peace and quiet . . . when the prisoners aren't grousing, that is.”

Through the small barred window, Duncan looked down the corridor. “Aren't there any other guards?”

“Don't worry. The doors are bolted tight,” Suttor replied, “made of the thickest ironwood. Even the cells are lined with it, so the prisoners can't dig their way out.” He nodded to a cell door. “Each prisoner has a small window for food, just the perfect size for a single dinner plate, no more.” A rat cursed from inside his cell. Suttor grinned. “The old Kill Army majors can whine and complain all they please, start a right fuss if they like. They'll never get out.” He snickered, then lowering his voice, said, “Even old High Major Foiber, he's the one always swearing, but I'd swear too if I had that frightful hairless skin.”

“Juniper seems to have thought of everything,” said Duncan, his confidence growing. “What would you do, though, if one of the prisoners took ill? Some of the majors are getting on in years, especially High Majors Schnauss and Foiber. How can you help them if they're all locked up?”

Suttor snorted. “What do you care about those old codgers? Rats like them tend to live forever! No rest for the wicked.” He leaned in to the tiny window. “There's a metal cabinet right here next to the door.” He rapped on it with his paw, causing it to clang. “You can't see it from out there, but it contains the cell keys.” He laughed. “But even that's locked up tight!”

“And who holds the key to
that
?”

“Why, I do, of course,” said Suttor, feeling the leather cord
around his neck that held the iron key, partially hidden by his spotted coat. “How else would I get to a prisoner if one suddenly took ill? I've had this key around my neck since I can remember, and you've never known what it's for?”

“Well, what if the prisoner's faking—a ruse to escape? You could get hurt . . . or worse.”

Suttor laughed at that. “Little brother, you've thought about this a lot, haven't you? Any prisoner who gets to go out for any reason would be shackled before a guard unlocked his door.”

“But what if they're sick and moaning on the ground? How can you shackle them?”

“The Council Chamber is not far from here. We've been instructed to fetch a Council member for backup if that situation ever arises.”

“Has it ever happened before?”

“Old Foiber pretended to be sick once. He groaned on the ground, clutching his stomach, putting up a right fuss. When he wouldn't crawl over to the bars so I could shackle him, I
knew
he was faking.”

“What happened?”

“I laughed at him!” said Suttor. “He started his normal screaming and cursing, jumping to his feet, shaking his fists at me.” He shook his head. “It was a comical scene.”

“I'm glad I came to see you,” said Duncan. He inwardly laughed. All this time he'd been so frightened of the prison corridor. “When is your next shift?”

“Day after tomorrow,” said Suttor.

“Can I come back then? I'll bring more tea.”

Suttor smiled shrewdly at his brother. “Do you think you could smuggle in a basket of Lali's bitonberry biscuits, too?”

“Consider it done,” said Duncan.

Reaching through the bars, Suttor cuffed his brother's
shoulder playfully. “You're a good brother, Duncan. Me, you, and Kar, we've made it through thick and thin. The three of us have seen it all, and we survived.”

Duncan smiled contentedly. He was proud of himself. He'd faced down a longtime fear. He couldn't wait to thank Elvi. She'd changed his life.

Billycan was tense. The journey back from Tosca had taken far longer than expected. The boat he had stowed away on had made countless stops at various islands that dotted the Hellgate Sea, picking up exotic goods to sell in Trillium. He was glad to be off the boat and away from the acrid smell of water-chip root, Tosca's only export. He'd hidden in a crate of it on the journey, and the putrid stench was overwhelming.