Nightshade City (29 page)

The rats barked and howled, pounding their weapons on the dirt floor. The old ones called out the ancient war chants as the young ones cheered at the top of their lungs, climbing on one another’s shoulders, screaming to be heard. Nightshade was ready.

Killdeer and Billycan sat at the head table in the mess hall, facing the Kill Army soldiers. The troops spoke in a jittery hush, quietly eating their surprise feast. They had never eaten in the presence of the Minister. It was Killdeer’s idea to dine with the troops tonight. He would casually address them, making them comfortable, pliable, and easy to rally. He needed the soldiers to understand that
they
were the strength of the Combs, no one else. Their interrogations were
not
a punishment to the Catacomb rats but a means to protect them, and getting to the truth by force was not just acceptable, it was
necessary
to defend the Combs, to defend their home.

High Cook Longtooth and her servant girls had prepared the massive feast. She was instructed by Lithgo to use only her finest meats, cheeses, and fish.

Longtooth stepped out of the kitchen and peeked at Killdeer’s table, making sure his plate was full. It looked unnatural for him to be drinking bitonberry juice instead of guzzling from a bottle of Oshi. The high majors had told her no ale or Oshi was permitted, so as much as she knew Killdeer enjoyed a nip, she dared not offer him any.

Killdeer spotted Longtooth and waved her to the table. She shuffled over, her aged hips creaking and popping with every step. She tried to make her craggy voice sweet, but only succeeded in making it grovel. “Yes, High Minister, what can I get for you?” she asked.

“Get for me?” said Killdeer warmly. “Why, nothing, Cook Long-tooth, we are all feeling full and splendid. I simply wanted to thank you for putting out such a plentiful spread. As you can see by the mountain of empty plates, the soldiers surely appreciate your extra effort.”

Longtooth melted, clasping her paws together in glee. “Oh, thank you, sir,” she cooed. “Thank you very much indeed. It was worth the work to please the High Minister so.” She smirked coyly at Killdeer with her jagged, brown-toothed grin, batting her sparse lashes. Killdeer smiled back, trying not to cringe as he locked eyes with her cloudy cataracts.

He moved from the table, ready to speak to the troops. He hesitantly put his arm around Longtooth, recoiling at the touch of her ashy shoulder, which seemed to have lost most of its fur. Killdeer grew a bit nauseated, feeling her gooseflesh under his paw, but continued with his address. “Good soldiers of the Kill Army, it is with great pleasure that the High Ministry brings you this sumptuous banquet before my midnight speech. Now, boys, let’s all give a round of applause to tonight’s chef, our own High Cook Longtooth.” The soldiers started clapping; random whistles came from the back. Longtooth was embarrassed by the rare attention. She tried to cover her gawky grin with a paw.

“Now, Cook Longtooth,” said Killdeer, gently trying to send her on her way, “why don’t your kitchen girls finish the cleaning and you take the rest of the night off? You surely deserve it!” Killdeer motioned to the troops, leading their applause once more. Longtooth held the edges of her grimy apron and curtsied, scuttling back to the kitchen. She thought of her friend, Mother Gallo. She couldn’t wait to tell her of Killdeer’s compliments. How impressed she would be.

As the room quieted, Killdeer turned slowly in a circle, making eye contact with each section of the room. “All these faces,” he said, as
though in awe of the sight, “all this hope, all this possibility, sitting in this very room. For those of you who are older, you know all the trials and tribulations this Ministry has been through. You know what it takes to keep our Catacombs safe, our home out of harm’s way. Most of you have lost your families entirely, orphaned by tragedy of one sort or another, but luckily our majors took you in, assuring me
personally
that each and every one of you were superior—well qualified to join my great army. Not everyone can be a member of my Kill Army. We’ve rejected many an orphan rat, sadly sending them Topside to look after themselves.” This was wholly untrue, but the sheltered troops had no reason to doubt their Minister.

“Oh, yes,” said Killdeer, in a woebegone voice, staring at the puzzled soldiers, “it’s true. We have cast off many. The poor lost souls are wandering above as we speak, fleeing from predators and Topsiders—if not
already
dead. Simply put, they were not good enough. They weren’t strong enough to be in this army. They were weak and undeserving lads of poor character, I’m afraid.”

He walked up to a table of little ones barely able to manage their food, their military sashes falling off their sloped shoulders. He leaned down to their level, his voice softening. “Do you understand, young ones?
You
were chosen.
You
are the future leaders of the Catacombs. What’s your name, son?” he asked a small, butter-colored rat, who trembled at the sight of the enormous High Minister. Killdeer knelt on one knee in front of the boy. “Don’t be frightened, my boy. Now, what’s your name?”

The boy answered meekly. “My name is Desmond, High Minister.” He looked down at his plate, still shaking.

“Young Desmond,” Killdeer said, looking him in the eye, “you and your counterparts are the future of this army. You are the life-blood that holds us together.” The child looked mystified. “I know it sounds silly to you now, but you have the power to be as great a
leader as I am. One day, all this could be yours.” Desmond’s eyes widened. “Dear boy, I would not lie to you.” He stood up and walked the room. “What I’ve stated is true for
all
of you.” He pointed at various faces. “You hold the future of this Ministry. Boys, you are the power.” His voice quickly grew to a boisterous shout. “Boys, let me hear you say it! ‘I am the power!’ ” Sparked by their great leader’s message, the boys yelled loudly in concert. “Now let me hear you scream it! ‘I am the power! I am the power!’ ” Killdeer chanted the words enthusiastically until every last soldier did the same, jumping up from their tables, clanging their mugs and plates together, stomping their feet. Killdeer grabbed Desmond out of his seat and threw him on his shoulder. “C’mon, boy, let me hear you roar!”

Desmond shouted in his small voice, “I am the power! I am the power!” His fear turned to admiration. The noise from the mess hall was deafening. Every rat in the Combs could hear the chant booming all the way to Catacomb Hall.

Billycan stayed seated at the head table, still eating. He didn’t feel the need to inspire the troops. Killdeer seemed to have that covered, a veritable master of manipulation. Billycan lazily chewed on a curried rib as he visualized his next meeting with Juniper Belancort. He thought about what it would feel like to carve out the other eye from the scruffy rat’s head.

The Nightshade rats were lined up in the passage, just outside the hole leading into the Topsiders’ brownstone. “Now, everyone, stay quiet, not a word,” said Juniper sternly. As he looked behind him, the eyes of two hundred jittery rats stared back at him. Everyone had to get through the house safely and undetected. “Follow single file along the wall, and remember, not a word!”

Juniper looked at Mother Gallo. She had come along to see the
Nightshade rats off. Juniper asked her help in directing and reassuring the rats, as most of them were apprehensive about entering the Topsiders’ home.

The rats skirted along the wall of the art studio, one in front of the other. As they reached the door leading to the foyer, Juniper held up his paw, motioning for all to stop. Everyone halted in his tracks. The rats stood in a line, patiently awaiting their next directive.

Cole and Virden were at the front of the line with Mother Gallo and Juniper. Once all the rats had safely entered the brownstone from the passage, Vincent, Victor, and Suttor joined them up front. Without hesitation, Juniper took his leave, squeezing under the door of the studio and disappearing. After what seemed like a long time to the waiting rats, he came back with news. “It’s all clear, black as pitch. But the outer door and windows are locked tight; I’m afraid we’ll have to break a window to escape. It’s our only chance of getting to the Combs by midnight.”

“Juniper,” whispered Mother Gallo, “that’s far too dangerous. We’ll surely awaken the Topsiders, and it’s a long jump down from that window. There could be injuries, possibly fatal.”

Juniper sighed. “Maddy, I agree, you know I do; but I don’t believe we have an alternative.”

“But we do,” she said calmly. “The boy.”

Juniper and Mother Gallo climbed the staircase in silence. As they reached the landing, Mother Gallo stuck her nose into the air, picking up Ramsey’s scent. She easily caught wind of the little boy, who smelled of chocolate and oranges. The twosome slinked down the hall, inaudible on the plush carpet.

Muffled voices murmured from the television, which gave off a ghostly radiance from under the door leading to the parents’ room.
Despite the seriousness of their task, Juniper couldn’t help but snigger a little when he heard the mother and father snoring. Mother Gallo gave him a stern look, swatting him on the arm. They came to Ramsey’s door, decorated with pictures drawn on thick colored paper. Mother Gallo gasped.

“What is it?” Juniper said, searching the hallway for trouble.

“It’s just … I think it’s me,” she said in amazement. She pointed to a crinkled piece of powder-blue paper taped at the bottom of the door. It was a child’s depiction in crayon of a round, gray rat with a blue ribbon around its waist, holding a blob of yellow, which she assumed to be cheese. The rat had a smile on its face, more of a Topsider smile than that of rat, and Ramsey had even managed to draw a brown satchel on its shoulder. “See? Look, there’s my sash, and your satchel. The child remembered everything.”

Juniper looked at the picture. “It looks as though you have an admirer. You must have made quite an impression on the boy,” he whispered. “Let’s see if you can do it again.” He pointed to the gap under the door.

“Stay out of sight,” said Mother Gallo. “I don’t want to scare him. A large, one-eyed rat like you might send him into a panic. Just stay out of sight till I say otherwise.”

They squeezed through the gap. Ramsey’s bed was in the center of the room, with a wooden chest pushed against its foot. On his nightstand he had a glowing red night-light in the shape of a rocket. Juniper waited by the door as Mother Gallo sank her claws into the bed’s navy skirt and scaled her way to the top.

Ramsey was sleeping soundly, wrapped up in his comforter. She crept over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t move. She tried again, this time a little harder. Ramsey scratched his shoulder where she tapped him but did not wake. “Third time’s the
charm,” she said, giving his shoulder a solid push. Ramsey yawned, rubbed his nose, and finally opened his sleepy eyes.

Mother Gallo stood in front of his freckled face. He squinted his eyes, then quickly sat up, gawking at her. Mother Gallo was afraid he might cry out. She leaped onto his nightstand and put a claw to her lips. Ramsey studied her from head to toe. He smiled, unafraid. Leaning in, he whispered, “Lady Rat, you’ve come back, just like you promised. I’m so glad to see you!”

Mother Gallo looked round the room. There were more drawings of her. She pointed to one tacked behind his night-light.

“You like my drawings?” Ramsey asked eagerly. She nodded yes. She pointed to a picture of her in front of a big brown door.

“The door—where we met,” he said, smiling proudly. She pointed downward towards the floor. “You want to go down?”

Mother Gallo became excited and pointed to his window and then down again. “Oh,” said Ramsey, “you want to go outside again!” She jumped up and down on his nightstand and clapped her paws.

Mother Gallo bounded over Ramsey to the foot of the bed and motioned for Juniper to come up. Ramsey watched guardedly as the woolly rat scaled his bed. Mother Gallo took Juniper by the paw and walked him over to Ramsey. The boy studied the violet rat.

Mother Gallo pointed to Juniper’s bag, which hung across his chest, and then to Ramsey’s drawing. The boy caught on. “This is your friend’s bag, then?” he asked. Juniper smiled at the boy and bowed graciously.

Mother Gallo pointed to the window again. “Oh, yes,” said Ramsey, “you want to go back outside.”

Ramsey leaned in closer, now eye-level with the rats, and looked at them seriously. “My mother and father are sleeping. We mustn’t wake
them. I’m not allowed to roam the house after dark. So you both need to be very quiet.”

Ramsey slipped out of bed and put on his slippers. He walked over to the wooden chest at the foot of his bed and carefully lifted the heavy lid. He reached in and pulled something out. It was a flashlight. He clicked it on. “Now, remember, be very, very quiet,” he said, motioning to the door.

In the time it took for Mother Gallo and Juniper to rouse the boy, all two hundred rats had organized, scooting under the studio door, and were now waiting patiently in the foyer. One and all stood motionless, scared to even wiggle an ear or flick a tail.

Mother Gallo had explained to the Nightshade rats that a Topsider would be coming down and that he was just a child, no different from their own children, notwithstanding his size. He had helped her once before and, with any luck, would help them tonight. That seemed to put the rats a little more at ease, but child or not, a Topsider was still a Topsider.

A noise came from upstairs. All two hundred rats looked up apprehensively. They saw the light from Ramsey’s flashlight bouncing down the staircase, followed by two small Topsider feet in crimson slippers. Mother Gallo and Juniper trailed quickly at his heels. The pair held their breath, not knowing how the boy would react to the mass of rats he was about to encounter.

Ramsey got to the bottom stair and shone his flashlight around the room. First he looked towards the kitchen. All clear. He then looked towards the front door. Everything looked fine at first, but on second glance he noticed a strange reflection coming from the floor. He slowly moved his light across it. There they were—four hundred
tiny eyes gleaming like polished marbles. He just about dropped his flashlight to the marble floor below. All the rats held their breath as he fumbled with the light. When he caught it, a muffled sigh filled the foyer as all two hundred rats exhaled in unison.