The White Assassin (21 page)

“And your sisters,” said Elvi, “are you sure they’re all gone—missing Topside as you told me?” Texi nodded. “Even though they weren’t the best sisters, still you must long for them sometimes.”

Texi stared solemnly into her tea.

“I’ve never had much of a family,” said Clover. “As you know, my parents and brothers died when I was little. All I’ve ever had was Juniper, whom I rarely saw. I suppose what I’m trying to say is I know how you feel. If someone had offered me a family, even one such as yours, I can’t say I wouldn’t have accepted. Being alone was very hard back then, and I think you’re feeling that same aloneness now. I hope you know you’re not.”

“Texi, you and I are very much alike,” said Elvi. “I, too, know what it’s like to have had a family and lost it. After I returned to Trillium, to Nightshade, my sorrow slowly faded. For now, this place—all of you—are my family.” She put an arm around Texi. “You are a sister to me. Never forget that.”

Ulrich smiled. “You see, Texi, you’ve family all around you. There’s nothing to be sad about, and you’ve no need for forgiveness from anyone.”

Texi smiled weakly. “Sometimes it’s hard to make heads or tails of your own thoughts. I feel so mixed up lately, as if I’m walking in a dream.” She gazed fondly at Elvi and Clover. “Luckily I have you two.”

“Oh, dearest, you’ll
always
have me,” said Elvi. She hugged Texi, who seemed to squirm a little in her grasp, as though the hug was too tight.

It was early morning in Nightshade, still dark Topside. Oleander and Clover crept down a corridor near the Council Chamber.

Oleander had been staying with Texi and Clover but was unable
to sleep. Being a southern rat, she was used to warm evenings, dewy grass, and her family all around her. Sleeping underground in such tight quarters, so cold this time of year, had made a good night’s sleep difficult. On top of that, she could only marvel at the sounds coming from Texi. As small as Texi was, her snoring rivaled Stono’s.

Still mulling over Vincent’s story, his bizarre conversation with Billycan, and Juniper’s secret involving this Lenore, Clover was restless as well. She didn’t understand why her uncle would keep a secret from her. He’d always been honest with her, never treating her like a child, so why now? What could be so awful that he couldn’t tell
her,
after all they’d been through? Maybe Vincent
was
acting overly suspicious, but still, Juniper was acting strange—mysterious, even.

Wide awake, the two girls decided to search for answers together. Clover patted the Council Chamber key she wore around her neck. “All the original maps and blueprints have been taken, Uncle and the others verified that, but maybe the traitor left behind a clue.”

“Good idea,” said Oleander.

Turning the corner to the Council Chamber, they suddenly stopped at the sound of quick footsteps just ahead of them. The tails of a red cloak whipped around a turn. “I think that was Oberon,” whispered Clover.

“I remember him from the Council meeting—hard to forget that bright red cloak.”

“What would he be doing here at this hour, and why did he bolt when he heard us? C’mon.”

Trying to stay quiet, they stole along the corridor after Oberon, just missing the red tails of his cloak as he barreled around another corner. Before they knew it they’d reached the city square. Out of breath, they stopped running.

Already the square was filling with early risers and peddlers.

A small band of fiddlers was playing. Smells of tea, coffee, and fresh biscuits filled the air, along with many voices of Nightshade rats. Despite his vivid cloak, Oberon had melted into the crowd, gone.

Oleander, senses heightened, gaped at the expansive square, with its high ceiling and cobblestone floor, every sound echoing around her. Taking it all in, she suddenly felt very alone and very ill at ease. “What is this place?” she asked.

“This is our city square,” Clover replied, “where everyone gathers for all sorts of things. Every city has one, even the human cities. It must seem very different from the swamp.”

Oleander nodded silently. “Wait,” she said suddenly, pointing at a pushcart, “over there. Isn’t that Elvi talking to Oberon?”

“You’re right,” said Clover. “Elvi!”

Elvi spotted her and waved. Without even a nod in their direction, Oberon rushed out of sight, losing himself in the crowd. “Coming, darling,” called Elvi as she took a small sack from the peddler’s cart. She strolled over and smiled at the girls. “What are you two
doing up so early? I thought the young liked to sleep the morning away.”

“Between everything that’s going on
and
Texi’s snoring, neither of us could catch a wink,” said Clover. “Elvi, wasn’t that Oberon you were just talking to?”

“Yes, he was in a horrible rush,” said Elvi evenly. “He didn’t even have the good manners to say good-bye.” She changed the subject. “Speaking of Texi’s snoring, one afternoon she fell asleep in my quarters. I thought all of Nightshade would collapse from the noise!” She pulled down the hood of her cloak. “I was just buying some herbs.” She held up a small burlap sack. “The earlier I come, the better pick I get—seems my tea has become a Council favorite.”

Oleander studied Elvi’s face. Elvi wasn’t any older than Mother Gallo, but the sun had taken quite a toll on her skin, giving her wrinkles before her time. Strangely, it comforted her. Mannux had the same wrinkles, as did many of the grown swamp rats. Elvi had that distinctive Toscan accent, clearly marking her as being from someplace else—just like her. Oleander looked wide-eyed around the square again, unconvinced she could ever feel at home in such a hectic place.

Suddenly Clover thought of something. “Elvi, when you lived in the Catacombs, did you ever hear of someone called Lenore?”

“Lenore, Lenore,” said Elvi, tapping her chin. “Such a pretty name, but no, I don’t remember anyone called that. Why don’t you ask Juniper or some of the other old guard? They all lived in the Combs far longer than I.”

Clover looked guiltily at her feet. “Well… I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if we kept this confidential.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Elvi, “our little secret.”

“Would you mind?” Clover wanted to kick herself. Vincent still wasn’t sure of Elvi’s loyalties. Even though she didn’t think Elvi
could possibly be the traitor, she shouldn’t be offering up information, either. “I just… I overheard the name by accident,” she stammered. “Down by Billycan’s cell.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” said Elvi. “I understand about young curiosity. Luckily for you, curiosity killed the cat and not the rat!” She laughed, but suddenly her demeanor changed. She became quite stern. “All the same, Clover, I must say I’m rather disappointed in you. Other than Cole and Juniper, you know everyone is forbidden to go near Billycan’s cell. Whatever would make you do such a reckless thing after all you’ve been through with that wicked beast?”

“I…I…”

“It was
my
fault,” blurted Oleander. “Clover was just protecting me. I wanted to see him for myself. I needed to see him locked up with my own eyes.”

Elvi patted Oleander’s shoulder. “You’re a good rat, aren’t you?” She nodded to Clover. “One who looks after her friends. We all owe you a debt of gratitude. Without you, Billycan would never have been captured. Nightshade would have been invaded. Many lives would have been lost, and power could have shifted back to the dark ways.” She smiled at both girls. “Well, my darlings, I must be off. I have a meeting with your uncle, and I don’t want to keep the Chief Citizen waiting, now, do I? And Oleander, why don’t you stop by my quarters during lunch today?” She held up her sack of herbs. “I have fresh muffins, and I’ll make us some tea. I’ll tell you all about Tosca and you can tell me about the swamp.”

“That would be nice,” said Oleander. “Talking about home will do me good.”

“Please give Uncle my best,” said Clover.

Abruptly, Elvi’s face drained of color. Her smile suddenly seemed forced. “Of course, dear, I will.”

“Did you see that?” whispered Oleander as Elvi left.

“Yes, she looked worried.”

“Wait,” said Oleander, “look there.” She pointed on the ground near the tea cart. A rolled-up parchment lay between two cobbles.

“Oberon must have dropped it,” said Clover, staring at the parchment as they walked into Bostwick Hall. “It has the Council seal.”

“What about Elvi?” asked Oleander. “She acted so odd when she left.”

“I don’t know anymore. All I know is I wish we’d never found this,” said Clover, eying the parchment, her face a mask of misery. “That’ll teach me to go sticking my nose into things.”

“You have a right to know the truth,” said Oleander. “My father and I learned the hard way that hiding the truth and ignoring things can lead to tragedy. You may not like what you’ve found, but now you can address it.”

“But why would my uncle do such a thing—behind everyone’s back, no less?” said Clover, pointing to the scroll. Her shoulders drooped. “Vincent was right.”

They spotted Vincent and Carn waiting in line for breakfast. Clover anxiously motioned them over to a small table tucked away in a corner of Bostwick Hall.

“What is it?” asked Vincent as he and Carn set down their plates. “I was waiting in line for Lali’s griddle cakes. She only serves them once a week.”

“And today she has buttercream,” added Carn. “This had better be good.” He smiled at Oleander. She smiled back, but she looked troubled.

“You two look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” said Vincent.

Clover whispered so softly that Vincent and Carn had to lean in
close as she spoke. “We were by the Council Chamber this morning. Someone heard us coming and took off down the corridor. It was Oberon.” She revealed the parchment, setting it before the boys. “We think he dropped this in the city square. It has the Council seal.”

“Well, what is it?” asked Vincent. “And why do you both look so upset?”

“Because,” said Clover, her voice starting to tremble, “Uncle lied to us. He lied to all of us. You were right.”

“What?” said Carn, unrolling the parchment.

Carn and Vincent started reading. Their jaws dropped and their ears sagged.

Pushing away his plate, Vincent felt the key around his neck, the key to his and Victor’s quarters that Juniper had given them years ago. “I don’t believe this. I wasn’t crazy to have suspected him. I knew he was hiding something. I thought—I
hoped
—it would be something inconsequential, something personal… but never this. How could he betray us like this—for Billycan?”

T
HERE HE IS
,” said Suttor, “over there.”

By now all of the young Council members had wandered in to breakfast and been told about Juniper’s secret.

They watched in silence as Oberon took his plate of food and strode through Bostwick Hall, proud as a peacock.

“He’s as garish as that obnoxious red cloak,” whispered Clover.

“How did he ever get elected to the Council?” asked Oleander.

“He’s exceedingly bright,” said Vincent, “that much I’ll give him. He’s brilliant with numbers and measurements, and with Nightshade growing so big, Virden needed help and said Oberon was the rat for the job. The library, the city square, they were engineered by Oberon.”

“He engineered his election as well,” added Victor. “By the time he was done gloating to the citizens about all his good works in Nightshade, you’d have thought he single-handedly built the place. Needless to say, he won by a landslide. He’s as clever as a country cat.”

“Which makes him as dangerous as one,” said Carn, “especially when he has everyone’s trust.”

Picking up the parchment Clover and Oleander had shown them, Vincent nudged his brother. “C’mon, then.”

Oberon had chosen the center seat at the center table in Bostwick Hall, surrounded by families known throughout Nightshade—families that would reelect him. He fawned and smooth-talked all the while, constantly praising Cole’s wife, Lali, now Nightshade’s head cook, calling her food a national treasure. Given his ever-growing waistline, Vincent was sure that was one thing Oberon was honest about.