The White Assassin (8 page)

Carn, Mannux, and Oleander appeared from the back of the
plantation. Slipping in around the side of the manor, they quickly blended with the rest of the horde. Spotting them, Thicket dashed up, abruptly stopping in her tracks. She looked at Oleander and then Carn, confused. “Where Corn be?” she demanded. “And who be this rat?”

“This
be
Corn!” replied Oleander, with a silly grin. “Dummy got stung by a bee.” Mustering her best cackle, she gave Carn a good shove. “Then he done fell smack dab into a bunch a bugbane! He smell even worse than he look!”

“Ha!” screeched Thicket shrilly. “Corn, you be dimmer than Stono!” She turned and looked behind her. “Stono, come here!” Unable to look away from the cooking boar, Stono lumbered over to Thicket. “Don’t mind that pig now, we be eating soon enough. Look here, Corn got bit by a bee and then wrestled with some bugbane! He be the ugliest rat I ever seen!”

Stono snorted, slapping his knee with his paw. “You smell worse than that smoking boar’s dung!” he hollered. He dropped to the ground, rolling madly in the grass.

Carn reacted as he thought any swamp rat might. “It ain’t funny!” he snapped nasally. “Look at my nose! Now I got to meet Billycan looking like this, and smelling worse than a dead possum! It ain’t right!” He kicked the ground and shoved Oleander for laughing at him.

Mannux was impressed with Carn’s performance. “Now, I be an elder,” he said gruffly, “no more laughing and carrying on, you three.” He wiggled a claw at Thicket, Oleander, and Stono. “It ain’t right to do to Corn. Any a you three able to kill a snake? He be special to the horde.” Folding his arms, he furrowed his deep-set brow and looked at everyone reproachfully.

“Sorry, Papa, you right,” said Oleander.

“Yup,” said Thicket, “we sorry, too. Corn, you don’t look
so
bad. You smell like stinkweed, but there’s no time for a bath. Billycan’s waiting.”

“Yup,” said Stono, “you be coming with us tomorrow!”

Carn pretended he was tickled by the news. “You mean, we
all
gonna get those Nightshade rats together?”

“Billycan be coming out any second!” said Thicket.

Thicket and Stono turned toward the gathering crowd and searched for Billycan. Carn began to wobble on his feet. Mannux put a heavy paw on his shoulder. “Steady, son,” he said. “Allies are all around you. You are protected—no matter what happens.”

The front door of the manor creaked opened, then closed with a heavy slam. Thicket and Stono began jumping as the horde erupted into thunderous noise. The swamp rats stomped their feet, climbing onto each other’s backs, trying to catch a peek of the commanding white rat, the one who would lead them to a wonderful new life.

Carn heard a high-pitched screech far above his head. He looked at the sky. It was Dresden calling to his colony. The bats swept in like tiny shadows, black spots against the moon, circling high over the feast—a clutch of vultures, waiting for their chance to pick at the bones.

Oleander grabbed Carn’s clammy paw and held it tight. Carn’s throat tightened as he beheld the White Assassin, lord of the swamp rats. Seeing that face, those eyes again, his skin turned a cold, dimpled gray. Vivid memories of Billycan crept into his head … terrifying memories.

“He’s just a rat,” whispered Mannux, “nothing more. You can prove that to yourself tonight once and for all. He holds no more power than you or I—as I said, just a rat.”

Taking in his swarm of devoted subjects, Billycan’s eyes flashed vaporous red in the firelight. His muzzle swelled into an eerily familiar leer.

Carn thought he might very well die of fright.

One by one the Council members were dropped onto the roof of the three-story manor. At one time or another the swamp rats had smashed nearly every pane of glass in the derelict mansion, making a silent entry through the round window of the attic effortless.

The Council weaved their way through the cluttered garret, which was filled with puzzling artifacts. Outlandish masks and ornate headdresses hung from the ceiling. Black velvet robes, turned gray with years of dust, lined the planked walls.

Once the attic was secure, Vincent, Victor, and Suttor immediately checked downstairs, while Ragan and Ulrich went back onto the roof, perching on opposite ends of the center gable. They sat motionless, like two stone gargoyles, observing the merriment below.

Juniper and Cole did a walk-through of the second level, making sure the manor was empty. They entered the last room on the second floor—the room where Billycan slept, which reeked of his mildewed
scent. There was a musty mattress in the center of the room, covered in parchments. Juniper kept watch while Cole examined the documents.

“Juniper,” whispered Cole anxiously, “you need to get in here—now!”

“What is it?”

Cole motioned toward the papers with his spear. “See for yourself.”

Juniper inspected the documents. His mouth fell open in shock. They were detailed maps of Nightshade, down to the last corridor. Abruptly he thrust his spear through the papers, stabbing the mattress underneath. “Where could he have gotten these?” he demanded.

“The more important question is
who
he got them from,” said Cole. “No one but the Council knows of their existence. Who would betray us?”

“We don’t have time for speculation now. All the better that we are here to end this. Once he’s injected with the serum, we’ll find out who’s working with him.” Juniper grunted furiously. A traitor in Nightshade? It seemed unthinkable. “Destroy the documents,” he ordered. “Rip them to shreds. I’m going down to check on the boys.”

Juniper stormed out of the room and down the stairs. With every step he felt the weight of Trilok’s medal, banging against his chest. Running Nightshade City was hard enough, but this? “A traitor! Why? Why now? There is nothing to gain! We have given our citizens everything they could ever need! What more could they want?” Descending the stairs, he reminded himself that
need
was a far different thing from
want.
He ran his flared claws down the length of the wall, leaving a trail of deep grooves in his wake.

B
ILLYCAN’S MOOD WAS HIGH
. He and the horde would soon be on their way north to Trillium City—to Nightshade. The thought of his wild horde swarming through the dark tunnels of Juniper’s city, flooding every hidden corridor, butchering his precious Nightshade rats made Billycan’s body quake with excitement. He would once again march through the cool underground corridors beneath Trillium City. He’d be feared and respected, in command once more.

As he stood resolutely on the porch, his devotees gazed up at him, all eyes glazed with pure adoration. Billycan sniffed the night air with his crooked snout, taking in every nuance of the boar’s peppery aroma. He smiled slyly at his flock of drooling zealots. He held out his lanky arms as if beholding a grand event. He shouted into the mass of firelit eyes, “Let the feast begin!” The horde went mad, cramming themselves against each other, parting down the center so their lord and master could make his way down the stairs to take his seat at the head of the feast, a white silhouette against a sea of muddled brown.

One at each side, Oleander and Mannux stood firmly next to Carn. Suddenly Carn stopped as Billycan came into full view, now only steps away. He looked taller, if that were possible. Even his yellowed teeth seemed sharper. His frame appeared meatier; thick muscle clung to his bones. Carn clutched his chest with both paws, wringing his skin into knots. His insides twisted and gurgled. He leaned on Mannux, who kept pushing him forward, though his body grew heavier with every step.

Oleander grinned blithely at Thicket and Stono, giggling as she whispered softly in Carn’s ear. “Remember,” she said. “Remember what Billycan put you through—what he did to your family. That is your strength. You cannot let your fear win. You cannot let
him
win.” She turned to Thicket and winked demurely. She wiggled her nose in anticipation, as if this were the proudest moment of her life, on the arm of Billycan’s strong new fighter, Corn the snake killer.

Overcome with delight, Thicket suddenly jumped wildly, ready to show off her new friend. “C’mon, you all be walking too slow!” she exclaimed, pushing Oleander’s shoulders. Tilting her head, she smiled curiously at Carn. “Corn, why you be so quiet? Ain’t you happy?” Carn, trapped in his own torment, did not acknowledge her.

“Corn!” Mannux snapped. “Answer Thicket, she be waiting on you.” The old rat prodded him sharply with a strong elbow to the ribs. Mannux wouldn’t allow anyone to wilt in fright. Carn jerked in response, startled out of his near catatonic daze.

He looked up into the night sky. The bats circled silently overhead. He turned his gaze to the roof of the manor. Two rats sat in the shadows on a gable, waiting—watching. He recognized Ragan and Ulrich. The Council had arrived. At that moment, Carn made his decision. Too many lives were at stake. He could not let them down.
The Saints’ teachings spoke of pivotal moments in the lives of all creatures.
This
was one of those moments.

If he was marching to his death, then he would march proudly. He would not drag himself like a sopping washrag to an early grave. “Sorry, Thicket,” he said with sudden energy. “I just be jumpy. You know, meeting Billycan and all.”

Thicket smiled sweetly. “Aw, Corn, Billycan gonna like you fine. Me and Stono just know it.”

His seconds standing behind him, Billycan lounged atop a faded cushion, facing the eyeless head of the boar. After their lord had taken his place, the rest of the horde crowded around the boar, scrambling and pushing to find a good seat close to the sizzling carcass.

Billycan watched the horde fumble to their places. He snapped two rangy digits, commanding his seconds’ attention. “Where is this so-called snake killer?”

Cobweb leaned down. “He’s coming, sir,” he replied. “Stono and Thicket are bringing him, along with Oleander, his companion, and her father, Mannux.”

“Ah, Oleander,” said Billycan. “So she has chosen our esteemed snake killer as a mate?”

“Yes sir,” said Cobweb. “Mannux is pleased with his daughter’s choice.”

“Mannux would be pleased if she chose a raccoon, the dithering old fool. It is a pity, though,” said Billycan. “It seems a shame for one so pretty to unite with a swamp dullard, even if she herself is one. Of no matter. Victory is far more important than the intricacies of the horde’s mating rituals. Go fetch this snake killer. Stono, I’m sure, is being his slow, cloddish self, plodding along as if he had bricks for feet. Billycan will not be made to wait any longer.”

“Yes sir,” said Cobweb, dashing off to find them.

“Montague,” barked Billycan, glaring up at him. “What’s wrong with you? You seem out of sorts.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Montague, trying to hide his anxiety. “I was thinking of the attack, going over our directives in my head. I want things to go perfectly.”

“Well, be seated. Seeing you fidget over me from the corner of my eye makes me uneasy. Never has Billycan seen a rat so constantly racked by nerves.”

Montague did as he was told, forcing himself not to wring his paws as he took his seat. He’d already drawn enough attention to himself. “Sir,” said Montague, thankful to see his brother reappear from the dark, “they’re here.”

Billycan rose to his feet, eager to meet his newest enforcer. His arrogant expression quickly knotted into unqualified disapproval as Corn the snake killer made his entrance. The rat’s face was absurd, his muzzle round and bulbous, his lips stretched like a carp’s! It was almost insulting to see a pretty rat like Oleander hanging on him so.

Thicket and Stono ran up to Billycan. “Here he be!” announced Thicket proudly. “Corn, the snake killer!”

The bugbane suddenly hit Billycan’s nostrils. Stepping back in disgust, he folded his arms and inspected Carn doubtfully. “So,
you’re
the snake killer Thicket has been pestering me about. Is it you who kills them, or that putrid scent wafting from your hide?”

Carn stuck his chin out proudly. “I rip their jaws to pieces,” he said boldly. “Then I pull them apart, right down the middle. That be how I kill the snakes.”