Nightshade City (31 page)

T
HE NIGHTSHADE RATS
had organized into packs in the darkened kitchen, weapons ready. Juniper led them to Catacomb Hall, picking up several Kill Army prisoners on the way. The captured soldiers were bound, gagged, and deposited in one of the abandoned quarters.

Ragan and Ulrich’s groups met with little resistance from the lone Kill Army soldiers posted to watch the exit corridors. As suspected, the captured troops went peacefully, an easy choice when facing the fatal end of a spear.

Only one soldier had tried to take a stand so far. A gangly rat about Victor’s age, broken down by years of abuse from the Kill Army majors, had tried to attack Ragan. Ragan quickly subdued the startled lieutenant, giving the scared youth nothing more serious than a sprained arm. Tears streamed down the soldier’s face. Ragan reassured him. “Don’t worry, son, we’re just restraining you boys
till this is over. From now on, the only injuries you’ll receive will be from roughhousing with your friends. Consider yourself retired from military service.” The soldier looked at Ragan in confusion. Ragan grabbed the boy by the shoulders and looked him square in the face, giving him a firm shake. “You’re free, boy, you’re free!”

Killdeer had taken his seat. His opening speech had even the most hardened soldier squirming in his skin and wringing his paws. The Minister swore on his royal family, his beloved sisters, that the malicious rats from this primitive city were on a mission to massacre the Kill Army and take over the Combs. “Blackguards,” he called them, lacking in morals and slow of mind, but thick with rancor and a monstrous lust for blood. He warned the soldiers that these degenerates would as easily kill them with their teeth as they would with a weapon, suggesting that the fiendish creatures would rip them apart and eat their still-warm remains, leaving the smallest recruits gripping their tails in terror.

Billycan took the stage, happy with the horror Killdeer had struck in the minds of the soldiers. His task would be easy. He slowly paced in front of the podium with his paws behind his back. His billy club knocked softly against his sword. He stepped behind the podium and spoke, his tone strangely humble. “Billycan can see the distress in your eyes. Our esteemed High Minister has frightened you, and rightly so. These demon rats, these cannibals—you should not just be scared of them, you should be petrified for your life’s last breath. Billycan has looked into the face of these most evil of creatures, and it haunts me to this day. In fact, it
terrifies
me to my very core.”

A hushed murmur came from the troops. Billycan feared nothing. “Oh, yes, it’s true,” he said calmly. “Even I am troubled by these unholy beasts. That’s why it’s so very essential that we find the
headquarters of this wicked band of killers, this Nightshade City, lest they find us first.” He took a moment and stared at a few faces in the crowd. The unlucky soldiers twisted in their seats, hoping his gaze would soon break. His shrill voice intensified. “These inbred heathens will show
no
mercy! They do not understand reason. The Topsiders call us rodents, vermin, but this hidden city of miscreants—they are the true vermin, a vile plague upon us! They think of us as mere farm fodder! Do you want to be their next victims? Do you want to be murdered by these savages, only to have your cold corpses used as their very food supply?” Billycan’s body surged with glee as he fueled the soldiers’ agitation, knowing that a fearful rat would be more effective, more eager to seek out a traitor, more apt to use extreme measures.

The soldiers whispered to one another, the little ones trying to hold back tears. Billycan smiled inside as he worked the boys into a lather. “Your leaders have a plan, a plan to ensure your continued survival, a plan—” Billycan paused. Cocking his head, he listened. “Silence!” he barked to the still-whispering troops. He heard what sounded like quick, heavy footsteps. His face contorted as he tried to detect where they were coming from.

Billycan scanned all the visible entrances to the hall; the beat of approaching footsteps grew stronger, causing the podium to shake. “Juniper,” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Catacomb Hall was flooded with weapon-wielding Nightshade rats pouring out of every entrance, rushing down on all sides of the seated soldiers, dirtying the red carpet with their muddy feet. The Kill Army soldiers sat confused and disorientated. The sector majors were soon surrounded, steel weapons pointed at their heads, throats, and bellies. They dared not move.

“Is that so?” asked a loud voice from the back. “Is that how you see us, High Collector and
loyal
Commander of the Kill Army?”
Cloaked in his filthy black shroud, Juniper walked dead center down the carpet. The Nightshade rats swiftly surrounded him, protecting him on all sides, weapons drawn. Some soldiers jumped up but promptly sat back down, realizing there was nowhere to go.

Billycan stood frozen at the podium, his face dropping, his mouth hanging open. What little color he had drained from his pasty skin.

Cole took the stage, followed by Virden, Suttor, and several husky rats, who surrounded Billycan, Killdeer, and the high majors. Billycan stayed silent as he eyed the metal blades pointed at his abdomen and head. Killdeer and the high majors had leaped to their feet but soon reclaimed their seats as the Nightshade rats stepped closer, close enough to puncture their throats and gouge their bellies with sharpened steel rods.

Juniper laughed at the sight on the stage. “Good boys,” he said patronizingly. “Stay seated; that’s right. I wouldn’t want this to get messy. We must all mind our manners now.” He pulled off the black cloak, tossing it to the floor. The hall gasped. The older soldiers, the ones who could remember Trilok’s Ministry, echoed Juniper’s name throughout the hall, whispering the legend of his supposed murder by Billycan to the smaller boys.

The whispers continued, repeating Juniper’s name over and over, bouncing off the walls, invading Billycan’s mind like phantoms. To see the rat he had thought dead—by his own claws, no less—there in front of him, pompous and arrogant, transformed his shock into unspoken fury as he contemplated his next move.

Juniper turned in a circle, while all the soldiers looked on as if a specter had risen from the grave. “Yes, boys, you’re right. I am Juniper Belancort. Apparently back from a most untimely demise. You all thought your valiant Commander Billycan had taken my life during the Bloody Coup, but it turns out the only thing he managed to take
was my eyeball!” Juniper snickered, lifting his leather patch, revealing the deadened hole.

A grin spread across Juniper’s face as he caught Billycan in his sight, seemingly thunderstruck. “Why, High Collector,” said Juniper, “you look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Did you think me Batiste, still searching for my lost sweets?” The Nightshade rats laughed heartily as Juniper turned back to the soldiers. “ ‘Murderous,’ ‘demons,’ ‘the most of
evil
of creatures’: These are the words used by your leaders to describe the likes of me and my comrades, devoted friends of Trilok and patriotic Loyalists during the Bloody Coup. If anyone fits the description of ‘murderous, evil creatures,’ it is your righteous High Collector and your esteemed High Minister. Neither I, nor the rats I call friends, have ever taken a life that wasn’t out to take ours first. Can Collector Billycan state the same? Can Minister Killdeer? After all, it was your revered High Minister who assassinated Trilok—was it not? And is it not Billycan who has brutally murdered countless rats, including children, over the years? You may have noticed that the sick fellow enjoys it—a good kill thrills your commander to no end. I am but a simple rat, no more significant than any of you. So, please, don’t take my word for it. You boys make up your own minds.” Juniper pointed at the stage, specifically at Billycan. “But what
he
has done to the Catacomb rats and to you boys, the scores of murders he’s committed,
that
sounds like the deeds of a demon to me.”

Juniper walked down the carpet, nearer the stage. “For those of you old enough to remember Trilok’s Ministry and the Bloody Coup that ended it, I have some pointed questions.” The soldiers remained silent, listening. “Do any of you remember your admirable High Collector starving youths in the middle of Catacomb Hall? Or perhaps cutting out a tongue or two for all to see, simply because a rat stole in order to feed his starving children?” Everyone looked at Billycan,
who dismissed their stares with a frosty glare. “Do any of you remember your parents, all with the Saints now, telling you how different things used to be? How kind and generous the Mighty Trilok was? How much good he did for the Combs, before old Killdeer tore out his throat? You boys should be given toys, not weapons. You should be learning your letters, not how to kill one another.

“Now, let’s chat a bit more about your revered High Minister, the
leader
of the Catacombs,” scoffed Juniper. “Well, his story has changed entirely over the years. Maybe at one time he led the way—not what I’d call an honorable leader, but a leader all the same. Either through utter laziness or sheer weakness of character, your Minister keeps his venerated title in name only. He is nothing more than an overstuffed puppet, an empty vessel, used by our white-haired, red-eyed friend to convince you that this life, or more appropriately, this life sentence they have shoved down your throats, is the only life worth living.”

Juniper started to pant, his emotion growing. “Don’t be fooled by their words—the venom that seeps from their mouths, masquerading as sweet honey! Stand up for yourselves, for your departed families, for your future children! Stand up and take back what is rightly yours. Nightshade City awaits you. We don’t want to defeat you. We want to
free
you! Now I ask you once more—all of you—do you remember what your parents told you? Do you remember how life was before these walking parasites leeched on to you, letting their warped notions soak into your brains like the deadly plagues of old—the plagues our kind is so famous for spreading? Does anyone remember?”

Senior Lieutenant Carn sat in the row behind the sector majors. He sized up the spear-brandishing Nightshade rats and rose from his seat. Victor, stationed closest, came at Carn with speed, his spear ready to thrust. Carn looked at Victor, not with militant rage, but with anguish. Carn gingerly reached for his dagger, holding it by its
tip, and handed it to Victor. “I remember,” he said quietly. Victor kept his weapon trained on Carn, who put his paws in the air. Juniper approached him, unable to forget the face of the senior lieutenant who had let them escape.

“By all means,” said Juniper, “let this rat speak.”

Carn kept his paws up and walked cautiously onto the carpet. As he lowered his paws, he looked at the other senior lieutenants—his friends, many of them playmates from before the Coup, now comrades in an army run by cutthroats and criminals. “I remember,” repeated Carn to the soldiers. “I remember everything Juniper speaks of. I’m older than many of you. My parents didn’t have to tell me what things were like and how good they were. I remember, because I was there.”

Billycan shot up from his chair and screamed at him. “I suggest you shut your mouth and sit down, Lieutenant Carn, or I will shut it for you!” His rage towards Carn had finally given him back his voice.

Cole shoved his spear under Billycan’s pointed chin. “I suggest
you
shut
your
mouth, High Collector,” he sneered coolly. “Now, take your seat, or I’ll put you in it myself.” Enraged, Billycan stiffly took his seat. His eyes seared through Cole with contempt. Cole grinned back at him, pushing his spear deeper into Billycan’s crusty skin.

“Continue, soldier,” said Juniper to Carn. “Speak your mind. The floor is yours.”

Carn briefly glanced at the still-seething Billycan. He cleared his throat. “Just like most of you, my parents and siblings were taken from me. They were murdered by Billycan.” The hall gasped. “I was forcibly recruited by the Kill Army days later.” Carn looked directly at Juniper. “Before that, I had a family. We celebrated the holidays. We ate together at our table—talking. Sometimes I laughed with my
sisters till I ached. We loved each other as families do. But Billycan murdered them … and it was my fault.”

“Son,” said Juniper, “what do you mean
your
fault? You were but a child.”

“Like you, my father also fought to keep Trilok’s Ministry intact. Because he was away frequently, I was angry with him. I missed him. I deliberately disobeyed my mother, leaving our quarters in search of him, only to be snatched up by Billycan, who had managed to dismantle one of your traps. My father went searching for me. He came upon Billycan holding a knife to my throat. He told my father he’d let me go if he revealed your location, so my father reluctantly told him. I
knew
my father. I knew he thought that once I was free he could overpower Billycan, but instead, Billycan overpowered him, murdering him and then my family, keeping me as his aide—some sort of sick souvenir, I suppose.”

“Bless the Saints,” said Juniper. “Your name—it’s different. I
knew
I recognized your face. You’re Jacarn Newcastle—Jazeer’s youngest son.”

“Yes,” said Carn.

“Jazeer was not a traitor at all. I
knew
we had to be wrong.”

“No, my father was not a traitor,” answered Carn. “I was. For eleven years I accepted my position serving under Billycan as just punishment.”

“Lad,” said Juniper, “you are not a traitor. You proved that already, and you are in no way responsible for your family’s death—nor any of this.” He motioned to the stage. “They are.”

Carn looked up at Killdeer. He addressed his fellow soldiers. “Tonight our High Minister told us how we have to protect this
‘good’
life he and his Ministry have provided. He told us we all are marked for death by this unruly group from Nightshade City. For those of you
too young to know, this new city, Nightshade City, is named for our late, much-beloved Citizen Minister—Julius Nightshade. Do any of you remember Julius Nightshade? Do you remember our Citizen Minister? I know many of you must! He made sure every Catacomb rat was fed and families had decent, safe places to live. Does that sound barbaric to you? Is that the action of a murderous devil?”