Shadow of the Father (40 page)

The grate shifted easily. Though foxes were passing along the street in front, nobody was in the dead end, and nobody watched him lower himself into the dark hole. His feet found a steady enough hold to brace himself while he pulled the grate back into place, and then a series of steps in the wall that allowed him to reach the sewer floor.

The smell was stronger and worse than his memory. The first two steps he took made his stomach lurch, so he stopped to acclimate, one paw pressed against the wall. After a short time, he felt steadier, and his stomach didn’t protest when he walked forward.

The sewer was silent except for the echoing drips of water and a low, background rustling. He found the same steps he’d found earlier, which kept his footing sure and reasonably quiet. His problem now was that he only had a general idea of where he was going, and his sense of direction was no good down here in the darkness and the stench. Fortunately, the tunnels were more or less straight, so he made sure that when he turned in one direction, he turned the opposite way the next chance he got.

He passed a grate above him, and was tempted to climb up and open it to see where he was, but he didn’t want to make more noise than he needed to. It only occurred to him a moment later that that grate might have been one of the guarded entrances. He wouldn’t have smelled the guards, of course, but his whiskers hadn’t tingled, and when he stopped, he didn’t detect the curious absence of smell that he associated with the Shadows. Carefully, he moved forward.

It was around the next corner, with the grate out of sight, that his whiskers did tingle. He stopped immediately, his heart speeding up. He reached his paw out to touch the wall, and encountered instead fabric, warmth, and taut muscle.

Before he could react, his paw was seized and twisted behind his back, driving him to his knees. He slipped from the stones and plunged into the filthy water up to his waist. His free paw reached around his waist, trying to get to his dagger, but before he could, he was yanked to his feet. He felt the weight of the dagger lifted from his belt. “Walk,” a curt voice said.

“I need to see Whisper,” Sinch said.

“You’ll see Whisper if he wants to see you,” the voice replied. It wasn’t one Sinch recognized. But it sounded like he wasn’t going to be killed right away, so he marched docilely along with the Shadow behind him. Maybe they didn’t know about Frost yet. He only wished he still had his dagger.

After several turns, the sewers began to feel familiar. As disgusting as it was, Sinch realized that there were nuances to the smells. Here, he was detecting a slightly fishy odor that hadn’t been present elsewhere in the sewers. By smell, he thought, he would be bale to learn his way through the sewer, and it struck him then that that was how the Shadows did it. Did the mice who cleared the garbage above dump it in a particular pattern that aided the mapping of the sewers? Or did the Shadows just take advantage of the patterns that already existed?

Time enough to worry about that later, he thought, if he were lucky. He needed to focus on how he was going to negotiate for the crown with a group of mice who hated him and didn’t negotiate. Keeping to the path took a little concentration, leaving him mostly free to think about what he would say to Whisper.

When he was pushed into the open area, he was surprised to see that it was still mostly dark. He was pushed under the one guttering torch and held there with a dagger at his throat. The Shadow holding the dagger waved a paw to the blackness, which was met with a soft rustling. And then he waited.

“It is you,” a familiar voice said out of the darkness. “I had not believed you so stupid as to return.”

“I came back for the crown,” Sinch said. “I can explain why you should give it to me.”

“We are not interested in your explanations,” Whisper said, stepping to the edge of the light. “For the first time, we have true power over foxes.”

“You have a chance to make peace,” Sinch said.

“The only peace we will accept is the silence of foxes,” Whisper said. “While we hold the crown, the foxes cannot confirm a lord. While there is no lord, the city will sink deeper and deeper into chaos. When there is no more law, we will come forth.”

“But you can live with the foxes,” Sinch said. “You can help each other.”

“No fox is friend to a mouse,” Whisper said.

“That’s not true!” Sinch almost shouted.

The knife pressed closer to his throat. Whisper’s tone of voice did not change. “We will not argue with you. You have not the knowledge that we do.”

“There’s more to life than your sewers!” The arguments had sounded much more rational in Sinch’s head, when he wasn’t shouting them to a shadowy figure.

“We are the Shadows,” Whisper said, and now the other voices joined in. “We are the opposition to the light. We live in darkness and watch the city. We strike where others dare not.”

That reminded him about the attempt on Yilon’s life. “You have a chance to make an alliance,” he said. “If you return the crown to me, the new lord will look favorably on you.”

“No fox—”

“You’re wrong!” Sinch did yell now. “Why do you think I came down here to get the crown?”

The word “crown” resounded and died away, leaving Sinch in silence. He didn’t dare swallow, but eventually he had to, his throat stinging against the knife. At length, Whisper said, “We do not care about your reasons.” But there was hesitation in his voice.

“I want to bring it to the one who’s meant to be the lord. He trusts me.”

He thought they would repeat their “No fox is friend to no mouse” chant, but Whisper said, “You hope to elevate yourself by stealing the crown and returning it to him. You will not divert us from our ways.”

“I’m not trying to!” He noticed, now, that something of a crowd had gathered on the side Whisper was on. He could hear the massed sound of their breathing.

“You talk of foxes and change, but this is not the way of the Shadows. We fight the Fox, and the Fox fights us.”

“If you’re not going to give me the crown,” Sinch said, “you might as well kill me. There’s no life for me here.” The words were easier to say because he was honestly surprised they already hadn’t.

“Your words are not those of an appeaser,” Whisper said. He sounded curious, as though Sinch had green fur or a fox’s long canine teeth.

“What does that mean?”

“You do not act as one who has thrown his lot in with the Fox,” the Shadow went on. “Those mice fear us. They stay on the surface and do not venture into the world. You have come here twice and you have killed Frost.”

“Oh,” Sinch said. So they did know.

“By our law, that gives you the right to take his place. However, if you have thrown in your lot with the Fox, you are our enemy.”

Take his place? “He was trying to kill Yilon.”

“Our law demands some measure of retaliation whenever the Fox invades.”

“Your law,” Sinch said. He stared at the glittering black eyes of the mouse who was holding the knife to him. “What else does your law say?”

“Only the Shadow know the law.”

Sinch sagged back against the wall. “At least stop trying to kill Yilon,” he said. “He’s new here, he doesn’t know all the laws and customs and things. Just like I don’t.”

Whisper stepped forward. Sinch could see the reflection of the torch now in the shine of his black eyes. “That is why he is the target. He is significant without being critical, important without being intertwined in the land. The Fox will mourn his passing with the mind, not with the heart.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Sinch said, grasping at anything that might spare Yilon. “You’re just afraid, and he’s an easy target.”

His throat stung again as the blade pressed into it. Whisper stared at him and then laughed, softly. There was no humor in the sound. “Do not question our ways. You are as much an outsider as he is.”

“Exactly,” Sinch said. “So why do you not suppose he could become your ally?”

“No fox is friend—” The voice was not Whisper’s; it came from behind him, closer to the wall. Others tried to join in, but Whisper cut them off.

“That is not the way of things.”

“Why do you find it so hard to have faith?”

“The Shadows have lived here for over ten generations. When the first mice came to the city, many generations before, they did not understand the world they were living in. They joined it, believing they could make it their own. They worked the mines and built their homes in the tradition of Rodenta. They were promised peace. They were promised happiness. And on Red Night, the Fox came and took it from them, leaving them destitute.

“Some went home. Most stayed. They built again, labored again, lived again. And whenever it suited him, the Fox took what he wanted from the mice. Any who resisted were slaughtered and left in the street as a warning to the others. Even the Church could not stop the injustice.

“It was a mouse named Shadow who took up arms. He used the underground city the Fox had built to dispose of waste, and made it his home. From out of the darkness he struck at the Fox, until the Fox understood that there would be repercussions for his actions.

“Shadow is the father of us all. We live with him in the darkness, we are the Shadows. For a mouse to walk in the light, he must cast a shadow; a mouse without a shadow walks in darkness.

“This is the truth. It has always been the truth.”

“So what are you going to do with the crown?” Sinch asked. “Hold onto it forever? How do you think that helps you?”

He heard a soft hissing sound from the darkness to his left, and then the pressure on his throat vanished. The mouse who’d been holding the dagger to him dropped it with a clatter as he fell to the ground, clutching his hip. Sinch and Whisper looked down together at the green-and-grey fletched arrow protruding from it.

“Don’t move,” a voice said from the darkness of the tunnels to his left. “I’m rather interested to hear the answer to that question myself.”

“Yilon!” Sinch jumped toward the voice, then lunged for the fallen mouse’s dagger. He needn’t have bothered. Nobody else was moving.

“You okay, Sinch?”

“I’m fine.” The paw he put to his throat came away sticky, but he didn’t care. He felt like laughing and dancing. “You see?” he said to Whisper, who, incredibly, was still standing just inside the circle of light. “He came for me! Let’s hear you say ‘no fox is friend to no mouse’ now!”

Whisper looked steadily at him, then turned his head toward Yilon’s voice. “We will not willingly surrender the crown.”

“That’s okay,” Yilon said. “As long as you give Sinch back.”

Whisper stared. “What trickery is this?”

“The crown would make some things easier,” Yilon said, “but as long as you’re not going to chase down Dewry and give it to him, I don’t think I much care what you do with it. But I only have one real friend, and if you hurt him, well, I have a bunch of arrows here. I can account for a lot of you before you get within knife range, and I don’t think there are many of you left.”

“We are legion,” Whisper said, before Yilon cut him off.

“And I am sorry about that. I know you didn’t steal the crown, and I know you didn’t shoot Corwin. But I don’t have the power to stop the raids on your home. Yet.”

Whisper was silent, but behind him, Sinch heard other Shadows whispering, “Home? Our home?” He wanted to say something, but Yilon’s words had moved him to the point that he didn’t trust his voice any more.

Yilon said, “Well?”

“What good is the word of a fox?” Whisper mused aloud, as if to himself.

“What good is the word of a mouse?” Yilon responded. “I stand in your house, alone. I brought no soldiers, only a guide who I left at the entrance.”

“What did you do with the sentry at that entrance?” Whisper demanded.

“There was no sentry.”

A voice spoke up, directly in front of Sinch in the darkness. He saw the grey of shadows shifting. “I’m… here, sir.”

Whisper did not turn his head, just nodded. “We will discuss your punishment for leaving your post later, Shard.”

“I shot once because I feared for my friend’s life,” Yilon said. “I did not strike to kill, or your comrade would be dead.”

“He’s a good shot,” Sinch said.

“And I ask only that you let Sinch come with me, unharmed. I will leave and will not trouble you again, and I give you my word that we will not invade your home again for as long as I am Lord Dewanne.”

“By what right to you claim dominion over mice?” Whisper said.

“By the ancient right of the lords of this land,” Yilon said easily. “But dominion does not mean misery. I promise you that as well.”

“You are but one fox,” Whisper said.

“With your help,” Yilon said, “we can bring peace to Dewanne.”

“We were promised peace in the past,” Whisper said.

Yilon’s voice carried down the tunnels, firm and clear. “But not by me.”

Whisper could have been an ebony statue of a mouse, for all that he moved. All the sewer was silent, as if holding its breath. Sinch couldn’t take his eyes from the tall black mouse.

“Should you renege on your promise,” Whisper said, deliberately, “our vengeance will be swift and terrible.”

“I swear to you, by Canis and Rodenta, that I will prove worthy of your trust.”

Perhaps it was only the resonance in the tunnels, but Yilon’s voice had grown deeper and more regal in just those few minutes. Sinch stood proudly, all his attention focused on his friend.

And so he was not prepared to react to the swift motion behind Whisper. By the time he had seen the flash of the dagger flying through the air and leapt back to his feet, it was too late to do anything about it. Whisper fell in slow motion, the dagger quivering behind his left shoulderblade, crumpling to the stone as though a crucial support had been withdrawn from him.

Sinch leapt toward Yilon, in the darkness, landing in a crouch. Another blade went flying just over his head, and then a short Shadow stepped into the light, standing over Whisper. “Fool,” he said. “You would lead us all into damnation.”

Sinch’s heart sank. He lifted his knife, but hesitated: if he killed this assassin, would they turn against him and Yilon forever? Would it be worse if he let this Shadow assume the leadership? The assassin had turned to look in his direction, leaning slightly as he searched the darkness. Sinch remained perfectly still.