Lords of Trillium (27 page)

Carn and Oleander swapped glances. “Yes . . . about Silvius,” said Carn. “He passed away recently, in his sleep.”

“That's unfortunate,” said Juniper. “He was a rat I someday wanted to meet.” He looked at the sack. “So what is this?”

“Something you need to see,” said Carn.

Raising an eyebrow quizzically, Juniper opened the sack. Instantly, by touch, he knew what was inside. He pulled out the silver tag. “Another lab tag? Did this belong to Silvius?”

“Yes . . . but you must look at it,” pressed Carn, “please.”

Juniper's heart tightened in his chest as he regarded the etched metal. The front of the tag was engraved, number 111 and the word “Father.” The back of the tag read “Prince Laboratories” and the date “October 31.” “It all matches,” he said in a whisper. “Billycan's, Silvius's, our mother's tag, they are all connected, all the same.” He rested a paw over Trilok's medal. “Silvius . . . he was Billycan's father. All that time, he was in Tosca with his father . . . and he never knew.” Juniper's wounded expression slowly shifted into a grin. “He'd been searching for family, and he found it.” Juniper chuckled. His chuckle turned into a laugh, a laugh so loud that Carn, Oleander, and Clover shifted awkwardly, concerned for him. “He
found
it!”

“Found what?” asked Carn. “This is a sad moment and you're acting like it's a celebration.”

“My boy, it
is
a celebration!” Juniper bolted up from his chair. He plucked Clover off her feet and swung her around in a circle.

“Uncle, what's got into you?” she asked as he set her on her feet. “Are you all right?”

“Never better, my dear. Never better! Don't you see? Billycan found his
family
after all this time.” He looked up at the ceiling, a smile upon his face. “Take care of them, Saints. Lenore, Silvius, Billycan . . . finally together.” He straightened out his cloak, grinning at the youthful faces before him. “I think it's high time we finally had a wedding, don't you?”

“I . . . wish it,” Clover said, looking around the Council Chamber anxiously, slightly gun-shy considering the last time she'd
been about to say those words. No axes or arrows this time, only the smiling faces of those she knew and loved.

The official nodded at the guests and then back at Clover and Vincent. He took both their paws in his and then placed Vincent's over Clover's. He cleared his throat. “And so, in front of these witnesses, let the couple confirm their bond.” His cracked lips finally formed a smile. He eyed Vincent, raising his brow. “Well, son, what are you waiting for?”

With everyone staring, Vincent's cheeks grew hot and he felt dizzy.

An irked voice broke the awkward silence. “For Saints' sake, will you go on and kiss her already? My whiskers will be gray before you finally make your move!” Everyone tried not to laugh, but it couldn't be helped. Juniper and the older males snickered under their breath, while Carn and Suttor nearly fell off their chairs, even with Oleander's scolding. After all, they were all thinking the same thing, but Victor was the only one with the nerve to say it.

Vincent glared at his brother. He turned back to Clover, but it was too late, she was already moving in for the kiss, catching him just as he turned his head. He nearly lost his footing for a second, but once his feet steadied he was fine—very fine, indeed.

“Ick! They're kissing,” whispered Julius, disgusted. He squirmed in his chair and made a sour face.

Victor nudged him. “Just wait a few years, little rat. Won't be so appalling then, you'll see.”

“He's right, Julius,” whispered Texi, smiling coyly at Ulrich. “You find the right one, it'll be wonderful.”

“Take your time, though,” said Ulrich. “Sometimes it takes a while.” He squeezed Texi's paw. “But when you find her, you'll know it.”

The official spoke, his scratchy voice carrying throughout the chamber. “And as they wished, so it is done!”

Everyone got to their feet, clapping and cheering. Juniper kissed Clover on the cheek as they stepped off the makeshift platform. He embraced Vincent and whispered in his ear. “Welcome to the family, son . . . officially, that is. You've always been part of it.” He glanced around the room, making sure he saw everyone. His wife and children, his Council and their families—then something occurred to him. Something he'd spoken with Cole about, but never mentioned to anyone else. He patted Trilok's medal, thinking it would be for the very last time. Vincent had come a long way since he was a lost young rat making his way down to Nightshade that first time, his frightened brother in tow. He was grown. He was smart. He knew who he was, and he lived his life guided by the bright spirit of his father, Julius Nightshade.

It was time.

H
E WOKE UP UNDER A PILE OF DEBRIS
, sprawled on the ground, surrounded by broken furniture, shattered glass, plumbing fixtures, and mounds of black dust. He didn't know how long he'd been there; it felt like mere days, but given the thick layer of dust coating him, he reasoned it had to be far longer. He pulled himself up and stretched out his body, which felt remarkably flexible given the crooked position he'd woken up in. He tried to remember exactly how he'd gotten to this place. Though his mind was alert, his memories were vague; in fact, he wasn't sure if they were memories at all . . . perhaps he had been dreaming.

He threaded his way through the wreckage. It was dark, but his vision was quite clear, as though the world had suddenly become illuminated. He came across a shattered mirror, still in its gilded frame. After brushing away as much dust as he could from his fur, he made a fist and wiped away a clean circle on the mirror. He regarded his reflection. He was young—not a
tot, mind you, not even a child, but young—a rat who looked to be just coming into his own. He thought he'd be older. He bared his teeth; they were impeccably white and razor sharp, his gums fresh and pink. His jaw was thick and his muzzle long, giving him a rather noble air. His snout—it didn't look right to him, not at all. Frankly, it looked too perfect. He recalled it differently, terribly flawed somehow. He glanced down at his body. No clear image would register in his head, but he thought of old wounds and battle scars. To his surprise, his long arms and legs were free of scars and bruises, his torso rigid, lean, and muscular, and his thick coat remarkably shiny, in spite of the never-ending dust that fell from it. His eyes struck him the most. They were a dark red, nearly plum. He liked them. They looked kind.

As he stared at his reflection, two rats materialized behind them. One was long and tall, with a clean, lustrous white coat. The rat smiled confidently, a stately appearance about him, but he looked nice, the kind of rat who'd help someone he barely knew, an honorable rat. The other rat was slight, with thick, shimmering fur the color of raisins, and buttery-yellow eyes that flickered boldly. She was quite pretty. She reminded him of someone, but he wasn't sure who. He smiled at the two older rats behind him, hoping they'd follow him out of this place.

His memory was a miasma of faces and things. He still had no idea how he got there, or really anything about himself. The more he thought about it, the more things faded away like dreams do. He knew one thing, though; he was going to get out of this dank, dirty hole. He yearned to see the sunlight. He would miss the black dust, though. He liked the smell of it. The scent reminded him of something, made him feel connected to it, but of course he couldn't say what that something was.

Making his way up the tall mountain of wreckage, he
came across a long wooden sign. In ornate gold letters it read
THE LORDS OF TRILLIUM
. He scratched his head. A lord, someone important, someone who had a great deal of power, but he had no interest in that. The long sign did make for good climbing, though, allowing him easy access to the city street. Daylight was just peeking over the horizon. He peered over his shoulder, making sure the other two rats had kept up with him.

There were large men with guns guarding the hole, their backs to him. He wondered why a hole full of useless, broken things would be so important to anyone that they'd guard it with guns. As he walked behind them, he heard one say the hole would be sealed off permanently today. He turned and looked down into it, still wondering how he got there. For some reason he didn't think his memory of it would ever return. Oddly, he was at ease with that. The male rat rested a warm paw on his shoulder. He knew it was time to go.

It rained lightly, rinsing the black dust out of his white coat. He liked the feel of the water on his skin, light washing away the darkness. He smiled at the other two rats as the three of them walked past the barricades. He thought about names and places. What would he call himself? Where would he go? A feeling of freedom came over him. His future, wherever it led, was entirely up to him.

The female rat took his paw and smiled. The male smiled as well, putting a snow-white arm around his shoulder. Their names—he felt like they were coming back to him.

He pointed at the sun rising higher and higher in the sky. “Let's go there,” he told his companions, “wherever it leads.” They nodded in agreement.

He looked back one final time, glancing at the tattered brown satchel he dragged behind him.