The White Assassin (23 page)

“No, old Professor Brummell’s always tardy for first bell anyway,” said Tuk.

“I’m sure Texi will be happy to join us,” Mother Gallo told Julius. “And you know, it’s Fairytale Day at the library. Longtooth
will be reading one of her favorite stories to a group of children just your age. I’m sure she’d love to have you and Texi there, too. Now, does that sound nice to you?”

Julius smiled bashfully into his porridge and nodded.

“Good,” said Mother Gallo. “It’s all settled, then.”

O
LEANDER HESITATED BEFORE
E
LVI’S DOOR.

Knocking softly, she called from the corridor, “Elvi, it’s Oleander. May I come in? I thought I’d take you up on your invitation.” The door creaked partially open, and she peeked in. “Elvi?”

A muted light flickered from the back of the room. Oleander went inside. “Elvi,” she called again. Much of the furniture was draped in exotic textiles, fiery reds and brilliant blues, all half in shadow, only a dim candle lighting the room. Outlandish masks and foreign symbols hung from the walls and ceiling, things from Tosca. Oleander looked around nervously, the bizarre décor making her uneasy. It reminded her of the horrible things the humans had left in the manor’s attic, back in the swamp.

Something shook above her head, a harsh flapping of wings. Oleander gasped, nearly jumping from her skin. She snatched the candle off the table and held it up to the darkness. A cage hung from the ceiling. A blue moth stared at her from inside. Moths were sweet
creatures. “Why, hello, there,” said Oleander. She laughed softly, embarrassed by her reaction. “I’m afraid we scared the life out of each other, didn’t we, my pretty friend?”

The blue moth kept its eyes trained on her, cautiously moving forward on its perch. “It’s all right,” said Oleander soothingly. “I would never hurt you. You remind me of the dragonflies in the swamp, beautiful and quite charming. I wish you could talk. Maybe you could tell me where your mistress went.”

“Why, she’s right here,” said a voice from the door.

“Oh!” blurted Oleander, spinning around. The moth flapped agitatedly. “Elvi, there you are. Your door was ajar. I hope you don’t mind—”

“Not at all, darling. Not at all,” said Elvi welcomingly. “I hope I didn’t frighten you. I was just returning from a visit with Juniper. Please, have a seat while I light a fire and muster up some tea—always so very cold in Trillium. How I long for Tosca’s warmth, as I’m sure you do for the swamp’s.” Elvi lit a match. The blue moth jumped about his cage, eager to get at the flame. “I see you’ve met Mol, my little companion.”

“Yes,” said Oleander, looking up at the moth as she took her seat. “He’s fascinating.”

“He’s as foolish as he is stunning,” laughed Elvi. “I must keep him locked up so he won’t fly into the fireplace, silly creature. Mol nearly singed his wings off the last time I let him flutter about.” As the fire started to blaze, Elvi took a seat across from Oleander. “Now then, I’m so glad you came to see me. It will be good for us to talk. We’re quite alike, you and I.”

“I feel the same way. Even just talking about the warm climate makes me feel closer to home.”

“It’s funny,” said Elvi. “When I first arrived in Tosca I loathed
the hot sun, the sticky air. It was enough to make me sick! And now I miss it so. I’m sure you’ll be returning to the swamp soon enough, but are you homesick, darling?”

“I’ve never been away from my family. It’s been harder than I thought it would be, especially with everything that the horde went through with Billycan. They trusted him and he broke their hearts. It was hard for them to understand—still is.”

“Trust is a hard thing to come by, it seems. In Tosca I could trust no one but myself. To survive I had to be hard, cruel. It was the only way to get by in such a lethal place.” The teapot whistled.

“Elvi, if you don’t mind my asking, how did all the adult rats die on the boat? It must have been so awful for you. You said you were around my age.”

Elvi sighed wearily as she poured them each a cup of tea. “It was ghastly—a scene I will never forget. I felt guilty about it for years, being the sole survivor. I was not feeling well that day—seasick. The constant churning and swaying of the boat, my innards couldn’t take it. Someone had found a can of fish that had rolled under a shelf in the small pantry of the boat’s galley. One of the males had managed to open the can with a screwdriver, poking a hole and prying the lid off. Everyone rejoiced, so happy for food after three days with nothing, but they were only celebrating their demise. They quickly fell deathly ill.”

“The fish had gone bad,” said Oleander.

“Precisely,” said Elvi. “They were poisoned.”

“And you were too unwell to eat.”

“Yes, my weak stomach saved my life.”

“How helpless and alone you must have felt.”

“And in a way, alone ever since. The Toscan rats are not like us. They are primitive, uncultured.”

“How did you survive? How did you get them to accept you?”

Elvi smiled. “Let’s just say I became very good at pretending to be someone else.” She gazed up at Mol, still captivated by the flames. “When those rats hustled me onto the boat bound for Tosca, I was terrified. I was being taken away from everything I knew. It was as though my whole childhood was erased and my new life—a most unkind existence—had begun. I shall never forgive those rats who took me,” she said bitterly.

“But Elvi, I thought the rats who took you on the boat were only trying to rescue you from the flood. Clover said they were kind citizens who kept you from drowning.”

“I could have taken care of myself. I know those rats meant no harm, but they should have left me alone. I learned long ago, from someone I once admired, that in order to survive, to get what you want, you must take it. No one else will do it for you.” She smiled weakly. “I suppose I’m trying to say that had they not taken me, I would have survived on my own. I would never have had to leave Trillium.”

“I understand how you must have felt. My father can be overprotective at times. He needs to know that having grown up in the swamp, with all its dangers, I can take care of myself. Even with Carn and the others around me, he didn’t want me to come here. He’s still worried about Billycan.”

“I’m quite sure you won’t need to worry about him any longer.”

“Well, I’m glad for that.” Oleander took another sip of tea, glad for the warmth it offered. “A flood, poisoned rats, and surviving in the jungle—what a life you’ve led. You must have learned so much.”

Setting down her tea, Elvi hid her paws in the sleeves of her cloak and curled her feet up under her on the chair. “Yes, I’ve learned plenty in my day. By the way, how are you enjoying your tea, dear?” Elvi sat contentedly, a gentle smile on her face. “It’s a very special recipe. You’re the first one to try it in several years.”

“It’s delicious,” said Oleander. The room went out of focus for a moment, and she suddenly felt very hot. She shook her head, unsure of what was happening. “What do you call thi … th …” Oleander tried to keep talking, but the only sound to leave her mouth was a sickly gasp. She felt dizzy, and coughed. Her head abruptly fell back, hitting the chair. Her whole body went slack. Mol hopped fretfully on his perch as her teacup dropped from her paw and burst into pieces on the floor.

“Oh, darling,” said Elvi coolly. “Are you all right? What do I call this? Is that what you were trying to spit out? Well, here one would call the flower sweet pea, quite a nice, friendly ring to it, no? In Tosca we call it something entirely different—devil’s seed. Much more appropriate.”

Oleander panted. Blood rushed to her head, the sound flooding her ears as she realized Elvi had poisoned her. Why?

“Now, now, you must not panic.” Elvi stood up and dumped her cup of untouched tea back into the pot. “You see, living so long in the jungle, I learned a thing or two about poisons. I learned what different herbs can do. Which ones heal”—she grinned at the broken teacup—“and which ones harm. It’s quite a science. I practiced on the creatures of Tosca for years.” She laughed. “They called me a sorceress—silly beasts. Some flowers and herbs cause instant death, while others make you linger on for days in abject agony; and then there are others that leave you paralyzed, unable to move even the tip of your tail.”

Able to move only her eyes, Oleander looked toward the door. Under the gap she could see the shadows of feet walking by. If only they knew she was trapped. If only she could move or scream. If only she could yell out that Elvi was the traitor!

Elvi grabbed Oleander’s chin and squeezed it hard. “You all should have left well enough alone back in the swamp,” she said
angrily. Then, her voice syrupy sweet once more, she said, “I have an errand to run now. Why don’t you stay here and wait for me?”

Her cheeks wet with tears, Oleander closed her eyes. She thought of Mannux. He’d feel responsible for letting her come to Nightshade. And poor Thicket and Stono, how they’d mourn her. She thought of Carn and what might have been.

“Hush!” hissed Elvi, glaring up at Mol as he flapped in his cage. “You with your constant flailing, always interrupting my every thought!” Mol hushed.

Elvi got up from her chair and patted Oleander’s head. “Such a pretty rat,” she purred, and as her cloak moved, Oleander spotted a silver dagger strapped to Elvi’s leg.

Oleander’s lungs felt like they were on fire and her heart raced as if it might burst. Her eyelids fluttered and her head fell to her chest. She let out one last little groan.

“Poor little dear,” said Elvi, pushing Oleander’s head back against the chair. She went to the mirror. Her sloping black eyes blinked back at her. She threw the black hood of her cloak over her head. She smiled at her reflection, and her face grew dark. “Don’t worry. You won’t remember a thing.”

The outer door to Billycan’s shadowy cell softly closed. He jumped to his feet. He knew what was coming.

“Where are you, little one?” asked Billycan in the dark. “I knew you’d be back. Business to take care of, I suspect—rats like us always have business to attend to. I can hear you breathing on the other side of the bars. I can smell you. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I have no time for your games today. You like games, don’t you? You always did—always will.” A laugh came from the other side of the bars. “How clever you are. You’ve fooled everyone. But for how long,
my dear? It’s only a matter of time now before they figure you out. They’ve been too wrapped up in me, but that’s about to come to an end.”

The laugh broke out again, but this time from the back wall of Billycan’s cell. He whipped around. “Show yourself, my dear,” he said. “Billycan deserves to see the face of his attacker.”

Suddenly the rat came at him. Elvi wailed and screamed as she slashed at him with the knife. Billycan easily dodged her. Even after all this time he knew how she fought, how she wielded a knife.

“You will not ruin my plans!” she wailed as she took another swipe. “I’ve waited too long for this moment!”

Lunging forward, Billycan grabbed her by the neck, slamming her against the wall. “Nor will you ruin mine!” She pushed against his chest with her feet and dug her claws into his wounded shoulder. He howled in pain, dropping her. “Ah, I see you’ve learned a few tricks in Tosca. How very sly of you!”

“Don’t you dare mention Tosca,” she said, panting in the shadows. “You have no idea of the horror I suffered!”

Billycan laughed riotously. “Suffered? Really, now, you expect me to believe that? Do you take me for bighearted Juniper, so easily swayed by your kind acts and gentle nature?” He sighed. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

Her breathing quickening, Elvi moved in. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. No
one
laughs at me!”

Billycan’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then let’s get on with it,
Elvi
… or do you prefer your real name?”

With that, Elvi screeched wildly. She ran at him with the dagger. Instinctively Billycan dodged right, remembering that was the side she always came at first. Suddenly a stabbing pain jolted through
him. He gagged. His chest burned as she pulled the dagger from it. He reached for her, grabbing at her cloak.

Elvi stood proudly before him as his body crumpled to the floor. “What a pity,” she whispered. “You left me no choice, Billycan.” She produced a match, striking it on a bar of the cell. With one paw she reached for Billycan’s chin and held it up to the light.

Clutching his chest, Billycan looked at her. He smiled weakly. “Ah, but you see, you always have a choice.” He coughed, swallowing a mouthful of blood. “You chose yourself.”

His head dropped to the ground.

Elvi rose to her feet. “I will
always
choose myself.”