"We are going to leave the city." Elissa said defiantly, as she turned her fierce eyes on Elysia as if she expected her to contradict her. "Hans and me. We have decided to leave."
"I don't blame you." replied the cat girl. "It's a bad place to be, and it's only going to get worse."
"Is that all you have to tell me?"
Elysia's eyes swept the room they had shared during the brief time they were together. She was small, she was empty, and soon she would be even emptier, when she was gone. Was there anything else to say? The truth was that she couldn't blame him for wanting to get out of there and, honestly, she didn't see that they had any future if they stayed together. So why did it hurt, after all? Why did she have that empty feeling in her chest? Why did she feel that impulse to ask him to stay? But she at the same time she didn't want to do it.
"Are you going with Hans?" she asked, just to hear a voice.
She gave him a cool look and folded her arms defensively under her breasts.
"Yes" she answered. "You're not going to try to stop us, are you?"
"You seem like you almost want me to say yes." Elysia thought.
"Right now it's not very safe to leave the city," she said.
"We're just going back to our town. It's less than a morning's walk away."
"And will they accept you? I have heard that they throw stones and arrows at the city people who approach the villages and farms. They are afraid that they will carry the plague."
"We will survive." She answered her. But from the tone of her voice she seemed less sure of herself than she wanted to imply. "In any case, it can't get any worse than this, what with the plague and the rat packs and all. At least, in the town, they know us."
"They certainly know Hans. He thought you said that the villagers detested him."
"You had assumed that, hadn't you? They will accept us. I'll tell them we're getting married. They'll understand."
"You are going to do it? Get married, I mean. Didn't you say that you didn't like men anymore?
"I guess so. Things can change"
"You don't seem very enthusiastic."
"Elysia, what else can I do? Spend the rest of my life getting groped by strangers in taverns? Hanging around with wandering mercenaries? It's not what I want. I want to go home."
"You need money?" Elysia asked.
Suddenly, she gave him a sly look.
"Nope." she answered her. "I'd better go. Hans is waiting for me.
"Be careful," she warned Elysia with all sincerity. "The city is not safe at all."
"You know it well," said the girl. She suddenly leaned in to give him a passionate kiss on the mouth and, just as Elysia was about to hug her, she broke away from her and headed for the door.
"It was fun, and take care of yourself" she requested, and Elysia thought she detected the glint of tears at the corners of her eyes. Then she left the room.
It was only later, when she went to look under the loose floorboard, that she discovered that the bag of money Frey had given her the other day to hide was missing. She lay on the bed, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
"Okay." She thought her. "Let him keep the money." Most likely, Elysia wouldn't live long enough to spend it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Black Magician Dhalthar looked around at the ratfolk captains who were gathered in the chamber. His burning gaze seemed to challenge them to speak, but neither did.
Telltale tongue counted the captains present. All the heads of Clan Arkan were there, plus Izak Grottle, Felbrood, and One-Eyed Heskit. Chang, the assassin of the Furtim Clan, lurked in a corner, glancing at Tell-Tongue from time to time with hateful eyes. He hadn't forgotten what Giveaway Tongue had said about him the day the Black Magician had humiliated them both before the entire army.
The Black Magician spread his arms, and trails of fire followed the trail of his claws as he gathered his magical powers.
"He has the attention of everyone here." thought Tell-Tongue. Suddenly, all his eyes were fixed on Dhalthar, as if, with a simple gesture, he could make up his mind to annihilate all who did not look at him. Telltale Tongue thought that possibility certainly existed. If he had correctly recognized the symptoms, the Black Magician had consumed an enormous amount of manastone powder.
Tell-Tongue shuddered and continued to chew the foul herbs Caldovil had given him to combat the plague. He resisted the urge to look inside his metal breastplate to check that the scroll and quill he'd stolen from Dhalthar's private lair weren't slipping out. She knew that nothing could draw attention to him faster. He reassured himself by telling himself that they were in his place, since he could feel the tip of the feather pricking the delicate fur under his armpit.
"Tonight is the night we've all been waiting for!" Dhalthar exclaimed. "Tonight we will smash-crush the humans once and for all. Tonight we will invade the city and enslave its occupants. Tonight we will strike a blow in the name of the underground empire, and the ratfolk nation will be long remembered!"
Dhalthar paused theatrically, his eyes scanning the room again, as if he expected to be interrupted. No one dared to speak, but Telltongue saw Felbroth, Heskit, and Grottle exchange glances before turning back to him. She hoped, for everyone's sake, that the Black Magician hadn't noticed that. She glanced nervously at Dhalthar, but luckily he seemed caught in the flow of his own insane eloquence.
"We will grind the humans under the iron claw of our masses. We will lead them into an inevitable slavery. His riches will be ours. Your city will be ours. Their souls will be screamingly offered to the Great Rat God."
Dhalthar paused again, and Grottle summoned up the courage to ask the question that, as far as he could see, Telltale-tongue was on everyone's mind.
"And how are we going to carry that out, big boss?"
"How? How indeed?! Through a plan at once simple and astonishingly cunning; through the use of a force and a sorcery that will be talked about for several ages; through overwhelming ferocity and superior ratfolk technology; through…"
"By what specific methods, Black Magician Dhalthar?" Caldofil interrupted him. "I humbly suggest that, like anyone out of cub age, we are all familiar with general attack methods."
For a moment, Telltongue realized that Dhalthar was weighing the pros and cons of undoing the Scourge-pontiff into his component atoms for such insolence, and was glad when cautious ratfolk won the battle, and the Black Magician continued speaking.
"That was precisely what I was going for, as you would have found out if you hadn't interrupted me. We will attack through the sewers. Each one of you will lead the forces assigned to him to a point that is marked on the map." Saying this, the Black Magician pointed to the complex mass of symbols traced on a large sheet of parchment that hung behind him. Many of the assembled chiefs leaned forward to see where they would be sent.
"I don't see the rune that corresponds to you on this plane." Heskit One-Eyed commented. "What are you doing, Black Magician?"
Dhalthar glared at him with burning eyes.
"I will be where you would expect your boss to be: carrying out the most difficult and dangerous task."
Silence fell over the meeting. In fact, this was not where they expected their boss to be. They would have expected him to stay safely in the rear and direct operations. Apparently the manastone Dhalthar had consumed had made him talkative, for he continued to talk, encouraged by the silence.
"I will lead the main attack. I will be the leader of the assault that our elite warriors will carry out to seize the palace where the breeding female Emilia will be and capture all the rulers of the city. They're having a ball tonight, one of their purposeless social events. I will fall upon them by surprise and I will have them all in my claws. Without bosses to lead them, the humans will surely surrender to our attack."
More murmurs arose from the assembled ratfolk. It was a very daring plan.
Tell-Tongue wondered if any of the others were realizing the same thing he was. The Black Magician had carefully chosen his place in the assault. By commanding that intrepid coup, by capturing the human chiefs, he was sure to get the lion's share of glory. Moreover, it was undoubtedly less dangerous to attack a handful of humans with their breeding females, dressed for a ball, than it was to fight the many troops in the city.
"Such a position is too dangerous for a chief of your great cunning," said Heskit One-Eyed. "It would be a tragedy for the ratfolk world if the genius of Dhalthar was lost. To prevent such a tragedy, I will lead the assault and face the terrible risks."
Telltale Tongue raised a paw to her mouth to prevent a chuckle from escaping; at least one more ratfolk had noticed what was happening.
"Nope! Nope!" Izak Grottle chimed in. "I and my rat-orcs are ideally suited for that task. We will beat them all…"
Grottle's words were drowned out by the shouts of all the other ratfolk volunteers. Dhalthar let them squeal for a few minutes, then waved them to silence.
"Unfortunately, my powerful sorcery will be required to effect entry into the palace. I must be present."
"In that case, I'd be happy to put my life at your disposal to save yours," chimed in Izak Grottle, obviously determined to share the victory.
"And me," Heskit One-Eyed chimed in.
"And me," shouted the other assembled ratfolk, except for Tell-Tongue.
"Nope! Nope! I appreciate your concern, brothers, but your leadership will be needed in other, no less critical parts of the battle."
It was evident that Dhalthar was not willing to share his glorious triumph with anyone. Shrieks of disappointment went through the assembly.
"Here I have a map of the routes, and a plan of attack for each one of you, with precise instructions. That is, for all of you, except for Telltale Tongue. I will speak with Tell-Tongue in private."
Telltale Tongue felt her heart race, and she could barely stop herself from excreting the musk of fear. Had the Black Magician discovered his conspiracy with the clan representatives? Was he about to carry out a terrible revenge? Did Tell-Tongue have any way of avoiding this meeting?
He turned desperate eyes on the three conspirators, and saw that they were glaring at him with malevolent glares. If looks could kill, Telltongue knew those three would have sent him to the coffin. They feared that he would betray them to save his own skin, and of course they were right.
As the chiefs advanced to receive final instructions, Tell-Tongue pleaded with the Great Rat God to spare his life.