The White Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page B

slipped through the corroded bars of the gate. An owl screeched. Carn leaped in fright. It seemed the hazards of the swamp were endless. How he longed for Trillium and its self-absorbedTopsiders. Its cats and dogs, the maddening pigeons, the cars careening down the overcrowded streets—he would give anything to be faced with the enemy he knew.
    “Over here,” whispered a giggly voice from the other side of the tree. “Cat got your tongue?” It was Oleander. She bounced into view as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her shiny coat and pointed teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
    “Keep your voice down,” pleaded Carn. “Billycan could be anywhere!”
    “Don’t be silly. We watch him day and night. Our guards say he’s stomping around the manor right now, brooding over something or other. Now, first things first. Please tell me your name is not Corn. Such a ridiculous name, it can’t be real!”
    Carn’s cover was already blown, so what would it matter if he revealed his name? “I didn’t have much time to think about it. My real name is Carn.”
    “Well now, Carn, that’s much better!” she said brightly. “ ‘Corn’ is a little too backwoods, even for us.” She giggled again.
    Insulted, Carn felt his cheeks grow hot. “No one else seemed to question it.”
    “I’m only teasing. It was a fine choice for a name—really. I’m just happy to meet another rat like myself.”
    Carn crinkled his nose, peeved he had not disguised himself better. “How did you figure me out?”
    “It was easy!” she said excitedly. “First off, you talk to yourself—a lot. Once, when Stono and Thicket were off eating dinner, I spotted you sitting in the grass, grumbling to yourself about Nightshade, how you missed it so—the same city Billycan speaks of. He says it belongs to him, which I’ve doubted from the start. Other things gave you away, too, things the horde never would have noticed. You haven’teaten your rations in two days. Even ill, a member of the horde would have gobbled them up without a second thought. And you don’t walk like a swamp rat, all slack and droopy. You walk with purpose, like a soldier.”
    “I was a soldier,” admitted Carn. He looked at Oleander curiously. She seemed so smart. “Why aren’t you like the others? I thought all the swamp rats were a bit slow-minded—no offense, of course.”
    “None taken. For the most part we are exactly that—slow-minded.” Oleander sighed. “The horde has existed for over a hundred years. Our lineage has plenty of dreadful qualities, which I suppose eventually overwhelmed all the good ones—aggression, bad judgment, the need to fight, not to mention an utter lack of common sense.”
    “But you seem as smart as me.”
    “I’d say smarter!” she said with a smirk. “As it turns out, every so often one of us pops out right, just like you, or Montague and Cobweb. Where you’re from, I’m sure very few rats come out inferior; in my world it works the other way around.”
    “But who’s been teaching you? How did you learn to speak—well—like me?”
    “There’s a small group of us. The elders of our group pass on their knowledge to the next generation. The original members of our little faction learned from the humans who built the manor. Tar, one of our forefathers, used to hide in the parlor and listen to every lesson the humans taught their children. They were a smart group, several families of scientists all living together, raising their children while doing some kind of research. The scientists left this place lifetimes ago, but since then each new generation of our kind has taught the next. Those crazy snake worshipers who bought the manor years later were all bitten by their own snakes. They didn’t last too long!” She laughed.
    Carn looked perplexed. “Why do you pretend to be like the others? Maybe you and your group could help the rest of the horde.”
    Oleander’s cheery face turned dismal. “The ones who’ve tried