Chapter 3

The corridor was almost deserted when they emerged from the old nursery. Only a lone guard patrolled the empty hallway. She nodded, but didn't stop. They strolled down the corridor, companionably holding hands.

"Now start at the beginning," Gregor ordered. "What are you and Mareth arguing about?"

"We do not argue."

Not argue? "That was just a friendly how-ya-doing then?"

"It was not friendly," Luxa said. "One has to speak in order to argue, friends or not."

"Mareth doesn't even speak to you?" This surprised Gregor. "I've always thought of Mareth as a friendly guy."

"He is friendly to everyone but me. He is not in favor of the rat."

Now Gregor better understood. "Of the rat, or anybody connected to it, I'd wager."

Luxa huffed a breath. "Sometimes I think Ripred only says things to rile Mareth's anger."

"Yeah, that's Ripred," Gregor said. "Making friends and influencing people was never one of his strong suits. He's too much of a loner."

"He may be a loner, but since he speaks for the entire rat race, he is very demanding."

"Let me guess; he won't accept anything but Regalia itself. Nothing but the best for the rats."

"You are right about that. He only complains that the river on our borders that I wish to give to the rats has too few fish. It is too near the Fount. He says humans will not share, and the rats have no bats."

Gregor laughed. "Rats eat too many bats. No wonder they won't have anything to do with the rats."

"Tell that to Ripred," Luxa said in despair. "He will threaten to rip your head off if you do not offer Regalia itself. But the humans live in Regalia. It has been so for centuries."

"Can't the rats have… I don't know… the dungeons?"

Luxa laughed a sound that was more a snort of disgust. "Most of the Regalians do not want rats so close."

"But why not?" Gregor said in genuine surprise. "They need to get along now. Can't they just… threaten the rats into behaving?"

"General rats, yes. Ripred? No. You are probably the only person alive who can pose a serious threat to him. Maybe he will listen to you."

But Gregor said, "Ripred has never listened to me."

Luxa looked at him with anguish in her eyes. "Then we are doomed of ever finding a common ground. You were our last hope."

"Vikus called me something like that, too. Does it mean that..? Um… What does it mean?"

They had reached the museum's corridor. There were more people now. Gregor and Luxa ignored them.

"It means that Ripred will never accept anything we offer. But where does that leave the other races? This is not just a question of humans and rats."

"Don't the other races like the rats?"

"The time of the last war is too recent. They are still bitter, no matter the race. I cannot find any compromise that is agreeable to the rats that does not also decimate my own people or some other race. I am at my wits end."

"I didn't think you were even on this reconciliation council," Gregor continued as he held aside the curtain separating the museum from the corridor. "Why is it up to you to come up with some kind of peaceful settlement?"

She passed under his arm and he let the curtain fall. "I am not on the council, but the rats refuse to deal with anyone but Regalia's queen."
"I bet Mareth doesn't like that one bit."

"He is most unhappy."
"Seems like Mareth is more than just unhappy."

"I cannot blame him. The rats will not deal with Mareth. But they will not release him from his obligations to the council, either. He is in limbo."

"Well, that's a bummer for Mareth," Gregor announced. "No wonder the guy is so unhappy."

"He has much to be unhappy about right now."

"What, there's more?"

Luxa bit her cheek in indecision. "I am not sure if I should tell you about it. It will upset you."

"Have I done something wrong?" He corrected himself immediately. "Worse than normal I mean?"

Luxa wilted before him. "Gregor, if only you had not written that letter!"

"What letter?" Then he gave a shake of his head to clear it. "I guess I've written a bunch of letters lately. So, which letter?" Then inspiration hit him. "Do you mean the one where I called Stellovet mean? Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have said that. But I didn't expect anybody to actually read those letters! Besides, she got me back. She told me to mind my own business. If that isn't-"

"That is not what I speak of."

He racked his brain to remember what else he might have written that was questionable. "What then?"

"What you said to Nerissa has been causing problems."

"What did I say to Nerissa?"

Luxa gaped. "You told her to kill Sandwich!"

Gregor blinked. "Well, yeah. He's just this delusional dead guy, you have to admit that. I never would have gone near the Bane if not for him and his stupid prophecies. I doubt I would have even gotten involved in the Underland at all if he'd kept his mouth shut… er I mean, his chisel to himself."

"Sh!" Luxa's gaze flickered to the curtain, but nobody ran through it. "That is an unpopular view. Keep it to yourself!"

"But it's the truth," Gregor said. "How many prophecies did the guy write? And how many of those have all you Underlanders at each other's throats? I'm telling you, Luxa, the guy just wanted to start one war after another. There's no reason to follow his words like they're some divine law."

"Sh!" she urged, whispering this time. "That kind of talk will get you arrested."

"They can't arrest the Warrior."

"They can and they will. Stellovet has been busy since moving to Regalia. Her honeyed words damages much more than Ripred's biting comments."

Gregor remembered how persuasive the seemingly nice words of the rat named Twirltongue had been. She had been the Bane's friend, but was really only out for herself. "Is Stellovet like Twirltongue?"

"Like who?"

"Never mind. What I mean is…. I don't know what I mean. What's Stellovet been doing?"

Luxa looked anguished again. "She is gathering forces. An army."

"An army? What is she, fourteen? She's too young to gather anything."

Luxa looked at him like he was a nitwit. "Is that so unbelievable?"

As unbelievable as an eleven year old being a Warrior.

"Oh. I see your point. So, what's this army for?" It seemed silly to invite a face off with the far superior Regalian army. Except… the Regalian army had been reducing its numbers since the war. An icy feeling slithered down his spine. "How many members has Perdita lost?"

"She has not lost them, Gregor," Luxa reminded. "She has been mustering them out."

He noticed she hadn't answered his question. "How many?"

"It is a condition of the rats."

She hadn't answered again. The feeling was getting stronger. "How many?"

Luxa wilted. "It is not Perdita's fault. She is only doing what is required. But Regalia's army is now at half its strength. And it is losing more members by the day."

"What? How can Stellovet-?"

"That is the point I make," Luxa said. "The time is perfect to stir up trouble. Stellovet knows it. She does not hesitate to use it. You must not say such things about prophecies."

She'd lost him again. "What do prophecies have to do with a smaller army?"

She seized his arm in frustration. "Do you not see? Many know of what you wrote to Nerissa. About Sandwich."

"I said a lot of things about Sandwich. What, exactly?"

"That we allow him to run our lives. That we must destroy the room of prophecies. That we should let him die." Her voice had dropped to a whisper by the end.

"But don't you think-?"

"It does not matter what I think!" Luxa hissed. "It matters what the people think. As their queen, I am duty bound to enforce them."

Gregor got his first inkling of what it truly meant to be a queen. He wasn't sure he liked it. "What do they want?"

She seemed calmer now that Gregor understood her plight. "They will continue venerating Sandwich and his words. As we have always done."

"So… what do they plan to do to me… or because of what I wrote in Nerissa's letter?" What had he written, precisely? He had written that letter so long ago, it was hard for Gregor to remember.

"Nothing yet. But do not shout that Regalia's warrior wants to murder its prophet."

Gregor had to smile at the drama behind it all. "I'd rather shout that I really like Regalia's queen."

Luxa looked peeved that she couldn't help being pleased about what he'd said. "I am not worried for me. But I am worried for you. Especially since you are now here."

Gregor took her hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm the Warrior. I haven't been beaten

yet."

"Now you sound like Ripred."

"You mean arrogant?"

Luxa laughed. "If you were not so outrageous, Overlander..."

"You'd what?"

She laughed again. "I'd throw you in a room with Ripred and lock the door."

"Only one room in Regalia has a lock on it."

"The Prophecy Room," they both said together. Gregor appreciated the irony of that.

He was still appreciating the irony twenty minutes later as he pawed through the stuff in the museum when it happened. It was the unnatural hush that caught his attention first.

"Uh… weren't there a lot of people out there before?" he asked Luxa.

Her head shot up from the iphone she was studying. The look on her face told him that she felt the same prickles he felt. "Yes."

Then the noise began. It was a dull sound at first. More like a far off roar. But it was coming closer.

"That sounds like it's outside in the corridor." Gregor reflexively reached for the sword at his side, momentarily forgetting he no longer wore a sword.

Luxa looked worried, which made Gregor worry. "It seems more concentrated than before."

The roar grew louder yet.

Someone was coming. A whole bunch of someones. This roar denoted murder, not surrender.

"I don't suppose there's a back way out of this room?" Gregor said. He cast his eyes around in case there was some weapon he had missed in his search of items of value. He stuffed the necklace in has hands into his pocket in order to grab a book. At least it was heavy. And had pointy corners.

The roar was definitely getting closer now.

"I'm going to take a look." Gregor crossed to the curtain and reached out his arm to draw it aside.

"Gregor, stop!" Luxa hissed. "Perhaps they do not realize we are in here."

Gregor withdrew his arm. "Good point."

He was stepping back when Ripred burst in.

"Geez!" Gregor dropped the book and put his hand up to still his thundering heart. "Make a noise to announce yourself next time."

"Shut up and listen!" Ripred ordered. His gaze swung to Luxa. "Have you briefed him?"

"By briefed, do you mean-?"

"Focus, you royal pain in the butt! I mean have you told him! Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Good. We have to-"

Nerissa darted through the curtain, dragging a sword, which she tried to thrust at Gregor. "They come for you, Warrior! You must defend yourself!"

Perplexed, Gregor reflexively grabbed the sword from her before the weight of the weapon could pull her to the floor. His fingers wrapped around the hilt just as he finally made out the chant the group heading towards the museum was saying.

SLAY THE BOY, NOT OUR PROPHET.

SLAY THE QUEEN, HIS RIGHTFUL PUPPET.

SLAY HER COUSIN, DRESSED IN RAGS.

NO MORE ROYALS, NO MORE NAGS.

SLAY THEM ALL. SLAY THEM!

The chant repeated. Gregor's gaze met Luxa's.

Fear turned to determination in a blink. Strengthening his stance, Gregor again faced the door. "Get behind me."

Nerissa's nearly translucent skin paled even more. She moaned, but moved a foot back.

"No time for that!" Ripred hissed. "Get them out!" And he turned to the door as well.

Gregor ignored him, crouching low to better fight, gripping his sword. It wasn't as balanced as Sandwich's sword, but he'd broken that in two.

Ripred whispered, "Can you hear them?"

"Yeah," Gregor said. "No more royals. No more crowd is more like it."

"No! Listen."

HIS HEAD! HIS HEAD!

TILL THE WARRIOR'S DEAD!

HIS HEAD! HIS HEAD!

TILL THE WARRIOR'S DEAD!

"It's me they want," Gregor realized. "Why? What did I do?"

"I just told you," Luxa softly said. "You want to kill their prophet."

He hadn't realized one letter would cause so much animosity. "But…"

"Seems more real, doesn't it?" Ripred said. "Remember, I told you we had to work with the prophecies, not kill off the prophet."

"But he's already dead!"

"His words live on, and he will keep living, as long as they want him to."

Nerissa said, "But his words were carried out by the Warrior..."

Ripred interrupted, "Try explaining that to this mob. I'm sure they'll listen."

"Stop being sarcastic," Gregor said. "What's your plan?"

Ripred actually rose up to rake Gregor with an appreciative glance. "You did learn something from all my talking, didn't you?"

Gregor glared at him. "Not now!"

"Well. what's your plan?" he shot back.

"It's me they want," Gregor reminded. "I'm the Warrior. So I'll give them a warrior."

"That's your plan?" Ripred caustically said. "You'll just go out there and offer yourself up for sacrifice?"

"No!" Luxa spoke before he could move. "I forbid it!"

Gregor brandished his sword. "I'm not one of your subjects," he reminded the queen. "I can do what I want."

"No!" Luxa exclaimed again, no longer being quiet as the chanting crowd drew closer. It was obvious they were heading right for the museum.

Gregor ignored Luxa for the first time in a long time. He looked at Ripred, and a warrior's bond formed with that look. "It's me they want. I'll distract them. Get them out." He nodded toward Luxa and Nerissa.

"That's suicide!" the rat scoffed. "Distraction my ass! You get behind me, boy, and do it fast! I'll take point, you-"

But Gregor wasn't listening. Deciding things for them all, he moved with a deadly fluid grace he hadn't felt for months. Leading with his sword, he parted the curtain and plunged through.