"Liar," Maroche said very plainly. Everyone turned to him. Enjolren gave him a look of confusion, and Marioh placed his hand on the rifle again.
Maroche, now knowing he had everyone's attention, continued. "Good evening, dear inspector; lovely evening, my dear… I know this man, my friends! His name's Inspector Lyvert. So don't believe a word he says, cause none of its true… only goes to show what little people can do!"
"And little people know," Maroche snickered, looking up at Lyvert's disgruntled face, "When little people fight, we may look easy pickings but we've got some bite! So never kick a dog because he's just a pup – we'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up! So… you better run for cover when the pup grows up!"
Ashitaire clapped his hands, having yet another drunken stupor. "Bravo, little Maroche, you're the top of the class!"
"So what are we going to do," Hitosa Prouvaire asked Enjolren directly, "with this snake in the grass?"
Enjolren thought, observing Lyvert carefully. "Tie this man and take him… to the tavern in there… the people will decide your… fate… Inspector Lyvert."
"Take this bastard now and shoot him!" Meenfeyrac demanded, picking up a rifle.
"Let us watch the devil dance," Norilly whispered vindictively.
"You'd have done the same, Inspector," Chatgles reminded Lyvert, "if we'd let you have your chance."
Lyvert glared at each of the vindictive rebels, then spat upon the ground. "Shoot me now or shoot me later; every schoolboy to his sport. Death to each and every traitor! I renounce your people's court!"
"Though we may not all survive here," Kantferre noted. "There are things that never die…"
"What's the difference?" Ashitaire scoffed. "Die a schoolboy, die a policeman, or die a spy?"
"Take this man!" Enjolren yelled again. "Bring him through! There is work we have to do!"
Kantferre, Meenfeyrac, and Norilly began to drag Lyvert off to the tavern. Lyvert cursed just about every member of every rebel's family before they were halfway there. At just about this time, a shot rang out in the night. Enjolren turned, thinking that the shot was unprovoked.
"There's a boy climbing the barricade!" Opaly exclaimed in shock. The boy, as it turned out, was Tamanine, who hobbled her way down.
"Good God! What are you doing?" Marioh asked incredulously. "'Manine, have you no fear? Have you seen my beloved? Why have you come back here?"
Tamanine smiled at Marioh, although she was in obvious pain. "Took the letter, like you said… I met her father, at the door. He said he would give it - …"
Tamanine collapsed into Marioh's arms. Marioh was forced to sit down. "Don't think… I can stand… anymore…"
"Tamanine, what's wrong?" Marioh asked quickly, as if she needed immediate attention. "I feel… there's something wet upon your hair…"
Marioh looked upon his hands. Crimson blood spilled down his arm and across his palm in such a way that Enjolren staggered backward in sickening alarm.
"Tamanine!" Marioh cried. "You need some help! Oh my God, it's everywhere…!"
A/N: Oh yes, this is it. Next chapter is one of the most beautiful songs ever written… on another note, I can't believe how many reviews I've gotten… I thank all those people reading this for that. My second most reviewed story only has 13 reviews! Wow, this is a bit different…
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shaman King or Les Mis.