Chapter 10
The sky was still gray, the morning a colorless smudge of light over the mountains, when Rat slipped out of the stable. He paused at the flap covering the door to the yard and glanced back to Link, lying in his bed. Rat watched him for a moment, but the swordsman didn't stir, and Rat let the flap fall.
He ran lightly across the stable yard and down the road, retracing his journey from yesterday. His thick, green doublet trapped Rat's body heat, and he had a pair of fur-lined gloves tucked into his belt. The doublet was too large, but when Link handed it to him last night, he said he hadn't found snow clothes for children in his travels.
As Wetland Stable vanished behind him, Rat slowed to a walk. In the not-so-distant west, Hyrule Castle floated in the sky. Wisps of crimson malice curled beneath the island. Rat had stared at the castle on the road all day yesterday, but it still felt unreal. A battle so big, it couldn't possibly be won by the short, blonde man snoring softly in the inn.
Link's crazy. Yet he had done it before.
Rat veered off the road into the woods. Link had help last time: those four giant machines, powered by the ghosts of ancient warriors. He hadn't fought Ganon alone.
He scrambled down a slope to the rocky bank of the river and found the large, flat stone he'd selected yesterday. Gripping the edge, he pulled it up, revealing a cavity of pebbles and small stones. But the cavity was empty.
Rat's heart skipped. No… He flipped the stone onto its back and felt around the cavity.
"Looking for this?"
He jumped to his feet and spun around.
Link stood on the riverbank, his hood pulled over his head. In his hand, he held Rat's Zora knife.
The boy's stomach turned to ice.
A cruel smile spread across the hero's face. "Why do you look so guilty?" He laughed, then disappeared behind a puff of gray powder.
Talismans fluttered to the ground, and a man stepped from the cloud. Karta wore a traveler's hood, pulled low over his forehead. His blue eyes glinted under his hood, and a scar trailed between his eyes and up into his curly, white hair. A black cloth mask covered his nose and mouth, embroidered with the symbol of the Yiga Clan, and he wore a Yiga breastplate under his short cloak. Wicked iron hooks studded his gauntlets.
He twirled the knife through his gloved fingers, then slid a new black sheath over the blade. "I taught you better than this. When you steal a knife, grab the sheath. Respect your weapons."
Rat ached to snatch the knife back, but he wouldn't play Karta's games. Not anymore. He stood tall, heart beating fast. "What are you wearing?"
"You don't recognize this?" Karta spread his arms. "Of course, you don't. It's been buried for centuries. I found it in the vaults, deep under the hideout. This is our original uniform after we broke from the Sheikah Clan. These are our roots."
"Does Kohga know?"
A smile spread beneath Karta's mask. "Not 'Master Kohga?'" He walked a slow circle around Rat, and the hair stood up on the boy's neck.
"I'm impressed," Karta said. "In less than a week, you've made more progress than the entire clan in four years. We should have tried a child sooner." The man's eyes swept over Rat's doublet and gloves. "Link is taking you to Hebra. The abandoned mine?"
"You should know. Kohga invited him there."
"Kohga is a fool."
Rat's eyes widened. He braced himself, waiting for Master Kohga to pop out in a whirl of talismans and pound Karta into the earth. But the morning was quiet. The river ran on. A bluebird snatched a moth from the sky.
"Kohga has forsaken the Way of Silence," Karta said. "The first rule of the assassin is to be a shadow. To move unseen, to be patient, and wait for just the right moment to strike." He flung his hand out. A needle-like blade flew from his fingertips and pierced the bluebird. It tumbled from the sky, a flutter of confused feathers, and dropped with a soft splash in the river. A tiny cloud of blood trailed behind its body as it floated downstream.
"Don't be afraid." With the flat of the knife, Karta turned Rat's face back to him. "I saw something in you all those years ago. You've grown sharp, like your father. He was the only man who ever beat me. We might get along, you and I."
A shiver crawled down Rat's spine. His legs weakened, but he locked his knees. "What does that mean? You want me to be your squire?"
"Is that what Link promised you?"
"No." Rat glared into the gravel. "He said he likes working alone."
Karta tapped his chin with the knife, thinking. Then he pulled a small map from a black leather pouch on his belt and unfolded a drawing of the Hebra mountains. He pointed to a spot alongside the great chasm that separated Hebra from the plains. "There is an abandoned village here. Lure the hero to this spot. Keep him distracted."
Rat's heart flipped. He stared at the map, and couldn't answer.
"You know what I like about you?" Karta said. "Most of the recruits chase Kohga's tail, drunk on revolution and glory. They've forgotten our purpose. But you understand. You blew yourself up to kill Link. You truly hate him."
Rat swallowed. His pulse raced in his ears. "But Link doesn't trust me." His voice sounded small.
"If you succeed," Karta said, "I will tell you where your mother is."
The boy's mouth fell open. "My… what? But she was…"
Never found.
Rat remembered kneeling on the hideout floor, clutching her muddy, rain-warped pack in his hands. This is all we found, the scouts said to Master Kohga. In a crevice on the edge of the mesa. He had been seven years old.
"Is she alive?" Rat whispered.
The man extended the Zora knife.
Rat's hand shot out. He snatched the knife and slid it into the fold of his doublet.
Karta smiled, eyes narrowing above his mask. Then he struck his palm and vanished in smoke.
Rat froze on the riverbank, breathing shallow and fast. His legs trembled, ready to collapse. His jaw quivered.
Mother?
A fish jumped in the river and Rat jolted at the splash. He spun in the gravel and scrambled up the hill, pulling himself up with tufts of grass, and dashed through the trees. Breaking out onto the road, he glanced back and tripped over a rock. He sprawled, grazing the heels of his hands.
A whimper bubbled from his chest. His fingers curled, gathering fistfuls of dirt. Tears dripped onto the backs of his hands. He pushed himself to his feet.
Alive.
He broke into a fresh run, and as he climbed the hill, the sunrise broke through the branches of the trees, warm and golden. The first garbled notes of a song tumbled from his lips. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth, grinning through his fingers.
"Mama," he whispered.
His cheeks flushed. He was twelve now—too old to call her that. But when he tumbled into her arms, she wouldn't care what he called her. She would squeeze him. He could clutch her, pressing his ear to the sound of her heartbeat. She would nuzzle into his messy hair and kiss his head. In her arms, he would be safe.
I don't have to be an assassin. Or a squire. I don't have to fight anymore. He sniffed, lifted his goggles, and rubbed his wrist over his eyes.
As he entered the stable yard, he slowed to a limp. His grazed palms stung, and a hole flapped in his new pants over his left knee. What would Link say?
Rat froze mid-step, staring at the curtain drawn across the stable doorway. Link. His empty stomach rolled with nausea. I can't.
You can, a dark voice whispered.
Rat drew in a slow breath and made for the well. The sky blushed pink as he hauled up a bucket of water and washed the grit from his skinned palms. He could almost feel his mother's cool hands, the soft touch of the rag as she dabbed blood from his palms in another time, another place.
All better. She smiled and pinched his cheek. Now. You're a smart boy, all grown up, too. Take a breath. Think.
Rat splashed cold water on his face. Standing at the well, he felt Karta's eyes like a brand between his shoulder blades, watching from the shadows. Where was he? Behind that log? In the branches of that tree? Was he the tree?
He splashed his face one last time and pushed the bucket into the well. It hit the water with a distant splash.
Karta might be lying.
A raw ache pierced his heart. He scratched his cheek, trying to scrape off the memory of Karta's blade—the knife that now hung against Rat's stomach. But what if Karta was telling the truth? Rat groaned. He could think himself into circles. He yanked on the snow gloves, hiding his hands, and returned to the inn.
When he ducked back through the flap, Link was sitting on the floor, stretching, nose touching his straight legs. He lifted his face. Glanced at the hole in Rat's pants.
Rat's pulse spiked. His raw eyes burned; his face felt swollen from tears. But the swordsman bent, grabbed the soles of his calloused feet, and said nothing.
Glaring at the floor, Rat marched to his bed and shoved his few possessions into his rucksack. He grabbed his sword and settled his bow across his chest. "It's dawn."
Link stood. He stretched to one side, then the other, and locked his fingers, pressing his palms toward the ceiling. Rat tapped his toe and his eyes darted to the roof.
The Yiga are coming to kill you. They're here. Right now.
Link yawned. He rubbed his face, then began methodically combing his hair.
Some of the tension eased from Rat's chest. Link had defeated Ganon. Now he was going to do it again. To Link, an assassin on the roof was an annoying fly. Rat exhaled quietly and handed the swordsman his snow boots.
Link dressed, donning a thick Rito doublet and pants stuffed with down. While he fixed a feather headdress above his ear, Rat ordered two bowls of cold oats from the sleepy attendant. They ate in silence, the only two travelers at the tables, while the other guests snored in their beds.
The oats were tasteless in Rat's mouth. I could tell him. He dared a quick glance at the swordsman, and their eyes met. Rat whipped his gaze back down into his bowl. He tilted it, hiding his face as he drank the last of the milk. He might help.
Pushing aside his empty bowl, Link stood. Rat jumped up, almost knocking over his chair. They stepped out into the stable yard, and under the pink sky, Link unhooked his pad. He turned the glowing screen toward Rat.
The boy's finger hovered over the map, wavering between Rito Village and Snowfield Stable. A journey away from each other.
Be strong, his mother whispered.
"That one." Rat pointed to the dot for Snowfield Stable.
Link extended his left arm, and Rat grabbed his wrist. The swordsman touched the dot, and they dissolved into blue light.
