Location: The Royal Palace, Rosebush City
Sol: 40
On the day that Josh was due to depart for Minsk, to take up his new post as royal Commissioner, an entire procession was assembled, to escort him on his journey. The Rats had no trains or cars and certainly no aircraft of any kind for travelling. The most sophisticated means of transport they had were some posh, giant-rabbit-driven carriages, reserved only for the elite class.
Josh, as a court official, would be travelling in style in his own private carriage, the size of a small train car, driven by four strong giant rabbits, with Elizabeth, her children, Fievel and Mr Ages. Justin, Brutus and a garrison of ten of their finest warrior Rats would be accompanying them for protection, riding alongside on their customary military chariots. A smaller carriage carried a small staff of servants, supplies and their baggage.
Josh had tried to obtain permission for Tanya to accompany them, to be with Fievel, but royal protocol strictly forbid anyone of low birth, including mouse servants, to ride in a royal carriage. Although Fievel was under his guardianship now, Tanya wasn't, and her sibling relation to Fievel offered no exception. Although greatly disappointed, at least she was content, knowing her brother was in good hands.
Before departing, Josh had taken her aside for a private talk. He passed her the makeshift hand radio he'd cobbled together up on the Lonely Mountain – the same one he'd later used to bypass the REMO's damaged guidance system to save Martin's life during their space salvage mission.
"Tanya, I need you to be my eyes and ears around here while I'm away. We think there might be an enemy lurking in our midst, who's likely to try and strike again in my absence. Report to me anything suspicious you see or hear, but make sure nobody else knows about it, least of all Jenner. You understand?"
Ever since Josh had informed them of his suspicions that there might be a traitor operating among them, Justin and Brutus had discreetly done a thorough background investigation on everybody, including all court officials and the entire royal staff, but had been unable to come up with a suspect. Whoever had been working with Castor and his Exiles had covered his tracks far too well.
Josh had had a gut instinct that Jenner might have something to do with this and had argued with Nicodemus to have him brought in for questioning. Unfortunately, that was impossible, mostly due to lack of evidence. Neither Jenner's foul attitude, nor his hatred of Josh made him a traitor in the eyes of the Council and would only risk damaging Josh's delicate and hard-earned good standing with the Rats. But Josh wasn't about to take any chances and Tanya was the only one he could trust to keep her eyes open.
Tanya took the radio, handling it very gingerly, weary of breaking it. Giving her a quick crash course on how to operate it until he was satisfied she knew how to use it, Josh was ready to leave, but Tanya called him back. She hugged him tight.
"Good luck, Josh, and please look after my brother. Promise me nothing will happen to Fievel." Josh patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, I promise I won't let the little tyke out of my sight for a moment."
Tanya giggled at Josh calling her baby brother a little tyke. Like his sister, Fievel had quickly grown real close to Josh, even more so when he'd become his guardian. But for him to return to their old birthplace, the place where both their parents had died during the Great Mouse Revolution, made Tanya feel like they were tempting fate, but decided to keep it to herself. After all, what had she to fear when the kingdom's most renowned bandit-slayer was on the job? She was delighted when Josh knelt down, letting her give him a kiss on the cheek. Bidding her goodbye, he hurried out to join the other members of his expedition to Minsk.
The guards stood at attention as Nicodemus approached Josh, carrying a velvet cushion. On it, in a golden cylinder, was an official scroll – Josh's warrant as royal Commissioner to the province, which he was to present to the governor of Minsk upon his arrival.
"Commissioner Anderson, I assign you the task of suppressing the uprise that threatens the peaceful community of the city of Minsk and restoring law and order to the province," said Nicodemus, making an official announcement, "Upon your arrival, you will meet with Governor Warren T Rat, who will be your liaison with the people. With my royal warrant, you shall have his full cooperation and assistance. Good luck and may the Great Owl watch over you!" Josh bowed his head.
"I'm honoured with this mission, Your Majesty. I won't fail you."
Nicodemus smiled warmly at his Quaestor, his full trust in Josh apparent. Behind him, Princess Isabella was beaming, as she waved at Josh, wishing him luck. Neither of them noticed Jenner standing a little way away, whispering something into Sullivan's ear. Had Nicodemus noticed the sinister look on his evil nephew's face, he might have realised Josh's concerns regarding Jenner's loyalty were in fact well justified.
Josh boarded his carriage with Elizabeth, the children and Ages, and Justin gave the word to depart. The procession departed Rosebush City, heading east, towards Minsk, a three-day journey through the desert. Back at the palace, Jenner and Sullivan, watched the procession leave before retreating to a secluded spot, away from any prying eyes, for a private talk.
"At last, he's gone!" Jenner was saying, "The time is finally ripe. Is everything ready, as I ordered?"
"This is madness, Jenner!" protested Sullivan, feeling nauseous with fear and anticipation at his master's new plan, "The Council will see through this scam instantly. They'll have both our heads for high treason!"
"Not if I have his head first...for the murder of the King!" said Jenner, rubbing his hands triumphantly, "I should have done this from the start – and this way, we kill two birds with one stone!"
Following his previous two failures to gain the upper hand over Josh and tired of that accursed human beating him at every turn, Jenner had finally come to the conclusion that the only way to eliminate this hindrance that stood between him and power was to murder his Uncle – and use the death of Nicodemus as a means of ruining Josh once and for all. If that insufferable human thought he could evade him forever, then he was in for a big surprise.
"I don't get it; why not just kill them both?" asked Sullivan, "Why push our luck by trying to frame the human for it?" Jenner rolled his eyes incredulously. Sometimes, he really hated Sullivan's stupidity.
"Because, you imbecile, I'm not giving up on the Stone! Even the throne is cheese scraps compared to that! If I didn't know any better, I'd say the old fool isn't sending the human all the way to Minsk just to stomp out some rebels! And if that third piece of the Stone is really there somewhere, then why miss the opportunity? We'll let the human find it for us and then we dispose of him once he's delivered the goods!"
"And what about the Brisby family and the Mousekewitz boy?" asked Sullivan, "Or Justin and Brutus?"
"I'll have them all dealt with good and proper once the human is out of the way," grinned Jenner, "Just as I will anyone else who'll dare stand in my way..."
Jenner's bloodthirsty resolve made Sullivan's insides twist up. Although he shared his master's beliefs of Rat supremacy, this was going too far for his liking. Jenner was about to commit the ultimate crime any Rat could possibly do: murder the King, and his own uncle nonetheless, to seize the throne and the Stone with it. No doubt he'd then proceed to exploit its secrets to further his dark ambitions for yet more power, until he was supreme master of this entire planet and any and all opposition was brutally suppressed. The thought alone horrified Sullivan.
Jenner, who seemed to notice his squeamish aid's reluctance, fixed Sullivan with a deadly gaze, "Remember, my slippery friend, you're already in this up to your neck. One slip of the tongue and you'll find yourself and whoever you've spoken to shackled to a dungeon wall with your entrails flayed open. Do I make myself clear?" Trembling, Sullivan nodded. Satisfied, Jenner took out the evidence he had prepared to frame Josh with: the astronaut's dog-tags, taken from Teresa Brisby by Castor and given to Sullivan, which Jenner had secretly kept all this time, waiting for the right moment.
Should Nicodemus be murdered, he knew, a manhunt would start immediately to find the killer and have him executed for treason. And Jenner was determined to have Josh Anderson's head mounted on his trophy wall before the winter started...
The procession to Minsk made good time during their first day on the road. The interior of the carriage was conveniently spacious, set up like an elaborate mobile lounge on wheels, with carved wooden panelling, mahogany seats, a writing desk and even a dining table, complete with expensive china and silk curtains. Elizabeth's children were ecstatic about travelling like real aristocrats for the first time in their lives and couldn't resist playing around inside the carriage, jumping all over the seats, much to Mr Ages' annoyance, or helping themselves to the delicious snacks and drinks provided in the carriage's heavily stocked snack-box.
After riding all day, at sundown, they stopped to make camp. While Justin's troopers built campfires and set up a defensive perimeter for the night, Josh climbed to the top of a nearby hill, to get a better view of his surroundings. As part of this trip, he'd made sure to bring with him his deceased crew's field kits from the REMO, hoping to do some scientific surveying. Once again, he was an astronaut, doing scientific work on the surface of a new planet.
Out here, far away from the vestige of the Rats' civilization, Nimh-Beta was just a barren, inhospitable wasteland. Even with the addition of a breathable atmosphere, the landscape had hardly changed over the two millennia that had transpired since the planet had been terraformed.
As far out as the eye could see, there was nothing but sand, blackish-red rocks, smoothened over millions of years of raging sandstorms, and old meteorite craters. The desert floor, although barren, was covered in permafrost, which would soon freeze solid from the dropping temperatures of the approaching night. In the distance, a few dust devils could be seen moving across the desert terrain.
Opening up Dr Schultz's astrobiology kit, Josh collected several test-tubes of soil samples and did a chemical analysis. There were only a few traces of carbohydrates; all the nitrogen was locked into the nitrates that made up much of the Nimh-Beta soil. Nothing could grow here, not even the most rugged of terrestrial shrubs or weeds. So how had his crew managed to terraform this planet in the first place? Unless he could figure out how, there was no way of creating more habitable land out of this crummy desert, to accommodate the rapidly growing Rat population.
Setting up his weather-meter kit, he took a weather reading. Wind conditions were mild, but the temperature had been steadily dropping these past few days. The planet's solar winter was approaching, with the Nimh sister planets planet nearing the aphelion of their orbit. Within another week or so, he figured, the entire surface would freeze over, making venturing outside almost impossible. That was the time of year when all the Rats receded to the safety of their underground cities to wait out the cold.
Nicodemus had warned Josh to make their visit to Minsk as brief as possible, so that they could make it back to Rosebush City for the winter. Throughout the empire, all the Rats were stockpiling food and firewood, in preparation for when winter hit.
Returning to camp, he joined Elizabeth and the others for dinner around their campfire. The servants had prepared them an exquisite dinner, making it look like a luxurious camping trip. That night, they settled down to sleep on the carriage's pull-down beds, with Justin's guards restlessly patrolling outside for bandits.
The procession was ready to resume their journey at first light. The second day also passed uneventfully; but then, on the third day, just as they were approaching Minsk, trouble finally found them. The morning had started with some annoying dust devils kicking up; soon, they'd escalated into a violent sandstorm, a common phenomenon out here in the desert - and a most deadly one, if caught in it.
With visibility reduced to zero and with sand-infested winds blowing at over a hundred miles an hour, sandblasting everything in their path, the procession was soon travelling blind and lost. Several of Justin's soldiers had gotten separated from the group and were lost in the storm; the servants' carriage was also lost with all hands when it accidentally drove over the edge of a crevice.
Inside the carriage, Elizabeth was trying to reassure her frightened children. The roaring sounds of the raging storm outside had scared poor Cynthia half to death, who lay curled up in her mother's arms, sobbing.
"It's all right dear," she whispered in her ear, "Everything will be fine." Beside her, Fievel was trying to comfort Teresa.
"Don't be afraid," he told her, despite his own fear, "Josh will get us out of this!"
At that moment, the carriage jerked violently as it drove over a rock. That caused the centre trace to snap and break free of its bracket. The rabbits, already driven berserk by the wind and sand, broke free of their harnesses and disappeared into the storm, also taking the driver, who had become tangled in the reigns, with them. The carriage rolled on a short distance further and finally stopped dead, leaving its passengers stranded.
The reminder of the group huddled inside the now immobilised carriage, their only refuge, trying to figure out what to do. With no sense of direction and left with no further means of transport, they were in trouble. There was no point simply staying put and waiting out the storm. These sandstorms, Josh knew from his astronaut training, could cover hundreds of miles and last for days on end. By the time it dissipated, they would have run out of food and starved. But Josh wasn't about to just sit there and hope for the best.
While Elizabeth continued trying to comfort the children, Justin and Mr Ages sat by candlelight over at the writing desk, watching Josh typing away at Wilson's nav computer, with uplinks to all the imaging satellites, which he'd brought along for just such an emergency.
The screen zoomed in on a large cloud of sand and dust over 500 miles across, moving in from the south. A small red dot marked their position close to the edge of the storm. The satellite readouts showed winds of nearly 300 miles an hour closing in on them as they moved deeper in the storm. At this rate, the carriage would soon be lifted off the ground like a discarded cardboard box and smashed to pieces and them with it. The wind alone could sandblast the skin clean off a person's body, and meanwhile they were not going anywhere. They had to find a way out of this and fast.
"Staying put is suicide," said Josh, keeping his voice down, as not to alarm Elizabeth and the children, "We need to get moving before we're too deep into the storm. If we trek north-northeast, by my calculations, we should be able to go around it, until we're in the clear."
"But how will we know which way to go?" asked Justin, "We can't see the sky for a visual reference..."
"How about using a compass?" suggested Josh. Justin and Ages both gave him a blank stare.
"A what?"
The Rats didn't have any navigational instruments of any kind; they simply relied on the position of the suns and the stars to find their way. Unfortunately, in a blinding sandstorm, dead-reckoning was no good. But a compass, which relied on the planet's magnetic field, would make all the difference in the world. So, they had to make one.
Grabbing a large goblet from the carriage's drinks cupboard, Josh filled it with water and set it on the table. Rampaging through Dr Boniface's medical kit, he took out a surgical needle. Rubbing it on his forearm to build up a static charge, he placed it on a small strip of plastic floating in the goblet. They all watched in amazement as the needle began to move, aligning itself with north. Josh grinned. It was working!
Comparing the heading on his new compass against the satellite imagery on the computer, Josh pointed out the right-hand windows of the carriage, "That's the way out, chaps!"
"Fine, and how to you expect us to get there?" grumbled a drenched-from-head-to-toe-in-sand Brutus, as he entered the carriage, rubbing sand out of his eyes. He'd been trying to signal the rest of his soldiers, who'd gotten separated in the storm with a flaming torch, but only managing to locate about half of them, all of which had lost their chariots, "We'd all be separated and lost before we even get ten paces..."
"Simple: we pull the carriage," said Josh, "We'll take turns in groups of four to pull the carriage along with everyone else riding in it. Tell your soldiers to get in here and start off-loading the furniture and everything else we can spare. We have to lighten this thing as much as possible."
Brutus was indignant at the outrageous idea of dignified Rat soldiers pulling a carriage along like common slaves, much less vandalising royal property, but with their lives at stake with every passing minute, he swallowed his pride and ordered the remaining soldiers to get to work.
The carriage's interior was stripped of all its furnishings and luxury items, lightening it enough for four of the burliest Rats in Justin's garrison, including Brutus, to pull it along, taking up the positions previously occupied by the rabbits. The curtains from the carriage's windows were torn down and made into makeshift balaclavas to protect their eyes from the blinding sand.
Following Josh's compass, they diverted northeast, moving impossibly slow. Every two hours, the Rats would change shifts and another quartet would pull the carriage along, while the others rested inside. They travelled for hours, but seeing no sign of the storm clearing around them.
Josh took his turn with Justin and two other thoroughly exhausted Rats. By now, their strength had almost completely given out. Then, suddenly, Justin noticed the air was clearing up ahead; they could see daylight again and the sand was slowly settling. They had reached the edge of the storm!
Giving Josh the thumbs-up, they continued pulling. In spite of their exhaustion, the sight of the dissipating storm had completely renewed their hopes. At last, the winds died down completely and the empty desert terrain, covered by a clear pinkish-cyan sky, stretched out to the horizon before them. They had lost eight Rats, but the rest of the group were alive and well, thanks to Josh's quick thinking.
Looking behind him, Josh watched the gigantic storm slowly moving away towards the south. They were in the clear. The children and Elizabeth disembarked from the stricken carriage and run up to embrace him, cheering and singing their praises. Once again, Josh had gotten them out of a tight scrape safe and sound. Elizabeth grabbed him into a passionate kiss.
"Whatever would I do without you?"
Around them, the Rats were cheering as well and, in some cases, making kissing faces at Josh and Elizabeth. Brutus noticed them and frowned.
"What are you lot gawping at, like a bunch of immature young Rats?" he barked, "You're still on active duty! Come on, back to your posts!" Being a somewhat bullying Sergeant, Brutus always knew how to keep troopers in line out on the field. After all, they still had a long way to go and no time for enjoying childish romances.
After a brief rest, it was decided that there was no point carrying on by carriage and that they would make up better for lost time on foot. According to Justin, Minsk was now within walking distance, on the other side of a rocky ridge in the distance. So, grabbing whatever useful they could salvage, they set off.
They trekked for the rest of the day through the desert and finally reached Minsk by dusk. Like Rosebush City, Minsk was another subterranean city, built inside a honeycombed sandstone rock formation that resembled a giant hump. One of the distinct geological features of Nimh-Beta were its many underground caverns, formed by glaciers from geothermal columns of water forcing their way up through the crust and then melted when the planet had warmed up after being terraformed. These immense networks of caves, well insulated from the cold above ground, were the perfect place for the Rats and Mice of Nimh-Beta to build their civilizations.
Unlike Rosebush City, which was situated in a green region, Minsk was in the middle of nowhere. Around the rock that housed the city, Josh could see many long-dead plantations, which had once been farms, now destroyed from lack of water. Four years ago, the Mice of Minsk, Josh had been told by Nicodemus, had been struck by a terrible water crisis, when the city's well had dried up, destroying all the local crops and triggering a famine. The former royal family had exhausted every effort to resolve the crisis, but all in vain. Eventually, the starving and thirsty Mice of Minsk had revolted.
Following a revolution of bloodshed and the subsequent abdication of the royal family, the Rats had moved in to bring order out of the chaos, turning Minsk into another province for the Empire. From a prosperous kingdom, Minsk was now a fractured community, overrun with suspicion and hatred. Part of its new function was that of a penal colony for Mice who refused to swear allegiance to the Rats, and who were sent here to work for the Governor in the mines.
Arriving at the main entrance to the city – the mouth of a cavern leading deep into the rock, sealed off by a solid wooden gate, they met two Rat guards in uniform standing at attention, staring suspiciously at the sight of them. Josh couldn't blame them; rather than arriving in style like every royal envoy, Josh and his party looked more like a band of dirty and tired refugees, following their hardships out in the desert. Justin took charge and spoke to the guard in charge.
"Captain Justin Wilson of the Royal Garrison of Rosebush City. I'm bringing in the new Commissioner to King Nicodemus. Open the gates!"
For a moment, the guard stared wide-eyed at Josh; although word of this mysterious human from the stars, the King's new trustee, had spread throughout the entire kingdom these past few weeks, many Rats still found it initially shocking, standing in the presence of a human – the epitome of all evil, according to their ancient holy scriptures. But, noticing Justin's stern gaze at his rudely staring at a high-ranking official, he got the message.
"Ah...yes, sir, right away." Pulling an awkward-looking horn from his belt, he blew three loud honks, which Josh figured was a signal of sorts. A slot opened in the gate, revealing the face of another guard inside.
"Open the gates for the Commissioner of Minsk!"
There was the sound of a heavy dead-bolt being drawn and then the gates slid open. The tunnel inside was lined with flaming torches, with armed guards standing at attention along the walls. Josh's party was marched along the tunnel and into the city of Minsk. Unlike the spacious interior of Rosebush City, Minsk was a network of tunnels zigzagging in many directions, like a rabbit's warren, interconnecting several grottos inside the rock. Josh didn't fail to notice that there were many Rat guards patrolling all the streets, keeping a close eye on the Mice going about their business. Security sure was tight around here.
Fievel was staring at the familiar surroundings of his former birthplace, feeling rather uneasy. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he and his family had been fleeing for their lives, pursued by their own former neighbours. With the famine raging, the royal family, as well as all wealthy landowners, like the Mousekewitzes, were targeted, being driven out of their houses in the dead of night, lynched and then executed or imprisoned.
The Mousekewitz children had managed to make it out of the city in one piece, but their parents hadn't been so lucky. Bernard Mousekewitz, trying to help his pregnant wife Emily along, had fallen behind and both were seemingly killed by the mob. Tanya had barely managed to get her little brother to safety. Memories of that fateful night which had changed his and Tanya's lives forever resurfaced, making him shudder. Josh placed a comforting arm around him.
Elizabeth, the children and Mr Ages were shown to their hotel, where accommodations usually reserved for visiting royalty had been prepared for their arrival. Josh, Justin and Brutus were escorted to the governor's dwelling, where their host awaited them.
Governor Warren T Rat's residence was a real palace in comparison to the run-down, cramped mouse dwellings scattered throughout the city. This neighbourhood, completely off-limits to Mice, was reserved for wealthy Rat officials only. The city's Captain of the Guards, a bull of a Rat called Jake, who was also the Governor's right hand man, led them into the aristocratic parlour.
Warren T was an obese, burly Rat with a nose like a pug and a sly smile that made Josh's skin crawl. The Governor of Minsk sat in a posh armchair in his study, watching his assistant and personal accountant Digit, a bolding, scrawny Rat seated at a nearby desk, counting large sums of gold coins and recording the figures in a ledger. He stood up to greet the newcomers.
"Ah, the new Commissioner has arrived at last!" he greeted Josh, bowing his head with a wide smile of welcome, "Such an honour this is to grace me with your presence, Commissioner. Welcome to Minsk. Please make yourselves at home!" He turned to his assistant, "That will be all for now, Digit. Please leave us."
"Yes, sir, we've collected 8,700 gold pieces and 1,300 in silver from the taxpayers," the bold-headed Rat said absent-mindedly, lost in his own work, "And we've got another 17 overdue with their water taxes, slated to be evicted..."
"I said that's enough, Digit!" barked Warren T, angry at his assistant's blunder, "Now, kindly leave the room!" Realising he was not wanted here at this very moment and knowing his master's zero's tolerance for mistakes, he hurryingly picked up the ledgers and bags of tax money and hurried out. Warren T turned back to his guests.
"My apologies, Commissioner, but my assistant is a little bit overworked lately..." But Josh, who had overheard what Digit had just said, was suddenly struck with suspicion.
"What was he talking about, about overdue taxpayers being evicted? What's all this about, putting taxes on water...?" Back on Earth, even with natural resources dwindling, drinking water was a commodity to which everybody was entitled to, free of charge, as was the air they breathed.
"Forgive me, Commissioner, but I believe you haven't been fully informed of the situation here," said Warren T Rat, "Minsk has fallen on hard times, I'm afraid. The city's well is completely dried up. We've got a rationing scheme going on, and not everyone is in support of it, I'm afraid. Drastic times call for drastic measures." Josh however wasn't buying this.
"But taxing the people for a drink of water?"
"An unfortunate, but necessary measure," said Warren T, "Their tax money is what pays to have our water imported from other provinces, until we can provide for ourselves again. I've got the best miners working day and night, trying to solve the problem. And Warren T Rat's word is his word of honour!"
However, Josh still had a very bad feeling about Governor Warren T Rat. Something was awfully off about this fellow. Could he be hiding something? Maybe he ought to inspect the well himself... But first, he had another more pressing matter to discuss.
"Can you tell me anything about the Mousekewitz family?" He watched as Warren T Rat fixed him with an uneasy gaze. Whatever the reason was, it definitely was a topic he didn't like discussing with third parties.
"The Mousekewitzes were a respectful and prosperous family in these parts," he finally said, lowering his head in, what appeared to be, sorrow, "Such a tragedy that they were killed by those miserable rioters..."
"So I've been told," said Josh, "You will be gratified to know that the Mousekewitz son survived and I'm now his guardian, which is why I'm here." He watched as Warren T's expression froze in surprise, but he quickly managed to hide it.
"If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to see any records you have on the Mousekewitz estate, as well as inspect their old home," Josh continued, "Can this can be arranged for tomorrow morning?"
"I'm sure Digit will have no objection in digging up the files from the Keeper of Records' office," said Warren T, still playing the helpful, law-abiding public servant, "As for the Mousekewitz home, it's still here, but it's in a state of disrepair. I doubt you'll find anything of interest."
"I'll be the judge of that, if you don't mind," said Josh coolly, "Now, on to our next subject: what is this I hear about some rebels causing you trouble?"
"Just common riff-raff stirring up trouble, that's all," spat Warren T, not bothering to hide his disgust, "Mostly Mice anarchists, masquerading as patriots, who want to restore the old order. They vandalise, steal, or simply rally the people against us. And after all we've done for this community..."
"Or perhaps just peaceful protestors, who simply resent being ruled by Rats?" asked Josh. That seemed to anger Warren T Rat, who stood up furiously.
"They're nothing but common criminals!" he barked, "Lawless, murdering thugs, the lot of them. It would be wise for you to tread carefully, Commissioner. Those outlaws can't be trusted!"
Josh didn't know what to make of Warren T Rat's explanation. Although this water rationing scheme of his seemed justified, given the circumstances, he still wasn't so sure about the rebels. And he couldn't help but feel that this rebel threat and the Minsk well drying up might be somehow connected. However, it was getting late, so he soon bid Warren T Rat goodnight and returned to his hotel to get some shuteye, planning to start a full investigation in the morning, starting with the Mousekewitz family history.
After Josh had left him, Warren T Rat sat for a long time, thinking. It was clear this new Commissioner the King had sent along was dangerous, a threat to his plans. Unless he took immediate steps, his entire operation could be blown. He needed to act now! After Josh had gone, he summoned his henchman Captain Jake back in.
"I want you to keep a close eye on this Commissioner Anderson," he said, "That human could mean trouble if he finds out too much. We can't afford him to get too nosy."
"Indeed not, sir," muttered Captain Jake in agreement, "Maybe I ought to slit his throat..." He caressed the blade of his razor-sharp dagger – one which had already claimed the lives of numerous victims who'd been caught nosing around in his master's affairs. Warren T gave him an incredulous look.
"Don't be such a fool!" he snapped, "You kill a royal official, and the King's favourite nonetheless, on my turf and we'll all be charged with high treason!" Thinking hard, Warren T spoke again.
"I need the Mousekewitz boy," he said, "He could ruin everything. Tail him and, first chance you get, grab him. That brat has to disappear, this time for good."
"And the human?"
"I suggest we give him what he's looking for," said Warren T, "He was sent here to help us crush the rebels, but seems to need a little persuasion to be convinced of the danger they pose to society. So why not present him with a culprit for the murder of his ward?" If Fievel were killed and the rebels took the blame for the crime, not only would it drive a nail in their coffin, but it would also help Warren T finally accomplish his ultimate goal, which just so happened to involve the long-forgotten Mousekewitz family...
Far away, back at Rosebush City, someone else was setting his own sinister plan in motion. In the dark of night, with the royal family and most of the palace staff fast asleep, Jenner made his way downstairs to the palace wine cellar. This was where his Uncle kept his private supply of some of the finest beverages in the whole kingdom.
Jenner knew Nicodemus' habits well: his Uncle enjoyed a glass of rosemary-scented wine in his study every evening after dinner without fail. This exquisite beverage of his was kept stored down here in wooden kegs. A servant would bring him his evening drink in a crystal goblet, which perfectly suited Jenner's plan.
The wine cellar was usually kept locked, to prevent thievery, but never guarded. Taking out a pair of keys, which Sullivan had nicked from Arthur, on his orders, Jenner entered the dark cellar, carrying a flaming torch for light. The stone room was lined with barrels and kegs of many different expensive wines, usually kept for royal banquets. But Jenner wasn't here looking for a drink.
Finding the keg he was looking for resting horizontally on a rack, easily distinguishable from the odour of sweetened wine inside it, he popped the cork off the top and took out a small bottle of some dark, greenish liquid from inside his cloak. This was a fast-acting and deadly poison, for which there was no known antidote, and which he was about to serve up as a special gift to his Uncle.
Grinning evilly, he emptied the bottle's lethal contents into the keg. Tomorrow night, he figured, someone would come down here to bring his Uncle his evening drink as usual – only this would be the last drink he would ever enjoy in this world.
Closing up the keg again, leaving it just as he'd found it, he tucked the empty bottle back into his cloak and took out Josh's dog-tags. He casually tossed them onto the floor and kicked them into the shadows under the wine-rack. It wouldn't take long for the court physicians to realise Nicodemus had died of poisoning and then there would be a full investigation to apprehend the murderer, starting from this wine cellar.
Once the dog-tags were found at the scene of the crime, it wouldn't take long for the entire court to buy the bluff that Quaestor Anderson was a traitor and an assassin. The entire kingdom would want his head on a silver platter the moment he returned with the last piece of the Stone. And it would be Jenner's pleasure to deliver the final blow himself.
Once that insufferable human who had dared cross him one times to many was executed and out of the way, he, Jenner, the next in line of succession to the throne would finally have the kingdom of his dreams: a vast empire of absolute Rat supremacy, using the powers of the fully reassembled Stone to enforce his rule to the farthest corners of this world!
Making sure to leave no signs of his presence here, Jenner departed, noiselessly making his way back upstairs to his chambers. Passing by a balcony, he was startled to hear a feminine voice talking. Hastily ducking into the shadows behind a suit of armour, he surveyed the scene. It was that servant-girl, Tanya Mousekewitz, the little troublemaker who had befriended that accursed human. Curious to find out what she was doing out here in the middle of the night, he quietly approached for a closer look.
He could see her fiddling with something which, he realised, was a human contraption of some kind, no doubt another of Anderson's foul human devices. How had she gotten hold of it? Jenner felt tempted to make his presence known and confiscate the device, but his instinct told him not to interfere...yet. Not until he knew more. He would have to keep a close eye on the little Mousekewitz tart from here on, he decided. That foolish mouse girl was no doubt another loyal ally of Anderson's, who had to be closely watched...
Author's note: Another chapter is up! I was stuck for weeks, torn between different drafts I'd been working on. Until next time! Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!