But Miss Lally was right there, smiling up at her with her faded, painted face. Allika's breath came back and she sobbed with joy as she seized her beloved toy, now soaked with filthy water. She sat in the sludgy water, clasping the doll tightly, completely oblivious to everything save her dear, sweet Miss Lally.
"I will take good care of you," she whispered fiercely.
Something moved in the dark, inches away. Memory returned and Allika's small body went taut. The thing. It was still down here. It was down here with her in the darkness.
Again, she tried to rise. Her ankle wasn't broken, but it was twisted badly. Clutching the saturated toy, she managed to make it to her feet. Every instinct was crying out, telling her to run, but she couldn't run. Instead, she found a weapon-a length of nail-studded wood from the crate used to house the thing.
"Where are you?" she called, sounding as brave as she could. "You're not gonna hurt me or Miss Lally."
A soft splash came behind her. She whirled unsteadily, and yelped, horrified.
It sat in the square of light that came from the street above, barely a yard away from the little girl. The thing was a rat-enormous, as bit as a cat, bigger, and pitch black, save for its eyes, which burned in the dark like two hot coals. It was sitting up on its haunches, regarding her evenly. As she stared back, one ear twitched.
Then, with no warning and no sound, it sprang, leaping for the soft flesh of her face. Allika stumbled backward, swinging the nail-studded slat with all of her wiry, seven-year-old strength. It caught the rat in the side, and the creature squeaked in agony and rage. It came again, and this time managed to sink sharp yellow teeth into Allika's upper arm. She screamed and lashed out, slamming the wood on its head. The blow, though not as strong as an adult's, ought to have been enough to crush the thing's skull, but the rat darted away. As it vanished into the darkness, Allika saw something painted in white on its back.
It was two lines, one long, one shorter. The shorter line bisected the longer line about three quarters of the way down its length. The symbol was somehow familiar to Allika, but at the moment, in her pain and terror, she couldn't place it. For a moment she stood, panting, clutching the wooden slat like a club, her ears straining for a telltale splash that indicated the thing had returned to renew its attack. She heard nothing.
"Think we chased it away?" she asked Miss Lally.
"We sure did!" she said in a higher voice, speaking for the doll. "You're wonderful, Allika! I knew you'd come save me."
Turning, the little girl took a deep breath. She was almost a half a mile away from the port; a half mile from the nearest place where she could scramble out of the sewers as they opened into the sea. Low tide would be coming soon. If she didn't make it, she'd be trapped.
"Come on, Miss Lally. Let's go find Fox."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Unkind thoughts breed like rats in the darkness; but good thoughts grow like the oldest of trees.
Tap, tap, tap. Deveren tossed in his sleep. Kastara wanted him to get up for some reason, but the bed linens were so warm and comfortable…
Tap, tap. More insistent now. "Love, what is it?"
And with the sound of his own voice, soft and sleepy, he came fully awake and realized that it was not Kastara tapping on his shoulder, trying to rouse him; would never be Kastara, not ever again, and even as the grief resettled upon his heart he was fully alert.
Tap, tap, tap!
Something was rattling on the glass panes of his solar window with a regularity that put the thief leader instantly on his guard. This was no random clatter of tree limbs in the wind, and the memory of his attempted murder flashed starkly in his mind.
Moving in silence, Deveren pushed aside the curtains that shrouded his bed and glanced about. There was no one in the room with him. He reached for the knife he kept beneath the bed and swung his legs out onto the floor. His feet sank into the thick sheepskin.
Tap, tap, rattle.
That was it. Someone was outside, throwing stones up against the window, trying to get his attention. While this deduction brought some relief, Deveren did not drop his guard. It could yet be a decoy. Quickly tugging on a pair of breeches, Deveren moved toward the window and cautiously peered out.
Allika stood on the ground beneath, her ubiquitous doll clutched in one hand. She was in the process of gathering more stones, and Deveren saw that one little hand was clenched around a rock that was significantly larger than the pebbles she had tossed up hitherto. The child was clearly growing impatient.
She pulled her hand back as if to toss the stone when she saw his face. Her own was a pale blur in the moonlight, but when Deveren waved, signaling that he had noticed her, she waved back. Quickly she disappeared into the shadows, moving toward the library, where she would not be seen.
Deveren lit a lamp from the fire that had burned to embers in the bedroom. He quickly shrugged into a fur robe, stepped into slippers, and rapidly descended the stone stairs. As he hurried past the dining room, he paused long enough to grab a peach for the little girl, then continued to the library.
She was there, outside, crouched up against the wall. As he entered, she turned to the window. Her face was not the lively, cheerful visage he was used to seeing; rather she reminded him of a small, forlorn little ghost.
Quickly Deveren opened the window and helped the little girl inside. His hand closed on her arm, trying to maneuver her, and she uttered a sharp, pained ejaculation and jerked out of his grasp. Surprised, Deveren glanced down-and gasped himself at the ugly wound on the child's soft flesh. "Sit down," he said, "and let's take care of this first thing."
"Here, let me," came Damir's voice. Deveren's head whipped around and he saw, to his annoyance, that his brother stood in the doorway. Like Deveren, Damir was only partially dressed, but he was clearly awake and alert. He moved to the little girl, who ducked away from him, burying her face against Deveren's thigh.
"Come on, Little Squirrel," Deveren soothed, patting her dark head. "My brother won't hurt you. You can trust him like you trust me." He glared at Damir. "Can't she?"
Damir's eyes glinted with amusement, but his voice was sober. "Certainly you can. Here, let me see." He waited, and finally Allika, after glancing from one brother to the other, slowly stuck out her arm.
Deveren winced as he took a good look at the wound. It was a nasty gash, and the flesh around the wound was red and painful. Damir probed it gingerly with long, gentle fingers, but even that delicate touch prompted the girl to yelp "Ow!" and twist away. "What happened to your arm, sweeting?" Deveren asked softly, stroking the girl's dark hair.
"Rat bit me," she replied in a low voice. "Big rat."
Damir and Deveren exchanged glances. It couldn't have been a rat; the bite was far too large for that. And yet, Deveren thought to himself as he regarded the injury in the lamp's glow, it did look as if it had been made by the teeth of a rodent.
An idea came to him that made him stagger. "Little Squirrel-where did this happen?" "In the sewer. I dropped Miss Lally."
"Are you sure it wasn't a Ghil?" The Ghil were sometimes called "giant rats." They were far more intelligent than regular rats, and far larger-they stood five feet tall when they rose on their hind legs. The Ghil certainly did have rodentlike teeth. But for her to have found a Ghil in the sewer system of Braedon was unthinkable.