Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,79

The floor was uneven and sometimes crunched when he stepped on something. Here and there he believed he heard stuffed animals whispering as he passed by, animals concealed by the solid darkness but who had become accustomed to it and therefore could see him without him seeing them.

It was only when they came into the queen’s hall that Eric could make out the contours around him. He was led in through an opening in the farther wall. Directly across, on the other side of the room, was Ruth’s throne. He sensed how a mass of movements occurred at the same moment as he came in, and he glimpsed tails and hind legs hurrying out through the door openings on the room’s opposite side.

Ruth was slumped on her throne, apparently bored, and hardly looked up as they approached. Eric, who had become accustomed to seeing her at the meetings of A Helping Hand, was shocked at how she suddenly seemed to fit in. From being a suspect rat who through her mere presence transformed the individuals around the conference table to normalcy, here she was in her right element. She radiated a power that Eric had never even suspected, and—this impression he had the moment he stepped into the hall, and it was reinforced during their conversation—she possessed a kind of passive goodness that took him completely by surprise. She was nonetheless the Queen of the Garbage Dump.

“Ruth,” he said, “I’m sorry to have to…”

He didn’t know how he should continue.

The rat was surprised by the direct address, and she sharpened her gaze. When she recognized him she seemed to be surprised, and she signaled to the bats to take a step to the side so that the bear wasn’t standing pressed in between them.

“Eric Bear?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry to have to look you up like this in the middle of the night,” he said, “but I have a matter which I must speak with you about. And it cannot wait.”

Above all else this seemed to amuse the rat. She sat up in her throne, signaled to Eric to come closer, and leaned forward a little, as one did to listen to a little cub. When Eric took a few steps forward, the bats followed along. The bear did his best to pretend not to notice this.

“It concerns a…” and he looked around again, into the darkness along the walls of the hall, “it concerns a list.”

The rat looked uninterested.

“A list?” she repeated.

“A list,” Eric confirmed.

But when he didn’t see even the hint of understanding in her gaze, he made himself clear in a whisper: “The Death List.”

The rat’s eyes narrowed. She leaned back, as if the cub she’d taken him for had shown himself to be more naïve than she’d thought.

“Leave us alone,” she commanded.

Both of the bats turned around and disappeared before Eric even had time to react. Judging by all the commotion along the dark walls, there had been several animals in there. When the silence resumed, Ruth looked at him commandingly at the same time as she raised one eyebrow.

“And so?” she said, and in her small, dull, pearl eyes he saw nothing either confirming or denying.

There he stood, alone and defenseless, in the Garbage Town queen’s innermost hall. The rat reposed heavily in her overwhelming power where she sat, but still, Eric felt no fear. He remained tense, however, uncertain whether she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I know,” said Eric, “that you draw up the Death List.”

“How is that?”

The words fell with an indifference that caused Eric to tremble.

“It has come to my knowledge,” he repeated, “that it is you who are behind the Death List.”

Ruth continued staring at him, and then burst out in loud, surprising laughter. It sounded like a quick succession of snorts and contained no joy whatsoever, but it was still a laugh.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard,” snorted the queen. “Would Magnus allow me to decree over life and death?”

“It’s not the idea that you’re putting on airs,” said Eric in a voice which he hoped sounded convincing. “I know what I know.”

“Nonsense,” snorted the rat.

“Noah Camel,” said Eric.

The rat stiffened. “Who?”

“Your courier has been gossiping. And you don’t need to concern yourself about punishing him, he’s already gotten his punishment.”

“I’ve never heard talk of any camel,” said the rat, but there was a hesitation in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“This is my story,” said Eric Bear.

Then he told everything that had happened.