Darren Shan - City of the Snakes

The English-speaking villac squares up to me, his white eyes tinted orange by the flickering lights of the candles. “This is not the end,” he snarls. “We’ve had to flee before and build anew. We shall do so again. This city is ours and we will reclaim it as surely as the sun will rise in the morning.”

I smile and hit him with a sly, stinging retort. “In your dreams.”

The priest’s upper lip curls, but he can think of no suitable comeback, so he races after his Coya and her retinue, quickly disappearing from sight.

“Shouldn’t we go after them?” Ama asks.

“There’s no rush.” Tucking the dolls of Ama and Paucar Wami between my vest and chest, I lower my robes and wink at her, nodding toward the remaining villacs and mamaconas as they face the barbarians spilling into the cavern. “Let’s enjoy the grand finale. I’ve been waiting a long time to see these blind bastards take a good beating. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The Incas mount a surprisingly stout defense, the naked priestesses and blind priests hurling themselves at their assailants, brandishing fingernails and knives with lethal expertise. But they’re outnumbered and their opponents pack guns, so it’s no real contest. Within five or six minutes the last of the howling mamaconas is being put down like a rabid dog — the soldiers have orders to kill all they find — and a beaming Eugene Davern strides toward me through the mixed ranks of Troops, Kluxers and Snakes.

“You’re alive!” he laughs, throwing his arms around me. I’m sure he’ll wince when he recalls this later, but for the moment he’s been carried away by the swiftness and ease of the crushing victory.

“So it seems,” I grunt.

He stands back and studies my robes. “Don’t think much of your getup. We could have shot you in gear like that.”

“I didn’t have much choice. We had to bow to their whims to delay them.”

Behind Davern, Sard enters the cavern and hurries over. “Sapa Inca!” he shouts proudly, wiping blood — not his — from his face. “The hour is ours!”

“You did well, soldier.” Looking around, I see that the Snakes in the cavern are from various phalanxes, not just Sard’s. “Did you have any trouble convincing the others to unite against the villacs ?”

“None,” he grins. “They knew I wouldn’t invent such an order by myself.”

“They did not question my motives?”

“You’re the Sapa Inca,” he replies simply. On the floor, my father groans and sits up, regaining consciousness. Sard’s eyes widen when he spots the second Paucar Wami and he takes a step backward. “Sapa Inca?” he asks uncertainly, right hand going to the knife on his belt.

“We needed to confuse the priests, so I had this man disguised to look like me.”

“A decoy?” Sard frowns.

“Yes.” Stooping, I grab Wami by the elbows and hoist him up. His eyes are cloudy but otherwise he appears unharmed. “Are you OK?”

“I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse,” he growls, rubbing his neck. Gazing at the soldiers and dead Incas in the cavern, he smiles. Then he realizes the bed’s no longer where it was and his smile vanishes. “The fat bitch — where is she?”

“Some of her subjects spirited her away. Don’t worry, I can’t see them getting very far. We’ll set after them shortly and finish them off.”

“My doll! If she pierces its heart…”

I start to tell him I’ve retrieved the doll, then stop, fixing on an image of Bill Casey weeping as he told me about his sister. I think for a moment, then mutter, “She’s too frantic to reason clearly. You’ve nothing to fear. We will track her down presently.”

While my father fidgets, Raimi hobbles forward and confronts Eugene Davern. The leader of the Kluxers flinches when he spots the bloody, barely recognizable figure stumbling toward him, then realizes who it is and smiles shakily. “Capac,” he greets him nervously.

Raimi runs his eye over Davern, then looks to me. “What the hell’s going on?”

“An alliance,” I explain, nodding at the Troops, Kluxers and Snakes, who are gazing uneasily at one another, branching off into their respective groups now that the fighting’s over. “The villacs pushed your Troops and Davern’s Kluxers to the brink of war, using the Snakes — the guys with the bald heads and tattoos — to spark it off. I cut a deal with Tasso and Davern. They staged an invasion of the east, giving the priests the idea that they were going to battle for real. To avoid the chaos, the villacs retreated underground. Once I gave the word, the Troops and Kluxers linked up and surged down the tunnels with the Snakes. The three forces cut all the priests they could find to ribbons, while a combined spearhead raced here, tracking a trail of poker chips we left for them to follow.”

Raimi thinks that over, his battered face creased with doubt. “Tasso and Davern working together? The Kluxers in league with a gang of blacks? A lot’s changed while I’ve been away.”

“It was time for change. The villacs had arranged it. I simply stepped in and readjusted their plans, turning the new deal to our advantage instead of theirs.”

“And what exactly does this ‘new deal’ entail?” Raimi asks.

“The finer details haven’t been thrashed out yet. You can take care of that when you’re back in charge. The way I sold it to Tasso and Davern, the Troops, Kluxers and Snakes get to carve up the city between them. There’s enough to go around, especially now that the priests have been taken care of. The final say is yours, of course, but I think you’d be crazy not to take advantage of the peace now that it’s been established.”

Raimi nods thoughtfully, then cocks an eyebrow at Davern. “I thought you wanted to run me out of town and take over the show.”

“I did,” Davern smiles, “but that was then, this is now. Our dark-skinned friend has shown me the light. I’ll settle for a third of the city — if it’s the right third.”

Raimi laughs hollowly. “There’s a lot of negotiating to be done. But we can do that another time. There are a few loose strings I want to see to first.”

“Leave that to us,” I tell him. “You’re in no fit shape to go chasing after—”

“I’ll slit the throat of any man who tries to stop me,” he vows.

“We won’t go slow on your account,” I warn him.

“I’ll keep up, even if it kills me.” He grins. “Which it probably will.”

Nodding, I ask Davern to fetch arms for us. “There are more of the bastards?” he asks.

“A couple dozen or so. They’re ours. Don’t follow. Finish your job here, scour the tunnels above in case you missed any priests, then return to the surface with your men and wait for The Cardinal to contact you.” I face Sard. “I’m placing you in temporary control of the Snakes. If I don’t make it back, the promotion’s permanent. Work with Davern and Raimi. Make sure they cut us a good deal. Use your power to build and improve.”

“Why this talk of not coming back?” Sard frowns. “You’re the Sapa Inca — you always come back.”

“Maybe not this time. Be prepared if I don’t, and deal with it. That’s an order, soldier.”

His heels click together and he salutes. “Yes, sir!”

Sard and Eugene Davern stare suspiciously at each other, but don’t draw guns. It’s a start, not of a beautiful friendship, but hopefully a working relationship.

I face Capac Raimi, my father and Ama. All have armed themselves and Raimi has borrowed a dead villac ’s robes. They’re ready for action.

“Let’s go finish this,” I snap, and we set off in pursuit of the fleeing Coya and her consorts.