Sato leaned forward, sure he’d never been so captivated in his life.
Tollaseat barely paused between sentences now. “Acted, I did. Ran straight for the hearth—the ashes still glowin’ hot—grabbed the iron poker me own Uncle Kent forged, gripped it with both of me ruddy hands, swung it up, and charged that Bug. Saw the fear in that loonie’s eyes. Saw them widen and turn into pools of pure white. He started to say somethin’, started to move, started to swing down with his arms and his sword. I screamed and swung that blessed iron poker. I swung it with every bit of strength cloggin’ me pores and joints. I swung it straight for the Bug’s face.”
He paused then and took a long pull on his pipe. Scanning Sato and the others at the table, he finally blew out a stream of smoke. He looked down at the table, his eyes full of shadowy memories.
“What happened?” Sato whispered, unable to help himself.
Tollaseat, still staring at the empty plate in front of him, answered in a haunted voice. “I missed him. Completely missed the ruddy buzzard.”
Sato swallowed heavily, slumping in his chair.
“Killed me dad, the Bug did.” Tollaseat finally glanced up, his gaze resting on Sato. “But I saved me mum. I was able to run off the Bug. Swore the rest of me life to hunt them down, one by one, ’til every last one of them buggers was dead and rottin’.”
The pipe went back into his mouth, and complete silence settled on the room. After a long minute, Sato looked at Mothball, her eyes moistened with tears, and then at Rutger, who was probably unaware he was still nibbling a biscuit. Both of them were staring at Tollaseat. After a moment, it became evident the story was over.
“Thank you for sharing, dear,” Windasill said, patting her husband on the arm. “’Eard it a thousand times, I ’ave, but I marvel at your courage every time. Never forget you saved your mum that day, dear. Never forget.”
“Wish I could’ve met Grandpa,” Mothball said, a choking clog in her voice. “But ’tweren’t for you, Daddy, I wouldn’t’ve spent me whole childhood with Grandma. Thanks be to ya, Daddy. Thanks be to ya very much.”
Sato was stunned. He’d expected a story more along the lines of a fairy tale, maybe a funny or an embarrassing moment. But Tollaseat had just shared probably the most terrifying, pivotal moment of his life. And Sato had absolutely no idea what to say. He stared at his plate, feeling the heavy weight of all the food he’d eaten.
“Right cheerful, don’t ya think?” Tollaseat said, a smile breaking through the gloom on his face. “Not quite sure why I told that story. Meant to tell somethin’ else, I did. But it just popped out of me mouth.”
“Important we remember,” Mothball offered, giving her mom an uncomfortable look.
“Yes, me sweet,” Tollaseat replied. “Reckon I wanted Master Sato ’ere to understand why them Bugs aren’t just a joke, even though they look it. Crazy, they are. Vicious little rats. But underestimate ’em, and you’ll be lookin’ up at ten feet of dirt soon, you will. Be wary while you’re about these parts, is all I’m sayin’.”
Sato merely nodded, still unable to speak. He didn’t know why, exactly, but that story had touched him, made his heart ache with sorrow. And then it hit him why.
Sato, too, had seen his father killed right in front of him. Burned to death by Mistress Jane’s flying flames. Maybe that was worse than seeing your dad stabbed by a sword. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. Something came over him in that moment.
He stood up. “Mister, um, Master . . . Tollaseat?”
Mothball’s dad lowered his pipe, looked at Sato with dark eyes, and Sato somehow knew the old man had already figured out what he was about to say.
“I want to help,” Sato said, trying to sound like an adult and hoping no one laughed. “I want to help your people fight the Bugs.”
Chapter
18
~
Towers of Red
Tick,” Master George whispered. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. And do me a favor.”
Jane had brought them to a room several levels above the prison cell in which they’d been held captive. She’d left a couple of guards at the door. The creatures in full armor were human in shape but all comparisons ended there. Tick hadn’t gotten a good look, but he swore he saw horns or tusks coming out of their shadow-hidden faces and large bulges on their backs.
“What?” Tick asked.
In response, Master George handed him a small, metal tube.
“What’s this?”
“What do you think?”
Tick looked over at Paul and Sofia, hoping they were listening. But both of them were trying to look through a grime-covered window. “Is it a message for somebody?”
“Precisely,” George whispered.
“For who?” Tick asked. “And what do you want me to do?”