The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

“Why're you all holding sticks?” said Malicia.

“Er… we want to talk to the rat-catchers,” said the spokesman. He tried to look past her, and she stood aside.

“There's no-one in here but us,” she said. “Unless you think there's a trapdoor to a maze of underground cellars where desperate animals are caged up and vast supplies of stolen food are hoarded?”

The man gave her another nervous look. “You and your stories, miss,” he said.

“Has there been some trouble?” said Malicia.

“We think they were a… a bit naughty…” said the man. He blanched under the look she gave him.

“Yes?” she said.

“They cheated us in the rat pit!” said a man behind him, made bold because there was someone else between him and Malicia. “They must've trained those rats! One of them flew around on a string!”

“And one of them bit my Jacko on the… on the… on the unmentionables!” said someone further back. “You can't tell me it wasn't trained to do that!”

“I saw one with a hat on this morning,” said Malicia.

“There's been a good deal too many strange rats today,” said another man. “My mum said she saw one dancing on the kitchen shelves! And when my granddad got up and reached for his false teeth he said a rat bit him with them. Bit him with his own teeth!”

“What, wearing them?” said Malicia.

“No, it just snapped them around in the air! And a lady down our street opened her pantry door and there were rats swimming in the cream bowl. Not just swimming, either! They'd been trained. They were making kind of patterns, and diving and waving their legs in the air and stuff!”

“You mean synchronized swimming?” said Malicia. “Who's telling stories now, eh?”

“Are you sure you don't know where those men are?” said the leader suspiciously. “People said they headed this way.”

Malicia rolled her eyes. “All right, yes,” she said. “They got here and a talking cat helped us to feed them poison and now they're locked in a cellar.”

The men looked at her. “Yeah, right,” said the leader, turning away. “Well, if you do see them, tell them we're looking for them, OK?”

Malicia shut the door. “It's terrible, not being believed,” she said.

“Now tell me about rat kings,” said Keith.

CHAPTER 10

And as night fell, Mr. Bunnsy remembered: there's something terrible in the Dark Wood.

—From “Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure”

Why am I doing this? Maurice asked himself, as he squirmed along a pipe. Cats are not built for this stuff!

Because we are a kind person at heart, said his conscience.

No, I'm not, thought Maurice.

Actually, that's true, said his conscience. But we don't want to tell that to Dangerous Beans, do we? The little wobbly nose? He thinks we're a hero!

Well, I'm not, thought Maurice.

Then why are we scrabbling around underground trying to find him?

Well, obviously it's because he's the one with the big dream about finding the rat island and without him the rats won't co-operate and I won't get paid, said Maurice.

We're a cat! What does a cat need money for?

Because I have a Retirement Plan, thought Maurice. I'm four years old already! Once I've made a pile, it's me for a nice home with a big fire and a nice old lady giving me cream every day. I've got it all worked out, every detail.

Why should she give us a home? We're smelly, we've got ragged ears, we've got something nasty and itchy on our leg, we look like someone kicked us in the face… why should an old lady take us in instead of a fluffy little kitten?

Aha! But black cats are lucky, thought Maurice.

Really? Well, we don't want to be first with the bad news, but we're not black! We're a sort of mucky tabby!

There's such a thing as dyes, thought Maurice. A couple of packets of black dye, hold my breath for a minute, and it's “hello, cream and fish” for the rest of my life. Good plan, eh?

And what about the luck? said the conscience.

Ah! That's the clever bit. A black cat that brings in a gold coin every month or so, wouldn't you say that's a lucky cat to have?

His conscience fell silent. Probably amazed at the cleverness of the plan, Maurice told himself.

He had to admit that he was cleverer at plans than at underground navigation. He wasn't exactly lost, because cats never got lost. He merely didn't know where everything else was. There wasn't a lot of earth under the town, that was certain. Cellars and grating and pipeways and ancient sewers and crypts and bits of forgotten buildings formed a sort of honeycomb. Even humans could get around, Maurice thought. The rat-catchers certainly had.

He could smell rats everywhere. He'd wondered about calling out to Dangerous Beans, but decided against it. Calling out might help him find out where the little rat was, but it'd also alert… anyone else to where Maurice was. Those big rats had been, well, big, and nasty-looking. Even an idiot dog would have trouble with them.

Now he was in a small square tunnel with lead pipes in it. There was even a hiss of escaping steam, and here and there warm water dipped into a gutter that ran along the bottom of the tunnel. Up ahead was a grating leading up to the street. Faint light came through it.

The water in the gutter looked clean. At least, you could see through it. Maurice was thirsty. He leaned down, tongue out—

There was a thin, bright red streak curling gently in the water…

Hamnpork seemed confused and half asleep but he knew enough to hold on to Sardines' tail as the rats made their way back from the stables. It was a slow journey. Sardines didn't think the old rat would manage the washing lines. They skulked along gutters, and along drains, hiding in nothing more than the cloak of night.

A few rats were milling around in the cellar when they finally arrived. By then Darktan and Sardines were walking on either side of Hamnpork, who was barely moving his legs.

There was still a candle burning in the cellar. Darktan was surprised. But a lot of things had happened in the last hour.

They let Hamnpork sink to the floor, where he lay, breathing heavily. His body shook with each breath.

“Poison, guv?” whispered Sardines.

“I think it was just too much for him,” said Darktan. “Just too much.”

Hamnpork opened one eye. “Am… I… still… the… leader?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Darktan.

“Need… to… sleep…”

Darktan looked around the circle. Rats were creeping towards the group. He could see them whispering to one another. They kept looking at him. He stared around, trying to spot the pale figure of Dangerous Beans.

“Nourishing… tells me… you saw the… tunnel… of the… Big Rat…” said Hamnpork.

Darktan glared at Nourishing, who looked embarrassed. “I saw… something,” he said.