The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

LIKE… WORK.

Maurice nodded. One good thing about being a cat, apart from the extra lives, was that the theology was a lot simpler. “I won't remember all this, will I, sir?” he said. “It'd be just too embarrassing.”

OF COURSE NOT, MAURICE… “Maurice?”

Colours returned to the world, and Keith was stroking him. Every bit of Maurice stung or ached. How could fur ache? And his paws screamed at him, and one eye felt like a lump of ice, and his lungs were full of fire.

“We thought you were dead!” said Keith. “Malicia was going to bury you at the bottom of her garden! She says she's already got a black veil.”

“What, in her adventuring bag?”

“Certainly,” said Malicia. “Supposing we'd ended up on a raft in a river full of flesh-eating—”

“Yeah, right, thanks,” growled Maurice. The air stank of burnt wood and dirty steam.

“Are you all right?” said Keith, still looking worried. “You're a lucky black cat now!”

“Ha ha, yes, ha ha,” said Maurice gloomily. He pushed himself up, painfully. “The little rat OK?” he said, trying to look around.

“He was out just like you, but when they tried to move him he coughed up a lot of muck. He's not well, but he's getting better.”

“All's well that ends—” Maurice began, and then winced. “I can't turn my head very well,” he said.

“You're covered in rat bites, that's why.”

“What's my tail like?”

“Oh, fine. It's nearly all there.”

“Oh, well. All's well that ends well, then. Adventure over, time for tea and buns, just like the girl says.”

“No,” said Keith. “There's still the piper.”

“Can't they just give him a dollar for his trouble and tell him to go away?”

“Not the Rat Piper,” said Keith. “You don't say that sort of thing to the Rat Piper.”

“Nasty piece of work, is he?”

“I don't know. He sounds like it. But we've got a plan.”

Maurice growled. “You've got a plan?” he said. “You made it up?”

“Me and Darktan and Malicia.”

“Tell me your wonderful plan,” sighed Maurice.

“We're going to keep the keekees caged up and no rats will come out to follow the piper. That way he'll look pretty silly, eh?” said Malicia.

“That's it? That's your plan?”

“You don't think it'll work?” said Keith. “Malicia says he'll be so embarrassed he'll leave.”

“You don't know anything about people, do you?” sighed Maurice.

“What? I'm a person!” said Malicia.

“So? Cats know about people. We have to. No-one else can open cupboards. Look, even the rat king had a better plan than that. A good plan isn't one where someone wins, it's where nobody thinks they've lost. Understand? This is what you have to do… no, it wouldn't work, we'd need a lot of cotton-wool…”

Malicia swung her bag around with a look of triumph. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I'd worked out that if I was ever taken prisoner in a giant underwater mechanical squid and need to block up—”

“You're going to say you've got a lot of cotton-wool, aren't you,” said Maurice, flatly.

“Yes!”

“It was silly of me to worry, wasn't it?” said Maurice.

Darktan stuck his sword in the mud. The senior rats gathered round him, but seniority had changed. Among the older rats were younger ones, each one with a dark red mark on its head, and they were pushing to the front.

All of them were chattering. He could smell the relief that came when the Bone Rat had gone past and had not turned aside…

“Silence!” he yelled.

It struck like a gong. Every red eye turned to him. He felt tired, he couldn't breathe properly, and he was streaked with soot and blood. Some of the blood wasn't his.

“It's not over,” he said.

“But we just—”

“It's not over!” Darktan looked around the circle. “We didn't get all of those big rats, the real fighters,” he panted. “Inbrine, take twenty rats and go back and help guard the nests. Big Savings and the old females are back there and they'll tear any attacker in half but I want to be certain.”

For a moment Inbrine glared at Darktan. “I don't see why you—” he began.

“Do it!”

Inbrine crouched hurriedly, waved at the rats behind him, and scurried away.

Darktan looked at the others. As his gaze passed across them, some of them leaned back, as if it was a flame. “We'll form into squads,” he said. “All of the Clan that we can spare from guarding will form into squads. At least one trap disposal rat in each squad! Take fire with you! And some of the young rats'll be runners, so you can keep in touch! Don't go near the cages, those poor creatures can wait! But you'll work through all these tunnels, all these cellars, all these holes and all these corners! And if you meet a strange rat and it cowers, then take it prisoner! But if it tries to fight—and the big ones will try to fight, because that's all they know—then you will kill it! Burn it or bite it! Kill it deadl Do you hear me?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“I said do you hear me?”

This time there was a roar.

“Good! And we'll go on and on until these tunnels are safe, from end to end! Then we'll do it again! Until these tunnels are ours! Because…” Darktan grasped his sword, but leaned on it for a moment to catch his breath, and when he spoke next it was almost in a whisper, “because we're in the heart of the Dark Wood now and we've found the Dark Wood in our hearts and… for tonight… we are something… terrible.” He took another breath, and his next words were heard only by the rats closest to him: “And we have nowhere else to go.”

It was dawn. Sergeant Doppelpunkt, who was one half of the city's official Watch (and the largest half) awoke with a snort in the tiny office by the main gates.

He got dressed, a little unsteadily, and washed his face in the stone sink, peering at himself in the scrap of mirror hanging on the wall.

He stopped. There was a faint but desperate squeaking sound, and then the little grille over the plughole was pushed aside and a rat plunged out. It was big and grey and it ran up his arm before leaping onto the floor.

Water dripping from his face, Sergeant Doppelpunkt stared in bleary amazement as three smaller rats erupted from the pipe and chased after it. It turned to fight in the middle of the floor but the small rats hit it together, from three sides at once. It wasn't like a fight. It looked, thought the sergeant, more like an execution…

There was an old rat hole in the wall. Two of the rats grabbed the tail and dragged the body into the hole and out of sight. But the third rat stopped at the hole and turned, standing up on its hind legs.

The sergeant felt that it was staring at him. It didn't look like an animal watching a human to see if it was dangerous. It didn't look scared, it merely looked curious. It had some kind of red blob on its head.

The rat saluted him. It was definitely a salute, even though it only took a second. Then all the rats had gone.

The sergeant stared at the hole for some time, with water still dripping off his chin.

And heard the singing. It was drifting up from the sink's plughole and it echoed a lot, as if it was coming from a long way away, one voice singing out and a chorus of voices replying: