The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

“Well, you must admit he was a horseman, sir.”

“That is true. But he was also a short man with a very high collar. And he was the chief tax-gatherer from Mintz. I'm still getting official letters about it! Tax-gatherers do not as a rule like young ladies dropping on them out of trees! And then in September there was that business about the, the—”

“The Mystery of Smuggler's Windmill, sir,” said the sergeant, rolling his eyes.

“Which turned out to be Mr Vogel the town clerk and Mrs Schuman the shoemaker's wife, who happened to be there merely because of their shared interest in studying the habits of barn owls…”

“… and Mr Vogel had his trousers off because he'd torn them on a nail…” said the sergeant, not looking at the mayor.

“… which Mrs Schuman was very kindly repairing for him,” said the mayor.

“By moonlight,” said the sergeant.

“She happens to have very good eyesight!” snapped the mayor. “And she didn't deserve to be bound and gagged along with Mr Vogel, who caught quite a chill as a result! I had complaints from him and from her, and from Mrs Vogel and from Mr Schuman and from Mr Vogel after Mr Schuman went around to his house and hit him with a last and from Mrs Schuman after Mrs Vogel called her a—”

“A last what, sir?”

“What?”

“Hit him with a last what?”

“A last, man! It's a kind of wooden foot shoemakers use when they're making shoes! Heaven knows what Malicia's doing this time!”

“I expect you'll find out when we hear the bang, sir.”

“And what was it you wanted me for, sergeant?”

“The rat piper's here, sir.”

The mayor went pale. “Already?” he said.

“Yessir. He's having a shave in the fountain.”

“Where's my official chain? My official robe? My official hat? Quick, man, help me!”

“He looks like quite a slow shaver, sir,” said the sergeant, following the mayor out of the room at a run.

“Over in Klotz the mayor kept the piper waiting too long and he played his pipe and turned him into a badger!” said the mayor, flinging open a cupboard. “Ah, here they are… help me on with them, will you?”

When they arrived in the town square, out of breath, the piper was sitting on a bench, surrounded at a safe distance by a very large crowd. He was examining half a sausage on the end of a fork. Corporal Knopf was standing next to him like a schoolboy who has just turned in a nasty piece of work and is waiting to be told exactly how bad it is.

“And this is called a—?” the piper was saying.

“A sausage, sir,” Corporal Knopf muttered.

“This is what you think is a sausage here, is it?” There was a gasp from the crowd. Bad Blintz was very proud of its traditional vole-and-pork sausages.

“Yessir,” said Corporal Knopf.

“Amazing,” said the piper. He looked up at the mayor. “And you are—?”

“I am the mayor of this town, and—”

The piper held up a hand, and then nodded towards the old man who was sitting on his cart, grinning broadly. “My agent will deal with you,” he said. He threw away the sausage, put his feet up on the other end of the bench, pulled his hat down over his eyes and lay back.

The mayor went red in the face. Sergeant Doppelpunkt leaned towards him.

“Remember the badger, sir!” he whispered.

“Ah… yes…” The mayor, with what little dignity he had left, walked over to the cart. “I believe the fee for ridding the town of rats will be three hundred dollars?” he said.

“Then I expect you'll believe anything,” said the old man. He glanced at a notebook on his knee. “Let's see… call-out fee… plus special charge because it's St Prodnitz's Day… plus pipe tax… looks like a medium-sized town, so that's extra… wear and tear on cart… travelling costs at a dollar a mile… miscellaneous expenses, taxes, charges…” He looked up. “Tell you what, let's say one thousand dollars, OK?”

“One thousand dollars! We haven't got one thousand dollars! That's outrag —”

“Badger, sir!” hissed Sergeant Doppelpunkt.

“You can't pay?” said the old man.

“We don't have that kind of money! We've had to spend a lot of money bringing in food!”

“You don't have any money?” said the old man.

“Nothing like that amount, no!”

The old man scratched his chin. “Hmm,” he said, “I can see where that's going to be a bit difficult, because… let's see…” He scribbled in his notebook for a moment and then looked up. “You already owe us four hundred and sixty-seven dollars and nineteen pence for call-out, travel and miscellaneous sundries.”

“What? He hasn't blown a note!”

“Ah, but he's ready to,” said the old man. “We've come all this way. You can't pay? Bit of what they call a imp arse, then. He's got to lead something out of the town, you see. Otherwise the news'll get around and no-one'll show him any respect, and if you haven't got respect, what have you got? If a piper doesn't have respect, he's—”

“—rubbish,” said a voice. “I think he's rubbish.”

The piper raised the brim of his hat.

The crowd in front of Keith parted in a hurry.

“Yeah?” said the piper.

“I don't think he can pipe up even one rat,” said Keith. “He's just a fraud and a bully. Huh, I bet I can pipe up more rats than him.”

Some of the people in the crowd began to creep away. No-one wanted to be around when the rat piper lost his temper.

The piper swung his boots down onto the ground and pushed his hat back on his head. “You a rat piper, kid?” he said softly.

Keith stuck out his chin defiantly. “Yes. And don't call me kid… old man.”

The piper grinned. “Ah,” he said. “I knew I was going to like this place. And you can make a rat dance, can you, kid?”

“More than you can, piper.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” said the piper.

“The piper doesn't accept challenges from—” the old man on the cart began, but the rat piper waved him into silence.

“Y'know, kid,” he said, “this isn't the first time some kid has tried this. I'm walking down the street and someone yells, ‘Go for your piccolo, mister!’ and I turn around, and it's always a kid like you with a stupid-looking face. Now, I don't want anyone to say I'm an unfair man, kid, so if you'd just care to apologize you might walk away from here with the same number of legs you started with.”

“You're frightened.” Malicia stepped out of the crowd.

The piper grinned at her. “Yeah?” he said.

“Yes, because everyone knows what happens at a time like this. Let me ask this stupid-looking kid, who I've never seen before: are you an orphan?”

“Yes,” said Keith.

“Do you know nothing about your background at all?”

“No.”

“Aha!” said Malicia. “That proves it! We all know what happens when a mysterious orphan turns up and challenges someone big and powerful, don't we? It's like being the third and