The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

A rat emerged. It moved slowly across the cobbles, bouncing from side to side, until it reached the piper's feet, where it fell over and started making a whirring noise.

People's mouths fell open. It was a Mr Clicky.

The piper nudged it with his foot. The clockwork rat rolled over a few times and then its spring, as a result of months of being punished in traps, gave up. There was a poiyonngggg, and a brief shower of cogwheels.

The crowd burst out laughing.

“Hmm,” said the piper, and this time the look he gave Keith was shaded with grudging admiration. “OK, kid,” he said. “Shall you and I have a little talk? Piper to piper? Over by the fountain?”

“Provided people can see us,” said Keith.

“You don't trust me, kid?”

“Of course not.”

The piper grinned. “Good. You've got the makings of a piper, I can see that.”

Over by the fountain, he sat down with his booted legs in front of him, and held out the pipe. It was bronze, with a raised pattern of brass rats on it, and it glinted in the sunlight.

“Here,” said the piper. “Take it. It's a good one. I've got plenty of others. Go on, take it. I'd like to hear you play it.”

Keith looked at it uncertainly.

“It's all trickery, kid,” said the piper, as the pipe shone like a sunbeam. “See the little slider there? Move it down and the pipe plays a special note humans can't hear. Rats can. Sends 'em nuts. They come rushing out of the ground and you drive 'em into the river, just like a sheepdog.”

“That's all there is to it?” said Keith.

“You were expecting something more?”

“Well, yes. They say you turn people into badgers and lead children into magic caves and—”

The piper leaned forward conspiratorially. “It always pays to advertise, kid. Sometimes these little towns can be pretty slow when it comes to parting with the cash. 'Cos the thing about turning people into badgers and all the rest of that stuff is this: it never happens round here. Most of the people round here never go more than ten miles away in their lives. They'll believe just about anything could happen fifty miles away. Once the story gets around, it does your work for you. Half the things people say I've done even I didn't make up.”

“Tell me,” said Keith, “have you ever met someone called Maurice?”

“Maurice? Maurice? I don't think so.”

“Amazing,” said Keith. He took the pipe, and gave the piper a long, slow stare. “And now, piper,” he said, “I think you're going to lead the rats out of town. It's going to be the most impressive job you've ever done.”

“Hey? What? You won, kid.”

“You'll lead out the rats because that's how it should go,” said Keith, polishing the pipe on his sleeve. “Why do you charge such a lot?”

“Because I give 'em a show,” said the piper. “The fancy clothes, the bullying… charging a lot is part of the whole thing. You've got to give 'em magic, kid. Let 'em think you're just a fancy rat-catcher and you'll be lucky to get a cheese lunch and a warm handshake.”

“We'll do it together, and the rats will follow us, really follow us into the river. Don't bother about the trick note, this will be even better. It'll be… it'll be a great… story,” said Keith. “And you'll get your money. Three hundred dollars, wasn't it? But you'll settle for half, because I'm helping you.”

“What are you playing at, kid? I told you, you won.”

“Everyone wins. Trust me. They called you in. They should pay the piper. Besides…” Keith smiled. “I don't want people to think pipers shouldn't get paid, do I?”

“And I thought you were just a stupid-looking kid,” said the piper. “What kind of a deal have you got with the rats?”

“You wouldn't believe it, piper. You wouldn't believe it.”

Inbrine scurried through the tunnels, scrabbled through the mud and straw that had been used to block the last one, and jumped into the cage room. The Clan rats unblocked their ears when they saw him.

“He's doing it?” said Darktan.

“Yessir! Right now!”

Darktan looked up at the cages. The keekees were more subdued, now that the rat king was dead and they'd been fed. But by the smell of it they were desperate to leave this place. And rats in a panic will follow other rats…

“OK,” he said. “Runners, get ready! Open the cages! Make sure they're following you! Go! Go! Go!”

And that was almost the end of the story.

How the crowd yelled when rats erupted from every hole and drain. How they cheered when both pipers danced out of the town, with the rats racing along behind them. How they whistled when the rats plunged off the bridge into the river.

They didn't notice that some rats stayed on the bridge, urging the others with shouts of “Remember, strong regular strokes!” and “There's a nice beach just downstream!” and “Hit the water feet first, it won't hurt so much!”

Even if they had noticed, they probably wouldn't have said anything. Details like that don't fit in.

And the piper danced off over the hills and never, ever came back.

There was general applause. It had been a good show, everyone agreed, even if it had been expensive. It was definitely something to tell their children.

The stupid-looking kid, the one who had duelled with the piper, strolled back into the square. He got a round of applause too. It was turning out to be a good day all round. People wondered if they'd have to have extra children to make room for all the stories.

But they realized they'd have enough to save for the grandchildren when the other rats arrived.

They were suddenly there, pouring up out of drains and gutters and cracks. They didn't squeak, and they weren't running. They sat there, watching everyone.

“Here, piper!” shouted the mayor. “You missed some!”

“No. We're not the rats who follow pipers,” said a voice. “We're the rats you have to deal with.”

The mayor looked down. A rat was standing by his boots, looking up at him. It appeared to be holding a sword.

“Father,” said Malicia behind him, “it would be a good idea to listen to this rat.”

“But it's a rat!”

“He knows, Father. And he knows how to get your money back and a lot of the food and where to find some of the people who've been stealing food from us all.”

“But he's a rat!”

“Yes, Father. But if you talk to him properly, he can help us.”

The mayor stared at the assembled ranks of the Clan. “We should talk to rats?” he said.

“It would be a very good idea, Father.”

“But they're rats!” The mayor seemed to be trying to hold on to this thought as if it was a lifebelt on a stormy sea, and he'd drown if he let go of it.

“'Scuse me, 'scuse me,” said a voice from beside him. He looked down at a dirty, half-scorched cat, which grinned at him.

“Did that cat just speak?” said the mayor.

Maurice looked around. “Which one?” he said.

“You! Did you just talk?”

“Would you feel better if I said no?” said Maurice.

“But cats can't talk!”

“Well, I can't promise that I could give a, you know, full-length after-dinner speech, and don't ask me to do