Maurice squinted into the space behind the dresser. “I can see him,” he said. “He wedged the stick in the jaws as they closed! Wotcha, Sardines, how're you doing?”
“Fine, boss,” said Sardines, in the gloom. “If it wasn't for this trap I'd say everything was perfect. Did I mention the stick is bending?”
“Yes, you said.”
“It's bent some more since then, boss.”
Keith grabbed one end of the dresser and grunted as he tried to move it. “It's like a rock!” he said.
“It's full of crockery,” said Malicia, now quite bewildered. “But rats don't really talk, do they?”
“Get out of the way!” shouted Keith. He grabbed the back edge of the dresser with both hands, and braced one foot against the wall, and heaved.
Slowly, like a mighty forest tree, the dresser pitched forward. The crockery started to fall out as it tipped, plate slipping off plate like one glorious chaotic deal from a very expensive pack of cards. Even so, some of them survived the fall onto the floor, and so did some of the cups and saucers as the cupboard opened and added to the fun, but that didn't make any difference because then the huge, heavy woodwork thundered down on top of them.
One miraculously whole plate rolled past Keith, spinning round and round and getting lower on the floor with the groiyuoiyoiyooooinnnnggg sound you always get in these distressing circumstances.
Keith reached down to the trap and grabbed Sardines. As he pulled the rat up the stick gave way and the trap snapped shut. A bit of the stick spun away through the air.
“Are you all right?” Keith asked.
“Well, boss, all I can say is it's a good job rats don't wear underwear… Thanks, boss,” said Sardines. He was quite plump for a rat, but when his feet were dancing he could float across the floor like a balloon.
There was the sound of a tapping foot.
Malicia, with arms folded and an expression like a thunderstorm, looked at Sardines, and then at Maurice, and then at the stupid-looking Keith, and then at the wreckage on the floor.
“Er… sorry about the mess,” said Keith. “But he was—”
She waved this away. “OK,” she said, as if she'd been thinking deeply. “It goes like this, I think. The rat is a magical rat. I bet he's not the only one. Something happened to him, or them, and now they're really quite intelligent, despite the tap-dancing. And… they're friends with the cat. So… why would rats and a cat be friends? And it goes… there's some kind of an arrangement, right? I know! Don't tell me, don't tell me…”
“Huh?” said Keith.
“I shouldn't think anyone ever has to tell you anything,” said Maurice.
“… it's something to do with plagues of rats, right? All those towns we've heard about… well, you heard about them too, and so you got together with thingy here—”
“Keith,” said Keith.
“… yes… and so you go from town to town pretending to be a plague of rats, and thingy—”
“Keith.”
“… yes… pretends to be a rat piper and you all follow him out. Right? It's all a big swindle, yes?”
Sardines looked up at Maurice. “She's got us bang to rights, boss,” he said.
“So now you've got to give me a good reason why I don't call the Watch out on you,” said Malicia triumphantly.
I don't have to, Maurice thought, because you won't. Gosh, humans are so easy. He rubbed up against Malicia's legs and gave her a smirk. “If you do, you'll never find out how the story ends,” he said.
“Ah, it'll end with you going to prison,” said Malicia, but Maurice saw her staring at the stupid-looking Keith and at Sardines. Sardines still had his little straw hat on. When it comes to attracting attention, that sort of thing counts for a lot.
When he saw her frowning at him Sardines hastily removed his straw hat and held it in front of him, by the brim. “There's something I'd like to find out, boss,” he said, “if we're finding out things.”
Malicia raised an eyebrow. “Well?” she said. “And don't call me boss!”
“I'd like to find out why there's no rats in this city, guv,” said Sardines. He tap-danced a few steps, nervously. Malicia could glare better than a cat.
“What do you mean, no rats?” she said. “There's a plague of rats! And you're a rat, anyway!”
“There's rat runs all over the place and there's a few dead rats but we haven't found a living rat anywhere, guv.”
Malicia leaned down. “But you are a rat,” she said.
“Yes, guv. But we only arrived this morning.” Sardines grinned nervously as Malicia gave him another long stare.
“Would you like some cheese?” she said. “I'm afraid it's only mousetrap.”
“I don't think so, thank you very much all the same,” said Sardines, very carefully and politely.
“It's no use, I think it really is time to tell the truth,” said Keith.
“Nonononononono,” said Maurice, who hated that kind of thing. “It's all because—”
“You were right, miss,” said Keith, wearily. “We go from town to town with a bunch of rats and fool people into giving us money to leave. That's what we do. I'm sorry we've been doing it. This was going to be the last time. I'm very sorry. You shared your food with us and you haven't got much, either. We ought to be ashamed.”
It seemed to Maurice, while he was watching Malicia make up her mind, that her mind worked in a different way to other people's minds. She understood all the hard things without even thinking. Magical rats? Yeah, yeah. Talking cats? Been there, done that, bought the singlet. It was the simple things that were hard.
Her lips were moving. She was, Maurice realized, making up a story out of it.
“So…” she said, “you come along with your trained rats—”
“We prefer ‘educated rodents’, guv,” said Sardines.
“—all right, your educated rodents, and you move into a city, and… what happens to the rats that are there already?”
Sardines looked helplessly at Maurice. Maurice nodded at him to keep on. They were all going to be in big trouble if Malicia didn't make up a story she liked.
“They keep out of our way, boss, I mean guv,” said Sardines.
“Can they talk too?”
“No, guv.”
“I think the Clan think of them as a bit like monkeys,” said Keith.
“I was talking to Sardines,” said Malicia.
“Sorry,” said Keith.
“And there're no other rats here at all?” Malicia went on.
“No, guv. A few old skeletons and some piles of poisons and lots of traps, boss. But no rats, boss.”
“But the rat-catchers nail up a load of rat tails every day!”
“I speak as I find, boss. Guv. No rats, boss. Guv. No other rats anywhere we've been, boss guv.”
“Have you ever looked at the rat tails, miss?” said Maurice.
“What do you mean?” said Malicia.
“They're fake,” said Maurice. “Some of them, anyway. They're just old leather bootlaces. I saw some in the street.”
“They weren't real tails?” said Keith.
“I'm a cat. You think I don't know what rats' tails look like?”
“Surely people would notice!” said Malicia.
“Yeah?” said Maurice. “Do you know what an aglet is?”
“Aglet? Aglet? What's an aglet got to do with anything?” snapped Malicia.
“It's those little metal bits on the end of shoelaces,” said Maurice.
“How come a cat knows a word like that?” said the girl.
“Everyone's got to know something,” said Maurice. “Have you ever looked closely at the rat tails?”
“Of course not. You can get the plague from rats!” said Malicia.
“That's right, your legs explode,” said Maurice, grinning. “That's why you didn't see the aglets. Your leg exploded lately, Sardines?”