“Trying to light their candle, I think.”
“Rats play with fire?” Malicia hissed.
“They don't play. Dangerous Beans thinks lights and shadows are very important. They always have a candle alight somewhere in their tunnels, wherever they—”
“Dangerous Beans? What sort of name is that?”
“Shssh! They just learned words off old food tins and signs and things! They didn't know what the words meant, they just chose them because they liked the sounds!”
“Yes, but… Dangerous Beans? It sounds as if he makes you”
“It's his name. Don't make fun of it!”
“Sorry, I'm sure,” said Malicia, haughtily.
The match flared. The candle flame grew.
Malicia looked down at two rats. One was… well, just a small rat, although sleeker than most of the ones she'd seen. In fact most of the ones she'd seen had been dead, but even the living ones had always been… twitchy, nervy, sniffing the air all the time. This one just… watched. It stared right at her.
The other rat was white, and even smaller. It was also watching her, although peering was a better word. It had pink eyes. Malicia had never been very interested in other people's feelings, since she'd always considered that her own were a lot more interesting, but there was something sad and worrying about that rat.
It was dragging a small book, or at least what would be a small book to a human; it was about half the size of a rat. The cover was quite colourful, but Malicia couldn't make out what it was.
“Peaches and Dangerous Beans,” said Keith. “This is Malicia. Her father is the mayor here.”
“Hello,” said Dangerous Beans.
“Mayor? Isn't that like government!” said Peaches. “Maurice says governments are very dangerous criminals and steal money from people.”
“How did you teach them to speak?” said Malicia.
“They taught themselves,” said Keith. “They're not trained animals, you know.”
“Well, my father does not steal from anyone. Who taught them that governments are very—?”
“'Scuse me, 'scuse me,” said Maurice's voice hurriedly, from the drain gate. “That's right, I'm down here. Can we get on with things?”
“We'd like you to gnaw at our ropes, please,” said Keith.
“I've got a bit of broken knife blade,” said Peaches. “It's for sharpening the pencil. Would that be better?”
“Knife?” said Malicia. “Pencil?”
“I did say they weren't ordinary rats,” said Keith.
Nourishing had to run to keep up with Darktan. And Darktan was running because he had to run to keep up with Sardines. When it came to moving fast across a town, Sardines was champion of the world.
They picked up more rats on the way. Nourishing couldn't help noticing that these were mostly the younger ones, who'd fled because of the terror but hadn't gone far. They fell in behind Darktan readily, almost grateful to be doing something with a purpose.
Sardines danced on ahead. He just couldn't help it. And he liked drainpipes, roofs and gutters. You got no dogs up there, he said, and not many cats.
No cat could have followed Sardines. The people of Bad Blintz had strung washing lines between the ancient houses and he leapt onto them, clinging upside down and moving as fast as he would on a flat surface. He went straight up walls, plunged through thatch, tap-danced around smoking chimneys, slid down tiles. Pigeons erupted from their roosts as he sped past, the other rats trailing behind him.
Clouds rolled across the moon.
Sardines reached the edge of a roof and leapt, landing on a wall just below. He ran along the top and disappeared in the crack between two planks.
Nourishing followed him into a kind of loft. Hay was piled in parts of it, but a larger part was simply open to the ground floor below, and supported by several heavy beams that ran right across the building. Bright light shone up from below, and there was the buzz of human voices and—she shuddered—the barking of dogs.
“This is a big stables, boss,” said Sardines. “The pit's under the beam over there. Come on…”
They crept out on the ancient woodwork and peered over the edge.
Far below was a wooden circle, like half a giant barrel. Nourishing realized that they were right over the pit; if she fell now, she'd land in the middle of it. Men were crowded around it. Dogs were tied up around the walls, barking at one another and at the universe in general in the mad, I'm-going-to-do-this-for-ever way of all dogs. And off to one side was a stack of boxes and sacks.
The sacks were moving.
“Crtlk! How the krrp will we find Hamnpork in this lot?” Darktan said, his eyes gleaming in the light from below.
“Well, with old Hamnpork, boss, I reckon we'll know when he turns up,” said Sardines.
“Could you drop into the pit on a string?”
“I'm game for anything, guv,” said Sardines, loyally.
“Into a pit with a dog in it, sir?” said Nourishing. “And won't the string cut you in half?”
“Ah, I've got something that helps there, boss,” said Sardines. He took off his thick coil of string and put it aside. There was another coil under it, glistening and light brown. He pulled at a piece of it, and it snapped back with a faint “twang”. “Bands of rubber,” he said. “I pinched them off a desk when I was looking for more string. I've used 'em before, boss. Very handy for a long drop, boss.”
Darktan took a step back on the boards. There was an old candle lantern there, lying on its side, the glass smashed, the candle eaten long ago. “Good,” he said. “Because I've got an idea. If you can drop down—”
There was a roar from below. The rats looked over the beam again.
The circle of heads had thickened around the lip of the pit. A man was talking in a loud voice. Occasionally there was a cheer. The black top hats of the rat-catchers moved through the crowd. Seen from above, they were sinister black blobs among the grey and brown caps.
One of the rat-catchers emptied a sack into the pit, and the watchers saw the dark shapes of rats scurrying in a panic, as they tried to find, in that circle, a corner to hide in.
The crowd opened slightly and a man walked to the edge of the pit, holding a terrier. There was some more shouting, a ripple of laughter, and the dog was dropped in with the rats.
The Changelings stared down at the circle of death, and the cheering humans.
After a minute or two Nourishing tore her gaze away. When she looked around she caught the expression on Darktan's face. Maybe it wasn't just the lamplight that made his eyes full of fire. She saw him look along the stable to the big doors at the far end. They had been barred shut. Then his head turned to the hay and straw piled up in the loft, and in the cribs and mangers below.
Darktan pulled a length of wood out of one of his belts.
Nourishing smelled the sulphur in the red blob on the end.
It was a match.
Darktan turned and saw him staring at her. He nodded towards the piles of hay in the loft. “My plan might not work,” he said. “If it doesn't, you'll be in charge of the other plan.”
“Me?” said Nourishing.
“You. Because I won't be… around,” said Darktan. He held out the match. “You know what to do,” he said, nodding to the nearest rack of hay.
Nourishing swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I think so. Er… when?”
“When the time comes. You'll know when,” said Darktan, and looked back down at the massacre. “One way or the other, I want them to remember tonight,” he said quietly. “They'll remember what they did. And they'll remember what we did. For as long as they… live.”
Hamnpork lay in his sack. He could smell the other rats nearby, and the dogs, and the blood. Especially the blood.