“Father!” said Malicia.
“Later on, later on, obviously,” said the mayor. “He's unpleasant, but he is rich.”
“No, I'll just take my payment,” said the piper. “One way or another.”
“And I said we can't afford it!” said the mayor.
“And I said one way or the other,” said the piper. “And you, kid?”
“Your rat pipe,” said Keith.
“No. It's magic, kid.”
“Then why are you scared to bet it?”
The piper narrowed his eyes. “OK, then,” he said.
“And the town must let me solve its rat problem,” said Keith.
“And how much will you charge?” said the mayor.
“Thirty gold pieces! Thirty gold pieces. Go on, say it!” shouted a voice at the back of the crowd.
“No, I won't cost you a thing,” said Keith.
“Idiot!” shouted the voice in the crowd. People looked around, puzzled.
“Nothing at all?” said the mayor.
“No, nothing.”
“Er… the hand-in-marriage thing is still on offer, if you—”
“Father!”
“No, that only happens in stories,” said Keith. “And I shall also bring back a lot of the food that the rats stole.”
“They ate it!” said the mayor. “What're you going to do, stick your fingers down their throats?”
“I said that I'll solve your rat problem,” said Keith. “Agreed, Mr Mayor?”
“Well, if you're not charging—”
“But first, I shall need to borrow a pipe,” Keith went on.
“You haven't got one?” said the mayor.
“It got broken.”
Corporal Knopf nudged the mayor. “I've got a trombone from when I was in the army,” he said. “It won't take a mo to nip and get it.”
The rat piper burst out laughing.
“Doesn't that count?” said the mayor, as Corporal Knopf hurried off.
“What? A trombone for charming rats? No, no, let him try. Can't blame a kid for trying. Good with a trombone, are you?”
“I don't know,” said Keith.
“What do you mean, you don't know?”
“I mean, I've never played one. I'd be a lot happier with a flute, trumpet, piccolo or Lancre bagpipe, but I've seen people playing the trombone and it doesn't look too difficult. It's only an overgrown trumpet, really.”
“Hah!” said the piper.
The watchman came running back, rubbing a battered trombone with his sleeve and therefore making it just a bit more grimy. Keith took it, wiped the mouthpiece, put it to his mouth, pressed the keys a few times and then blew one long note.
“Seems to work,” he said. “I expect I can learn as I go along.” He gave the rat piper a brief smile. “Do you want to go first?”
“You won't charm one rat with that mess, kid,” said the piper, “but I'm glad I'm here to see you try.”
Keith gave him a smile again, took a breath, and played.
There was a tune there. The instrument squeaked and wheezed, because Corporal Knopf had occasionally used the thing as a hammer, but there was a tune, quite fast, almost jaunty. You could tap your feet to it.
Someone tapped his feet to it.
Sardines emerged from a crack in a nearby wall, going “hwunftwothreefour” under his breath. The crowd him dance ferociously across the cobbles until he disappeared into a drain. Then they broke into applause.
The piper looked at Keith. “Did that one have a hat on?” he said.
“I didn't notice,” said Keith. “Your go.”
The piper pulled a short length of pipe from inside his jacket. He took another length from his pocket, and slotted it into place on the first piece. It went click, in a military kind of way.
Still watching Keith, and still grinning, the piper took a mouthpiece from his top pocket, and screwed it into the rest of the pipe with another, very final, click.
Then he put it to his mouth and played.
From her lookout on a roof Big Savings shouted down a drainpipe, “Now!” Then she pushed two lumps of cotton-wool in her ears.
At the bottom of the pipe, Inbrine shouted into a drain, “Now!” and then he too snatched up his earplugs.
… ow, ow, ow echoed through the pipes…
… “Now!” shouted Darktan in the room of cages. He rammed some straw into the drainpipe. “Everyone block their ears!”
They'd done their best with the rat cages. Malicia had brought blankets, and the rats had spent a feverish hour blocking up holes with mud. They'd done their best to feed the prisoners properly, too, and even though they were only keekees it was heartbreaking to see them cower so desperately.
Darktan turned to Nourishing. “Got your ears blocked?” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Good!” Darktan picked up two lumps of cotton-wool. “The silly-sounding girl better be right about this stuff,” he said. “I don't think many of us have got any strength left to run.”
The piper blew again, and then stared at his pipe.
“Just one rat,” said Keith. “Any rat you like.”
The piper glared at him, and blew again. “I can't hear anything,” said the mayor.
“Humans can't,” muttered the piper.
“Perhaps it's broken,” said Keith helpfully.
The piper tried again. There was murmuring from the crowd. “You've done something,” he hissed.
“Oh yes?” said Malicia, loudly. “What could he have done? Told the rats to stay underground with their ears blocked up?”
The murmuring turned into muffled laughter.
The piper tried one more time. Keith felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
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?”