“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 a comic monologue,” said Maurice, “and I can't pronounce difficult words like ‘marmalade’ and ‘lumbago’. But I'm pretty happy with basic repartee and simple wholesome conversation. Speaking as a cat, I'd like to know what the rat has got to say.”
“Mr Mayor?” said Keith, strolling up and twirling the new rat pipe in his fingers. “Don't you think it's time I sorted out your rat problem once and for all?”
“Sort it out? But—”
“All you have to do is talk to them. Get your town council together and talk to them. It's up to you, Mr Mayor. You can yell and shout and call out the dogs and people can run around and flail at the rats with brooms and, yes, they'll run away. But they won't run far. And they'll come back.” When he was standing next to the bewildered man he leaned towards him and whispered, “And they live under your floorboards, sir. They know how to use fire. They know all about poison. Oh, yes. So… listen to this rat.”
“Is it threatening us?” said the Mayor, looking down at Darktan.
“No, Mr Mayor,” said Darktan, “I'm offering you…” He glanced at Maurice, who nodded. “… a wonderful opportunity.”
“You really can talk? You can think?” said the mayor.
Darktan looked up at him. It had been a long night. He didn't want to remember any of it. And now it was going to be a longer, harder day. He took a deep breath. “Here's what I suggest,” he said. “You pretend that rats can think, and I'll promise to pretend that humans can think, too.”
CHAPTER 12
‘Well done, Ratty Rupert!’ cried the animals of Furry Bottom.
The crowd clustered into the Rathaus's council hall. Most of it had to stay outside, craning over other people's heads to see what was going on.
The town council was crammed around one end of their long table. A dozen or so of the senior rats were crouched at the other end.
And, in the middle, was Maurice. He was suddenly there, leaping up from the floor.
Hopwick the clockmaker glared at the other members of the council. “We're talking to rats!” he snapped, trying to make himself heard above the hubbub. “We'll be a laughing stock if this gets out! ‘The Town That Talked To Its Rats’. Can't you just see it?”
“Rats aren't there to be spoken to,” said Raufman the bootmaker, prodding the mayor with a finger. “A mayor who knew his business would send for the ratcatchers!”
“According to my daughter, they are locked in a cellar,” said the mayor. He stared at the finger.
“Locked in by your talking rats?” said Raufman.
“Locked in by my daughter,” said the mayor, calmly. “Take your finger away, Mr Raufman. She's taken the watchmen down there. She's making very serious allegations, Mr Raufman. She says there's a lot of food stored under their shed. She says they've been stealing it and selling it to the river traders. The head rat-catcher is your brother-in-law, isn't he, Mr Raufman? I remember you were very keen to see him appointed, weren't you?”