The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents (9 page)

“That doesn't worry me,” said Darktan. “Mr. Clicky is going to be going in front in any case.”

“I thought he got smashed last week?” said Peaches.

“We've got two left,” said Darktan. “Then we'll have to raid another pet shop.”

“
I'm
the leader,” said Hamnpork. “
I'll
say what we do, Darktan.”

“Fine, sir. Fine,” said Darktan, still drawing in the mud. “And you know how to make all the traps safe, do you?”

“No, but I can tell you to!”

“Good. Good,” said Darktan, making more marks with his stick and not looking at the leader. “And you'll tell me which levers to leave alone and which bits to wedge open, will you?”

“I don't have to understand about traps,” said Hamnpork.

“But I do, sir,” said Darktan, speaking in the same calm voice. “And I'm telling you that there's a couple of things about some of these
new traps I don't understand, and until I understand them, I'd very
respectfully
suggest you leave it all to me.”

“That is not the way to talk to a superior rat!”

Darktan gave him a look, and Peaches held her breath.

This is the showdown, she thought. This is where we find out who is the leader.

Then Darktan said: “I am sorry. Impertinence was not intended.”

Peaches picked up the astonishment amongst the older males who were watching.

Darktan. He'd backed down! He hadn't leaped!

But he hadn't cowered, either.

Hamnpork's fur settled. The old rat was at a loss to know how to deal with this. All the signals were mixed up.

“Well, er…”

“Obviously, as the leader you must give the orders,” said Darktan.

“Yes, er…”

“But my advice, sir, is that we investigate this. Unknown things are dangerous.”

“Yes. Certainly,” said Hamnpork. “Yes, indeed. We will investigate. Of course. See to it. I am the leader, and that is what I am saying.”

 

Maurice looked around at the inside of the rat catchers' shed.

“It
looks
like a rat catchers' shed,” he said. “Benches, chairs, stove, lots of rat skins hanging up, piles of old traps, a couple of dog muzzles, rolls of wire netting, a considerable amount of a lack of any dusting ever being done. It's what
I'd
have expected a rat catchers' hut to look like inside.”

“I was expecting something…horrible yet interesting,” said Malicia. “Some ghastly clue.”

“Does there have to be a clue?” said Keith.

“Of course!” said Malicia, looking under a chair. “Look, cat, there's two types of people in the world. There are those who have got the plot, and those who haven't.”

“The world hasn't got a
plot
,” said Maurice. “Things just…happen, one after another.”

“Only if you think of it like that,” said Malicia, far too smugly in Maurice's opinion. “There's always a plot. You just have to know where to look.”

She paused for a moment and then said, “Look! That's the word! There'll be a secret passage, of course! Everyone look for the entrance to the secret passage!”

“Er…how will we know it's the entrance to a secret passage?” asked Keith, looking even more bewildered than normally. “What does a secret passage
look
like?”

“It won't
look
like one, of course!”

“Oh,
well
, in that case I can see dozens of secret passages,” said Maurice. “Doors, windows, that calendar from the Acme Poison Company, that cupboard over there, that rat hole, that desk, that—”

“You're just being sarcastic,” said Malicia, lifting up the calendar and sternly inspecting the wall behind it.

“Actually, I was just being flippant,” said Maurice. “But I can do sarcastic if you like.”

Keith stared at the long bench, which was in front of a window frosted with ancient cobwebs. Traps were piled up on it. All kinds of traps. And beside them were row upon row of battered old tins and jars with labels like “Danger: Hydrogen Dioxide!” and “RatBane” and “Fire-Gut” and “Polyputaketlon: Extreme Caution” and “RatAway!!!” and “Killerat!” and “Essence of Barbed Wire: Danger!!!” and—he leaned closer to look at this one—“Sugar.” There were a couple of mugs, too, and a teapot. White and green and gray powders were scattered on the
bench. Some of them had even fallen on the floor.

“You might try to be some help,” said Malicia, tapping the walls.

“I don't know how to look for something that doesn't look like the thing I'm looking for,” said Keith. “And they keep the poison right next to the sugar! So
many
poisons…”

Malicia stood back and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“This isn't working,” she said.

“I suppose there might not
be
a secret passage?” said Maurice. “I know it's a rather daring idea, but perhaps this is just an ordinary shed?”

Even Maurice recoiled a little from the force of the stare Malicia turned on him.

“There
has
to be a secret passage,” she said. “Otherwise there's no
point
.”

She snapped her fingers. “Of course! We're doing it wrong!
Everyone
knows you never find the secret passage by
looking
for it! It's when you give up and lean against the wall that you inadvertently operate the secret switch!”

Maurice looked at Keith for help. He was a human, after all. He should know how to deal with something like Malicia. But Keith was just wandering around the shed, staring at things.

Malicia leaned against the wall with incredible nonchalance.

There was not a click. A panel in the floor did not slide back.

“Probably the wrong place,” she said. “I'll just rest my arm innocently on this coat hook.”

A sudden door in the wall completely failed to happen.

“Of course, it'd help if there was an ornate candlestick,” said Malicia. “They're always a surefire secret-passage lever. Every adventurer knows that.”

“There isn't a candlestick,” said Maurice.

“I know. Some people totally fail to have any
idea
of how to design a proper secret passage,” said Malicia. She leaned against another piece of wall, which had no effect whatsoever.

“I don't think you'll find it that way,” said Keith, who was carefully examining a trap.

“Oh? Won't I?” said Malicia. “Well, at least I'm being
constructive
about things! Where would you look, if you're such an expert?”

“Why is there a rat hole in a rat catcher's shed?” said Keith. “It smells of dead rats and wet dogs and poison. I wouldn't come near this place, if I was a rat.”

Malicia glared at him. Then her face wrapped itself in an expression of acute concentration, as
if she was trying out several ideas in her head.

“Ye-es,” she said. “That usually works, in stories. It's often the stupid person who comes up with the good idea by accident.”

She crouched down and peered into the hole.

“There's a sort of little lever,” she said. “I'll just give it a little push….”

There was a
clonk
under the floor, part of it swung back, and Keith dropped out of sight.

“Oh, yes,” said Malicia. “I thought something like that would probably happen.”

 

Mr. Clicky bumped along the tunnel, making a whirring noise.

Young rats had chewed his ears, and his string tail had been chopped off by a trap, and other traps had dented his body, but he had this advantage: Surprise traps couldn't kill Mr. Clicky because he wasn't alive, and he wasn't alive because he was powered by clockwork.

His key whirred around. A stub of candle burned on his back.

The rest of the Number One Trap Squad watched.

“Any minute now…” said Darktan.

There was a snap, and a sound best described as
gloink
! The light went out. Then a gear wheel
rolled slowly back down the tunnel and fell over in front of Hamnpork.

“I
thought
the soil looked a bit disturbed there,” said Darktan in a satisfied voice. He turned around. “Okay, lads! Break out another Mr. Clicky, and I want half a dozen of you with a rope to dig out that trap and drag it out of the way!”

“All this testing the ground is slowing us down, Darktan,” said Hamnpork.

“Fine, sir,” said Darktan, as the squad hurried past them. “
You
go on ahead. That'd be a good idea, because we've got only one Mr. Clicky left. I hope this town's got a pet shop.”
*

“I just think we should move faster,” said Hamnpork.

“Okay, off you go then,
sir
. Try to shout out where the next trap is before it gets you.”

“I
am
the leader, Darktan.”

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry. We're all getting a bit tired.”

“This is not a good place, Darktan,” said Hamnpork wearily. “I've been in some bad
rprptlt
holes, and this is worse than any of them.”

“That's true, sir. This place is
dead
.”

“What's that word Dangerous Beans invented?”

“Evil,” said Darktan, watching the squad drag the trap out of the walls of the tunnel.

He could see mangled springs and wheels in the jaws. He added, “I couldn't quite understand what he was going on about, at the time. But now I think I can see what he meant.”

He looked back along the tunnel to where a candle flame burned and grabbed a passing rat.

“Peaches and Dangerous Beans are to stay all the way back, understand?” he said. “They're
not
to come any farther.”

“Right, sir!” said the rat, and hurried away.

The expedition moved forward cautiously, as the tunnel opened up into a large, old drain. It had a trickle of water in the bottom. There were ancient pipes in the roof of it. Here and there steam hissed from them. Weak light came from a street grating, farther down the drain.

The place smelled of rats. It smelled
freshly
of rats. In fact there was a rat in there, nibbling at a tray of food that had been set on a crumbling brick. It glanced at the Changelings and fled.

“Get after it!” Hamnpork yelled.

“No!” shouted Darktan. A couple of rats,
who'd begun to chase the
keekee
, hesitated.

“That was an
order
I gave!” roared Hamnpork, turning on Darktan. The trap expert made a very brief crouch and said, “Of course. But I think the view of Hamnpork
in possession of all the facts
will be a little different from the view of Hamnpork who just shouted because he saw a rat run away, hmm? Sniff the air!”

Hamnpork's nose wrinkled.

“Poison?”

Darktan nodded.

“Gray Number Two,” he said. “Foul stuff. It's best to keep well away.”

Hamnpork looked both ways along the pipe. It went on for a long way, and it was just about high enough for a human to crawl along it. Lots of smaller pipes hung near the ceiling.

“It's
warm
here,” said Hamnpork.

“Yes, sir. Peaches has been reading the guidebook. Hot springs come up out of the ground here, and they pump the water around to some of the houses.”

“Why?”

“To bathe in, sir.”

“Hrumph.” Hamnpork didn't like that idea. A lot of the young rats were keen on taking baths.

Darktan turned to the squad. “Hamnpork
wants that poison buried and widdled on and a marker on it right
now
!”

Hamnpork heard a metallic sound beside him. He turned and saw that Darktan had drawn, from his web of tools, a long, thin piece of metal.

“What the
krckrck
is that?” he said.

Darktan swished the thing backward and forward.

“I got the stupid-looking kid to make this for me,” he said.

And then Hamnpork realized what it was.

“That's a
sword
,” he said. “You got the idea out of
Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure
?”

“That's right.”

“I've never believed that stuff,” Hamnpork grumbled. “It's too far-fetched.”

“But a spike is a spike,” said Darktan calmly. “I think we're close to the other rats. It'd be a good idea if most of us stay here…sir.”

Hamnpork felt he was being given orders again, but Darktan
was
being polite.

“I suggest that a few of us go on ahead to sniff them out,” Darktan went on. “Sardines would be useful, and I'll go, of course—”

“And me,” said Hamnpork.

He glared at Darktan, who said, “Of course.”

A
nd because of Olly the Snake's trick with the road sign, Mr. Bunnsy did not know that he had lost his way. He wasn't going to Howard the Stoat's tea party. He was heading into the Dark Wood.

—From
Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure

Malicia looked at the open trapdoor as if giving it points out of ten.

“Quite well hidden,” she said. “No wonder we didn't see it.”

“I'm not hurt much,” Keith called up from the darkness.

“Good,” said Malicia, still inspecting the trapdoor. “How far down are you?”

“It's some sort of cellar. I'm okay because I landed on some sacks.”

“All right, all right, no need to go
on
about it. This wouldn't be an adventure if there weren't some minor hazards,” said the girl. “Here's the
top of a ladder. Why didn't you use it?”

“I was unable to on account of falling past,” said the voice of Keith.

“Shall I carry you down?” said Malicia to Maurice.

“Shall I scratch your eyes out?” said Maurice.

Malicia's brow wrinkled. She always looked annoyed when she didn't understand something.

“Was that sarcasm?” she asked.

“That was a suggestion,” said Maurice. “I don't do ‘picking up' by strangers. You go down. I'll follow.”

“But you haven't got the legs for ladders!”

“Do I make personal remarks about
your
legs?”

Malicia descended into the dark. There was a metallic noise, and then the flare of a match.

“It's full of sacks!” said Malicia.

“I know,” came the voice of Keith. “I landed on them. I did say.”

“It's grain! And…and there's strings and strings of sausages! There's smoked meat! Bins of vegetables! It's full of food! Aargh! Get out of my hair! Get
off
! That
cat
just jumped onto my head!”

Maurice leaped off her and onto some sacks.

“Hah!” said Malicia, rubbing her head. “We were
told
that the rats had got it all. I see it all
now. The rat catchers get everywhere, they know all the sewers, all the cellars…and to think those thieves get paid out of
our
taxes!”

Maurice looked around the cellar, lit by the flickering lantern in Malicia's hand. There was indeed a lot of food. Nets hanging from the ceiling were indeed stuffed with big, white, heavy cabbages. The aforesaid sausages did indeed loop from beam to beam. There were indeed jars and barrels and sacks and sacks. And indeed they all worried him.

“That's it, then,” said Malicia. “What a hiding place! We're going to go right away to the town Watch and report what we've found, and then it's a big bang-up tea with cream buns all around and possibly a medal and then—”

“I'm suspicious,” said Maurice.

“Why?”

“Because I'm a suspicious character! I wouldn't trust your rat catchers if they told me the sky was blue. What have they been doing? Pinching the food and then saying, ‘It was the rats, honest'? And everyone
believed
them?”

“No, stupid. People have found gnawed bones and empty egg baskets, that sort of thing,” said Malicia. “And rat droppings all over the place!”

“I suppose you could scratch the bones, and I
suppose rat catchers could shovel up a lot of rat droppings…” Maurice conceded.

“And they're killing all the real rats so that there's more for them!” said Malicia triumphantly. “Very clever!”

“Yeah, and that's a bit puzzling,” said Maurice, “because we've met your rat catchers and, frankly, if it was raining meatballs, they wouldn't be able to find a fork.”

“I'm thinking about something,” said Keith, who had been humming to himself.

“Well, I'm glad
someone
is,” Malicia began.

“It's about wire netting,” said Keith. “There was wire netting in the shed.”

“Is this
important
?”

“Why do rat catchers need rolls of wire netting?”

“How should I know? Cages, maybe? Does it matter?”

“Why would rat catchers put rats in cages? Dead rats don't run away, do they?”

There was silence. Maurice could see that Malicia was not happy about that comment. It was an unnecessary complication. It spoiled the story.

“I may be stupid-looking,” Keith added, “but I'm not stupid. I have time to think about things
because I don't keep on talking
all the time
. I look at things. I listen. I try to learn. I—”

“I
don't
talk all the time!”

Maurice let them argue and stalked away into the corner of the cellar. Or cellars. They seemed to go on a long way.

He saw something streak across the floor in the shadows and leaped before he could think. His stomach remembered that it had been a long time since the mouse, and it connected itself straight to his legs.

“All right,” he said, as the thing squirmed in his paws, “speak up or—”

A small stick hit him very sharply.

“Do you
mind
?” said Sardines, struggling to get up.

“Dere's bno ned to be like dab!” muttered Maurice, trying to lick his smarting nose.

“I've got a
rkrklk
hat on, right?” snapped Sardines. “Do you ever bother to look?”

“All ride, all ride, sorwy…. Why're you here?”

Sardines brushed himself off. “Looking for you or the stupid-looking kid,” he said. “Hamnpork sent me! We're in trouble now! You just won't believe what we've found!”

“He wants
me
?” said Maurice. “I thought he didn't like me!”

“Well, he said it's nasty and evil so you'd know
what to do, boss,” said Sardines, picking up his hat. “Look at that, will you? Your claw went right through it!”

“But I
did
ask you if you could talk, didn't I?” said Maurice.

“Yes, you did, but—”

“I always ask!”

“I know, so—”

“I'm very
definite
about asking, you know!”

“Yes, yes, you've made your point, I believe you,” said Sardines. “I only complained about the hat!”

“I'd hate anyone to think I don't ask,” said Maurice.

“There's no need to go on and on about it,” said Sardines. “Where's the kid?”

“Back there, talking to the girl,” said Maurice sulkily.

“What, the mad one?”

“That's her.”

“You'd better get them. This is seriously evil. There's a door at the other end of these cellars. I'm amazed you can't smell it from here!”

“I'd just like everyone to be clear that I asked, that's all.”

“Boss,” said Sardines, “this is
serious
!”

 

Peaches and Dangerous Beans waited for the exploration party. They were with Toxie, another young male rat, who was good at reading and acted as a kind of assistant.

Peaches had also brought
Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure
.

“They've been gone a long time,” said Toxie.

“Darktan checks every step,” said Peaches.

“Something's wrong,” said Dangerous Beans. His nose wrinkled.

A rat scurried down the tunnel and pushed frantically past them.

Dangerous Beans sniffed the air.

“Fear,” he said.

Three more rats scrambled past, knocking him over.

“What's happening?” asked Peaches, as another rat spun her around in an effort to get past. It squeaked at her and rushed on.

“That was Finest,” she said. “Why didn't she say anything?”

“More…fear,” said Dangerous Beans. “They're…scared. Terrified…”

Toxie tried to stop the next rat. She bit him and ran on, chittering.

“We must go back,” said Peaches urgently.

“What've they found up there? Maybe it's a ferret!”

“Can't be!” said Toxie. “Hamnpork killed a ferret once!”

Three more rats ran past, trailing fear behind them. One of them squealed at Peaches, gibbered madly at Dangerous Beans, and ran on.

“They…they've forgotten how to talk,” whispered Dangerous Beans.

“Something terrible must have frightened them!” said Peaches, snatching up her notes.

“They've never been that frightened!” said Toxie. “Remember when that dog found us? We were all frightened but we
talked
and we trapped it and Hamnpork saw it off whimpering….”

To her shock, Peaches saw that Dangerous Beans was crying. “They've forgotten how to
talk
.”

Half a dozen more rats pushed their way past, screeching. Peaches tried to stop one, but she just squeaked at her and dodged out of the way.

“That was Feedsfour!” she said, turning to Toxie. “I was talking to her only an hour ago! She…Toxie?”

Toxie's fur was bristling. His eyes were unfocused. His mouth was open, showing his teeth. He stared at her, or right through her, and then turned and ran.

She turned and put her paws around Dangerous Beans as the fear swept over them.

 

There were rats. From wall to wall, floor to ceiling, there were rats. The cages were crammed with them; they clung to the wire in front, and to roofs. The netting strained with the weight. Glistening bodies boiled and tumbled, paws and noses thrusting through the holes. The air was solid with squeaking and rustling and chittering, and it stank.

What was left of Hamnpork's exploration party was clustered in the middle of the room. Most of it had fled by now. If the smells in that room had been sounds, they would have been shouts and screams, thousands of them. They filled the long room with a strange kind of pressure. Even Maurice could feel it, as soon as Keith opened the door. It was like a headache outside your head, trying to get in. It banged on the ears.

Maurice was staying a little way behind. You didn't need to be very clever to see that this was a bad situation, and one that might need some running away from at any time.

He saw, between Malicia and Keith's legs, Darktan and Hamnpork and a few other Changelings. They were in the middle of the
floor, looking up at the cages.

He was amazed to see that even Hamnpork was trembling. But he was trembling with rage.

“Let them out!” he shouted up to Keith. “Let them all out! Let them all out
now
!”

“
Another
talking rat?” asked Malicia.

“Let them out!”
Hamnpork screamed.

“All these foul cages…” said Malicia, staring.

“I did
say
about the wire netting,” said Keith. “Look, you can see where it's been repaired…they
gnawed
through
wire
to escape!”

“I said
let them out
!” screamed Hamnpork. “Let them out or I will
kill
you! Evil! Evil! Evil!”

“But they're just rats—” said Malicia.

Hamnpork leaped and landed on the girl's waist. He swarmed up toward her neck. She froze. He hissed: “There are rats
eating one another
in there! I will
gnaw
you, you evil—”

Keith's hand grasped him firmly around the waist and pulled him off her neck.

Screeching, hair bristling, Hamnpork sank his teeth into Keith's finger.

Malicia gasped. Even Maurice winced.

Hamnpork drew his head back, blood dripping from his muzzle, and blinked in horror.

Tears welled up in Keith's eyes. Very carefully he put Hamnpork down on the floor.

“It's the smell,” he said quietly. “It upsets them.”

“I…I thought you said they were tame!” said Malicia, able to speak at last. She picked up a lump of wood that was leaning against the cages.

Keith knocked it out of her hand.

“Never, ever threaten one of us!”

“He
attacked
you!”

“Look around! This is not a story! This is real! Do you understand? They're frightened out of their minds!”

“How dare you talk to me like that!” Malicia shouted.

“I
rrkrkrk
will!”

“One of
us
, eh? Was that a rat swear word? Do you even swear in Rat, rat boy?”

Just like cats, Maurice thought. You stand face to face and scream at each other.

His ears swiveled as he heard another sound, in the distance. Someone was coming down the ladder.

Maurice knew from experience that this was no time to talk to humans. They always said things like “What?” and “That's not right!” or “Where?”

“Get out of here
right now
,” he said as he ran past Darktan. “Don't get human about it, just run!”

And that was quite enough heroism, he decided.
It didn't pay to let other people actually slow you down.

There was a rusty old drain set into the wall. He skidded on the slimy floor as he changed direction, and there,
yes
, was a Maurice-sized hole where a bar had rusted clean away.

Paws scrabbling for speed, he darted through the hole just as the rat catchers entered the room of cages.

Then, safe in the darkness, he turned around and peered out.

Time to check: Was Maurice safe? All legs present? Tail? Yes. Good.

He could see Darktan tugging at Hamnpork, who seemed to have frozen on the spot, the others scuttling toward another drain in the opposite wall. They moved unsteadily. That's what happens when you let yourself go, Maurice thought. They think they're educated, but in a tight corner a rat is just a rat.

Now
me
, I'm different. Brain functioning perfectly at all times. Always on the lookout. On the case and sniffing bottom.

The caged rats were making a din. Keith and the storytelling girl were watching the rat catchers in amazement. The rat catchers weren't unamazed either.