Chapter 9- The Lair
“Halt!” The rats froze at the command. The owner of the voice came into view; this rat was larger than the rest, but missing one of his front teeth.
“They are to be unharmed,” ordered the larger rodent, pushing his way through the circle of rats. “At least until the Boss had decided what to do with them.”
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” said Bryony, returning the large rat’s stare. “You’ve no right to do anything with us.”
“You’re on our turf,” snarled the rat. “That means we can do whatever we like with you.”
“Your turf? And who are you?”
“I’m surprised you have to ask,” said the large rat. “We are the Ratello Mob.”
Edwin gasped. “We were just talking about you. You were the most feared and ruthless rat gang ever.”
“We still are,” snapped the large rat. “And we run this island. Well half of it, anyway. My name is Dagger Tooth, and I’m second in command.”
Peering closely at the rat, Bryony noticed his remaining front tooth was broken and blunted. “But your tooth…”
“It’s an ironic pseudonym,” said Dagger Tooth.
“That sounds serious.” Bryony nodded sympathetically. “Have you seen a dentist?”
Stubby nudged Bryony’s arm. “He means his nickname. All gangsters have ironic nicknames.”
“He’s right.” Dagger Tooth gestured at the two nearest rats. “Check out Slim Jim and Baby Face Bob here.”
Slim Jim was anything but slim, with a bulging pot belly and bloated cheeks that made it look like he had swallowed a beach ball. Baby Face Bob was one of the ugliest creatures Bryony had ever seen, with a bent nose and a lower jaw that jutted out at a hideously lopsided angle.
“I get the point,” she said, nodding.
Edwin wasn’t interested in the rats’ names; another question was burning in his mind. “You said you run half the island. Who runs the other half?”
Dagger Tooth scowled at Edwin. “We’ll ask the questions. And you’ll tell us everything we wanna know.”
“We won’t tell you anything.” Bryony folded her arms defiantly.
“Oh but you will,” snarled Dagger Tooth. “One way or another, we’ll make you sing.”
“I’d strongly advise against that,” muttered Stubby. “You haven’t heard her karaoke.”
Dagger Tooth swung round and barked an order at Slim Jim. “Go fetch the Boss. Tell him some new arrivals have dropped into the lair.”
Slim Jim waddled off. Meanwhile more rats filed into the chamber, chittering and hissing excitedly.
“What will they do to us?” asked Edwin, keeping his voice low. “Are we going to be eaten?”
Stubby shrugged. “Only if we’re lucky.”
Edwin was about to ask what might happen if they were unlucky, but thought better of it. He looked at Bryony, and noticed she seemed remarkably calm about the whole situation. She had that look on her face, that crafty look that meant she was planning something.
More rats clustered around them, their beady eyes glinting menacingly as they examined the new arrivals. Bryony tried not to meet their gaze, but couldn’t help being drawn to one particular pair of eyes. Or rather, one particular eye. It belonged to a different type of animal to the rats, with a long slender body and reddish brown fur. The creature smiled at her, revealing two rows of small pointed teeth.
“That’s a weasel,” whispered Edwin, who had also spotted the strange animal. “I wonder what a weasel is doing with a gang of rats?”
The rats filled the chamber, closing more tightly around their prisoners.
“This could get tough,” whispered Stubby. “From now on be very careful what you say. Don’t tell them who you are, and don’t do anything to antagonise them. In fact, you’d be better off leaving all the talking to me.”
“I’ll do the talking,” squeaked a voice. “I’m Boss around here.”
The crowd of rats parted, heads lowered respectfully as their leader entered the chamber. He was smaller than Edwin had expected, and there was little to distinguish him from the other members of the gang, except the chunky gold chain he wore around his neck.
“My name is Pipsqueak,” announced the leader in his shrill voice. “And I…”
Bryony burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Pipsqueak.
“Your name.” Bryony could barely speak for laughing. “Pipsqueak.”
The gang leader shrugged. “It’s an ironic pseudonym. I’m actually the tallest and strongest rat in the gang, ain’t that right lads?”
Every rat in the lair answered with a resounding cheer of agreement. “See?” said Pipsqueak.
“But your voice,” said Bryony. “It’s…”
Before Bryony could say anything else, Stubby pushed in front of her. “We’re delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Pipsqueak. But, and please correct me if I am mistaken, I thought the legendary Boss Ratbags is in charge of the Ratello Mob?”
“He was,” said Pipsqueak. “As his son, I took over after he…” Pipsqueak’s voice trailed off, and for a second he gazed into space. Then he shook his head, and glared at Stubby. “Anyway, I’m the one asking the questions. Now tell me who you are, and what you’re doing on the island?”
“We are of no consequence,” said Stubby. “Just three new inmates looking for a quiet life. So if you’ll kindly let us be on our way…”
“You’re going nowhere,” said Pipsqueak. “Until I’ve decided what is to become of you. So tell me,” his attention switched to Bryony and Edwin, “what sort of creatures are you two?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” replied Bryony. “We’re…”
“Mice.” Stubby clamped a paw across Bryony’s lips. “They’re mice, just like me.”
“They don’t look like you,” said Dagger Tooth.
“We’re not related,” explained Stubby. “Which is why they’re so ugly.”
Bryony tore Stubby’s paw from her lips and glared at the mouse. “I’m not ugly!”
“You are for a mouse,” said Stubby.
“Are you sure they’re mice?” asked Pipsqueak, seemingly unconvinced.
“Not pure mice,” conceded Stubby. “The boy is half gerbil. And we suspect the girl’s paternal grandmother had a touch of hamster in her.”
Pipsqueak looked closely at Bryony, and nodded. “That’d explain the cheeks.”
Bryony glared at the rat. “Are you saying I’m fat?”
“Never mind her,” said Stubby. “We’re just three innocent mice.”
“None of us are innocent,” said a voice from behind Bryony. She turned and saw the weasel standing there, his one eye fixed on her. The other eye, she noticed, was concealed beneath a black leather patch.
“So tell us,” continued the weasel, slinking his way around Bryony. “What crimes did you commit?”
“I ask the questions!” shrieked Pipsqueak. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge, Slinker.”
“Apologies,” said the weasel, backing off. “You ask the questions, Boss.”
Pipsqueak nodded, and then cleared his throat before addressing the prisoners. “So tell me, what crimes did you commit?”
“We’re not criminals,” said Edwin. “We’re…”
“Don’t tell them,” hissed Stubby, as Edwin was about to explain all. “Don’t mention anything about yourselves.”
“They don’t look like criminals to me,” said another voice, soft and female. “Perhaps they are here by accident?” A slender nut-brown mouse made its way through the crowd, carrying a tray laden with small chunks of cardboard.
“They could be spies,” suggested Pipsqueak. “Sent by the Sisterhood to infiltrate the lair.” This suggestion drew a collective hiss from the assembled rats. Edwin wondered who the Sisterhood were, and guessed they weren’t popular with the Ratello Mob.
“These are no spies,” said the female mouse, offering the tray to Stubby. “You must be hungry. Would you care fo
r a piece of cardboard? I’m Moll, by the way. What’s your name, handsome?”
Edwin wasn’t sure if mice could blush, but Stubby came as close to blushing as a mouse probably could. “Well, people call me…”
Edwin nudged Stubby. “You said not to tell them anything.”
“Oh yes.” Stubby recovered his composure, and declined the offer with a polite bow. “I’m afraid I cannot accept your hospitality, Moll. Although I am wondering what a pretty field mouse like you is doing in a place like this?”
“I’ll have a chew,” said Bryony, reaching for a piece of cardboard.
“Enough of this!” Pipsqueak knocked the tray from Moll’s hands before Bryony could help herself to some cardboard. “They are here for interrogation, not afternoon tea! Get back to your duties, Moll. And leave the questioning to me. I’m Boss around here.”
To Edwin’s surprise, Moll wheeled round to confront her superior. “In name only,” said the field mouse, her voice sharpened with defiance. “You only took control because you were Boss Ratbag’s son. You’re not cut out to lead the Mob. You’re just a coward and a bully.”
“Why you…” Pipsqueak bared his teeth, and raised a paw at Moll.
“No!” Stubby threw himself at Pipsqueak, and sent the little rat flying before he could strike Moll.
The lair fell into a shocked silence; and none were more shocked than Bryony and Edwin.
“I do apologise,” said Stubby, as Slim Jim and Baby Face Bob helped Pipsqueak stand up. “I’m so clumsy, always tripping over my own feet.”
“I’ll soon put a stop to that,” snarled Pipsqueak. “By the time we’ve finished with you, you won’t have any feet. Or legs. Or head, for that matter. None of you. Lads, get ‘em!”
The rats surged eagerly towards the prisoners, teeth bared and beady eyes flashing.
“You can’t eat us,” cried Bryony, shrinking behind Stubby as the rats closed in. “We’re not mice. We’re humans.”
“She’s right,” yelled Edwin. “We’re humans. Humans shrunk by magic!”
The rats halted, and the lair fell silent again. Pipsqueak pushed through the crowd and glared at his prisoners. “What did you say?”
“We were shrunk by magic,” repeated Edwin. “It was the Wychetts Key that did it.”
“Well done.” Stubby slapped a paw across his face. “In future, to save time, why don’t you just hand out pre-printed cards? Or better still, wear hats embellished with illuminated signs broadcasting to the entire world that you’re Guardians, descendants of the Wise Ones and carriers of the powerful Wychetts Key.”
Bryony looked at Stubby. “Like you just did?”
Too late, Stubby realised what he’d said. “Ah.”
Slinker shook his head. “They must take us for fools. Everyone knows there ain’t no Wychetts and no Wise Ones no more.”
Pipsqueak stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. “Our sentries reported the arrival of some humans today. But then the humans disappeared, around the same time as that freak storm.”
“That wasn’t a storm,” explained Bryony. “It was caused by magic. That’s when we got shrunk to mouse size.”
“The Wise Ones and the Guardians died out years ago,” protested Slinker. “They’re just legends.”
“Very kind of you to say so.” Bryony quite liked such an accolade. “My name is Bryony, and I’m the Principle Guardian. My disciple here is called Edwin. And the mouse is known as Stubby.”
“Obviously it’s not my real name,” said Stubby, meeting Moll’s gaze. “It’s an ironic pseudonym.”
Suddenly Edwin realised what Bryony had just said. “What do you mean disciple? And you’re not principle anything. Except big-head.”
Pipsqueak twitched his nose. “But if you are Guardians, what are you doing on the island?”
“We came here on holiday,” said Edwin.
Everyone laughed, including Pipsqueak. “You sure picked a nice spot. So what happened to this Key of yours?”
“We lost it,” admitted Bryony. “It fell into that old well.”
“It fell into the Pit?” Pipsqueak shook his head. “That is a pity. You might have been some use to us, but a Guardian without the Key is like a mouse without a tail.”
“I manage,” said Stubby.
“But if we found the Key,” said Bryony, “then we could prove we’re telling the truth.”
Dagger Tooth shook his head. “There are old drainage tunnels leading down to the Pit, but it wouldn’t be an easy journey for a couple of humans.”
“But what if you helped us?” suggested Bryony. “Then we could help you in return.”
Stubby gasped in protest, but Pipsqueak silenced the mouse with a snarl before turning his attention back to Bryony. “So how could you help us, Guardian?”
Bryony shrugged. “I could give you power over your enemies, this Sisterhood or whatever you call them. I could set you free. I could do anything you wanted.”
Edwin noticed how Bryony had substituted the word ‘we’ with ‘I’, but before he could point that out to her, Dagger Tooth interjected.
“It would be too dangerous, Boss. No one who goes down to the Pit ever returns. The legends…”
“Are just legends,” snapped Pipsqueak. “My pa didn’t believe them, and neither do I.”
“Even then such a trek would not be without risk,” said Moll. “The lower drainage tunnels are notoriously unstable. You could all be trapped, or crushed to death.”
Pipsqueak nodded. “But while there’s a chance we might find this Key, a chance for us to defeat the Sisterhood and escape from this prison, surely that’s a risk worth taking?”
“But how do we know we can trust these humans?” asked Slinker. “It could be a trap.”
The rats hissed and chittered; some sounded like they agreed, others didn’t. Edwin sensed the mob was split on this one, and he was also in two minds about it. Like Stubby said, it seemed madness to make a deal with the Ratello Mob. But then again, what choice did they have? It was probably the only way to find the Key and get off this island.
Pipsqueak stroked his whiskers thoughtfully, and then nodded at Bryony. “I’ve made my decision. We shall go look for the Key. And in return, you will use your magic to help us in any way we demand.”
“It’s a deal,” said Bryony, extending her hand towards Pipsqueak.
“It is customary to shake tails,” said Pipsqueak. “But as you don’t have one, I will shake your hand instead.”
A beaming Bryony shook the rat’s paw.
“Hold up,” said Edwin, grabbing Bryony’s shoulder. “Don’t I get a say in this? The Key is just as much mine as yours.”
“Too late,” smirked Bryony. “I’ve closed the deal. The Key belongs to me.”
“It won’t belong to you,” said Stubby. “If the Ratello Mob get their paws on it, you’ll never be free of them. And neither will the world.”
“I know what I’m doing,” said Bryony.
Stubby shook his head. “If I thought that, I’d be even more afraid.”
Wychetts and the Key to Magic Page 10