"If you hang onto that tub, Yaga will find you soon enough," I said. A world without Lycus seemed very frightening indeed.
"I want her to find me." Lycus undid the latch holding the broom to the back of the tub and dropped it in the water. "No more running."
"And when she finds you?"
Lycus grabbed the pole again and shoved off. "There's got to be something to exchange for Vasilissa that Yaga would value. I don't know what it is, yet, but I have to try."
"Just don't trade anything you'll need later," I said. "Like your soul."
Lycus smirked. "You neither," he said, receding in the distance. "When you see the boys, say hello for me!"
If I could cry, I would have. "I will! Goodbye Lycus! You've been a good friend!"
"Goodbye, Scrap. I'll see you soon!"
I didn't believe him.
Lycus let the current take him further downstream and soon he was out of sight.
I turned back to face the long road to Stromgate. There was no Lycus, no Will, no Switch—nobody. Just me. I had come full circle, facing down ogres, evil princes, eagles, cats, goblins, and witches. Now it was time to forge my own destiny; to get Black’s Boys back safely, and maybe, just maybe, forge my own path to again be a human boy.
Chapter 7: Scrap and the End of it All
What happened to me after the faux-assassination attempt, I only remembered in bits and pieces.
I ran. I ran as fast as my rat legs could take me. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was running to or from, but I ran for my life.
In the confusion, I was easy to ignore. The guards had no interest in me; they were torn between guarding the Queen and attending to the choking and dying nobles. Some drew their swords and kept Halewijn at bay.
"Out of my way fools!" shouted Halewijn, pointing at the floor where I was. "He’s getting away!"
Halewijn was many things: a thief, a liar, even a competent stage magician. But he was also a juggler. When Halewijn grabbed his skewers, the City Marshal was right to distrust him.
I ran over the corpse of the Marshal as skewers whistled past me, twanging to the ground. Halewijn was a crack shot.
Then I was free. A rat in the castle was hardly a sight, even in the palace. The dying nobles and the Queen’s safety were of a considerably higher priority.
Things moved quickly from there. I was on my own, living as a rat would. Halewijn was named Acting City Marshal. The ban on magic within the city limits became permanent. Halewijn was also made Venefigrex’s Headmaster. With both positions in his grasp, he was able to simultaneously control and limit the use of magic.
As Venefigrex’s Headmaster, Halewijn rendered the school effectively toothless. Magic that could be interpreted as dangerous was banned, which left students with simple cantrips and little else. When the merchants complained that a wizard could conceivably run one of the guilds out of business, even those were banned. Would-be wizards learned naught but the history of magic, at considerable expense. The assassination attempt was a boon for the Queen after all.
As City Marshal, Halewijn enacted a curious edict, one fully supported by the Queen: he placed a bounty on all rats. The rat-catching profession sprang up, and men who formerly were unable to find work suddenly found it quite lucrative to crawl about on their hands and knees in the muck searching for rats.
But the rats were no easy scourge to remove. Always present, they simply went into deeper hiding. Indeed, some wizards had spells that kept vermin away, and when the ban on magic passed, the spells were removed and the number of rats increased.
All this, remarkably, led to my continued survival as a rat. In a sea of vermin, it was easy for me to blend in. I wasn’t in my right mind in any case. The odds of me finding my way back to my humanity were slim indeed. But surely it couldn’t have been coincidence that I did precisely that…
* * *
I padded up to the two guards standing alert at the entrance to the city. The portcullis kept out those who didn't pay their entrance tax, but it was a trivial matter for me to slip between the bars.
"Ya 'eard about th' bounty?"
"Bounty? Ah, right, on the Hyrtstone. It's been ten years since it was stolen," said the other guard. "Why the rush now?"
"When th’ Queen dies, and wi’ no heirs, the Hyrtstone's th' only way to find a blood relative. We got ninety days t’find a successor. Or else the nobles take over. And ye know who leads th’ Council."
"Halewijn, o’course," responded the other guard. "Th’ man’s got ambition, I’ll give ‘im that—wizard schoolmaster, city marshal…e’ll be King before ye know it, mark my words."
"Aye, he’s a climber." The guard leaned heavily on his polearm and then suddenly hopped up, pointing. "Another one!"
I darted backwards into the shadows. Had he seen me?
The other guard slammed the butt of his polearm down on something that crunched. "Little buggers keep crawlin' in. Must be th' dry season."
His companion nodded in the fading light. "Aye. Never seen so many scorpions in me life."
"Doesn't explain the bats," said the guard. "They're normally only in the wet season. Oddest thing…"
I slinked past them into Stromgate proper, entranced by the sights and sounds that assaulted my rat senses.
The first order of business was to find the boys and get them to safety. If what the guards said was true, Black wanted the Hyrtstone desperately, and it was sequestered somewhere in his old hideout—now Piper's hideout. And he didn't want anyone to know he had it.
It was feasible that, in the absence of his boys to do his dirty work, Black might use his clockworks as mini-soldiers. They had to come from somewhere. Stromgate was known for its clockworks and the huge tower in the center of the city that rang chimes every hour on the hour. It was there that the gnomish clockmaker Tinker lived with his apprentices. I was sure if anyone knew about the clockwork soldiers, he would.
Of course, traveling across a city as a rat is not as easy as you might think. I ran across clotheslines and through gutters, along the edges of buildings and through holes into and out of dwellings and hovels. I was able to move mostly unseen. In the poorer parts of town, I was simply ignored. It took me an entire day to reach what would have taken under an hour by foot in human form.
The clock tower was in the center of the city square. It was topped by a gigantic sword that had once served as a sundial, projecting the time of day by Sikkar’s blade, the god of justice and light. But advances in technology had changed its purpose. The gigantic hand that was once a place for priests to conduct rituals of time, welcoming Cyrn, the morning sun and Sikkar’s father, lest he be displeased with his son and not return. The clock itself was on the back of the hand and in turn the hand held up a twenty-foot tall blade that was visible from anywhere in the city.
I flattened myself through the opening to the door of the clock tower. The room was a dizzying array of clockworks, gears, tools, magnifying lenses, and figures made of metal and stone. There were cuckoos and little soldiers wielding hammers, lions and peasants with mallets, dragons and unicorns and all sorts of imaginative beasts. Some were on their side, others were in position on clocks, and still others were in pieces.
With such a riotous mess of debris, it was easy for me to pick my way to a comfortable spot. If something interesting was happening with the clockmaker, I would hear about it.
Soon enough the Tinker himself reentered the room from the back. He was oblivious to his surroundings, bumping into a few tables, muttering to himself. The hunched little gnome – bigger than me, but smaller than a human -- wore a rare pair of pince-nez on his nose, and he peered down at the clockwork in his hands with intense concentration.
The door opened and a bell rang as a younger gnome entered. The clockmaker’s apprentice, judging by his attire.
"Well?" asked the clockmaker.
The apprentice shook his head. "I looked everywhere. The distributor said his warehouse was plundered by thieves. So I
asked around and talked to some contacts…"
Tinker held up a finger. "You did not do anything illegal, did you Smith?" When he immediately didn't receive a response, Tinker raised his voice. "I will not make my clocks with illegal parts!"
"Master," said Smith, "please, let me finish."
"Fine, fine." Tinker sat down on a stool. "Tell me what happened."
"I found out from a friend that shipments were hit all over the city. Not just clockworks, but other fine tools as well. The Gem Merchants are in an uproar. But I did manage to find a street vendor who was willing to sell some of the basic metal we require at twice the usual price."
All the energy seemed to go out of Tinker. After a moment he turned to one of his many clocks scattered about and turned the hour and minute hand to three fifteen. A cuckoo popped out, a small pouch in its mouth.
"This is my life savings. You find this man and you make the deal. If we don't get parts soon, we're going to go out of business."
Smith took the purse gravely. "I will guard it with my life." He turned towards the door.
I crept down from my perch and wiggled under the door before Smith opened it. I had to keep up with him, but it wasn't easy. On the ground, I couldn't match Smith’s speed, even at a leisurely walk.
I took to the rooftops. Crawling up a gutter, I made my way to a shingled roof and ran across it. Smith crossed a corner below me. I ran after him, balancing along a clothesline.
He ducked down a darker alleyway. Smith was nervous. He was trying to look everywhere and nowhere at once. At one point I was sure he saw me; but then I remembered a rat on a rooftop was hardly unusual in Stromgate.
Finally, his rendezvous was clear. A man in a hooded, enveloping cloak stood at the far end of the alley.
"Yer late," whispered a voice from the depths of the cloak.
"Sorry, I was having difficulty finding this place. I don’t normally…" Smith swallowed as he looked around, "…visit here."
The stranger shrugged. "Have you got it?"
Smith took a few hesitant steps forward, purse in his hand. "Yes. Do you have what I came for?"
A hand reached out from the cloak to reveal a plain wooden box. The stranger snapped the lid open so the apprentice could see it.
In the fading light it was difficult for Smith to see. He craned his neck…
From my vantage point, I could see metal glittering just underneath the chest. A knife!
Before I could react, the air whistled as two heavy metal objects tied by a string wrapped around the stranger’s wrists, binding them together. Smith shrieked and jumped back. I crawled down a gutter to the alleyway.
"Evening guvn’r!" shouted a boy covered in black soot, making him almost invisible in the darkness of the shadows. "Good thing we happened along when we did!"
The stranger swore and jerked at his bonds. The box snapped closed and fell to the ground. Clockworks and gears bounced out of it.
With his hood down, I could make out who it was. Spindle.
"I’ll gut yew from crotch tah craw!" shouted Spindle, struggling to swing his knife with both hands.
The boy easily ducked the attack. Another boy appeared out of the shadows near the apprentice.
"Are you robbing me?" Smith asked, quivering.
"Naw, not today anyway," said the second boy. "Although you might not wanna be walkin’ around with that hand out, contents bein’ what they are an’ all." He reached out and pushed the apprentice’s purse back to him. "We’re after diffr’nt quarry t’day."
The first boy ducked low and tripped Spindle, who fell backwards. The apprentice fled back the way he came.
This was my chance! I scampered towards the box and leaped for the opening…
My aim was true. I entered the box hard, smacking into a round pointed object; probably another gear. The impact snapped the box shut.
The lid to the box shuddered.
"It’s locked!" I could hear the boys’ muffled voices through the inside of the box.
"No time," responded the other boy. "Just take it all and let’s go. We don’t wanna be late for Black, you ‘member his temper."
"Aye, old codger ain’t changed a bit, ‘as he?"
No, I thought, hoping desperately that the box wasn’t airtight. He hadn’t changed a bit.
Having nothing else to do, I listened to the boys as they bounced along.
"What’s all this for, anyway?" asked the first boy.
"Dunno. Black’s buildin’ an army, or so he sez. But with what? An army of watches I guess."
They had a laugh at that.
"He’s workin’ on somethin’. Now that we’re back nippin’ purses, Black shifted the goblins to buildin’ stuff in a workshop. Black’s been workin’ ‘em hard."
"If ‘e’s got an army, we must be going to war, right? So who we fightin’?"
"Who else? Piper, o’ course."
"But a whole army?"
"Shh, we’re here."
They went down steps and wended through corridors. Finally, the box was put down.
"We’d better get this open, or Black’ll have our ‘ide."
"Aye. Right, gimme a tick …" Metal clattered at the lock. I was poked by a piece of wire from a makeshift lockpick.
The locked clicked. That was my cue.
I didn’t give the boys a chance to react. Coiling like a spring, I slammed against the lid, flipping it open with such force that the tiny box turned on its side. Clockwork parts went everywhere.
I ran, hurtling off the edge of a table. Fortunately, I hit a bench on the way down, changed direction, and scrabbled off to a corner out of sight.
"Well I’ll be!" said the first boy. "A clockwork rat!"
It didn’t matter that the boys had seen me. I was in Black’s new headquarters. I’d made it!
Although the boys couldn’t hear it, I could detect the faint hammering of metal-on-metal. And something else. An odd, leathery smell. It was overpowering.
Oh no, I knew that smell: Goblins. Many, many goblins.
I crawled through winding corridors, sloping downwards, using my whiskers to guide me in the darkness. I could hear Black’s unmistakable voice echoing.
I followed it to an antechamber, just outside of a much larger room where the hammering echoed. Peering around the corner, Black was being briefed by the two boys. They were both holding their hats.
"That’s it? That’s all you found?" The small box I was in shattered against a wall, splintering into pieces. "Useless!"
"Pickins slim, sir," said one of the boys. "There ain’t no clockworks left."
Black paced a bit. "Yes, yes, that’s true. I’m sorry, boys, I didn’t mean to lose my temper. But this is very important, you understand?"
The boys looked at each other. "Well, not entirely, to be honest, sir."
A slow smile crept over Black’s face. "Of course not. You remember Piper and what he did to you?"
"Aye sir."
"Well he can do it with other things." Black idly scratched at his wrist. I could see there was a nasty red mark there, like a bite wound. "He’s done it with rats. But now, now that he has the key…he’s summoned more powerful creatures."
That was impossible, of course, since I had the key. I hoped the boys hadn’t noticed it on my back.
"We could take ‘em!" said one of the boys.
Black chuckled. "I’m sure you could. And I have no doubt that if Piper summoned a legion of fat purses you’d be exceptionally useful." He turned serious. "But I’m afraid Piper’s army is much more dangerous than that, dangerous even for goblins."
One of the boys craned his neck to look beyond the room into the warehouse. I crept out from my hiding place to take a closer look.
Row up row of goblins worked in a line, hammering, screwing, tapping, and bolting. Clockwork soldiers were being churned out one at a time at the end of the line. The goblins wore goggles and aprons, their grinning faces serious and focused. At the end of the line, two tiny stools were op
en. Clockwork soldiers fell off the assembling line missing their noses.
Black was creating an army of clockwork soldiers!
"Foreman!" shouted Black. "Where is Hack and Heave?"
The goblin nearest the assembly line looked up at Black and shrugged.
One boy nudged the other. "Tell ‘im."
"Oh, right."
Black turned back. "Yes?"
"Sir, there was … when we opened th’ box, a peculiar thing happened."
"Get to the point!"
"A rat jumped out."
"A rat?" Black’s brow furrowed. "A RAT?" He leaned forward. "What KIND of rat."
"I dunno, sir. A rat."
Black got down on one knee to stare the boy in the eye. "Was this rat carrying…a KEY?"
"Now that ya mention it, it was very strange—"
Uh oh. I stopped listening. I smelled my old nemesises before I saw them. Behind me were two pairs of glaring yellow eyes.
"CHEEEEEEEESE."
* * *
The goblin brothers were better fed than last I saw them. They both wore work aprons and belts from which hung miniature, goblin-sized tools, but they were more or less the same as when I last saw them: Heave was fat, Hack was skinny. And both were hungry.
Heave lunged at me with both claws. I whirled, turning to flee, but was lifted in the air as Heave’s massive jaws snapped shut over my back. Instead of taking a chunk out of me, they clamped down on the key, which was now propping his mouth open.
Heave’s eyes rolled as he struggled to dislodge me, but for the moment I was stuck in his jaws. Hack, impatient with tongue lolling, pounced.
I threw my weight forward, which gave me enough momentum to yank Heave’s head down. Hack landed on Heave's head with all four claws, smashing Heave downwards and nearly flattening me in the process.
But the impact was mostly borne by Heave’s jaw. Teeth crunched around me. The jaw then relaxed and I took off at a sprint.
A bell went off, sounding the alarm.
It all made sense. Black was constructing a clockwork army, knowing that he could never take on Piper in a full out war. He needed small, stealthy opponents who could not be swayed by Piper's piping and who could self-destruct to cover his tracks.
Awfully Furmiliar Page 25