The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents d(-1

by Terry Pratchett

  “Say what?”

  “Did you just say ‘I wish I was’?”

  “Me? No.”

  The rat-catcher looked around the shed. There was no-one else there. “All right, then,” he said. “It's been a long night. Look, when things start to go bad, then it's time to go away. Nothing fancy. We just go, right? I don't want to be here when people come looking for us. And I don't want to meet any of them rat pipers. They are sharp men. They pry around. And they cost a lot of money. People are going to ask questions, and the only question I want them to ask is ‘Where did the rat-catchers go?’ Understand? It's a good man who knows when to quit. What's in the kitty—? What did you say?”

  “What, me? Nothing. Cup of tea? You always feel better after a cup of tea.”

  “Didn't you say ‘kitty yourself’?” Rat-catcher 1 demanded.

  “I just asked if you wanted a cup of tea! Honest! Are you all right?”

  Rat-catcher 1 stared at his friend, as if trying to see a lie in his face. Then he said, “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Three sugars, then.”

  “That's right,” said Rat-catcher 2, spooning it in. “Keep up the blood sugar. You have to look after yourself.”

  Rat-catcher 1 took the mug, sipped the tea, and stared at the swirling surface. “How did we get into this?” he said. “I mean, all this! Y'know? Sometimes I wake up in the night and think, it's stupid, this, and then I come to work and it all seems, well, sensible. I mean, stealin' stuff and blaming it on the rats, yes, and breeding big tough rats for the rat pits and bringing back the ones that survive so we can breed even bigger rats, yes, but… I dunno… I didn't used to be the kind of bloke that ties up kids…”

  “We've made a big wad of cash, though.”

  “Yeah.” Rat-catcher 1 swirled the tea in his mug and took another drink. “There's that, I suppose. Is this a new tea?”

  “No, it's just Lord Green, like normal.”

  “Tastes a bit different.” Rat-catcher 1 drained the mug and put it on the bench. “OK, let's get the—”

  “That's about enough,” said a voice overhead. “Now, stand still and listen to me. If you run away, you'll die. If you talk too much, you'll die. If you wait too long, you'll die. If you think you're smart, you'll die. Any questions?”

  A few wisps of dust drifted down from the rafters. The rat-catchers looked up, and saw a cat face peering down.

  “It's that kid's damn mog!” said Rat-catcher 1. “I told you it was looking at me in a funny way!”

  “If I was you, I wouldn't look at me,” said Maurice, conversationally. “I'd look at the rat poison.”

  Rat-catcher 2 turned to look at the table. “Here, who stole some of the poison?” he said.

  “Oh,” said Rat-catcher 1, who was a much faster thinker.

  “Steal it?” said the cat on high. “We don't steal. That's thieving. We just put it somewhere else.”

  “Oh,” said Rat-catcher 1, sitting down suddenly.

  “That's dangerous stuff!” said Rat-catcher 2, looking for something to throw. “You had no business touching it! You tell me where it is right now!”

  There was a thump as the trapdoor in the floor slammed back. Keith stuck his head up, and then came up the ladder while the rat-catchers watched in amazement.

  He was holding a crumpled paper bag.

  “Oh dear,” said Rat-catcher 1.

  “What have you done with the poison?” Rat-catcher 2 demanded.

  “Well,” said Keith, “now that you mention it, I think I put most of it in the sugar…”

  Darktan woke up. His back was on fire and he couldn't breathe. He could feel the weight of the trap's jaw pressing down on him, and the dreadful bite of the steel teeth on his belly.

  I shouldn't be alive, he thought. I wish I wasn't…

  He tried to push himself upwards, which made it worse. The pain came back a little stronger as he sagged down again.

  Caught like a rat in a trap, he thought.

  I wonder what type it is?

  “Darktan?”

  The voice was a little way off. Darktan tried to speak, but every tiny movement pushed him further into the teeth below him.

  “Darktan?”

  Darktan managed a faint squeak. Words hurt too much.

  Feet scrabbled forward in the dry darkness.

  “Darktan!”

  It smelled like Nourishing.

  “Gnh,” Darktan managed, trying to turn his head.

  “You're caught in a trap!”

  That was too much for Darktan, even if every word was agony. “Oh… really?” he said.

  “I'll go and fetch S-sardines, shall I?” stammered Nourishing.

  Darktan could smell the rat's panic begin. And there wasn't time for panic. “No! Tell… me…” he panted, “… what… kind… of… trap?”

  “Er… er… er…” said Nourishing.

  Darktan took a deep, fiery breath. “Think, you… miserable widdler!”

  “Er, er… it's all rusty… er… Rust everywhere! Looks like… er… could be a… Breakback…” There was a scratching noise behind Darktan. “Yes! I gnawed the rust off! It says Nugent Brothers Breakback Mk. 1, sir!”

  Darktan tried to think as the constant, dreadful pressure squeezed him further. Mk. 1? Ancient! Something out of the dawn of time! The oldest he'd ever seen was an Improved Breakback Mk. 7! And all he had to help him was Nourishing, a complete drrtlt with four left feet.

  “Can you… see how…?” he began, but there were purple lights in front of his eyes now, a great tunnel of purple lights. He tried again, as he felt himself drift towards the lights. “Can… you… see… how… the… spring… ?”

  “It's all rusted, sir!” came the panicking voice. “It looks like it's a non-return action like on the Jenkins and Jenkins Big Snapper, sir, but it hasn't got the hook on the end! What does this bit do, sir? Sir? Sir?”

  Darktan felt the pain go away. So this is how it happens, he thought dreamily. Too late now. She'll panic, and she'll run. That's what we do. When we're in trouble, we bolt for the first hole. But it doesn't matter. It is just like a dream, after all. Nothing to worry about. Quite nice, really. Perhaps there really is a Big Rat Deep Under The Ground. That'd be nice.

  He drifted happily, in the warm silence. There were bad things happening, but they were a long way off and they didn't matter any more…

  He thought he heard a sound behind him, like rats' claws moving across a stone floor. Perhaps it's Nourishing running away, part of him thought. But another part thought: perhaps it is the Bone Rat.

  The idea didn't frighten him. Nothing could frighten him here. Anything bad that could happen already had. He felt that if he turned his head, he'd see something. But it was easier just to float in this big warm space.

  The purple light was darkening now, to a deep blue and, in the centre of the blue, a circle of black.

  It looked like a rat tunnel.

  And that's where he lives, thought Darktan. That's the tunnel of the Big Rat. How simple it all is…

  A shining white dot appeared in the centre of the tunnel and got bigger quickly.

  And here he comes, thought Darktan. He must know a lot, the Big Rat. I wonder what he's going to tell me?

  The light grew bigger, and did indeed begin to look like a rat.

  How strange, thought Darktan, as the blue light faded into the black, to find it's all true. Off we go, then, into the tunn—

  There was noise. It filled the world. And the terrible, terrible pain was back. And the Big Rat shouted, in the voice of Nourishing:

  “I gnawed through the spring, sir! I gnawed through the spring! It was old and weak, sir! Prob'ly why you weren't cut in half, sir! Can you hear me, sir? Darktan? Sir? I gnawed right through the spring, sir! Are you still dead, sir? Sir?”

  Rat-catcher 1 leapt out of his chair, his hands bunching into fists.

  At least, it started out as a leap. About halfway, it turned into a stagger. He sat down heavily, clutching at his stomach
.

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. I knew that tea tasted funny…”he muttered.

  Rat-catcher 2 had gone a pale green. “You nasty little—” he began.

  “And don't even think of attacking us,” said Malicia. “Otherwise you'll never walk out of here. And we might get hurt and forget where we left the antidote. You haven't got time to attack us.”

  Rat-catcher 1 tried standing up again, but his legs didn't want to play. “What poison was it?” he muttered.

  “By the smell of it, it's the one the rats call Number Three,” said Keith. “It was in the bag labelled Killalot!!!”

  “The rats call it Number Three?” said Rat-catcher 2.

  “They know a lot about poison,” said Keith.

  “And they told you about this antidote, yeah?” said Rat-catcher 2.

  Rat-catcher 1 glared at him. “We heard them talk, Bill. In the pit, remember?” He looked back at Keith, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “You don't look like the kind of kid that'd poison a man to his face…”

  “How about me?” said Malicia, leaning forward.

  “She would! She would!” said Rat-catcher 2, clutching at his colleague's arm. “She's weird, that one. Everyone says so!” He clutched his stomach again, and leaned forward, groaning.

  “You said something about an antidote,” said Ratcatcher 1. “But there's no antidote to Killalot!!!”

  “And I told you there is,” said Keith. “The rats found one.”

  Rat-catcher 2 fell on his knees. “Please, young sir! Have mercy! If not for me, please think of my dear wife and my four lovely children who'll be without their daddy!”

  “You're not married,” said Malicia. “You don't have any children!”

  “I might want some one day!”

  “What happened to that rat you took away?” said Keith.

  “Dunno, sir. A rat in a hat come down out of the roof and grabbed it and flew away!” Rat-catcher 2 burbled. “And then another big rat come down into the pit, shouted at everyone, bit Jacko on the on the unutterables and jumped right out of the pit and did a runner!”

  “Sounds like your rats are all right,” said Malicia.

  “I haven't finished,” said Keith. “You stole from everyone and blamed it on the rats, didn't you?”

  “Yes! That's it! Yes! We did, we did!”

  “You killed the rats,” said Maurice, quietly.

  Rat-catcher 1's head turned sharply. There was an edge to that voice that he recognized. He'd heard it at the pit. You got them there sometimes, high-rolling types with fancy waistcoats, who travelled through the mountains making a living by betting and sometimes making a killing by knives. They had a look to their eye and a tone to their voice. They were known as “killing gentlemen”. You didn't cross a killing gentleman.

  “Yes, yes, that's right, we did!” babbled Rat-catcher 2.

  “Just go carefully there, Bill,” said Rat-catcher 1, still eyeing Maurice.

  “Why did you do it?” said Keith.

  Rat-catcher 2 looked from his boss to Malicia and then to Keith, as if trying to decide who frightened him the most.

  “Well, Ron said the rats ate stuff anyway,” he said. “So… he said if we got rid of all the rats and pinched the stuff ourselves, well, it wouldn't exactly be like stealing, would it? More like… re-arranging stuff. There's a bloke Ron knows who comes up with a sailing barge in the middle of the night and pays us—”

  “That is a diabolical lie!” snapped Rat-catcher 1, and then looked as if he was going to be sick.

  “But you caught rats alive and crammed them into cages without food,” Keith went on. “They live on rat, those rats. Why did you do that?”

  Rat-catcher 1 clutched at his stomach. “I can feel things happening!” he said.

  “That's just your imagination!” snapped Keith.

  “It is?”

  “Yes. Don't you know anything about the poisons you use? Your stomach won't start to melt for at least twenty minutes.”

  “Wow!” said Malicia.

  “And after that,” said Keith, “if you blow your nose, your brain will well, let's just say you'll need a really big handkerchief.”

  “This is great!” said Malicia, rummaging in her bag. “I'm going to take notes!”

  “And then, if you… just don't go to the lavatory, that's all. Don't ask why. Just don't. It'll all be over in an hour, except for the oozing.”

  Malicia was scribbling fast. “Will they go runny?” she said.

  “Very,” said Keith, not taking his eyes off the men.

  “This is inhuman!” shrieked Rat-catcher 2.

  “No, it's very human,” said Keith. “It's extremely human. There isn't a beast in the world that'd do it to another living thing, but your poisons do it to rats every day. Now tell me about the rats in the cages.”

  Sweat was pouring down the assistant rat-catcher's face. He looked as if he, too, were caught in a trap. “See, rat-catchers have always caught rats alive for the rat pits,” he moaned. “It's a perk. Nothing wrong with it! Always done it! So we had to keep up a supply, so we bred 'em. Had to! No harm in feeding 'em dead rats from the rat pits. Everyone knows rats eat rats, if you leave out the green wobbly bit! And then—”

  “Oh? There's a then?” said Keith, calmly.

  “Ron said if we bred rats from the rats that survived in pit, you know, the ones that dodged the dogs, well, we'd end up with bigger, better rats, see?”

  “That's scientific, that is,” said Rat-catcher 1.

  “What would be the point of that?” said Malicia.

  “Well, miss, we—Ron said… we thought… I thought… we thought that… well, it's not exactly cheating to put really tough rats in amongst the others, see, especially if the dog that's going in is a bit borderline. Where's the harm in that? Gives us an edge, see, when it come to betting. I thought… he thought…”

  “You seem a bit confused about whose idea it was,” said Keith.

  “His,” said the rat-catchers together.

  Mine, said a voice in Maurice's head. He almost fell off his perch. What does not kill us makes us strong, said the voice of Spider. The strongest breed.

  “You mean,” said Malicia, “if they didn't have ratcatchers here they'd have fewer rats?” She paused, head on one side. “No, that's not right. It doesn't feel right. There's something else. Something you haven't told us. Those rats in those cages are… mad, insane…”

  I'd be too, Maurice thought, with this horrible voice in my head every hour of the day.

  “I'm going to throw up,” said Rat-catcher 1. “I am, I'm going to—”

  “Don't,” said Keith, watching Rat-catcher 2. “You won't like it. Well, Mr Assistant Rat-catcher?”

  “Ask them what's in the other cellar,” said Maurice. He said it fast; he could feel the voice of Spider try to stop his mouth moving even as the sentence came out.

  “What is in the other cellar then?” said Keith.

  “Oh, just more stuff, old cages, stuff like that…” said Rat-catcher 2.

  “What else?” said Maurice.

  “Only the… only the… that's where…” The ratcatcher's mouth opened and shut. His eyes bulged. “Can't say,” he said. “Er. There's nothing. Yes, that's it. There's nothing in there, just the old cages. Oh, and plague. Don't go in there 'cos there's plague. That's why you shouldn't go in there, see? 'Cos of the plague.”

  “He's lying,” said Malicia. “No antidote for him.”

  “I had to do it!” Rat-catcher 2 moaned. “You've gotta do one to join the Guild!”

  “That's a Guild secret!” Rat-catcher 1 snapped at him. “We don't give away Guild secrets” He stopped, and clutched at his rumbling stomach.

  “What was it you had to do?” said Keith.

  “Make a rat king!” Rat-catcher 2 burst out.

  “A rat king?” said Keith sharply. “What's a rat king?”

  “I—I—I” the man stuttered. “Stop it, I—I—I don't want to—” Tears ran down h
is face. “We—I made a rat king Stop it, stop it… stop it…”

  “And it's still alive?” said Malicia.

  Keith turned to her in amazement. “You know about these things?” he said.

  “Of course. There's a lot of stories about them. Rat kings are deadly evil. They—”

  “Antidote, antidote, please,” moaned Rat-catcher 2. “My stomach feels like there's rats running round in it!”

  “You made a rat king,” said Malicia. “Oh, dear. Well, we left the antidote in that little cellar you locked us up in. I should hurry if I was you.”

  Both of the men staggered to their feet. Rat-catcher 1 fell through the trapdoor. The other man landed on him. Swearing, moaning and, it had to be said, farting enormously, they made their way to the cellar.

  Dangerous Beans' candle was still alight. Beside it was a fat twist of paper.

  The door was slammed behind the men. There was the sound of a piece of wood being wedged under it.

  “There's enough antidote for one person,” said Keith's voice, muffled through the wood. “But I'm sure you can sort it out—in a humane sort of way.”

  Darktan tried to get his breath back, but he thought he'd never get it all, even if he breathed in for a year. There was a ring of pain all around his back and chest.

  “It's amazing!” said Nourishing. “You were dead in the trap and now you're alive!”

  “Nourishing?” said Darktan, carefully.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I'm very… grateful,” said Darktan, still wheezing, “but don't get silly. The spring was stretched and weak and… the teeth were rusted and blunt. That's all.”

  “But there's teeth marks all round you! No-one's ever come out of a trap before, except the Mr Squeakies, and they were made of rubber!”

  Darktan licked his stomach. Nourishing had been right. He looked perforated. “I was just lucky,” he said.

  “No rat has ever come alive out of a trap,” Nourishing repeated. “Did you see the Big Rat?”

  “The what?”

  “The Big Rat!”

  “Oh, that,” said Darktan. He was going to add “no, I don't go in for that nonsense”, but stopped. He could remember the light, and then the darkness ahead of him. It hadn't seemed bad. He'd almost felt sorry that Nourishing had got him out. In the trap, all the pain had been a long way off. And there had been no more hard decisions. He settled for saying, “Is Hamnpork all right?”