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Im very… grateful, said Darktan, still wheezing, but dont get silly. The spring was stretched and weak and… the teeth were rusted and blunt. Thats all.
But theres teeth marks all round you! No-ones 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 dont go in for that nonsense, but stopped. He could remember the light, and then the darkness ahead of him. It hadnt seemed bad. Hed 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?
Sort of. I mean, we cant see any wounds that wont heal. Hes had worse. But, well, he was pretty old. Nearly three years.
Was? said Darktan.
Is pretty old, I mean, sir. Sardines sent me to find you because well need you to help us get him back, but- Nourishing gave Darktan a doubtful look. Its all right, Im sure it looks worse than it is, said Darktan, wincing. Lets get up there, shall we? An old building is full of pawholds for a rat. No-one noticed them as they climbed up from manger to saddle, harness to hayrack. Besides, no-one was looking for them. Some of the other rats had taken the Jacko route to freedom, and the dogs were going mad searching for them and fighting with one another. So were the men. Darktan knew a little bit about beer, since he had gone about his business under pubs and breweries, and the rats had often wondered why humans sometimes liked to switch their brains off. To the rats, living in the centre of a web of sound and light and smells, it made no sense at all. To Darktan, now, it didnt sound quite so bad. The idea that, for a while, you could forget things and not have a head buzzing with troublesome thoughts… well, that seemed quite attractive. He couldnt remember a lot about life before hed been Changed, but he was certain that it hadnt been so complicated. Oh, bad things had happened, because life on the tip had been pretty hard. But when they were over, they were over, and tomorrow was a new day. Rats didnt think about tomorrow. There was just a faint sensation that more things would happen. It wasnt thinking. And there was no good and bad and right and wrong. They were new ideas. Ideas! That was their world now! Big questions and big answers, about life, and how you had to live it, and what you were for. New ideas spilled into Darktans weary head. And among the ideas, in the middle of his head, he saw the little figure of Dangerous Beans. Darktan had never talked much to the little white rat or the little female who scurried around after him and drew pictures of the things hed been thinking about. Darktan liked people who were practical. But now he thought: hes a trap-hunter! Just like me! He goes ahead of us and finds the dangerous ideas and thinks about them and traps them in words and makes them safe and shows us the way through. We need him… we need him now. Otherwise, were all running around like rats in a barrel… Much later on, when Nourishing was old and grey around the muzzle, and smelled a bit strange, she dictated the story of the climb and how shed heard Darktan muttering to himself. The Darktan that shed pulled out of the trap, she said, was a different rat. It was as though his thoughts had slowed down but got bigger. The strangest bit, she said, was when they reached the beam. Darktan made sure that Hamnpork was all right, and then picked up the match hed shown to Nourishing. He struck it on an old bit of iron, said Nourishing, and then he walked out along the beam with it flaring, and down below I could see all the crowd, the hay racks and the straw all over the place, and the people milling around, just like, hah, just like rats… and I thought, if you drop that, mister, the place will fill with smoke in a few seconds and theyve locked the doors and by the time they realize it theyll be caught like, hah, yeah, like rats in a barrel and well be away along the gutters. But he just stood there, looking down, until the match went out. Then he put it down and helped us with Hamnpork and never said a word about it. I asked him about it later on, after all the stuff with the piper and everything, and he said, “Yes. Rats in a barrel. ” And thats all he said about it.
What was it you really put in the sugar? said Keith, as he led the way back to the secret trapdoor. Cascara, said Malicia. Thats not a poison, is it?
No, its a laxative.
Whats that?
It makes you… go.
Go where?
Not where, stupid. You just… go. I dont particularly want to draw you a picture.
Oh. You mean… go.
Thats right.
And you just happened to have it on you?
Yes. Of course. It was in the big medicine bag.
You mean you take something like that out just for something like this?
Of course. It could easily be necessary.
How? said Keith, climbing the ladder. Well, supposing we were kidnapped? Suppose we ended up at sea? Supposing we were captured by pirates? Pirates have a very monotonous diet, which might be why theyre angry all the time. Or supposing we escaped and swam ashore and ended up on an island where theres nothing but coconuts? They have a very binding effect.
Yes, but… but… anything can happen! If you think like that, youd end up taking just about everything in case of
anything!
Thats why its such a big bag, said Malicia calmly, pulling herself through the trapdoor and dusting herself off. Keith sighed. How much did you give them?
Lots. But they should be all right if they dont take too much of the antidote.
What did you give them for the antidote?
Cascara.
Malicia, you are not a nice person.
Really? You wanted to poison them with the real poison, and you were getting very imaginative with all that stuff about their stomachs melting.
Yes, but rats are my friends. Some of the poisons really do that. And… sort of… making the antidote more of the poison-
Its not a poison. Its a medicine. Theyll feel lovely and clean afterwards.
All right, all right. But… giving it to them as the antidote as well, thats a bit… a bit…
Clever? Narratively satisfying? said Malicia. I suppose so, Keith admitted reluctantly. Malicia looked around. Wheres your cat? I thought he was following us.
Sometimes he just wanders off. And hes not my cat.
Yes, youre his boy. But a young man with a smart cat can go a long way, you know.
How?
There was Puss in Boots, obviously, said Malicia, and of course everyone knows about Dick Livingstone and his wonderful cat, dont they?
I dont, said Keith. Its a very famous story!
Sorry. I havent been able to read for very long.
Really? Well, Dick Livingstone was a penniless boy who became Lord Mayor of Ubergurgl because his cat was so good at catching… er… pigeons. The town was overrun with… pigeons, yes, and in fact later on he even married a sultans daughter because his cat cleared all the… pigeons out of her fathers royal palace-
It was rats really, wasnt it? said Keith, glumly. Im sorry, yes.
And it was just a story, said Keith. Look, are there really stories about rat kings? Rats have kings? Ive never heard of it. How does it work?
Not the way you think. Theyve been known about for years. They really do exist, you know. Just like on the sign outside.
What, the rats with their tails all knotted together? How do-? There was a loud and persistent knocking on the door. Some of it sounded as though it was being done with someones boot. Malicia went over to it and pulled back the bolts. Yes? she said, coldly, as the night air poured in. There was a group of angry men outside. The leader, who looked as though he was only the leader because he happened to be the one in front, took a step back when he saw Malicia. Oh… its you, miss…
Yes. My fathers the mayor, you know, said Malicia. Er… yes. We all know.
Whyre you all holding sticks? said Malicia. Er… we want to talk to the rat-catchers, said the spokesman. He tried to look past her, and she stood aside. Theres no-one in here but us, she said. Unless you think theres a trapdoor to a maze of underground cellars where desperate animals are caged up and vast supplies of stolen food are hoarded? The man gave her another nervous look. You and your stories, miss, he said. Has there been some trouble? said Malicia. We think they were a… a bit naughty… said the man. He blanched under the look she gave him. Yes? she said. They cheated us in the rat pit! said a man behind him, made bold because there was someone else between him and Malicia. They mustve trained those rats! One of them flew around on a string!
And one of them bit my Jacko on the… on the… on the unmentionables! said someone further back. You cant tell me it wasnt trained to do that!
I saw one with a hat on this morning, said Malicia. Theres been a good deal too many strange rats today, said another man. My mum said she saw one dancing on the
kitchen shelves! And when my granddad got up and reached for his false teeth he said a rat bit him with them. Bit him with his own teeth!
What, wearing them? said Malicia. No, it just snapped them around in the air! And a lady down our street opened her pantry door and there were rats swimming in the cream bowl. Not just swimming, either! Theyd been trained. They were making kind of patterns, and diving and waving their legs in the air and stuff!
You mean synchronized swimming? said Malicia. Whos telling stories now, eh?
Are you sure you dont know where those men are? said the leader suspiciously. People said they headed this way. Malicia rolled her eyes. All right, yes, she said. They got here and a talking cat helped us to feed them poison and now theyre locked in a cellar. The men looked at her. Yeah, right, said the leader, turning away. Well, if you do see them, tell them were looking for them, OK? Malicia shut the door. Its terrible, not being believed, she said. Now tell me about rat kings, said Keith.
CHAPTER 10
And as night fell, Mr Bunnsy remembered: theres something terrible in the Dark Wood. - From Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure Why am I doing this? Maurice asked himself, as he squirmed along a pipe. Cats are not built for this stuff! Because we are a kind person at heart, said his conscience. No, Im not, thought Maurice. Actually, thats true, said his conscience. But we dont want to tell that to Dangerous Beans, do we? The little wobbly nose? He thinks were a hero! Well, Im not, thought Maurice. Then why are we scrabbling around underground trying to find him? Well, obviously its because hes the one with the big dream about finding the rat island and without him the rats wont co-operate and I wont get paid, said Maurice. Were a cat! What does a cat need money for? Because I have a Retirement Plan, thought Maurice. Im four years old already! Once Ive made a pile, its me for a nice home with a big fire and a nice old lady giving me cream every day. Ive got it all worked out, every detail. Why should she give us a home? Were smelly, weve got ragged ears, weve got something nasty and itchy on our leg, we look like someone kicked us in the face… why should an old lady take us in instead of a fluffy little kitten? Aha! But black cats are lucky, thought Maurice. Really? Well, we dont want to be first with the bad news, but were not black! Were a sort of mucky tabby! Theres such a thing as dyes, thought Maurice. A couple of packets of black dye, hold my breath for a minute, and its hello, cream and fish for the rest of my life. Good plan, eh? And what about the luck? said the conscience. Ah! Thats the clever bit. A black cat that brings in a gold coin every month or so, wouldnt you say thats a lucky cat to have?
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