Caz looks at Malaika, then at me.
I think I know what is in her mind.
“We’ll look after Malaika,” I say. “She’ll be safe with us.”
Just as I look at them, a troubling thought occurs to me. If it were not for the other rat, the wild one who stayed with us awhile in the tip, everything now would be different. We would never have tracked down Champagne Charlie. Caz would be there now. It is because of that rat that she has been saved.
Caz looks at me, with that weird, calm, unblinking gaze, and whispers the first words she has spoken since she was rescued.
“We must save Efren.”
. . . in the gouge behind the Rock of State the next night. There were no elders to tell us the way of doing things. We hardly knew one another. We had no idea who was strong and who was weak, who was to be trusted and who might be traitor.
We were there because there were no other citizens to do what we were doing.
As I moved among my courtiers, I wondered at the strange course of events that had brought me to this place.
I can admit it now. I was lonely, and full of doubt.
I felt like someone pretending to be a leader in some strange game. At any moment, I thought, a citizen might recognize me for what I was, and reveal in surprise, — Efren? What are you doing on the Rock of State?
And yet courtiers still looked to me, and expected me to make decisions, issue orders. That night, I revealed to them.
— We have reached the moment when we must decide the way forward. Each of you will speak. We shall then summon the kingdom to order what is to be done.
I looked around at my new court. There was Growan the warrior, Driva the doe, Barcas the spy, Joram the strategist, the historian Gvork. Swylar stood near the back of the group, the wound giving his face a look of permanent, wide-eyed horror.
— Who wishes to reveal first?
Barcas raised his head. In the manner of spies, he revealed so quietly that we had to move more closely to him.
— There are reports that the enemy is preparing for a great new battle.
He looked around him, as if expecting to be contradicted. We waited for more.
— There are dogs everywhere. Attacks are more frequent. They want to destroy the kingdom.
— They always want to destroy the kingdom.
It was Gvork, the historian, who revealed. Barcas reacted with surprising certainty.
— This is different. There is a new mood in the world above.
— How do we know this? I asked.
Barcas seemed to close in on himself. His reply was the spy’s favorite revelation.
— Information received.
— Is there any understanding of why the bodies of citizens are being abused?
This was Driva.
— Tails are being removed. We believe it is a simple act of cruelty on the part of humans.
— What happens to dead citizens is not our concern, — I revealed firmly. — It is the living who matter now. — Joram, the sleek young rat from the Court of Strategy, pushed to the front.
— Barcas is right. The evidence is clear from the world above. What needs to be decided is what the kingdom should do. There is a choice of three ways forward. We move. We prepare to defend. Or we attack.
— Attack!
Growan reacted like all warriors. For them, fighting and killing was the answer to all the big questions.
— History . . .
Gvork began to reveal with the irritating reasonableness of his court.
— History teaches us that the kingdom is strongest when it moves. When humans move, we follow. In the fields, we move together. Movement is strength. It is part of our nature.
For a moment, the Court of Governance seemed convinced. Then, to the surprise of us all, Swylar revealed.
— As always, the historian speaks with logic.
There was a contemptuous snicker from Growan, but Swylar silenced him with an angry glance from his one eye.
— It is no joke. We learn from the past.
He turned to me, then continued.
— I have learned from the past.
I raised my nose in acknowledgment, and Swylar looked away quickly, as if suddenly remembering our battle. He continued, — But if we move, what then? The enemy will believe it has won the battle. It will want to win the war. Other kingdoms will be attacked. Maybe ours. What do we do then? Keep moving? Retreat forever?
— Never!
Growan’s revelation was so impassioned that he actually allowed a squeak of anger to escape him.
I waited for Swylar to continue, but he sat back on his haunches. All eyes were on me.
— We shall ask the kingdom.
I sensed a faint scent of disappointment. Driva revealed next.
— If I were a citizen in that Great Hollow, I would be waiting to be told, not asked. We are meant to be leaders, not followers.
— Attack!
Growan moved to the front of the court, daring any courtier to contradict him.
— Enough.
I revealed strongly.
— The way of the past, of ordering citizens what to do, has failed. I shall explain the decisions that face the kingdom. Many will die. They have a right to be heard.
I moved toward the entrance.
— Wait.
Once again, it was Gvork, the historian, who surprised me by revealing.
— Who are we? — He moved to the entrance, barring my way. — We are a group of citizens. We have but one true warrior among us. How can we be leaders if there has been no ceremony to make us so?
— It is too late for ceremonies, Gvork.
I revealed with quiet firmness and moved forward, but he barred my way once more.
— History shows us that to be strong a kingdom needs a king.
There was a chattering of agreement among the courtiers.
Swylar sidled his way to the front.
— The historian is right. A short ceremony is all that is needed. King Efren.
The others revealed, every one of them.
— King Efren!
— King Efren!
— King Efren!
— Hail to King Efren!
I faced them, suddenly more convinced than I had ever been before.
— No. I shall lead, but I shall not be king.
I turned, and for the briefest moment, Gvork stood in my way. Then he moved aside, allowing me to make my way toward the Rock of State.
. . . that has me wondering whether she will ever recover from what happened in the house of Champagne Charlie.
“You want us to find this rat —”
“Efren. He has a name.”
“— and warn him of what the doctor has planned.”
“He saved me. Now I’m going to save him.”
“But we have no idea where to find him?”
“How did you find me?”
“The beast led me there.”
“No. He led Malaika there.” She strokes her pet rat. “Efren heard me. He followed the sound in his head. I know it’s a mystery, Peter. No one in the world would believe that we can hear a rat’s thoughts. But we know it’s true, don’t we?”
I think about it for a moment. I have to admit that even though I still think Caz may be becoming a lunatic, I am beginning to see how her plan might just work.
“So if he could hear you then, you think we could reach him now. With our thoughts?”
“We have to try to warn them.”
“Like spies?”
“Yes, spies for rats.”
. . . and eyes darted toward the shadowy entrance where the river entered the Great Hollow.
It was the first time since the massacre that citizens of the kingdom had assembled here. Twice we had been caught here by the enemy. Twice there had been death, terror, and defeat. Now there was an atmosphere of quiet, but it was the quiet of fear.
When the courtiers filed out, one after another, onto the Rock of
State, there was no acclamation beyond a rustle of interest. I moved to the tip of the rock with the Court of Governance behind me.
The sour smell of distrust became more difficult to ignore. Behind me, Gvork revealed quietly to me.
— I told you. They need a king. It’s not too late. They must have a king.
But no. I knew it was not that. Citizens had looked to the Court of Governance for guidance, for strength, and for honesty. For those things, they would follow and fight and die. Instead, they had seen that there had been fighting and rivalry in the Court of Governance. They had lost faith in their leaders.
They looked up and saw not a court but a group of rats much like themselves, only luckier and more driven by greed and ambition. As I waited for the attention of the kingdom, I sensed something like anger among those on the far bank of the river: the tasters, the translators, the spies, the strategists, the warriors. They had seen Swylar among us. No rat, not even Queen Jeniel, reminded them more powerfully of the ugliness of power.
— My name is Efren.
The revelation was as strong as that of any king or courtier, but it was not enough to break through. The restlessness grew as I continued.
— I have seen a king die at the hands of the enemy. I have seen a terrible battle in which many of our friends have died. I was born into the Court of Tasting.
There was a snickering from the back of the hollow.
— And I am proud of that. It is time for a rat who is not a warrior to lead the kingdom.
A revelation from the minds of hundreds of rats hung in the air. It said, — Jeniel. That was what Jeniel once told us.
— The past is past. You have a new court. Growan, a great warrior. Barcas, from the Court of Spies. Driva is here, and she will lead our does — and even older ratlings — into battle if there is a need for them.
The smell of hostility grew stronger. More death, more betrayal. That was what citizens were hearing.
— We have the strategist Joram to help us plan for the struggle ahead. And a historian, Gvork.
There was open chattering in the hollow now. The idea of a historian in the Court of Governance was not only new to citizens but slightly ridiculous.
I revealed with all the strength within me.
— For the battle ahead, we must have the wisdom of the past. That is also why I have asked Swylar to return to the court.
A low hissing could be heard from my audience.
— Ceremony! — It was Gvork again. — Give them a king! That will silence them!
I paused, looking around the Great Hollow.
— It is good that citizens are showing what they believe.
A few citizens were listening more carefully now, but not many.
— It is a moment of change. The times when citizens were told what to do by the mighty warriors of the Court of Governance are past. They are what led us to the terrible battle in the world above. We need, each of us, together, to decide how to defend ourselves against the enemy. The threat is greater than ever. Another battle will soon be upon us. We must fight in a new way.
I sensed that even the courtiers behind me were becoming restless, but there was no going back now.
— I shall lead you, but I shall not be king. It is not my wish, and I believe that it is not your wish either.
There was a sharp revelation from a doe who was among the translators.
— We must have a king. There is no kingdom without a king.
A few of the younger warriors revealed, too. Soon the place was riven with one great shared thought.
— King! We need a king!
A warrior near the front of the crowd stood tall on his hind legs. Looking around him, he squealed angrily, revealing as he did so.
— If you will not be king, Efren, give us one who will.
There was a movement behind me. At first I thought Gvork had stepped forward to have his say. But it was worse than that.
— You know me, I believe.
Standing beside me was Swylar.
— I have changed a little. — He turned his head, revealing the gashed, eyeless side of his face. — I have fought with a great warrior, brave and fierce. It was this citizen.
He faced me, and before the kingdom, he humbled, like a subject.
— Efren. You are a great leader. The kingdom needs you. It needs you more than it needs any king.
The gathering was still now. The eyes of every citizen were upon me as I stood over Swylar. Some great revelation was needed now, but there were no thoughts within me.
Silence filled the Great Hollow, moment after moment, and it was in that void that a new sound could now be heard. It was the chattering of teeth, together, pulsing in time.
There was a disturbance among the citizens who were nearby.
I was about to bring the gathering to order when I heard a single note, pure and strong.
Then another note.
And another.
We knew that sound. Every buck and doe in the kingdom understood what it was and what it meant.
It was a plaining.
The chattering of teeth from the back of the Great Hollow grew louder. Citizens were acclaiming what they were seeing. The heady scent of hope and joy spread through the multitude, entering every heart.
I looked over the backs of the multitude. It was as if a dense mass of citizens was moving slowly forward, edging its way through the throng.
It reached the center of the Great Hollow. As those around it fell back, I saw it at last.
The Twyning.
It was being carried slowly forward by a team of young warriors, as if that great wheel of bodies had itself grown legs.
I understood in that instant why the kingdom had felt incomplete and uneasy. Its old twyning, the repository of its wisdom, its soul, had died. Only a new twyning could take us forward, bringing with it all that was good in the kingdom of rats.
Courage, resolution, kindness.
The Twyning reached the far bank of the river and, to a deafening acclamation, was laid gently down.
There was a writhing tangle of rats, bound together by their tails. They looked young and strong as they gazed at the citizens who surrounded them.
One of the warriors slipped into the river and began swimming toward the Rock of State. There was something familiar about him.
He reached the bank below me, shook the water from his coat, and then ascended to the Rock of State, where he stood before me. My heart beat loudly, filled with relief and gratitude. He revealed briefly.
— Hail Efren, leader of the kingdom.
He crouched before me as the acclamation in the Great Hollow seemed to shake the earth around us.
Above the noise, I revealed.
— Welcome home, my old friend Floke.
. . . when the townspeople gather to plan the great hunt, organized for the following day in the field next to the river. There are only a few women and no children. Dogs of all sizes are there. Someone has brought along a cage full of ferrets.
As I approach, walking with Bill a few paces behind the doctor and the politician, I notice that the men are dressed differently today. They are in the greens and browns of hunting clothes. They talk quietly among themselves, laughing only now and then.
The death of Champagne Charlie — murdered, it is believed, by rats — has changed everything. Hunting beasts is no longer just a sport. It is survival. These men have honestly come to believe that we have to get them before they get us.
As the MP and the doctor reach the bridge, the men gather around, their faces as solemn as I have seen them. When Mr. Petheridge speaks, he hardly has to raise his voice in order to be heard.
“Our task tomorrow will be to eradicate our enemy. The rat has shown how cunning and cowardly it can be. It is for us, the men of this borough, to show that we cannot be terrorized. When we are hurt, we fight back with all the weapons at our command! ”
There is a murmur of defiant agreement.
�
�It’s for the kiddies — they’ll be coming for the kiddies next,” someone says, and there is applause.
The doctor moves forward to speak.
“In the opinion of our Mr. Grubstaff here”— he waves an arm toward Bill, who stares stolidly at the ground — “the rat does not make the same mistake twice. He learns.”
“Vicious devils,” someone mutters near the front of the crowd. “They’re Satan’s creatures — that’s the truth of it.”
As the hubbub of voices grows louder, the doctor raises a hand.
“Our aim tomorrow will be to trap the remaining beasts in an enclosure around this field. They will be unwilling to use the drain that brought them to death last time, but we shall block it just to make sure.”
He points downstream with his cane.
“There is another issue from the sewage network some hundred yards in that direction. Bill and the boy, Mr. Smith”— he nods toward me — “will block all exits from the sewerage lines except for that one. The rats will be driven by gas toward that one exit. Once they emerge, the dogs will do their work. But we must be organized.”
For the next few minutes, the men discuss where each of them will be standing. There is no rivalry now between the setters. The dogs, seeming to pick up the somber mood, are less playful and excited than usual.
“It’s as if it really was a bloomin’ war.” Watching them as they earnestly make their plans, Bill shakes his head. “They’re only a few beasts.”
“Will they kill them all?” I ask.
Bill chuckles, as if I’ve made a really good joke. “They’ll think they can, but somewhere a couple of beasts will survive. In no time, there will be more of them than ever. Rats is rats. That’s what happens when they’re under attack. Nature tells them to have more young.”
“Gentlemen.” Mr. Petheridge has stepped forward. “We shall meet tomorrow at dusk. Gather at this point at four p.m. Please leave your womenfolk and your little ones at home. This will be no occasion for them. Bring only the bravest, strongest dogs. Rats have a nose for the weak. They destroy them. And bring gloves, clubs, sticks. We shall need them!”
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