Terry Pratchett - The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

It had a small bundle of white fur in its mouth.

It reached Darktan and continued past, without a glance. It was growling all the time, under its breath.

“Is that Maurice? ” said Sardines.

“That's Dangerous Beans he's carrying!” shouted Darktan. “Stop that cat!” But Maurice had stopped by himself, turned, lay down with his paws in front of him, and looked blearily at the rats.

Then he gently dropped the bundle on the floor. He it once or twice, to see if it would move. He blinked slowly when it didn't. He looked puzzled, in a land of slow-motion way. He opened his mouth to yawn, and smoke came out. Then he put his head down, and died.

The world seemed to Maurice to be full of the ghost light you got before dawn, when it was just bright enough to see things but not bright enough to see colours.

He sat up and washed himself. There were rats and humans running around, very, very slowly. They didn't concern him much. Whatever it was they thought they had to be doing, they were doing it. Other people were rushing about, in a silent, ghostly way, and Maurice was not. This seemed a pretty good arrangement. And his eye didn't hurt and his skin wasn't painful and his paws weren't torn, which was a big improvement on matters as they stood recently.

Now he came to think about it, he wasn't quite sure what had happened recently. Something wretchedly bad, obviously. There was something Maurice-shaped lying beside him, like a three-dimensional shadow. He stared at it, and then turned when in this soundless ghost-world he heard a noise.

There was movement near the wall. A small figure was striding across the floor towards the tiny lump that was Dangerous Beans. It was rat-sized, but it was much more solid than the rest of the rats, and unlike any rat he'd seen before it wore a black robe.

A rat in clothes, he thought. But this one did not belong in a Mr. Bunnsy book. Just poking out from the hood of the robe was the bony nose of a rat skull. And it was carrying a tiny scythe over its shoulder.

The other rats and the humans, who were drifting back and forth with buckets, paid it no attention. Some of them walked right through it. The rat and Maurice seemed to be in a separate world of their own.

It's the Bone Rat, thought Maurice. It's the Grim Squeaker. He's come for Dangerous Beans. After all I've been through? That is not happening! He sprang into the air and landed on the Bone Rat. The little scythe skidded across the floor.

“OK, mister, let's hear you talk—” Maurice began.

“Er…” said Maurice, as the horrible awareness of what he'd done caught up with him.

A hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and lifted him up, higher and higher, and then turned him around. Maurice stopped struggling immediately.

He was being held by another figure, much taller, human size, but with the same style of black robe, a much bigger scythe, and a definite lack of skin around the face. Strictly speaking, there was a considerable lack of face about the face, too. It was just bone.

DESIST FROM ATTACKING MY ASSOCIATE, MAURICE, said Death.

“Yessir, Mr Death, sir! Atoncesir!” said Maurice quickly. “Noproblemsir!”

I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU LATELY, MAURICE.

“No sir,” said Maurice, relaxing slightly. “Been very careful, sir. Looking both ways when I cross the street and everything, sir.”

AND HOW MANY DO YOU HAVE LEFT NOW?

“Six, sir. Six. Six out of nine. Very definitely. Very definitely six lives, sir.”

Death looked surprised.

BUT YOU WERE RUN OVER BY A CART ONLY LAST MONTH, WEREN'T YOU?

“That, sir? Barely grazed me, sir. Got away with hardly a scratch, sir.”

EXACTLY!

“Oh.”

THAT MAKES FIVE LIVES, MAURICE. UP UNTIL TODAY'S ADVENTURE.

“Fair enough, sir. Fair enough.” Maurice swallowed. Oh, well, might as well try. “So let's say I'm left with three, right?”

THREE? I WAS ONLY GOING TO TAKE ONE. YOU CAN'T LOSE MORE THAN ONE LIFE AT A TIME, EVEN IF YOU'RE A CAT. THAT LEAVES YOU FOUR, MAURICE.

“And I say take two, sir,” said Maurice urgently. “Two of mine, and call it quits?”

Death and Maurice looked down at the faint, shadowy outline of Dangerous Beans. Some other rats were standing around him now, picking him up.

YOU SURE? said Death. AFTER ALL, HE IS A RAT.

“Yessir. That's where it all gets complicated, sir.”

YOU CAN'T EXPLAIN?

“Yessir. Don't know why, sir. Everything's been a bit odd lately, sir.”

THAT IS VERY UN-CAT-LIKE OF YOU, MAURICE. I'M AMAZED.

“I'm pretty shocked too, sir. I just hope no-one finds out, sir.”

Death lowered Maurice to the floor, next to his body.

YOU LEAVE ME LITTLE CHOICE. THE SUM IS CORRECT, EVEN THOUGH IT IS AMAZING. WE CAME FOR TWO, AND TWO WE WILL TAKE… THE BALANCE IS PRESERVED.

“Can I ask a question, sir?” said Maurice, as Death turned to go.

YOU MAY NOT GET AN ANSWER.

“I suppose there isn't a Big Cat in the Sky, is there?”

I'M SURPRISED AT YOU, MAURICE. OF COURSE THERE ARE NO CAT GODS. THAT WOULD BE TOO MUCH LIKE… WORK.

Maurice nodded. One good thing about being a cat, apart from the extra lives, was that the theology was a lot simpler. “I won't remember all this, will I, sir?” he said. “It'd be just too embarrassing.”

OF COURSE NOT, MAURICE… “Maurice?”

Colours returned to the world, and Keith was stroking him. Every bit of Maurice stung or ached. How could fur ache? And his paws screamed at him, and one eye felt like a lump of ice, and his lungs were full of fire.

“We thought you were dead!” said Keith. “Malicia was going to bury you at the bottom of her garden! She says she's already got a black veil.”

“What, in her adventuring bag?”

“Certainly,” said Malicia. “Supposing we'd ended up on a raft in a river full of flesh-eating—”

“Yeah, right, thanks,” growled Maurice. The air stank of burnt wood and dirty steam.

“Are you all right?” said Keith, still looking worried. “You're a lucky black cat now!”

“Ha ha, yes, ha ha,” said Maurice gloomily. He pushed himself up, painfully. “The little rat OK?” he said, trying to look around.

“He was out just like you, but when they tried to move him he coughed up a lot of muck. He's not well, but he's getting better.”

“All's well that ends—” Maurice began, and then winced. “I can't turn my head very well,” he said.

“You're covered in rat bites, that's why.”

“What's my tail like?”

“Oh, fine. It's nearly all there.”

“Oh, well. All's well that ends well, then. Adventure over, time for tea and buns, just like the girl says.”

“No,” said Keith. “There's still the piper.”

“Can't they just give him a dollar for his trouble and tell him to go away?”

“Not the Rat Piper,” said Keith. “You don't say that sort of thing to the Rat Piper.”

“Nasty piece of work, is he?”

“I don't know. He sounds like it. But we've got a plan.”

Maurice growled. “ You've got a plan?” he said. “You made it up?”

“Me and Darktan and Malicia.”

“Tell me your wonderful plan,” sighed Maurice.

“We're going to keep the keekees caged up and no rats will come out to follow the piper. That way he'll look pretty silly, eh?” said Malicia.

“That's it? That's your plan?”

“You don't think it'll work?” said Keith. “Malicia says he'll be so embarrassed he'll leave.”

“You don't know anything about people, do you?” sighed Maurice.

“What? I'm a person!” said Malicia.

“So? Cats know about people. We have to. No-one else can open cupboards. Look, even the rat king had a better plan than that. A good plan isn't one where someone wins, it's where nobody thinks they've lost . Understand? This is what you have to do… no, it wouldn't work, we'd need a lot of cotton-wool…”