Terry Pratchett - The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

“Can't say a single word,” said Maurice.

“And probably you're a mysterious boy who—” The girl stopped and gave Maurice a puzzled look. He arched his back and said “prppt”, which is cat language for “biscuits!” “Did that cat just say something?” she demanded.

“I thought that everyone knew that cats can't talk,” said the kid.

“Ah, but maybe you were apprenticed to a wizard,” said the girl. “Yes, that sounds about right. That'll do for now. You were an apprentice to a wizard, but you fell asleep and let the cauldron of bubbling green stuff boil over and he threatened to turn you into a, a, a—”

“Gerbil,” said Maurice, helpfully.

“—a gerbil, and you stole his magical cat because you hated it so much and—what's a gerbil? Did that cat just say ‘gerbil’?”

“Don't look at me!” said the kid. “I'm just standing here!”

“All right, and then you brought the cat here because you know there's a terrible famine and that's why you were going to sell it and that man would have given you ten dollars, you know, if you'd held out for it.”

“Ten dollars is too much money even for a good ratter,” said the kid.

“Ratter? He wasn't interested in catching rats!” said the red-haired girl. “Everyone's hungry here! There's at least two meals on that cat!”

“What? You eat cats here?” said Maurice, his tail fluffing like a brush.

The girl leaned down to Maurice with a dreadful grin, just like the one that Peaches always wore when she'd won an argument with him, and prodded him on the nose with a finger. “ Got you!” she said. “You fell for a very simple trick! I think you two had better come with me, don't you? Or I'll scream. And people listen to me when I'm screaming!”

Far below Maurice's paws, the rats were creeping through the undertown of Bad Blintz. Old towns are like that. People build down as well as up. Cellars butt against other cellars, and some of the cellars get forgotten—except by creatures that want to stay out of sight.

In the thick, warm, damp darkness a voice said, “All right, who's got the matches?”

“Me, Dangerous Beans. Feedsfour.”

“Well done, young rat. And who has the candle?”

“Me, sir. 2I'm Bitesize.”

“Good. Put it down and Peaches will light it.”

There was a lot of scuffling in the darkness. Not all the rats had got used to the idea of making fire, and some were getting out of the way.

There was a scratching noise, and then the match flared. Holding the match with both front paws, Peaches lit the candle stub. The flame swelled for a moment and settled down to a steady glow.

“Can you really see it?” said Hamnpork.

“Yes, sir,” said Dangerous Beans. “I am not completely blind. I can tell the difference between light and dark.”

“Y'know,” said Hamnpork, watching the flame suspiciously, “I don't like it at all, even so. Darkness was good enough for our parents. It'll end in trouble. Besides, setting fire to a candle is a waste of perfectly good food.”

“We have to be able to control the fire, sir,” said Dangerous Beans calmly. “With the flame we make a statement to the darkness. We say: we are separate. We say: we are not just rats. We say: we are The Clan.”

“Hrumph,” said Hamnpork, which was his usual response when he didn't understand what had just been said. Just lately he'd been hrumphing a lot.

“I've heard the younger rats are saying that the shadows frighten them,” said Peaches.

“Why?” said Hamnpork. “They're not frightened of complete darkness, are they? Darkness is ratty! Being in the dark is what a rat is all about!”

“It's odd,” said Peaches, “but we didn't know the shadows were there until we had the light.”

One of the younger rats timorously raised a paw. “Um… and even when the light has gone out, we know the shadows are still around,” it said.

Dangerous Beans turned towards the young rat. “You're—?” he said.

“Delicious,” said the younger rat.

“Well, Delicious,” said Dangerous Beans, in a kindly voice, “being afraid of shadows is all part of us becoming more intelligent, I think. Your mind is working out that there's a you, and there's also everything outside you . So now you're not just frightened of things that you can see and hear and smell, but also of things that you can… sort of… see inside your head. Learning to face the shadows outside helps us to fight the shadows inside. And you can control all the darkness. It's a big step forward. Well done.”

Delicious looked slightly proud, but mostly nervous.

“I don't see the point, myself,” said Hamnpork. “We used to do all right on the dump. I was never scared of anything.”

“We were prey to every stray cat and hungry dog, sir,” said Dangerous Beans.

“Oh, well, if we're going to talk about cats ,” growled Hamnpork.

“I think we can trust Maurice, sir,” said Dangerous Beans. “Perhaps not when it comes to money, I admit. But he is very good at not eating people who talk, you know. He checks, every time.”

“You can trust a cat to be a cat,” said Hamnpork. “Talking or not!”

“Yes, sir. But we are different, and so is he. I believe he is a decent cat at heart.”

“Ahem. That remains to be seen,” said Peaches. “But now we are here, let's get organized.”

Hamnpork growled. “Who are you to say ‘let's get organized’?” he said sharply. “Are you the leader, young female who refuses to rllk with me? No! I am the leader. It's my job to say ‘let's get organized’!”

“Yes, sir,” said Peaches, crouching low. “How would you like us to be organized, sir?”

Hamnpork stared at her. He looked at the waiting rats, with their packs and bundles, and then around at the ancient cellar, and then back to the still-crouching Peaches. “Just… get organized,” he muttered. “Don't bother me with details! I am the leader.” And he stalked off into the shadows.

When he'd gone, Peaches and Dangerous Beans looked around the cellar, which was filled with trembling shadows created by the candlelight. A trickle of water ran down one crusted wall. Here and there stones had fallen out, leaving inviting holes. Earth covered the floor, and there were no human footprints in it.

“An ideal base,” said Dangerous Beans. “It smells secret and safe. A perfect place for rats.”

“Right,” said a voice. “And you know what's worrying me about that?”

The rat called Darktan stepped into the candlelight, and hitched up one of his belts of tools. A lot of the watching rats suddenly paid attention. People listened to Hamnpork because he was the leader, but they listened to Darktan because he was often telling you things that you really, really needed to know if you wanted to go on living. He was big, and lean, and tough, and spent most of his time taking traps apart to see how they worked.

“What is worrying you, Darktan?” asked Dangerous Beans.

“There aren't any rats here. Except us. Rat tunnels, yes. But we've seen no rats. No rats at all. A town like this should be full of them.”

“Oh, they're probably scared of us,” said Peaches.

Darktan tapped the side of his scarred muzzle. “Maybe,” he said. “But things don't smell right. Thinking is a great invention, but we were given noses and it pays to listen to them. Be extra careful.” He turned to the assembled rats and raised his voice. “OK, people! You know the drill!” he shouted. “In front of me, in your platoons, now! ”