Hamnpork’s nose wrinkled.

  “Poison?”

  Darktan nodded.

  “Gray Number Two,” he said. “Foul stuff. It’s best to keep well away.”

  Hamnpork looked both ways along the pipe. It went on for a long way, and it was just about high enough for a human to crawl along it. Lots of smaller pipes hung near the ceiling.

  “It’s warm here,” said Hamnpork.

  “Yes, sir. Peaches has been reading the guidebook. Hot springs come up out of the ground here, and they pump the water around to some of the houses.”

  “Why?”

  “To bathe in, sir.”

  “Hrumph.” Hamnpork didn’t like that idea. A lot of the young rats were keen on taking baths.

  Darktan turned to the squad. “Hamnpork wants that poison buried and widdled on and a marker on it right now!”

  Hamnpork heard a metallic sound beside him. He turned and saw that Darktan had drawn, from his web of tools, a long, thin piece of metal.

  “What the krckrck is that?” he said.

  Darktan swished the thing backward and forward.

  “I got the stupid-looking kid to make this for me,” he said.

  And then Hamnpork realized what it was.

  “That’s a sword,” he said. “You got the idea out of Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve never believed that stuff,” Hamnpork grumbled. “It’s too far-fetched.”

  “But a spike is a spike,” said Darktan calmly. “I think we’re close to the other rats. It’d be a good idea if most of us stay here . . . sir.”

  Hamnpork felt he was being given orders again, but Darktan was being polite.

  “I suggest that a few of us go on ahead to sniff them out,” Darktan went on. “Sardines would be useful, and I’ll go, of course—”

  “And me,” said Hamnpork.

  He glared at Darktan, who said, “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 7

  And because of Olly the Snake’s trick with the road sign, Mr. Bunnsy did not know that he had lost his way. He wasn’t going to Howard the Stoat’s tea party. He was heading into the Dark Wood.

  —From Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure

  Malicia looked at the open trapdoor as if giving it points out of ten.

  “Quite well hidden,” she said. “No wonder we didn’t see it.”

  “I’m not hurt much,” Keith called up from the darkness.

  “Good,” said Malicia, still inspecting the trapdoor. “How far down are you?”

  “It’s some sort of cellar. I’m okay because I landed on some sacks.”

  “All right, all right, no need to go on about it. This wouldn’t be an adventure if there weren’t some minor hazards,” said the girl. “Here’s the top of a ladder. Why didn’t you use it?”

  “I was unable to on account of falling past,” said the voice of Keith.

  “Shall I carry you down?” said Malicia to Maurice.

  “Shall I scratch your eyes out?” said Maurice.

  Malicia’s brow wrinkled. She always looked annoyed when she didn’t understand something.

  “Was that sarcasm?” she asked.

  “That was a suggestion,” said Maurice. “I don’t do ‘picking up’ by strangers. You go down. I’ll follow.”

  “But you haven’t got the legs for ladders!”

  “Do I make personal remarks about your legs?”

  Malicia descended into the dark. There was a metallic noise, and then the flare of a match.

  “It’s full of sacks!” said Malicia.

  “I know,” came the voice of Keith. “I landed on them. I did say.”

  “It’s grain! And . . . and there’s strings and strings of sausages! There’s smoked meat! Bins of vegetables! It’s full of food! Aargh! Get out of my hair! Get off! That cat just jumped onto my head!”

  Maurice leaped off her and onto some sacks.

  “Hah!” said Malicia, rubbing her head. “We were told that the rats had got it all. I see it all now. The rat catchers get everywhere, they know all the sewers, all the cellars . . . and to think those thieves get paid out of our taxes!”

  Maurice looked around the cellar, lit by the flickering lantern in Malicia’s hand. There was indeed a lot of food. Nets hanging from the ceiling were indeed stuffed with big, white, heavy cabbages. The aforesaid sausages did indeed loop from beam to beam. There were indeed jars and barrels and sacks and sacks. And indeed they all worried him.

  “That’s it, then,” said Malicia. “What a hiding place! We’re going to go right away to the town Watch and report what we’ve found, and then it’s a big bang-up tea with cream buns all around and possibly a medal and then—”

  “I’m suspicious,” said Maurice.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a suspicious character! I wouldn’t trust your rat catchers if they told me the sky was blue. What have they been doing? Pinching the food and then saying, ‘It was the rats, honest’? And everyone believed them?”

  “No, stupid. People have found gnawed bones and empty egg baskets, that sort of thing,” said Malicia. “And rat droppings all over the place!”

  “I suppose you could scratch the bones, and I suppose rat catchers could shovel up a lot of rat droppings . . .” Maurice conceded.

  “And they’re killing all the real rats so that there’s more for them!” said Malicia triumphantly. “Very clever!”

  “Yeah, and that’s a bit puzzling,” said Maurice, “because we’ve met your rat catchers and, frankly, if it was raining meatballs, they wouldn’t be able to find a fork.”

  “I’m thinking about something,” said Keith, who had been humming to himself.

  “Well, I’m glad someone is,” Malicia began.

  “It’s about wire netting,” said Keith. “There was wire netting in the shed.”

  “Is this important?”

  “Why do rat catchers need rolls of wire netting?”

  “How should I know? Cages, maybe? Does it matter?”

  “Why would rat catchers put rats in cages? Dead rats don’t run away, do they?”

  There was silence. Maurice could see that Malicia was not happy about that comment. It was an unnecessary complication. It spoiled the story.

  “I may be stupid-looking,” Keith added, “but I’m not stupid. I have time to think about things because I don’t keep on talking all the time. I look at things. I listen. I try to learn. I—”

  “I don’t talk all the time!”

  Maurice let them argue and stalked away into the corner of the cellar. Or cellars. They seemed to go on a long way.

  He saw something streak across the floor in the shadows and leaped before he could think. His stomach remembered that it had been a long time since the mouse, and it connected itself straight to his legs.

  “All right,” he said, as the thing squirmed in his paws, “speak up or—”

  A small stick hit him very sharply.

  “Do you mind?” said Sardines, struggling to get up.

  “Dere’s bno ned to be like dab!” muttered Maurice, trying to lick his smarting nose.

  “I’ve got a rkrklk hat on, right?” snapped Sardines. “Do you ever bother to look?”

  “All ride, all ride, sorwy. . . .Why’re you here?”

  Sardines brushed himself off. “Looking for you or the stupid-looking kid,” he said. “Hamnpork sent me! We’re in trouble now! You just won’t believe what we’ve found!”

  “He wants me?” said Maurice. “I thought he didn’t like me!”

  “Well, he said it’s nasty and evil so you’d know what to do, boss,” said Sardines, picking up his hat. “Look at that, will you? Your claw went right through it!”

  “But I did ask you if you could talk, didn’t I?” said Maurice.

  “Yes, you did, but—”

  “I always ask!”

  “I know, so—”

  “I’m very definite about asking, you know!”

  “Yes, yes, you’ve made your point, I believe you,” said Sardines. “I only complained about the hat!”

  “I’d hate anyone to think I don’t ask,” said Maurice.

  “There’s no need to go on and on about it,” said Sardines. “Where’s the kid?”

  “Back there, talking to the girl,” said Maurice sulkily.

  “What, the mad one?”

  “That’s her.”

  “You’d better get them. This is seriously evil. There’s a door at the other end of these cellars. I’m amazed you can’t smell it from here!”

  “I’d just like everyone to be clear that I asked, that’s all.”

  “Boss,” said Sardines, “this is serious!”

  Peaches and Dangerous Beans waited for the exploration party. They were with Toxie, another young male rat, who was good at reading and acted as a kind of assistant.

  Peaches had also brought Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure.

  “They’ve been gone a long time,” said Toxie.

  “Darktan checks every step,” said Peaches.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Dangerous Beans. His nose wrinkled.

  A rat scurried down the tunnel and pushed frantically past them.

  Dangerous Beans sniffed the air.

  “Fear,” he said.

  Three more rats scrambled past, knocking him over.

  “What’s happening?” asked Peaches, as another rat spun her around in an effort to get past. It squeaked at her and rushed on.

  “That was Finest,” she said. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

  “More . . . fear,” said Dangerous Beans. “They’re . . . scared. Terrified . . .”

  Toxie tried to stop the next rat. She bit him and ran on, chittering.

  “We must go back,” said Peaches urgently.

  “What’ve they found up there? Maybe it’s a ferret!”

  “Can’t be!” said Toxie. “Hamnpork killed a ferret once!”

  Three more rats ran past, trailing fear behind them. One of them squealed at Peaches, gibbered madly at Dangerous Beans, and ran on.

  “They . . . they’ve forgotten how to talk,” whispered Dangerous Beans.

  “Something terrible must have frightened them!” said Peaches, snatching up her notes.

  “They’ve never been that frightened!” said Toxie. “Remember when that dog found us? We were all frightened but we talked and we trapped it and Hamnpork saw it off whimpering. . . .”

  To her shock, Peaches saw that Dangerous Beans was crying. “They’ve forgotten how to talk.”

  Half a dozen more rats pushed their way past, screeching. Peaches tried to stop one, but she just squeaked at her and dodged out of the way.

  “That was Feedsfour!” she said, turning to Toxie. “I was talking to her only an hour ago! She . . .Toxie?”

  Toxie’s fur was bristling. His eyes were unfocused. His mouth was open, showing his teeth. He stared at her, or right through her, and then turned and ran.

  She turned and put her paws around Dangerous Beans as the fear swept over them.

  There were rats. From wall to wall, floor to ceiling, there were rats. The cages were crammed with them; they clung to the wire in front, and to roofs. The netting strained with the weight. Glistening bodies boiled and tumbled, paws and noses thrusting through the holes. The air was solid with squeaking and rustling and chittering, and it stank.

  What was left of Hamnpork’s exploration party was clustered in the middle of the room. Most of it had fled by now. If the smells in that room had been sounds, they would have been shouts and screams, thousands of them. They filled the long room with a strange kind of pressure. Even Maurice could feel it, as soon as Keith opened the door. It was like a headache outside your head, trying to get in. It banged on the ears.

  Maurice was staying a little way behind. You didn’t need to be very clever to see that this was a bad situation, and one that might need some running away from at any time.

  He saw, between Malicia and Keith’s legs, Darktan and Hamnpork and a few other Changelings. They were in the middle of the floor, looking up at the cages.

  He was amazed to see that even Hamnpork was trembling. But he was trembling with rage.

  “Let them out!” he shouted up to Keith. “Let them all out! Let them all out now!”

  “Another talking rat?” asked Malicia.

  “Let them out!” Hamnpork screamed.

  “All these foul cages . . .” said Malicia, staring.

  “I did say about the wire netting,” said Keith. “Look, you can see where it’s been repaired . . . they gnawed through wire to escape!”

  “I said let them out!” screamed Hamnpork. “Let them out or I will kill you! Evil! Evil! Evil!”

  “But they’re just rats—” said Malicia.

  Hamnpork leaped and landed on the girl’s waist. He swarmed up toward her neck. She froze. He hissed: “There are rats eating one another in there! I will gnaw you, you evil—”

  Keith’s hand grasped him firmly around the waist and pulled him off her neck.

  Screeching, hair bristling, Hamnpork sank his teeth into Keith’s finger.

  Malicia gasped. Even Maurice winced.

  Hamnpork drew his head back, blood dripping from his muzzle, and blinked in horror.

  Tears welled up in Keith’s eyes. Very carefully he put Hamnpork down on the floor.

  “It’s the smell,” he said quietly. “It upsets them.”

  “I . . . I thought you said they were tame!” said Malicia, able to speak at last. She picked up a lump of wood that was leaning against the cages.

  Keith knocked it out of her hand.

  “Never, ever threaten one of us!”

  “He attacked you!”

  “Look around! This is not a story! This is real! Do you understand? They’re frightened out of their minds!”

  “How dare you talk to me like that!” Malicia shouted.

  “I rrkrkrk will!”

  “One of us, eh? Was that a rat swear word? Do you even swear in Rat, rat boy?”

  Just like cats, Maurice thought. You stand face to face and scream at each other.

  His ears swiveled as he heard another sound, in the distance. Someone was coming down the ladder.

  Maurice knew from experience that this was no time to talk to humans. They always said things like “What?” and “That’s not right!” or “Where?”

  “Get out of here right now,” he said as he ran past Darktan. “Don’t get human about it, just run!”

  And that was quite enough heroism, he decided. It didn’t pay to let other people actually slow you down.

  There was a rusty old drain set into the wall. He skidded on the slimy floor as he changed direction, and there, yes, was a Maurice-sized hole where a bar had rusted clean away.

  Paws scrabbling for speed, he darted through the hole just as the rat catchers entered the room of cages.

  Then, safe in the darkness, he turned around and peered out.

  Time to check: Was Maurice safe? All legs present? Tail? Yes. Good.

  He could see Darktan tugging at Hamnpork, who seemed to have frozen on the spot, the others scuttling toward another drain in the opposite wall. They moved unsteadily. That’s what happens when you let yourself go, Maurice thought. They think they’re educated, but in a tight corner a rat is just a rat.

  Now me, I’m different. Brain functioning perfectly at all times. Always on the lookout. On the case and sniffing bottom.

  The caged rats were making a din. Keith and the storytelling girl were watching the rat catchers in amazement. The rat catchers weren’t unamazed either.

  On the floor Darktan gave up trying to get Hamnpork to move. He drew his sword, looked up at the humans, hesitated, and then ran for the drain.

  Yes, let them sort it out. They’re all human, Maurice thought. They’ve got big brains, they can talk, it should be no problem at all.

  Hah! Tell them a story, storytelling girl!

  Rat Catcher 1 stared at Malicia and Keith.

  “What’re you doing here, miss?” he said, his voice creaking with suspicion.

  “Playing mummies and daddies?” said Rat Catcher 2 cheerfully.

  “You broke into our shed,” said Rat Catcher 1. “That’s called ‘breaking in,’ that is!”

  “You’ve been stealing, yes, stealing food and blaming it on rats!” snapped Malicia. “And why have you got all these rats caged up in here? And what about the aglets, eh? Surprised, eh? Didn’t think anyone would notice them, eh?”

  “Aglets?” said Rat Catcher 1, his brow wrinkling.

  “The little bits on the end of bootlaces,” mumbled Keith.

  Rat Catcher 1 spun around. “You bloody idiot, Bill! I said we had enough real ones! I told you someone would notice! Didn’t I tell you someone would notice? Someone noticed!”

  “Yes, don’t think you’ve got away with anything!” said Malicia. Her eyes were gleaming. “I know you’re only the humorous thugs. One big fat one, one thin one—it’s obvious! So who’s the big boss?”

  Rat Catcher 1’s eyes glazed slightly, as they often did when Malicia talked at people. He waved a fat finger at her.

  “You know what your father’s been and gone and done just now?” he asked.

  “Hah! Humorous thug talk!” said Malicia triumphantly. “Do go on!”

  “He’s been and gone and sent off for the rat piper!” said Rat Catcher 2. “He costs a fortune! Three hundred dollars a town, and if you don’t pay up, he gets really mean!”

  Oh dear, thought Maurice. Someone’s been and gone and sent for the real one . . . three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars? Three hundred dollars? And we only charged thirty!

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” said Rat Catcher 1, waving his finger at Keith. “The stupid-looking kid! You turn up, and suddenly there’s all these new rats around! There’s something I don’t like about you! You and your funny-looking cat! If I see that funny-looking cat again, it’s going to have mittens!”

  In the darkness of the drain Maurice shrank back.

  “Hur, hur, hur,” said Rat Catcher 2. He probably studied to get a thug laugh like that, Maurice thought.

  “And we don’t have a boss,” said Rat Catcher 1.