Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [81]
Feeling much refreshed, Stanley set about looking for a lift to Marram Marshes. It was not easy. Although most people in the Port did not celebrate the MidWinter Feast Day, many of the inhabitants had taken it as an excuse to eat a big lunch and fall asleep for most of the afternoon. The Port was almost deserted. The cold northerly wind that was bringing in flurries of snow kept anyone off the streets who did not have to be there, and Stanley began to wonder if he was going to find anyone foolish enough to be traveling out to the Marshes.
And then he found Mad Jack and his donkey cart.
Mad Jack lived in a hovel on the edge of Marram Marshes. He made his living by cutting reeds to thatch the roofs of the Port houses. He had just made his last delivery of the day and was on his way home when he saw Stanley hanging about by some rubbish bins, shivering in the chill wind. Mad Jack’s spirits rose. He loved rats and longed for the day when someone would send him a message by Message Rat, but it wasn’t the message that Mad Jack really longed for—it was the rat.
Mad Jack stopped the donkey cart by the bins.
“’Ere, Ratty, need a lift? Got a nice warm cart goin’ to the edge of the Marshes.”
Stanley thought he was hearing things. Wishful thinking, Stanley, he told himself sternly. Stop it.
Mad Jack peered down from the cart and smiled his best gap-toothed smile at the rat.
“Well, don’t be shy, boy. Hop in.”
Stanley hesitated only for a moment before he hopped in.
“Come and sit up by me, Ratty.” Mad Jack chuckled. “’Ere, you get this blanket wrapped around ya. Keep them winter chills out yer fur, that will.”
Mad Jack wrapped Stanley up in a blanket that smelled strongly of donkey and geed up the cart. The donkey put its long ears back and plodded off through the flurries of snow, taking the route it knew so well back along the causeway to the hovel that it shared with Mad Jack. By the time they arrived, Stanley felt warm again and very grateful to Jack.
“’Ere we are. ’Ome at last,” said Jack cheerfully as he unharnessed the donkey and led the animal inside the hovel. Stanley stayed in the cart, reluctant to leave the warmth of the blanket but knowing that he must.
“Yer welcome to come in and stay a while,” Mad Jack offered. “I likes to ’ave a rat around the place. Brightens things up a bit. Bit a company. Know what I mean?”
Stanley very regretfully shook his head. He had a message to deliver, and he was a true professional, even if they had withdrawn his Confidential status.
“Ah, well, I expect yer one a them.” Here Mad Jack lowered his voice and looked about him as if to check there was no one listening. “I expect yer one a them Message Rats. I know most folk don’t believe in ’em, but I do. Bin a pleasure to meet you.” Mad Jack knelt down and offered Stanley his hand to shake, and Stanley could not resist offering Mad Jack his paw in return. Mad Jack took it.
“You is, isn’t you? You is a Message Rat,” he whispered.
Stanley nodded. The next thing he knew Mad Jack had his right paw in a vicelike grip and had thrown the donkey blanket over him, bundled him up so tightly that he could not even try to struggle and had taken him into the hovel.
There was a loud clang, and Stanley was dropped into a waiting cage. The door was firmly closed and padlocked. Mad Jack giggled, put the key into his pocket and sat back, surveying his captive with delight.
Stanley rattled the bars of the cage in fury. Fury with himself rather than with Mad Jack. How could he have been so stupid? How could he forget his training: A Message Rat always travels undetected. A Message Rat never makes himself known to strangers.
“Ah, Ratty, what good times we’ll have,” said Mad Jack. “Just you and me, Ratty. We’ll go out cuttin’ them reeds together, and if you’re good we’ll go to the circus when it comes to town and see the clowns. I love them clowns, Ratty. We’ll have a good life together. Yes, we will. Oh, yes.” He chuckled happily to himself and fetched two withered apples from a sack hanging from