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'It said "19 pints and a Strawberry Yoghurt",' said Keith.

'Ah. Not helpful, then,' said Malicia. 'Why nineteen pints of milk?'

'It was the Guild of Musicians,' said Keith. 'Quite a large place. I don't know about the strawberry yoghurt.'

'Abandoned orphan is good,' said Malicia. 'After all, a prince can only grow up to be a king but a mysterious orphan could be anybody. Were you beaten and starved and locked in a cellar?'

'I don't think so,' said Keith, giving her a funny look. 'Everyone at the Guild was very kind. They were mostly nice people. They taught me a lot.'

'We've got Guilds here,' said Malicia. 'They teach boys to be carpenters and stonemasons and things like that.'

'The Guild taught me music,' said Keith. 'I'm a musician. I'm good at it, too. I've been earning my own living since I was six.'

'Aha! Mysterious orphan, strange talent, distressed upbringing… it's all shaping up,' said Malicia. 'The strawberry yoghurt is probably not important. Would your life have been different if it had been banana-flavoured? Who can say? What kinds of music do you play?'

'Kinds? There aren't any kinds. There's just music,' said Keith. 'There's always music, if you listen.'

Malicia looked at Maurice. 'Is he always like this?' she demanded.

'This is the most I've ever heard him say,' said the cat.

'I expect you're very keen to know all about me,' said Malicia. 'I expect you're just too polite to ask.'

'Gosh, yes,' said Maurice.

'Well, you probably won't be surprised to know that I've got two dreadful step-sisters,' said Malicia. 'And I have to do all the chores!'

'Gosh, really,' said Maurice, wondering if there were any more fish-heads and, if there were any more fish-heads, whether they were worth all this.

'Well, most of the chores,' said Malicia, as if revealing an unfortunate fact. 'Some of them, definitely. I have to clean up my own room, you know! And it's extremely untidy!'

'Gosh, really.'

'And it's very nearly the smallest bedroom. There're practically no cupboards and I'm running out of bookshelf space!'

'Gosh, really.'

'And people are incredibly cruel to me. You will note that we're here in a kitchen. And I'm the mayor's daughter. Should the daughter of a mayor be expected to wash up at least once a week? I think not!'

'Gosh, really.'

'And will you just look at these torn and bedraggled clothes I have to wear?'

Maurice looked. He wasn't good on clothes. Fur was enough for him. As far as he could tell, Malicia's dress was pretty much like any other dress. It seemed to be all there. There weren't any holes, except where the arms and head poked through.

'Here, just here,' said Malicia, pointing to a place on the hem which, to Maurice, looked no different from the rest of the dress. 'I had to sew that back myself, you know?'

'Gosh, re-' Maurice stopped. From here he could see the bare shelves. More importantly, he could see Sardines abseiling down from a crack in the ancient ceiling. He had a knapsack on his back.

'And on top of this I'm the one who has to queue for the bread and sausages every day-' Malicia continued, but Maurice was listening even less than he had been before.

It had to be Sardines, he thought. Idiot! He always goes ahead of the trap squad! Of all the kitchens in all the town he could turn up in, he's turned up in this one. Any minute she's going to turn round and scream.

Sardines would probably treat it as applause, too. He lived life as if it was a performance. Other rats just ran around squeaking and messing up things, and that was quite good enough to convince humans there was a plague. But, oh, no, Sardines always had to go further. Sardines and his yowoorll song and dance act!

'-and the rats take everything,' Malicia was saying. 'What they don't take, they spoil. It's been terrible! The council have been buying in food from other towns, but no-one has very much to spare. We have to buy corn and stuff from the traders that sail up the river. That's why bread is so expensive.'

'Expensive, eh?' said Maurice.

'We've tried traps and dogs and cats and poison and still the