• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

'And I thought you were just a stupid-looking kid,' said the piper. 'What kind of a deal have you got with the rats?'

'You wouldn't believe it, piper. You wouldn't believe it.'

Inbrine scurried through the tunnels, scrabbled through the mud and straw that had been used to block the last one, and jumped into the cage room. The Clan rats unblocked their ears when they saw him.

'He's doing it?' said Darktan.

'Yessir! Right now!'

Darktan looked up at the cages. The keekees were more subdued, now that the rat king was dead and they'd been fed. But by the smell of it they were desperate to leave this place. And rats in a panic will follow other rats…

'OK,' he said. 'Runners, get ready! Open the cages! Make sure they're following you! Go! Go! Go!'

And that was almost the end of the story.

How the crowd yelled when rats erupted from every hole and drain. How they cheered when both pipers danced out of the town, with the rats racing along behind them. How they whistled when the rats plunged off the bridge into the river.

They didn't notice that some rats stayed on the bridge, urging the others with shouts of 'Remember, strong regular strokes!' and 'There's a nice beach just downstream!' and 'Hit the water feet first, it won't hurt so much!'

Even if they had noticed, they probably wouldn't have said anything. Details like that don't fit in.

And the piper danced off over the hills and never, ever came back.

There was general applause. It had been a good show, everyone agreed, even if it had been expensive. It was definitely something to tell their children.

The stupid-looking kid, the one who had duelled with the piper, strolled back into the square. He got a round of applause too. It was turning out to be a good day all round. People wondered if they'd have to have extra children to make room for all the stories.

But they realized they'd have enough to save for the grandchildren when the other rats arrived.

They were suddenly there, pouring up out of drains and gutters and cracks. They didn't squeak, and they weren't running. They sat there, watching everyone.

'Here, piper!' shouted the mayor. 'You missed some!'

'No. We're not the rats who follow pipers,' said a voice. 'We're the rats you have to deal with.'

The mayor looked down. A rat was standing by his boots, looking up at him. It appeared to be holding a sword.

'Father,' said Malicia behind him, 'it would be a good idea to listen to this rat.'

'But it's a rat!'

'He knows, Father. And he knows how to get your money back and a lot of the food and where to find some of the people who've been stealing food from us all.'

'But he's a rat!'

'Yes, Father. But if you talk to him properly, he can help us.'

The mayor stared at the assembled ranks of the Clan. 'We should talk to rats?' he said.

'It would be a very good idea, Father.'

'But they're rats!' The mayor seemed to be trying to hold on to this thought as if it was a lifebelt on a stormy sea, and he'd drown if he let go of it.

''Scuse me, 'scuse me,' said a voice from beside him. He looked down at a dirty, half-scorched cat, which grinned at him.

'Did that cat just speak?' said the mayor.

Maurice looked around. 'Which one?' he said.

'You! Did you just talk?'

'Would you feel better if I said no?' said Maurice.

'But cats can't talk!'

'Well, I can't promise that I could give a, you know, full-length after-dinner speech, and don't ask me to do a comic monologue,' said Maurice, 'and I can't pronounce difficult words like "marmalade" and "lumbago". But I'm pretty happy with basic repartee and simple wholesome conversation. Speaking as a cat, I'd like to know what the rat has got to say.'

'Mr Mayor?' said Keith, strolling up and twirling the new rat pipe in his fingers. 'Don't you think it's time I sorted out your rat problem once and for all?'

'Sort it out? But-'

'All you have to do is talk to them. Get your town council together and talk to them. It's up to you, Mr Mayor. You can yell and shout and call out the dogs and people can