It approached the other ratbit, and they chattered at each other. Ratbit-speech was a strange yeeking sound, and whatever was said was over with quickly. The eyepatch ratbit dumped its sack on the ground, and Valentine smiled when he recognized Scrabble pieces.
"Can you understand us?" Valentine said.
The ratbit hunted with its eye in the pile.
Y E S
"We are sorry about the deaths. You should have tried this earlier."
The ratbit removed the three chips from the dirt and arranged more.
WE DID SHOT BY HORSRYDERS
"We didn't understand what you meant when you said 'leave woods.'"
N O MUCH S P E A K ME N
The ratbit removed that and started again.
N I E D WOOD FOR K I L M O N S T E R S
"The thing is, you took quite a few saplings. We need them. Understand?"
Y E S
"We can leave you a few, and some wood, and some seeds, to grow more trees. Good enough?"
The ratbit did not rearrange the letters. It just pointed to yes again.
"Deal. Someday I'd like to hear about what happened. How did you drive the Kurians out of this part of the land?"
W R E K T H E A L L S O W E N O T D I E
"Do your people have a name?"
B A T C H F I V E T E E N
The ratbits put on a feast that night, in the center of a wide half-crescent of oaks and elms. Traces of a foundation stood in the yellowed grass, smoke-darkened conduit pipes and junction boxes stood among the wildflowers like scarecrows. Later Valentine learned that beneath the soil there was a thriving town of tunnels and dens.
The humans only nibbled from the Batch Fifteen banquet. A proper feast, to the hundreds of gathered ratbits, meant piling anything edible-to a ratbit-in a great heap in the center of the clearing and then burrowing within the pile in a race for the choicest tidbits: a bone with a bit of marrow, still-ripe fall fruits and melons, an ear of corn still only partially eaten. It was a bit like dining from a restaurant kitchen at the end of the night, fresh food, leftovers, and garbage all for the taking.
The dinner looked to be a disaster, at least from the human point of view, until the ratbits dragged a series of still-sealed cartons from a clogged stairwell hidden in the grass. In them were candy bars and chips and fruit-flavored drinks in shiny plastic packets, only a few years old and therefore still edible. Valentine ate something called a Chocdelite that was almost eye-crossing in its sweetness.
Zacharias joined him, and they sat on one of the wagons, next to Baltz's orange tomcat, who was scrunched into a back-arched ball under the seat as he watched the ratbits go to and fro. Zacharias offered Valentine a taste of some orange-and-pineapple flavored drink.
"I'm thinking vending machines," Zacharias said, examining the label. "Says it's from Florida."
"Nothing but the best for the scientists. Or the honored guests."
A faint sputtering from the sky made them both look up. An arrow shape, like an oversize kite with an engine attached, flew overhead and buzzed away a pair of circling buzzards. Another aerial visitor, a hawk, flapped hard to gain altitude and avoided the airborne prowler. A ratbit worked the controls from a tiny seat.
"I'll be-," Zacharias began. "Clever varmints."
"That they are."
"Did you have any schooling, Valentine?"
"Yes. About as good as I could get in the Minnesota backwoods. An old Jesuit still ran a one-room schoolhouse. I lived in his library."