'Er, er, er,' Nourishing stuttered. 'Things are creaking here, Miss Nourishing,' said Darktan, from the depths of the trap. 'Er, er, you wedge the thingy…'

'Which one is the thingy, Miss Nourishing? Take your time, whoops, this bit of metal is wobbling but don't let me hurry you in any way…'

'You wedge the, er, the thingy, er, the thingy… er…' Nourishing's eyes rolled wildly. 'Maybe it's this big SNAP argh argh argh…' Nourishing fainted. Darktan slipped out of the harness and dropped onto the trap. 'All fixed,' he said. 'I've clipped it firm, it won't off now. You boys can drag it out of the way.' He walked back to the squad and dropped a lump of hairy cheese onto Nourishing's quivering stomach. 'It's very important in the trap business to be definite, you see. You're definite or you're dead. The second mouse gets the cheese.' Darktan sniffed. 'Well, no human coming here would have any difficulty thinking there's rats around now…' The other trainees laughed in the nervous, tittering way of people who've seen someone else attract the teacher's attention and are glad it isn't them. Darktan unrolled a scrap of paper. He was a rat of action, and the idea that the world could be pinned down in little signs worried him a bit. But he could see how useful it was. When he drew pictures of a tunnel layout the paper remembered. It didn't get confused by new smells. Other rats, if they knew how to read, could see in their heads what the writer had seen. He'd invented maps. It was a drawing of the world.

'Amazing stuff, this new technology,' he said. 'So… there's poison marked here, two tunnels back. Did you see to it, Inbrine?'

'Buried and widdled on,' said Inbrine, his deputy. 'It was the grey No. 2 poison, too.'

'Good rat,' said Darktan. 'That's nasty eating.'

'There were dead keekees all round it.'

'I'll bet there were. No antidote for that stuff.'

'We found trays of No. 1 and No. 3 too,' said Inbrine. 'Lots of them.'

'You can survive No. 1 poison if you're sensible,' said Darktan. 'Remember that, all of you. And if you ever eat No. 3 poison, we've got some stuff that'll sort you out. I mean, you'll live in the end, but there'll be a day or two when you'd wish you were dead '

'There's lots of poison, Darktan,' said Inbrine, nervously. 'More than I've ever seen before. Rat bones all over the place.'

'Important safety tip there, then,' said Darktan, setting off along a new tunnel. 'Don't eat a dead rat unless you know what they died of. Otherwise you'll die of it, too.'

'Dangerous Beans says he thinks we shouldn't eat rats at all,' said Inbrine. 'Yeah, well, maybe,' said Darktan, 'but out in the tunnels you have to be practical. Never let good food go to waste. And someone wake up Nourishing!'

'A lot of poison,' said Inbrine, as the squad moved on. 'They must really hate rats here.' Darktan didn't answer. He could see the rats were already getting nervous. There was a smell of fear in the rat runs. They'd never come across so much poison before. Darktan didn't usually worry about anything, and hated to feel the worry starting, deep in his bones A small rat, out of breath, scurried up the tunnel and crouched in front of him. 'Kidney, sir, No. 3 Heavy Widdlers,' it burst out. 'We've found a trap, sir! Not like the usual sort! Fresh walked right into it! Please come!' There was a lot of straw in the loft over the stables, and the heat of the horses coming up from below made it quite snug. Keith was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and to himself. Maurice was watching his lunch, which was twitching its nose. Right up until the time he pounced, Maurice looked like a sleek killing machine. It all went wrong just before he jumped. His rear rose, it waggled faster and faster from side to side, his tail slashed at the air like a snake, and then he dived forward, claws out- 'Squeak!'

'OK, here's the deal,' said Maurice to the shivering ball in his claws. 'You just have to say something. Anything. “Let me go”, maybe, or even “Help!” Squeak does not cut the mustard. It's just a noise. Just ask, and I'll let you go. No-one can say I'm not highly moral in that respect.'

'Squeak!' screamed the mouse. 'Fair enough,' said Maurice, and killed it instantly. He carried it back to the corner, where Keith was now sitting in the straw and finishing a pickled beef sandwich. 'It couldn't talk,' said Maurice, hurriedly. 'I didn't ask you,' said Keith. 'I mean, I gave it a chance,' said Maurice. 'You heard me, right? It only had to say it didn't want to be eaten.'

'Good.'

'It's all right for you, I mean, it's not as though you have to speak to sandwiches,' said Maurice, as if he was still bothered about something. 'I wouldn't know what to say to them,' said Keith. 'And I'd like to point out that I didn't play with it, either,' said Maurice. 'One swipe with the ol' paw and it was “goodbye, that's all she wrote” except that obviously the mouse didn't write anything, not being intelligent in any way.'

'I believe you,' said Keith. 'It never felt a thing,' Maurice went on. There was a scream, from somewhere in a nearby street, and then the sound of crockery breaking. There had been quite a lot of that in the last half hour. 'Sounds like the lads are still at work,' said Maurice, carrying the dead mouse behind a pile of hay. 'Nothing gets a good scream like Sardines dancing across the table.' The stable doors opened. A man came in, harnessed two of the horses, and led them out. Shortly afterwards, there was the sound of a coach leaving the yard. A few seconds later, there were three loud knocks from below. They were repeated. And then they were repeated

again. Finally, Malicia's voice said: 'Are you two up there or not?' Keith crawled out of the hay and looked down. 'Yes,' he said. 'Didn't you hear the secret knock?' said Malicia, staring up at him in annoyance. 'It didn't sound like a secret knock,' said Maurice, his mouth full. 'Is that Maurice's voice?' said Malicia suspiciously. 'Yes,' said Keith. 'You'll have to excuse him, he's eating someone.' Maurice swallowed quickly. 'It's not someone!' he hissed. 'It's not someone unless it can talk! Otherwise it's just food!'

'It is a secret knock!' Malicia snapped. 'I know about these things! And you're supposed to give the secret knock in return!'

'But if it's just someone knocking on the door in, you know, general high spirits, and we knock back, what are they going to think is up here?' said Maurice. 'An extremely heavy beetle?' Malicia went uncharacteristically silent for a moment. Then she said: 'Good point, good point. I know, I'll shout “It's me, Malicia!” and then give the secret knock, and that way you'll know it's me and you can give the secret knock back. OK?'

'Why don't we just say “Hello, we're up here”? said Keith innocently. Malicia sighed. 'Don't you have any sense of drama? Look, my father's gone off to the Rathaus to see the other council members. He said the crockery was the last straw!'

'The crockery?' said Maurice. 'You told him about Sardines?'

'I had to say I'd been frightened by a huge rat and tried to climb up the dresser to escape,' said Malicia. 'You lied?'

'I just told a story,' said Malicia, calmly. 'It was a good one, too. It was much more true than the truth would sound. A tap-dancing rat? Anyway, he wasn't really interested because there's been a lot of complaints today. Your tame rats are really upsetting people. I am gloating.'

'They're not our rats, they're their rats,' said Keith. 'And they always work fast,' said Maurice proudly. 'They don't mess about when it comes to… messing about.'

'One town we were in last month, the council advertised for a rat piper the very next morning,' said Keith. 'That was Sardines' big day.'

'My father shouted a lot and sent for Blunkett and Spears, too,' said Malicia. 'They're the rat-catchers! And you know what that means, don't you?' Maurice and Keith looked at one another. 'Let's pretend we don't,' said Maurice. 'It means we can break into their shed and solve the mystery of the bootlace tails!' said Malicia. She gave Maurice a critical look. 'Of course, it would be more… satisfying if we were four children and a dog, which is the right number for an adventure, but we'll make do with what we've got.'

'Hey, we just steal from governments!' said Maurice. 'Er, only governments who aren't people's fathers, obviously,' said Keith. 'So?' said Malicia, giving Keith an odd look. 'That's not the same as being criminals!' said Maurice. 'Ah, but when we've got the evidence, we can take it to the council and then it won't be criminal at all because we will be saving the day,' said Malicia, with weary patience. 'Of course, it may be that the council and the Watch are in league with the rat-catchers, so we shouldn't trust anyone. Really, haven't you people ever read a book? It'll be dark soon, and I'll come over and pick you up and we can shimmy the nodger.'

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net