The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

… foul, stinking darkness…

“Yes, we are,” said Peaches. “But what are we on top? That's what you used to say. Come on—please? Let's go back. You're not well.”

“It was all so clear to me…” Dangerous Beans mumbled.

“Lie down. You're tired. I've got a few matches left. You know you always feel better when you see a light…”

Worried in her heart, and feeling lost and a long way from home, Peaches found a wall that was rough enough and dragged a match from her crude bag. The red head flared and cracked. She raised the match as high as she could.

There were eyes everywhere.

What's the worst part? she thought, her body rigid with fear. That I can see the eyes? Or that I'm going to know they're still there when the match goes out? “And I've only got two more matches…” she mumbled to herself.

The eyes withdrew into the shadows, noiselessly. How can rats be so still and so silent? she thought.

“There's something wrong,” said Dangerous Beans.

“Yes.”

“There's something here,” he said. “I smelled it on that keekee they found in the trap. It's a kind of terror. I can smell it on you.”

“Yes,” said Peaches.

“Can you see what we should do?” said Dangerous Beans.

“Yes.” The eyes in front were gone, but Peaches could still see them on either side.

“What can we do?” said Dangerous Beans.

Peaches swallowed. “We could wish we had more matches,” she said.

And, in the darkness behind their eyes, a voice said: And so, in your despair, you come, at last, to me…

Light has a smell.

In the dank, damp cellars the sharp sulphur stink of the match flew like a yellow bird, rising on drafts, plunging through cracks. It was a clean and bitter smell and it cut through the dull underground reek like a knife.

It filled the nostrils of Sardines, who turned his head. “Matches, boss!” he said.

“Head that way!” Darktan commanded.

“It's through the room of cages, boss,” Sardines warned.

“So?”

“Remember what happened last time, boss?”

Darktan looked around at his squad. It wasn't everything he could have wished for. Rats were still trailing back from their hiding-places, and some rats—good, sensible rats—had run into traps and poisons in the panic. But he'd picked the best he could. There were a few of the experienced older ones, like Inbrine and Sardines, but most of them were young. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, he thought. It was the older rats who'd panicked most. They hadn't been so used to thinking.

“O-K,” he said. “Now, we don't know what we're going to—” he began, and caught sight of Sardines. The rat was shaking his head slightly.

Oh, yes. Leaders weren't allowed not to know.

He stared at the young, worried faces, took a deep breath and started again. “There's something new down here,” he said, and suddenly he knew what to say. “Something that no-one's ever seen before. Something tough. Something strong.” The squad was almost cowering, except for Nourishing, who was staring at Darktan with shining eyes.

“Something fearful. Something new. Something sudden,” said Darktan, leaning forward. “And it's you. All of you. Rats with brains. Rats who can think. Rats who don't turn and run. Rats who aren't afraid of dark or fire or noises or traps or poisons. Nothing can stop rats like you, right?”

Now the words bubbled up. “You heard about the Dark Wood in the Book? Well, we're in the Dark Wood now. There's something else down there. Something terrible. It hides behind your fear. It thinks it can stop you and it's wrong. We're going to find it and drag it out and we're gonna make it wish we'd never been born! And if we die… well,” and he saw them, as one rat, stare at the livid wound across his chest, “death ain't so bad. Shall I tell you about the Bone Rat? He waits for those who break and run, who hide, who falter. But if you stare into his eyes he'll give you a nod and pass right on.”

Now he could smell their excitement. In the world behind their eyes they were the bravest rats that there ever were. Now he had to lock that thought there.

Without thinking, he touched the wound. It was healing badly, still leaking blood, and there was going to be a huge scar there for ever. He brought his hand up, with his own blood, and the idea came to him right out of his bones.

He walked along the row, touching each rat just above the eyes, leaving a red mark. “And afterwards,” he said quietly, “people will say, ‘They went there, and they did it, and they came back out of the Dark Wood, and this is how they know their own’.”

He looked across their heads to Sardines, who raised his hat. That broke the spell. The rats started to breathe again. But something of the magic was still there, lodged in the gleam of an eye and the twitch of a tail.

“Ready to die for the Clan, Sardines?” Darktan shouted.

“No, boss! Ready to kill!”

“Good,” said Darktan. “Let's go. We love the Dark Wood! It belongs to us!”