Chapter 3 – The Werewolf, the Cat, and the Educated Rodents.
Maurice made his way further along the road, walking towards the nearest watch house. There was a watchman not far ahead of him, and it looked like that was where he was going too. Trotting along beside him was a rather large dog.
Like most cats, Maurice did not like dogs. Oh, he was prepared to talk to the little mongrel that had apparently been Changed in much the same way as Maurice, who had apparently experienced the sudden changes in his reasoning capacity that Maurice was even now trying to adjust to living with – but Maurice generally avoided dogs, especially working dogs. And the dog by the watchman's side seemed more than a little intimidating. Maurice sniffed – she was female, but, if anything, that meant that she could be even more dangerous than a male dog. He sniffed again, and wrinkled his nose in puzzlement – there was certainly a great deal of dog scent there, but there was another scent, too – barely noticeable except to those with incredibly sensitive noses: a slight tang, a sharp smell, almost reminiscent of autumn bonfires, the smell of extreme power that was barely controlled, and that could become extremely dangerous indeed, very fast. Maurice, now that he was paying all of his attention to this scent, was convinced that the watchman's canine companion was not a real dog at all, but rather a wolf. And not just a wolf, either, but a werewolf.
Maurice became suddenly wary. A dog – an ordinary dog – would, of course, be no challenge for the Amazing Maurice, although he would avoid dogs whenever possible. But wolves were more challenging – Maurice had far too much sense than to get close to a wolf. And a werewolf was more challenging still – they were like humans, with their aptitude for creative cruelty, and this was combined with the wolf's amazing ability to scent out just about anything. Maurice knew that any cat with any sense at all would do everything that it could to avoid a werewolf – and Maurice now had plenty of sense. He slowed his pace, but still followed from what he considered to be a safe distance.
Maurice had heard that there was a werewolf in the Watch – the Watch consisted of nearly every race in Ankh-Morpork, including humans, dwarfs, trolls, golems, gnomes, gargoyles, at least one werewolf…no vampires, though, and certainly no cats - cats had far too much sense than to do anything as degrading as actual work.
But this did complicate things for Maurice. On the one hand (paw?), it was quite possible that the werewolf knew about the little talking dog – on the other, she might be very unwilling to talk about this with a cat, and, more importantly, she had a very powerful looking jaw. It might be better, Maurice considered, to simply err on the side of caution for the moment, avoid the werewolf, perhaps go and visit the watch house later, when she was elsewhere.
He heard a growl – a deep, resonating growl, the type that started in her throat, and ended in someone else's throat. Right, thought Maurice, she knows that I'm following her, and has given me a friendly – for a werewolf – warning to leave her alone. And I can take a hint.
Maurice turned around and, as nonchalantly as only a cat can manage, padded off back towards the University.
There was another growl. Okay, okay, I'm going, thought Maurice – then realised that this growl came from his own stomach, as he had not eaten anything since yesterday.
Maurice had almost forgotten about how hungry he was until that moment – now his stomach was reminding him, growling like a werewolf. Well, he did not have to try to locate the little mongrel right now, he could always look for him later, after he had had something to eat. He decided to go back to the rubbish heap where he had last eaten, reasoning that he would probably feel much better with a full stomach. Besides, the Death of Rats tended to spend a lot of time around that rubbish heap, for there were always plenty of small rodents clustering around that area, eating the rubbish that the wizards threw out, even those bits that glowed slightly worrying shades of purple and green. Maurice himself had far too much sense than to eat anything that glowed in that way – but rats would eat practically anything, so had survived and thrived in Ankh-Morpork, as there was always plenty of food for such omnivorous creatures around the city streets, especially when they were prepared to eat just about anything that did not eat them first.
Also, if the Death of Rats was there, the other Death, the one that looked like a tall, exceptionally thin human, might be there too. Maurice thought that he might try talking to that Death once more, this time on a full stomach1. Maurice reached the rubbish heap. There were always plenty of small rodents scurrying around it, plenty of food for Maurice. This was a good place for rats to get food – not just the glowing purple and green remains of old spells, but also perfectly ordinary food. Wizards liked big meals – a light snack for a wizard could consist of six courses, not including the cheese and nuts – and there were often plenty of left-overs that the mice and rats could gnaw on. The remains of food packages were littered all over the rubbish heap; old packets of cheese, tins of peaches, tins of sardines, and various pork products – all of these indicating that this was an appropriate place for rodents to have a feast.
And, as he neared the rubbish heap, Maurice spied some rats, who wisely tried to run away from him as he got closer to where they were feasting. Maurice saw one rat with its back to him – it did not appear that the rat had noticed him approaching. It was a fat, healthy looking rat, so Maurice decided that it would make a good meal. He could worry about Death, the Death of Rats, and possibly the little talking dog later; better to get something to eat first.
Maurice leaped. The rat squeaked. That was the fate of small rodents when creatures such as cats were close – to end their lives as small squeaky noises, and then just fur and bones.
Usually.
"Ahem, can we talk about this?" said the rat.
Maurice backed away in surprise, "You're a talking rat!" he said, and immediately regretted saying something so stupid. That was the sort of obvious statement a human might make – strange how, with huge intelligence, came huge stupidity.
"You're a talking cat!" said the rat. Then she, too, seemed to realise just what a stupid comment that was. For a very long, awkward moment, cat and rat stared at each other, neither quite sure what to do next.
"Is something wrong, Peaches? I heard you scream," came the sound of a new voice. It was not a particularly loud voice, but nevertheless, this was the voice of authority, the voice of a leader who did not consider himself as such. Both Maurice and the female rat, Peaches apparently, turned their attention to the direction of that voice.
Maurice saw a rather small, white albino rat. He had milky pink eyes, suggesting that he was blind, or nearly so. He looked frail and weak – but that voice had indicated that he had a level of psychological strength, in huge contrast to his weak body. Maurice, despite himself, wanted to take a step back from this new rat – which was strange; before he had gained his mysterious intelligence and sentience, he would have barely considered that such a small, sickly looking rat was even worth eating – but now he was, he knew, in the presence of a rat that was as close to being a wizard as a rodent could be. Maurice would almost rather attack a werewolf, such as the one in the Watch, rather than anger that small, white rat. Almost.
"Um, hello," he said, this suddenly being all that he could think of to say to the new rat.
"Hello," replied the little white rat, who smiled up at Maurice in a way that he found ever so slightly unnerving, "I believe that we have not spoken before. Indeed," he gave a little chuckle, "most of the rats on this heap have only recently learned how to speak. As you can probably tell, I am practically blind, so cannot see what type of creature you are, but my nose tells me that you are a cat. Is that correct?"
This is weird, thought Maurice – food is not supposed to talk. But Maurice found that he could not think of these talking rats as food – if they really were like him, then he could not think of them as mere rodents for him to eat. Besides, if they had been Changed in the same way that he had been Changed, then they might be able to give him some clues as to why he had suddenly developed this strange intelligence, and his ability to speak and to think. "That is correct," said Maurice, then added, "my name is Maurice. Do you have a name?"
"My name is Dangerous Beans," the little rat solemnly replied.
Maurice stared at the little rat for a long moment, but then realised that he was not joking. "An unusual name," he commented at last. He could think of many other words he could have used, but considered that 'unusual' might be the best to use right now.
The little rat gave him another small, slightly unnerving smile, "We - that is the Changelings, rats such as myself and my companion, Peaches, who have already met – have only recently realised the advantage of giving ourselves names. With the," he paused for a moment, as though carefully considering how to express what he wanted to say next, "changes that occurred to our thought process, so came the ability to read. There was much – is much – to read in this place," he indicated the rubbish heap with a tiny pink paw, "including old packages. We found sounds that we liked, and chose to keep them as names, hence, Dangerous Beans, Peaches, Darktan, Sardines…myself and my companions have recently decided that these names are what we would like to call ourselves.
So, there's more than just this little rat and the female called Peaches, thought Maurice. And as for the names…well, he had seen old packaging for peaches, sardines, ham and pork…there was no reason, he supposed, why rats should not choose those kinds of names for themselves.
"I, too, have only recently been able to speak, and to think in this rational way," said Maurice politely, "and I have been wondering why I have suddenly developed this ability."
The little white rat smiled in that same knowing way upon hearing that, "It would seem," he said, "that with the development of rational thought, so there is a tendency to ask questions – to wonder why the world is as it is. We, the Changelings, have wondered the exact same thing. We cannot be sure, of course," he added, "but we believe that the changes that occurred in our thinking process are the result of us consuming certain substances from this heap," he indicated the rubbish heap, where there was a slightly worrying green glow, now that Maurice had the opportunity to examine it closely.
The little white rat continued, "As you might already be aware, this place is very close to Unseen University, where there are wizards who practice magic. Much of what they use for this magic is then thrown onto this rubbish heap. And rats gnaw at what they find, to obtain nutrients, and to keep their teeth sharp. So, it would seem that myself and my companions have consumed something upon this heap which has changed us, made us the way that we are now." He shrugged, "It is a reasonable hypothesis, and would help to explain why we are unlike other rats."
He is almost like a wizard himself, Maurice thought, watching Dangerous Beans carefully. He is fascinating. Such a small, sickly little rat, yet he seems to command such respect. I need to be cautious when speaking with him. "That seems reasonable," said Maurice, carefully, "but I am sure that I've never eaten anything from this place," he nodded to his left and to his right, indicating the entire rubbish heap, "So that would not explain the changes that I have experienced."
"That is puzzling," agreed Dangerous Beans, "have you any knowledge of any other cats who have experienced something similar to what has happened to you?"
Maurice thought for a moment, "There are stories," he said, after a long pause, "of a cat, a mouse, a duck, a rabbit, possibly some other creatures, who experienced something similar, a few years back."
He stared at Dangerous Beans for a moment longer, trying to remember what he had overheard people talking about earlier, "Holy Wood," he said at last, "it was something to do with Holy Wood. All of those animals went off there, to live together, to build a society of animals, if the rumours are true."
"I have never heard of Holy Wood," said Dangerous Beans, after a moment's thoughtful pause, "but that is hardly surprising. A few years," he gave Maurice an enigmatic smile, "may not be long to a cat, nor to a human, but it can easily be a lifetime to a rat."
Maurice was not sure what to say to that. At some level, he had always known that small rodents did not live very long, but he had never really thought about their short lifespans before. "There's also talk of a dog," said Maurice, after an awkward pause, "a little mongrel, from what I have heard. He talks and thinks, just like you and I."
"I have heard some rumours about that," said Dangerous Beans, rubbing his nose thoughtfully, "but nothing specific. Rumours would seem to be very much a part of this city."
Maurice then noticed that there were more rats on the rubbish heap now. For the last few minutes, they had been slowly approaching Dangerous Beans and Maurice. Many of them took one look at Maurice, obviously realised that he was a cat, and quickly hid once more. But a few of the bolder ones, realising that Maurice and Dangerous Beans were involved in nothing more dangerous than a polite conversation, cautiously came closer to them.
"Ah, my companions," said Dangerous Beans indicating the new arrivals with a paw outstretched, "perhaps they can shed light on the reasons why you have experienced these recent changes in your thinking patterns."
Maurice then watched as Dangerous Beans and about a dozen other rats got into a huddle, from which he heard a lot of high-pitched squeaking. This went on for a few minutes, and, just as Maurice was wondering if he should leave them to it, so Dangerous Beans stepped away from the other rats, and took a step towards Maurice.
Dangerous Beans gave Maurice an apologetic look, "We, that is, my companions and myself, seem as confused as to what happened to you, as you yourself clearly are," he said, "are you sure that you have never consumed anything from this heap?"
"Positive," said Maurice, looking around the heap quickly, "I would avoid eating anything that glows like that," he nodded towards some green, gloopy substance not far from them.
"Hey, Boss," a rat stepped forward from what remained of the huddle. Unlike all of the other rats, this one wore a hat on his head. He promptly took this hat off when he saw that both Maurice and Dangerous Beans were now focusing their attention on him.
"You have something to say, Sardines?" Dangerous Beans asked politely.
The rat – Sardines apparently – nodded to Dangerous Beans, and then gave Maurice a wary look. But he then gave Maurice a small nod, and this seemed to be a way in which rats showed some level of respect. Sardines then turned his attention back to Dangerous Beans, "I've been thinking, Boss," he said.
Dangerous Beans nodded, "It is something that we Changelings do a great deal of," he said sagely.
"About Maurice here," Sardines clarified, giving Maurice a quick, nervous glance.
"And will you share your thoughts with us?" asked Dangerous Beans patiently.
"Well, Boss, it's just a suggestion, might not be the reason, but it might be worth considering," Sardines said nervously.
"Understood," said Dangerous Beans, "Please, continue."
"Well, you know how I spent time in the theatre, Boss?" he said.
Dangerous Beans gave him one of his enigmatic little smiles, "I believe you may have mentioned it, once or twice," he said, "please, continue."
"Right, thanks," said Sardines, nodding towards Dangerous Beans, then turning his attention to Maurice, "Well, sometimes they would use, oh, tricks," he said, fiddling nervously with his hat in his paws, "gases, vapours, that sort of thing, to help with the illusions in the theatre. Mostly these were pretty harmless, but, every once in a while, they'd get the mixture wrong, and those who worked and performed in the theatre might feel ill, if, you understand, they breathed in this vapours and gases and things."
"This is all very interesting, Sardines," said Dangerous Beans patiently, "but I fail to see what it has to do with our friend here," he indicated Maurice with his front paws.
"Well, he used to spend time around this heap, right, Boss?" Sardines asked.
Dangerous Beans gave Maurice an enquiring look.
"Yes, sometimes," said Maurice cautiously.
"And it has vapours coming from it, right?" Sardines persisted.
Maurice looked around. The heap was, indeed, steaming slightly, "Yes," he said again.
"So, perhaps, you know, when he was spending time around this heap," said Sardines, "he might have breathed in these vapours, and that could be what has made him like us. I mean, Boss, it's just an idea," Sardines added hurriedly.
Dangerous Beans nodded thoughtfully, "And an interesting idea," he said, "but, surely, us being much smaller than a cat, it would have affected us more than a cat, if all that was required was the breathing in of noxious gases. Yet, it seems, we were only Changed when we ate that which was on this heap."
"Well, like I said, it was only an idea," said Sardines, "but this is near a magical place, and has magical junk, so it might not work the same as normal junk. Just a suggestion, as I said, Boss."
Maurice thought about that for a moment. It was indeed an interesting idea, but he was fairly sure that it wasn't right. Other cats must surely have spent some time around the rubbish heap, must have breathed in the vapours, and there was no evidence that they had been Changed. But before he could say anything more, his stomach started to rumble again, and he was reminded that it had been a very long time since he had eaten anything. Yet he still could not bring himself to think of these intelligent rats as food – although most people would laugh at the very idea that a cat had anything approaching a code of moral honour, Maurice found that there was something…well, kind of distasteful about eating someone that you had just had a conversation with. Besides, it would be harder to eat these rats – they could clearly think and plan, and that would make them harder to catch and eat than normal rats. And if he did eat one of them, the rest of them might take revenge. While Maurice was confident that he could fight one or a few of these intelligent rats at a time, he was doubtful that he could manage against the entire clan. And he would have to sleep some time – which would be the perfect time when they could enact their revenge. No, it would be much easier to find normal rats or other rodents to snack upon – it was not as if there was a shortage of these in the city.
"Thank you for your time," he said, mostly to Dangerous Beans and Sardines, but also to the rest of the clan of rats, who were now watching him with alert, wary little eyes, "but I have other things that I must do now. You have given me much to think about," he added.
"It has been interesting having a conversation with you," replied Dangerous Beans, "I would like it if you would come here again in the near future, for us to have another conversation."
"I would like that too," said Maurice, and, to his surprise, realised that he actually did mean what he said.
1 That is to say, Maurice having a full stomach, not Death having a full stomach – Death never has a full stomach, mostly because he does not have a stomach. Death does enjoy the occasional curry, though.