Free The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett Page B

rat,” said Darktan. “That’s nasty eating.”
    â€œThere were dead keekees all around it.”
    â€œI’ll bet there were. No antidote for that stuff.”
    â€œWe found trays of Number One and Number Three too,” said Inbrine. “Lots of them.”
    â€œYou can survive Number One poison if you’re sensible,” said Darktan. “Remember that, all of you. And if you ever eat Number Three 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—”
    â€œThere’s lots of poison, Darktan,” said Inbrine nervously. “More than I’ve ever seen before. Rat bones all over the place.”
    â€œImportant 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.”
    â€œDangerous Beans says he thinks we shouldn’t eat rats at all,” said Inbrine.
    â€œYeah, 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!”
    â€œA lot of poison,” said Inbrine, as the squad moved on. “They must really hate rats here.”
    Darktan didn’t answer. He could see people 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 he 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.
    â€œKidney, sir, Number Three Heavy Widdlers,” it burst out. “We’ve found a trap, sir! Not like theusual sort! Fresh walked right into it! Please come!”
    Â 
    There was a lot of straw in the loft over the stable, 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 humming 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—
    â€œSqueak!”
    â€œOkay, here’s the deal,” said Maurice to the shivering ball in his claws. “You only 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.”
    â€œSqueak!” screamed the mouse.
    â€œFair enough,” said Maurice, and killed it instantly. He carried it back to the corner, where Keith was now sitting up in the straw and eating a pickled beef sandwich.
    â€œIt couldn’t talk,” said Maurice hurriedly.
    â€œI didn’t ask you,” said Keith.
    â€œI mean, I gave it a chance,” said Maurice. “You heard me, right? It only had to say it didn’t want to be eaten.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œIt’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.
    â€œI wouldn’t know what to say to them,” said Keith.
    â€œAnd 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 ‘good-bye, that’s all she wrote,’ except that obviously the mouse didn’t write anything, not being intelligent in any way .”
    â€œI believe you,” said Keith.
    â€œIt never felt a thing,” Maurice went on.
    There was a scream from somewhere in a nearby street, and then the sound