The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

that day, just after lunch, when he'd looked into a reflection in a puddle and thought that's me . He'd never been aware of himself before. Of course, it was hard to remember how he'd thought before he became amazing. It seemed to him that his mind had been just a kind of soup.
    And then there had been the rats, who lived under the rubbish heap in one corner of his territory. He'd realized there was something educated about the rats when he jumped on one and it'd said, 'Can we talk about this?', and part of his amazing new brain had told him you couldn't eat someone who could talk. At least, not until you'd heard what they'd got to say.
    The rat had been Peaches. She wasn't like other rats. Nor were Dangerous Beans, Donut Enter, Darktan, Hamnpork, Big Savings, Toxie and all the rest of them. But, then, Maurice wasn't like other cats any more.
    Other cats were, suddenly, stupid . Maurice started to hang around with the rats, instead. They were someone to talk to. He got on fine so long as he remembered not to eat anyone they knew.
    The rats spent a lot of time worrying about why they were suddenly so clever. Maurice considered that this was a waste of time. Stuff happened. But the rats went on and on about whether it was something on the rubbish heap that they'd eaten, and even Maurice could see that wouldn't explain how he'd got changed, because he'd never eaten rubbish. And he certainly wouldn't eat any rubbish off that heap, seeing as where it came from…
    He considered that the rats were, quite frankly, dumb. Clever, OK, but dumb . Maurice had lived on the streets for four years and barely had any ears left and scars all over his nose, and he was smart . He swaggered so much when he walked that if he didn't slow down he flipped himself over. When he fluffed out his tail people had to step around it. He reckoned you had to be smart to live for four years on these streets, especially with all the dog gangs and freelance furriers. One wrong move and you were lunch and a pair of gloves. Yes, you had to be smart.
    You also had to be rich. This took some explaining to the rats, but Maurice had roamed the city and learned how things worked and money, he said, was the key to everything.
    And then one day he'd seen the stupid-looking kid playing the flute with his cap in front of him for pennies, he'd had an idea. An amazing idea. It just turned up, bang, all at once. Rats, flute, stupid-looking kid…
    And he'd said, 'Hey, stupid-looking kid! How would you like to make your fortu-nah, kid, I'm down here…'
    Dawn was breaking when the highwayman's horse came out of the forests, over a pass, and was reined to a halt in a convenient wood.
    The river valley stretched out below, with a town hunched up against the cliffs.
    Maurice clambered out of the saddle-bag, and stretched. The stupid-looking kid helped the rats out of the other bag. They'd spent the journey hunched up on the money, although they were too polite to say that this was because no-one wanted to sleep in the same bag as a cat.
    'What's the name of the town, kid?' Maurice said, sitting on a rock and looking down at the town. Behind them, the rats were counting the money again, stacking it in piles beside its leather bag. They did this every day. Even though he had no pockets, there was something about Maurice that made everyone want to check their change as often as possible.
    ' 's called Bad Blintz,' said the kid, referring to the guide-book.
    'Ahem… should we be going there, if it's bad?' said Peaches, looking up from the counting.
    'Hah, it's not called Bad because it's bad ,' said Maurice. 'That's foreign language for bath, see?'
    'So it's really called Bath Blintz?' said Donut Enter.
    'Nah, nah, they call it Bath because…' The Amazing Maurice hesitated, but only for a moment, 'because they got a bath, see? Very backward place, this. Not many baths around. But they've got one, and they're very proud of it, so they want everyone to know. You prob'ly have to buy tickets even to have a look at it.'
    'Is that true, Maurice?' said Dangerous Beans. He asked the question quite politely, but it was clear that what he was really saying was 'I don't think that is true, Maurice.'
    Ah, yes… Dangerous Beans. Dangerous Beans was difficult to deal with. Really, he shouldn't be. Back in the old days, Maurice thought, he wouldn't even have eaten a rat so small and pale and generally ill-looking. He stared down at the little albino rat, with his snow-white fur and