Page 1

In Which Rats Play a Key Role

A s’ad watched as the sleek gray rat snuffled closer and closer to the bag of seeds. He waited until the stealthy creature began working at the drawstring around the top.

“Alzali,” he chided. “You’ve had plenty of treats today.”

The cunning rat switched her attention from the burlap to her owner. Her adorable little squeaks and snuffles, in addition to the way she raced up his arm and began rubbing against his chin, resulted in the desired effect.

As’ad laughed. “Fine, you win.” As he reached into the bag, he added, “Sometimes I think you’re a better con artist than I am.”

The treat bag was considerably lighter after he gave one to Alzali, Sarir, Yasrukh, Qamar, Khudha, and Fat Carl. This prompted him to take stock of the rest of his stores in the handcart that went everywhere with him. As expected, he was running a bit low on both food and coin. Unfortunately, that meant it was time to pull another con.

With a sigh, he unearthed the set of maps he had procured early in his wanderings. So far, his travels had covered a significant portion of Sharamil, if one ignored the vast stretches of empty desert. Leaving the more populated cities close to Mafur, the capital, had been good for his health. He no longer woke up each morning wondering where the next threat to his life would come from. True, his next meal was never guaranteed, but that had been the case in the cities, too. He preferred the long stretches of peace between villages, even if his belly rumbled from time to time.

Ignoring the towns and oases that occupied the northern two-thirds of the country, As’ad scanned the coastline and the southern border. The trouble with running a long-time con was that one eventually ran out of places to deceive. The coastal cities tended not to worry about losing their crops since their economies focused more on trade and fishing, so a better bet for him would be to travel the southern border, which included mostly agricultural towns.

Currently as far east as he could be without standing on the beach, As’ad decided he would travel west until he hit the mountains. He tapped his finger on the mountain range that formed Sharamil’s western border. A generous gap in the mountains created a pass that was frequented by many merchants and travelers. He could follow that route to the countries in the west. The kingdoms that occupied the enormous valley hosted the majority of the continent’s farmland. His con might work even better there.

With that decision made, As’ad interacted with his rats for a little while before bed. The girls were always interested in learning new tricks, and even Fat Carl liked to cuddle now and again. Essentially nocturnal, his pets would entertain themselves throughout the night, then sleep during his daytime travels. It worked out nicely for him.

Referencing his map one more time the next morning, As’ad thought the best place to set up camp would be about three hours’ travel from his current location. He checked the rats, who were beginning to curl up in the nests each had made in the cages that were situated under a canvas in the cart. Made with thin metal wires twisted into a grid to form each side, the cages weren’t to keep his pets locked up, but rather to give them a safe place away from predators. His furry little friends were fully capable of squeezing in and out without much effort.

Once everyone was settled in for the day, he loaded the remains of his camp and set off down the road. Hot and dry as usual, the day was made more pleasant by the occasional breeze coming from the out-of-sight ocean. As’ad had never been as far as the southern border before. He knew the region became greener as it transitioned from desert to jungle, and he looked forward to seeing that. Other travelers he had met over the years told him that Jocestria was just as hot, if not hotter than, Sharamil. Though many complained that it was the humidity that made it worse.

About the time he began thinking of stopping for lunch, the landscape began shifting away from the ubiquitous sand and rocks. Hints of green appeared here and there, not unlike the terrain around an oasis. When the sound of running water reached his ears, he looked around for a spot to set up. A convenient rock ledge provided a bit of shade and was within reach of the stream that had caught his attention. He quickly unloaded, arranging a camp that would look like he had stepped aside for only a moment.

He left four of the rats at camp, preferring to take only Alzali and Khudha with him. The gray rat barely stirred from her slumber and easily fell back asleep once placed in his pocket. Khudha woke more thoroughly and climbed to perch on his shoulder. She raised her nose to the air and sniffed vigorously at the greenery that began appearing in thicker clumps. Her whiskers frequently tickled his neck. After an hour of walking, though, the little white rat that looked like her head and neck had been dipped in gray paint chittered sleepy noises in his ear until he tucked her away, as well.

His calculations had been correct, and he saw a farming community a few minutes later, after rounding a hill. Even better, the collection of homes and businesses was close to a waterway with a strong current. Too substantial to be considered merely a creek, As’ad thought it might not be quite big enough to meet the qualifications of a river, and thus had been left off his simple map. He scanned the landscape, then climbed the hill. The road navigated around the feature, but As’ad thought he could cut a good half-hour off his commute by going overland on the way back.

Not bothering to rouse his sleeping pets, he clambered down the hill, then used the more abundant foliage to hide his approach. The sun was beginning its downward path to the western horizon, and the lengthening shadows helped As’ad creep closer. The little town was clearly agricultural. Silos and storehouses on the edges made it a good target for him. Until dusk, he waited on the very outskirts. Slowly, in no rush and not eager to get caught, As’ad worked his way around the town, eventually returning to his starting point on the eastern edge. The north and west sides of the town held most of the farmland, while the south was hemmed in by the river and the east held too many rocks and sandy patches to be useful.

As the darkness grew and the lanterns were lit, he risked venturing further in. Just big enough to host two taverns, the town bustled on this fine autumn evening. From the conversations he overheard, there had been a good harvest this year. Another good sign, he clinically noted. Most of the farmworkers were in high spirits, and the party atmosphere spilled out of the taverns and into the streets.

Walking purposely, as though he had every right to be there, As’ad moved through the marketplace and into the town square. He was hoping to discover the local attitude about the town’s leadership. The mayor’s house was easy to identify but not nearly as ostentatious as it could have been. That likely meant he would be dealing with a somewhat reasonable person. Unless, of course, the mayor was responsible for the extravagance of the fountain in the middle of the brick plaza. With the river/stream so close, the effort that much pipework must have demanded seemed a little ridiculous.

As’ad was very careful with the fees he charged. He didn’t like to ask for more than a village could afford, and when he had time, he checked out what kind of leadership a town had in order to determine how much to ask for. If he believed it was probable that an extra tax would be levied on the populace, he worked out a method to target the richer folks so he could request a donation from each of them while leaving the poorer residents out of it. This town gave the impression that everyone would be expected to chip in a bit to supply the fee according to their means. After doing this for so long, his guesses tended to be accurate over 90% of the time.

One of his early (and memorable) misjudgments occurred with a tiny village in the northeast. There, the beloved leader had stepped up and paid his entire fee out of her own pocket. The villagers had assured him that they would repay her with meals and service for the rest of her days. He often thought about that group and wondered how they got on.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, As’ad wound his way back toward one of the bigger silos. In his earlier observations, he had noticed that the residents of the nearest farmhouse were setting up tables by the silo. The harvest celebration was in full swing by the time he made his way back there. It looked like the perfect place to begin his con.

Alzali and Khudha were wide awake by this time. He kept a hand in each pocket to placate them until he was ready for them to perform.

Gently tugging the soft gray rat from his left pocket, he held her up to his face.

“Find food,” he whispered. Alzali practically vibrated in his hand until he set her down in the shadows closest to the barn.

Freed to begin her investigation, the rat started by sniffing the air. Her whiskers were perked as her nose tried to take in every scent at once. Something soon caught her interest, and she zoomed off.

As’ad, who had been holding his right pocket closed, snuck to the other side of the gathering and retrieved Khudha. He repeated the instruction to his hooded rat. Slightly more cautious than her littermate, she crept toward the appetizing scents at a sedate pace.

As hoped, and as had worked many times before this, his fun-sized companions behaved perfectly. Highly motivated by food, yet wily, the pair scurried in and out of the lantern light to find the choicest morsels. He needed them to be seen eating and leaving physical reminders. As’ad knew they had been sighted when the squealing began. At first, the only people who seemed truly bothered were a few young ladies and one middle-aged man. The oldest members of the group laughed off their worries. When they sent someone to go find the cat, As’ad carefully called back his pets from the shadows. As he was leaving, he heard one farmer mutter to his neighbor something about how the infestation that had plagued a village not far from here started with just one or two. The other man merely scoffed.

As’ad returned to camp, unaccountably cranky but satisfied that the initial groundwork would help him succeed. Feeding the rest of his rats and checking that they had enough wood chunks for gnawing on distracted him from his mood. Receiving their affection after dinner dissolved the rest of his irritation, and he dismissed the silly feeling.

After shaving off the beard he grew out of laziness, he dug to the bottom of his handcart, then found and unwrapped the pipe that kept him fed. A decent musician since childhood, As’ad had learned how to control the magic of the pipe with a significant degree of finesse. Through trial and error, he discovered how to overlay the melodies he played with specific intentions. With the correct focus, he could create and maintain the illusion of many rats. His familiarity with real rats allowed him to imbue the illusory rodents with lifelike movements.

Unlike their flesh-and-blood counterparts, the fake rats were unable to physically interact with anything, but he had developed the level of control that allowed the apparitions to react to their surroundings. For instance, if someone swatted at them with a broom, the illusions scurried out of reach. Within the music, he embedded the commands for them to swarm food sources and avoid fire, people, and larger animals.

It took him hours to properly perform the lengthy tune that was required to create the sort of long-lasting, flexible illusion his con required. Ending the composition before the final note meant that he could play the concluding bit at a time of his choosing to begin the effect. Even with so much practice, the effort wore him out. He collapsed onto his bedroll that night and fell asleep at once.

As’ad’s constant wandering often caused him to lose track of the days. Upon arriving at the town, he discovered it was a rest day. Not displeased, as it worked in his favor, he checked the head covering he had thrown on that morning, then walked boldly toward the town square. Pretending to stop for a drink at the fountain, he gave Sarir and Yasruhk the “find food” command.

As he walked closer to the mayor’s house, he noticed a very pretty girl talking with an older couple who strongly resembled her. Perhaps a couple of years younger than himself, she appeared to be upset about something as she spoke with her parents in the square. Since it didn’t seem to be the rats, he ignored her and worked his way to the back of the mayor’s home. A conveniently open window invited him to send Khudha inside. So he did. Letting her out of his sight like that was a risk, but she was the most intelligent of his current batch of rats.

His efforts were soon rewarded as the villagers began catching sight of his friends. Before any of them could work themselves past cries of dismay, he discreetly retrieved the three rodents he had released and moved on to a different portion of the city. He sent out everyone but Fat Carl in strategic locations for a short time. They hit both taverns, the church, and as many barns or silos as he could reach in the two-hour time frame he had given himself.

Then As’ad pulled back to a smallish boulder by the water. Ducking behind the rock and trusting the sound of the current and the increasingly agitated townsfolk to hide his actions, he pulled the pipe out of his hip bag and carefully concluded the melody. After tucking the magical artifact away, he moved within earshot. Screams from multiple parts of the town confirmed that his illusion had taken effect.

Gambling that the town leadership would gather at the biggest and most important-looking storehouse, As’ad worked his way toward the northern edge of town. His luck held. From the shadow of an outbuilding, he watched as the farmers reacted to the flood of rats. The mayor himself had been called in and stared in horror at the mess.

Thanks to all his practice, the pretend rats were very realistically looking for a way into the building. They hustled out of reach whenever someone approached. The panic-fueled chaos had ceased to amuse As’ad long ago. Now he waited impatiently for them to come to certain realizations.

“C’mon, c’mon. Notice that they avoid the flames,” he muttered under his breath. “Finally!”

One enterprising youth had been brandishing a torch for a full five minutes before his elders realized he had stumbled upon a good idea. They scrambled to set up torches and lanterns around the perimeter of the storehouse. As’ad’s illusions reacted accordingly and milled about beyond the reach of the fire, still trying to get in.

The immediate crisis averted, the people turned to the mayor. They demanded that he do something; they couldn’t stand guard over their food stores day and night, they had other things to do. Someone mentioned that the Pied Piper had last been seen in a nearby village. The mayor seized on that knowledge and announced that he would send messengers out to search for the man. The pronouncement settled the crowd somewhat, and As’ad took his cue.