Page 2

Which Contains Even More Rats

U nable to hurry too quickly with sleeping rats in his pockets, he traveled up and over the small hill that stood between this town and his camp farther out. He was banking on the fact that the messengers didn’t know exactly where to find him and hoping they would stick to the roads that most travelers used. He arrived in time to rearrange his camp as though he was simply stopping for lunch. Taking care, he tucked the rats and their cages at the bottom of his cart and wrapped a piece of canvas around them tightly. It wouldn’t prevent a determined rat from escaping, but his pets usually snoozed through this part and, being well fed, were inclined to stay put.

After putting away the headwrap he had worn in town and changing into a clean set of robes in a different color, he rewarded himself with the last of his food. As’ad was dousing his fire when a tall, gangly young man burst into sight. The youth pulled up short when he saw the camp, then leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees as he gulped air.

“Are you, by chance,” he gasped, “the Pied Piper?”

Asad nodded and walked closer. “Yes, I am he.”

“Oh, good!” The lad stood upright. “Nahr has been overrun with rats. Please, you must come save us,” he implored.

“By all means,” As’ad assured the young man. “I trust you’ve been sent to lead me there?”

“Yes. Can I help you pack your things?” he asked, eager to be of service.

“I don’t have much, as you can see. It will only take me a moment.”

The runner insisted on pulling the handcart. As’ad agreed easily. Following the road, their journey took the full hour, as the cart resisted moving faster than a quick walk. As they neared the town, the messenger’s posture grew taller and cockier. He may not be the one to actually fix the rat problem, but he would garner plenty of praise as the one who had brought the solution back.

Almost as soon as they were within sight of the town, As’ad’s escort began shouting. It took some time for him to be heard over the noise of the panic that still gripped the residents. When the pair was finally noticed, volunteers took over the cart-pulling duties and directed them to the town square. Something of a procession soon formed behind As’ad and his escorts.

Brought out by the hullabaloo in his courtyard, the mayor walked down to greet them by the fountain. His eyes scanned their hope of salvation, becoming more confident as he took in the piper’s traditional robes and smooth chin. As’ad slipped into the role he had played a hundred times before, confident that his appearance projected the right air of competence despite his relative youth. The older man with a slight paunch gave him a deep nod.

Nodding back, As’ad put on his I-am-taking-this-seriously-but-I’m-still-friendly smile. “Your messenger informs me that Nahr is having a rat problem.” He gestured back the way they had come. “I have seen the evidence with my own eyes. Could you, please, update me on what has happened since the messengers were sent out?”

The mayor responded to the professional tone, unconsciously relaxing his rigid posture. “We are keeping them at bay for now with fire. Every torch that can be spared. We have rings around the storehouses and a few other places, but we’re running out of supplies to protect everything.”

“Nor can your people be on watch all the time,” As’ad empathized.

“Exactly!” the mayor agreed.

“Will you show me one of the storehouses?”

“Yes, yes. This way, please.”

As’ad didn’t check on his cart as they walked toward the edge of town. He trusted their respect for his position to keep it safe. Indeed, as his host began speaking again, he heard the familiar creak of the wheels keep pace with them as someone brought it along.

“We’ve heard of your skills and experience. Does this look like what you’ve encountered before?”

“Did the rats appear en masse suddenly or trickle in a few at a time?”

“The Marzaries saw just a couple last night!” someone interjected from the crowd that ringed them.

This inspired some of the others to add their personal accounts. As’ad let the overlapping statements continue until it became too loud to distinguish the individual words. He raised his hands, and appreciated the immediate silence that followed.

“It does sound like the pattern I’ve been tracking across Sharamil.”

“How did you get here so quickly?” a suspicious female voice demanded.

As’ad turned to discover the pretty girl he had noticed yesterday walking by his elbow. She was even more attractive up close, with her flashing black eyes and straight nose.

He nodded politely and explained that he had already been heading this way.

“Why?”

As’ad sent a quick glance toward the mayor, but the town’s leader didn’t object to the girl’s questioning.

“Someone or something is pushing this epidemic,” he explained, neglecting to mention that it was him. “My investigation led me to believe that this unnatural phenomenon would soon work its way west. Maybe I can get in front of it soon.”

The young woman held her tongue, but As’ad could feel her dark eyes boring a hole in the back of his head as he followed the mayor the rest of the way to the storehouse.

His hours of piping the night before were paying off. The artificial rodents oozed around the circles of fire and people, constantly seeking a way in while avoiding everything that could discredit their reality.

He took a long moment to observe the situation, rubbing his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought, and occasionally nodding to himself. He finally addressed the mayor. “I take it nothing you’ve tried has been able to hurt them?”

The man shook his head. “The vermin are unnaturally fast.”

“Agreed. That and their unwavering determination to get into the food supplies despite all the opposition has me convinced that these are more of the magically compelled rats I’ve been hunting.” As’ad clasped his hands together. “Which leads me to good news and bad news.”

The mayor braced himself. “What’s the good news?”

“My pipe can take care of this problem. But it’s going to cost a pretty penny,” As’ad finished before the mayor was too relieved. “My expertise isn’t cheap, and it’s expensive to track this malicious magic across the country.”

The other man set his jaw. “What’s the damage?”

As’ad named a price that caused the mayor’s eye to twitch. The counteroffer was half that. A few more townsfolk who held positions of authority joined the discussion, and the real haggling began.

They argued that the town couldn’t afford the full price. The “expert” asked if they could afford that many torches and constant guard rotations. One of the men insisted that paying that much money for less than a full day’s work was criminal. As’ad suggested one of them rent his pipe and try it for themselves, reminding them that they were paying for his years of expertise and a specific job, not a set amount of manual labor.

After several more of these back-and-forth arguments and rebuttals, a price was settled upon. It was more than the town’s first offer while being considerably less than his initial quote. As’ad was content with the amount.

Now the trickiest part of the con would begin.

“Why aren’t they leaving any excrement?” the girl from earlier asked, interrupting his train of thought.

No one had ever questioned that part before, so As’ad pretended he hadn’t been listening right away while his mind tripped over possible excuses. “Hmm? Oh, that.” He gestured vaguely toward the ever-shifting mass of rodent bodies swirling around the ring of fire. “I haven’t worked out yet why the original curse-maker—or whoever is responsible—left that part out. But we can be grateful that they did. Can you imagine the diseases that could be spread?” He looked to the older members of the crowd, shaking his head. “Losing an entire harvest is bad enough.”

The assembly agreed with him, murmuring to each other about the injustice of having the town’s food stores decimated, even though nothing of the sort had actually happened here.

“Before I begin, I would like to collect a few specimens from different areas, if you don’t mind.” As’ad walked over to the handcart and carefully snagged an empty cage without revealing the ones containing rats.

A few of the town elders looked confused, and possibly alarmed, by the request. One woman, holding herself with calm competence and carrying a doctor’s bag, nodded and came to As’ad’s defense. “Yes, of course. Samples are important for the scientific process.”

As’ad nodded his thanks. He was then escorted to several locations within town where the rat infestation was most noticeable. Using some sleight of hand and misdirection, he was able to “capture” enough apparitions to explain his pets should anyone dig through his things. That oversight had once threatened the entire operation early on, and he now took pains to add that caveat to the enchantment.

When he had secured the “specimen” rats, he walked to the point in town farthest from the river. He left his cart in the care of the original messenger and began playing a complicated tune on the pipe. The townsfolk within range quieted to listen.

Piping the music that was necessary to take over an active illusion and change its directive was far more difficult than setting it up. In the beginning, As’ad’s attempts had been utter failures. Had he made the mistake of trying it in front of an audience first, this con would never have been successful. It took him weeks to ensure he could blend the two enchantments seamlessly every single time.

After establishing the initial parameters, As’ad began walking in the general direction of the river. He moved slowly in order to collect each of the fake rats. The notes that he played while gathering the rodents didn’t matter very much. He tended to repeat the same refrain while moving because it took less concentration and wasn’t needed to add to or change the enchantment in any way. Once he had the full parade of rats following him, he led them to the riverbank.

Standing to the side, he amended the tune to send every one into the water. As the illusions were unable to interact with their environment, he also had to create and manipulate the appearance of agitated water. As’ad had deliberately chosen a place downstream from town. This ensured that the people believed the drowned rats were washed away from their drinking water.

Some of the townsfolk, including the suspicious young lady and a substantial number of the children, followed him to the river. That wasn’t a problem. Nor would it normally bother him to have the complete attention of a beautiful girl, if she hadn’t been glaring at him the whole time.

As he continued playing and watching the stream of rats fling themselves heedlessly into the river, he spared a moment to be grateful that this town wasn’t situated on an oasis. A confined water source surrounded by desert made it difficult to use as a disposal method. The residents were always rightly concerned about contamination, and As’ad sometimes had to convince them to create a bonfire of sufficient size. In one fortunate instance, the oasis town had contained two bodies of water. Some quick thinking had enabled him to send the rats into the smaller one, where he then had the inhabitants pour an oil slick and set it on fire. It was an impressive display that went a long way toward persuading everyone that the remains had been burnt beyond the chance of rot.

Today’s extermination was a simple affair, by all accounts. He played until no more rats appeared from the town, then continued for a few minutes longer, slowly diminishing the splashes. He checked with the young adults who had been tasked with scouring the area to confirm no rats remained behind. When the all-clear was given, he finally left the riverbank.

As expected, the grateful town wanted to fete their savior. While the preparations were taking place, the Pied Piper performed his duties and interrogated people from every quadrant of town. Asking the same questions over and over again was dull but quite possibly the most important part of his con. During this portion, he scribbled incomprehensible notes in his little book and made sure to drop useless hints about what he had learned from his investigations so far. The process had become rather mechanical for him. The observant girl who wasn’t afraid to ask questions always seemed to be lurking in the background, though, and it was beginning to put him off his game.

When pressed, he revealed his intention to continue working his way west. With few anomalies, the rat phenomenon seemed to be heading that way after scourging the north. Naturally, he neglected to mention that he occasionally skipped a town in that logical progression so as not to make his involvement quite so obvious. He did assure the mayor, when asked, that he would definitely stop in Jabal, the town right before the mountain pass leading to Bavenpier. Since they were on friendly terms, it was only right that the neighboring country be warned.

That night, As’ad endured the feast. He danced with whomever asked, though his heart wasn’t in it. Several of the ladies were uncommonly pretty and eager to make his acquaintance, but none of them held his interest. The question of whether or not he would accept a dance with the skeptical young woman never came up, and As’ad had to tell himself that it was exhaustion, not disappointment, that nipped at his heels. Fortunately, he was able to plead fatigue early on. While the magic he performed had exacted a physical toll, as usual, today’s weariness seemed to have settled into his soul rather than his limbs.

The innkeeper who had claimed the privilege of hosting the Pied Piper assured As’ad that the handcart and all his belongings would be perfectly safe in the stableyard. He was quite willing to assign a stablehand to guard it and the “specimens” overnight when As’ad asked.

Confident that Khudha and the rest would be safe until morning, the exhausted con artist collapsed onto the soft bed in the inn’s finest room, barely remembering to kick his boots off first.

In the morning, As’ad fed his pets in a clinical manner, aware of the audience that watched his every move. After breakfast, the mayor and town treasurer appeared at the inn with his fee. The pair may have been attempting a private audience, but a crowd had been forming for hours. Several folks suggested writing to the sultan about recent events. As’ad assured them that he sent in regular reports to that royal. In doing so, he also managed to insinuate that their distant sovereign was not overly concerned because the plague of rats had not affected enough people yet, or him personally. And since As’ad had been able to take care of it on his own thus far, why send out more resources when he didn’t have to? Everyone accepted this, certain in the knowledge that the sultan would not exert himself until the problem inconvenienced his royal person. They thanked the piper again for being so personally invested in the lives of the oft-neglected farmers and finally sent him on his way.

Escaping the town fully took thrice as long as it should have because multiple people stopped him to bestow gifts of gratitude in the form of food and supplies. He accepted them graciously and hid his growing discomfort as they repeated their appreciation for his willingness to help the rural communities. Eventually, he was finally on the road for real and could no longer see the town.

As he walked, he reviewed the last couple days. Overall, the con had run as smoothly as he expected. The questions, comments, and concerns hadn’t noticeably deviated from the script that had been developing over the past several months. No deviations if he ignored that pretty girl’s question about rat poop, anyway.

Realizing that he hadn’t seen her at all that morning, he checked over his shoulder. He should be pleased that he had been able to leave without suffering through more of her questions or glares. Instead, he found himself, inexplicably, ill at ease. He walked for another hour before the feeling faded and he felt safe checking on his sleeping pets.

That night, As’ad made camp in a pleasant little hollow. The rocks and sand still outnumbered the green bits, but there were signs that he was nearing the transition to full jungle. A few of the more generous souls had bestowed fresh meat and other perishable goods on him. He really had no choice but to cook and eat them now.

“The things I suffer,” he said to his rats as he prepared the meal.

Sometime later, he flipped back the canvas covering the cages. “Who’s a pretty rat?”

He had just taken Khudha out of her cage, ready to coo over her performance, when a distinctly feminine voice shouted, “Ah-ha!”