BRONSTEIN WAS GLAD to have the rats along. She would never have admitted it out loud, of course. There were a number of places where the bats had had to alight and wriggle through a gap. The lead rat at the first of these paused, wrinkled her nose, and said: "Over there." They pulled the rope up and moved it across to a far wider adit. This brought them to a wholly different level where even the bats could have found the fresh food. Unlike the bats, the rats worried not at all about the mazelike nature of the place. They could smell where they'd been and also how long ago. In addition they seemed to have a sense of direction the bats could not match.
They also had the gift of nearly walking into sleeping Maggots. The hours between midnight and early morning appeared to be "quiet-time" in the tunnels. A Maggot would just stop right where it was and catch some shut-eye.
"Back," whispered Eamon, shooing the rats with his wings. "There is another Maggot."
"This place must be fairly crawling with them when they're up and about. This burglaring lark isn't as easy as a-lying in the sun," whispered Fal. "But I'll admit you bats make fine brothers in filching," he added, to Eamon's chagrin.
Finally they came to a long chamber. There was yet another Maggot asleep at the partially sealed mouth of it. "There is good stuff in there," whispered Melene, hunger in her voice, her long nose twitching.
"To be sure," Bronstein said. "There is also a Maggot in the way."
"We could fly over it?" ventured Behan.
"Risky," vetoed Bronstein. "What's left of that entry is particularly narrow."
Siobhan nodded. "But the echo beyond it says the chamber behind is huge."
The fat rat grinned. "Let's go as far as we can from the Maggot and make a rat-hole."
To Bronstein's over-tense ears the digging rat was making more noise than a cross between a steam shovel and an oompah-band. Still, no Maggots had arrived on the scene yet.
"Make it a decent size," whispered Fal, "we'll have to get the food out."
Mel snorted. "Not to mention you in."
Eamon fluttered back. "Be keeping the noise down, you fools," he hissed.
Melene, from inside the hole said, "There is a waxy layer here now. Easy to get through."
"Come out." Nym hauled at her tail. "Methinks we should make the hole through the hard stuff wider first."
Bronstein's patience was sore tried by now. "Move it up, rats."
Pistol lifted his long nose at her. "If you can dig faster yourself, come and do it. Otherwise, shog off."
She snarled. "If I bite your tail, you'll dig faster."
"Bullying witch," grumbled Pistol, nibbling at the hole edge.
"We're through!" said Nym. "Keep guard. Come on, rats."
The rats bundled through the hole, the smell of foodstuff beyond drawing them on as if they were on a string. Warily, watchfully, Bronstein checked out the passage. It would be just their luck to have some Maggot trot along now. She was totally and utterly unprepared for the shriek of pure fury from inside the hole.
"What the devil!?" she said, and then began issuing orders. "Go for the Maggot on the far side, Eamon, Siobhan—and you, Behan! You stay here, O'Niel. I'll get in there!"
Bronstein struggled through the hole. She was not designed for creeping and crawling, but whatever monster was in there sounded far bigger than a handful of rats could handle alone.
The creature standing on top of the pile of looted human foodstuffs could only be described as large of eyes and voice. The animal and its red frogged waistcoat would have fitted into a big human soup mug. But could it bellow! Right now it appeared to be virtually incoherent with rage.
"HOW DARE YOU!? THIEVES! BANDITS! MURDERERS! DESPOILERS OF THE INNOCENT! LOOTERS! I'LL HAVE YOU ALL SHOT, DRAWN, QUARTERED, CRUCIFIED AND HORSEWHIPPED!"
"Shut up!" hissed Bronstein.
Doc shook his head. "It won't listen. Not even to epistemological discourse."
"It'll listen to me, all right." Bronstein couldn't understand why the Maggot at the proper entrance hadn't arrived. Perhaps Eamon & Co. had nailed it. Still, she wasn't going to take any chances.
"WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN SO LONG TO GET HERE? AND NOW YOU DARE TO STOP FOR LOOTING! HOW DARE YOU?" The volume that the creature could muster would, must call the Maggots down on them.
Bronstein took to her wings. As she swooped down on the noisy little thing, it leaped away. It was faster than she was, and that leap had taken it a good fifteen yards.
It stood up on its hind legs, blew her a raspberry and then roared at her. She'd heard less noise coming out of a drill sergeant.
"WHAT HAS TAKEN YOU STUPID, USELESS SOLDIERS SO LONG?! MY VERY IMPORTANT AND WONDERFUL MISTRESS IS QUITE SICK WITH WORRY—AND YOU ARE PLAYING AROUND, LOOTING! SANTA MARIA! SANTA THERESA! IS THERE NOT ONE REAL MALE AMONG YOU? NOT ONE HERO? MUST I DO IT ALL MYSELF?"
Melene applauded. "He's dead sexy, isn't he?"
"He'll be dead, never mind sexy, if I catch him," said Pistol grimly, mounting the pile of boxes.
"And so masculine," said Phylla, lasciviously.
"Handsome and well hung, into the bargain." Doll licked her rat-lips and leered at the little primate.
"Effing Hell! I'm going to hang him, if he doesn't shut up." Fal began heaving himself up a clumsy stack of bales. "Come on, Nym. You take the right-hand side."
Bronstein tried again. She'd give him "macho" when she caught him!
The galago easily evaded the bat, and chittered mockingly at her from a pile of grain sacks that would have fed half a regiment. It opened its mouth to start bellowing again.
"Will you be shutting up in here? There are about fifty Maggots coming this way!" Eamon shouted from where he was trying to squeeze through the rat-hole.
The little creature paused in its bellowing, and seemed to consider this news. Then, in a hiss: "Only if you will agree to go and rescue my mistress. And take me to your human-in-charge!"
The galago bounded away from Bronstein, and clung to the tiny knobbles on the wall with seeming ease. He was now out of reach of the rats. His long-fingered black hands were plainly very strong. They were surprisingly humanlike, those hands. "I will shout really loudly, really REALLY loudly, if you do not agree."
"All right!" said Bronstein. "Just shut up."
"Do you promise?" demanded the galago.
"Yes. I promise. Now keep quiet! Eamon, did you kill that Maggot at the entry? Are they coming because of that?"
Eamon struggled the rest of the way through the hole. "No, indade, it had finished its job and gone before we got there. But the Maggots seem to be waking up. Now hush!"
They waited. Then Siobhan said, through the hole: "All clear. But we must be going. Quickly now! The Maggots are getting going."
Bronstein nodded. "To be sure. Come, put some of those boxes in that bag. Take some of those concentrate bars, all of you. You too, little creature."
The little creature raised itself up. "I am not your `little creature'! I am a galago, and I am a hidalgo. Treat me with respect, I warn you!"
Bronstein did not take to this. "I don't care what or who you are. Carry food or go hungry."
"I am no beast of burden," sneered the galago.
Bronstein gave him a look that promised plain and fancy murder. Later. "You're a big mouth and a small brain. Carry food. We don't have any to spare."
"Yeah, and we girls would hate you to lose your sexy figure," said Doll, lowering her lashes. "You might need all your strength."
"And lots of stamina," added Phylla, winking.
"That tail of his is just too, too gorgeous!" Melene hugged herself, quivering.
"And those dreamy bedroom eyes!" husked Phylla throatily. "Wow!"
The male rats were not enjoying this. Not even one tiny bit. The galago, on the other hand, was strutting his stuff. He was also gathering provisions.
Of course, Doll was the first to make a move. "So what is your name, handsome? Heedalgo-go?"
The galago took Doll's paw and bowed over it with an extravagant flourish of his long fluffy tail, before kissing it delicately. "You may call me Don Juan, señorita. My name is Don Juan el Magnifico de Gigantico de Immaculata Concepcion y Major de Todos Saavedra Quixote de la Mancha."
"Ooh! I don't think I'll ever wash this paw again!" Doll said breathlessly.
Melene looked on with longing. "Ooh! He fair makes my insides turn to jelly! So romantic!"
"Huh. I'll turn him into jelly. Effing cream puff," muttered Pistol.
As best they could, the rats hid their hole. Then they had to lug several bags of looted food back through the waking corridors of the Maggot-mound. It was no sinecure.
"You've overfilled this thing," Fal moaned.
Nym grunted. "Well, we can't exactly pour some out here, can we?"
"Why not?" Fal was ready to suit action to the words.
Nym tapped Fal's head with his tail. "Why not just leave a signpost for the Maggots, smooth-pate? Anyway you'll be the one complaining that you cannot compass the waste."
Fal shook his head and tried to wrap his tail around his bulging belly. "I cannot even compass my own waist, but with this sweating I am forced to do, I'm fain to be melting away."
"You've got a fair bit go still, Fal. Umph. And you're letting your corner down," said Nym.
"Hey you, whatsisname . . . Don Gigolo, come give us a hand," said Fal, ever hopeful.
A bat fluttered up. "Back. There are Maggots coming. Quickly, fools!"
They hid. Scampered. Hid again. Dodged off down a new passage. And finally reached the down-rope.
"What is this?" The galago eyed the rope with suspicion.
"The effing way out, Don Gigolo." Fat Fal might have sounded grimmer than usual because he did not fancy it. Or perhaps he was just tired.
The tiny galago strutted into Fal's personal space. "If you call me that again, I warn you, I shall challenge you to a duel."
"I'm shakin'. I'm shakin'. Oh, Pistol, I'm tho thcared, big bad Don Gigolo will prong me."
The galago was beside himself with fury. "Name your seconds, sir!"
"You leave Don Juan alone. You bunch of big bullies. Don't pay any attention to them, DonJee, sweetie." Doll took him gently by the arm, showing Fal her teeth.
"Will you be stopping this tomfoolery and tie those bags on so Chip can haul them up," hissed Eamon, "before I bite all of you. He's still got to haul you up."
The galago paused. "Who is `Chip'?"
"He's the human member of this circus," replied Bronstein.
"There is a human up there? Then I will go. My mission, she brooks no delay. I am a galago of action." The little primate saluted the cluster of rat-girls and began to climb the rope with consummate ease.
Phylla sighed. "He's sooo masterful!"
Nym shook his head. "He's a complete ass."
Bronstein rolled her eyes. "Siobhan, fly up and tell the silly creature not to go out past the last level. Chip's not expecting him. Chip'll probably turf him down again if he suddenly appears. Now, let's get these bags tied on."
"We could have used the bigmouth. His hands are better for this sort of thing than my paws are."
False dawn had faded the stars. Chip was a very nervous man by now. He couldn't leave his post, or the rats would be unable to get back up. On the other hand, Maggot constructors were already visible in the distance working on the tunnel-mound. Some of the Maggots were sightless, he knew, but some them weren't. It was getting lighter by the second, and he felt very exposed out here in the open, next to the mound. It had been a long, cold, anxious wait up here in the now disappearing darkness. The line began to thrum under his hand.
What could that be? His imagination conjured a climbing-Maggot.
His hand went to the Solingen. If he cut that line now . . . Splattermaggot. But he couldn't. What if he was wrong? He'd trap them down there. No. He'd have to deal with whatever monstrous thing was climbing as it came through the opening. He waited, nerves as tense as a cheese-slicer-wire.
The little door popped open. Chip lunged forward, knife first. He got a sudden view of cute, huge, dark eyes set in a tiny gray-white furry face. There was a squeak of terror and the face disappeared.
"Dammo!" panted Siobhan. "You daft beast. Come back! Hell! Now I shall have to chase it. And it can climb so fast. It beat me flying up here. Did you have to frighten it out of a year's growth, Chip?"
Siobhan fluttered away, back down into the mound. The three sharp tugs Chip had been awaiting came, and he began hauling. The thin line, with added weight, proved to be hell on the hands. He wrapped his jacket around them and went on slowly hauling. Next thing, the little cute-face came up again. In the improving light he could see that it was a lemur-like thing, complete with what must once have been a delicately embroidered red velvet waistcoat. It looked very, very wary. Siobhan was with it.
"See, you idiot. He's a human, not a monster."