* * *
The cord was discovered. Generously, the rats allowed Chip to saw the chain links from which they made up descendures. They tied their own webbing-sling harnesses, and told Chip he’d be fortunate enough to be allowed to haul them back up. As even fat Fal plus his wobbly paunch weighed only a few pounds that was plausible. With a piece of angle iron to brace across the hole, and an empty woven-plastic fertilizer bag for loot, they went back to the hole. A bat took the line down, as it would not be a straight abseil.
“Go carefully,” said Chip to Nym.
“Oh, certainly. We shall steal upon them with catlike tread.” The rat promptly fell over the angle iron and nearly disappeared down the hole, without being attached to the rope. He landed next to the edge with a thump.
“A fly’s footfall would be twice as loud,” said Phylla, dryly.
“Don’t worry. We’re just swapping soldiery for burglaree,” said Fal. “Seeing as you disapprove of us doing soldiery properly.”
One by one, the rats untied the rope, threaded their homemade descendures—because snap links were beyond Chip’s limited skill as a machinist—retied the rope, and stepped through the small doorway. Then they were gone, down into the Maggot-mound.
Chip was left sitting alone in the darkness again. He liked it even less this time.
Chapter 16: A brave caballero!
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.