* * ** * *
“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.”