|
(Continued)
"I’m looking
for work. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, really. I’m sure
that there will be something here for me." His voice was to
Tommer’s as fresh spring greens to crackling autumn leaves; soft
and smooth, with a surprising strength and flexibility that took
advantage of the harsh cracks in the Mayor’s. "I’ve
worked as a sailor, a labourer, a painter, a musician, an
exterminator, a street guard. You name it, I’m almost certain to
have done it."
"An
exterminator?" All trace of the interest that thrummed
through the Mayor’s body was absent from his voice, a bland
little half-crack of a damp leaf.
"Yes. Most
pests. Cockroaches, ants, squirrels, moles, mice. Rats," he
added, almost as an afterthought. But not quite. The Mayor
followed his gaze to where a large black rat sat up on its
haunches, seeming almost befuddled by Piper’s presence in the
Mayor’s office. Then, with a twitch of its ragged whiskers, it
was off again, just barely missing the shoe Tommer threw after it.
"I see you have those, Mayor Tommer."
"We do,"
he snapped tersely. "What of it?"
He shrugged, and
his coat fell open to reveal a large seam that ran most of the way
down his shirt. "You have rats. I need a job. We could work
out an agreement."
"How
much?" His voice was a tired sigh of autumn leaves being
blown down the cobblestone streets of his town.
"Well, if your
only rat is the one who so kindly came out to meet me, I’d say
ten coppers."
Ten coppers? Mayor
Tommer thought incredulously. Ten coppers for each of the rats
that swarmed through his village, brazenly stealing food from the
tables of his people and spoiling the harvest? A fortune and a
half to save half a fortune.
"But if you
have more, I could certainly work for a lower price. Perhaps five
hundred gold?"
He nearly hissed in
shock. While far cheaper than ten coppers per rat, five hundred
gold was an excessive price. "Why should I pay that
much?" he asked, still seemingly uninterested. "I can
always call in some of the ratters from nearby towns—they
don’t charge nearly as much as you do."
"You
could," Piper agreed genially. "But I doubt it. Why
wouldn’t they have come sooner, to see how much you would pay
them? You are the Mayor of Hamelin, the town of rats, sir. In
other towns they’ve mentioned your rats, said that they’re as
big as a small dog. I see they’ve exaggerated, but…" He
shook his hat, beads clacking furiously against one another.
"Besides, ratters always miss one or two. Say a mother,
staying behind with her infants, or a clever rat that hides in a
crack that a dog would never notice. I never miss a single
rat."
A confident boast
that was as confident as his stance. "Three hundred gold. And
I want to see these rats gone before I pay you."
"Four hundred;
and I want half up front."
"Half!"
Piper’s eyes
narrowed behind his hat. "If you aren’t going to trust me,
Mayor Tommer, then I won’t trust you. I’ll take half right
now, thank you."
"I’ll give
you one hundred now, and put you up in a house for the
night."
That smile again,
confident and condescending. "Very well." He followed
Mayor Tommer to the safe where the town treasury was kept and
waited patiently until the coins were counted into a bag and
presented to him. He slipped his pack from his shoulders and
opened it, revealing a jumbled assortment of clothing, papers
and—strangely enough—apples. Tossing an apple over his
shoulder to make room, he pulled out something long and thin from
his pack, laying it beside him as he settled the coins into their
new home. A pipe, Tommer realized, made of wood and bronze.
Piper noticed what
he was looking at and smiled, swinging his rucksack back onto his
shoulders as he did so. He gave the pipe an experimental twirl
before saying, "My mother wanted someone to play this. It had
been her grandfather’s, but she wasn’t very good with it. So
she named me Piper in the hopes that I would have some skill with
it."
"And do
you?" Or did he only keep it for sentimental reasons? Tommer
wondered silently.
His smile took a
different tone, a bit far off and strangely focused on the Mayor
at the same time. "That’s a matter of opinion, sir."
He tucked it into a pocket that the Mayor couldn't remember having
seen in the younger man's grey pants. "Some people have said
that my pipes are the most magical thing they’ve ever heard. And
there are those who have said it’s the worst thing ever. It’s
all a matter of opinion, really. Now, where did you say I would be
staying the night?"
Tommer pointed a
gnarled finger at the door. "Down the main street. Ask for
Mistress Chandelay."
"Thank you,
Mayor Tommer." And with a clack of that beaded hat and a
flash of that small, strange smile, he left the room, leaving the
Mayor to his thoughts.
(Turn
the page) |
