The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett

going.
    She left him sitting by the candle and went and looked for Hamnpork. He was sitting by a wall. Like most of the old rats, he always stuck to walls and kept away from open spaces and too much light.
    He was shaking.
    â€œAre you all right?” she said.
    The shaking stopped.
    â€œFine, fine, nothing wrong with me!” snappedHamnpork. “Just a few twinges, nothing permanent!”
    â€œOnly I noticed you didn’t go out with any of the squads,” said Peaches.
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with me!” shouted the old rat.
    â€œWe’ve still got some potatoes in the baggage—”
    â€œI don’t want any food ! There is nothing wrong with me!”
    â€¦Which meant that there was. It was the reason he didn’t want to share all the things he knew. What he knew was all he had left. Peaches knew what rats traditionally did to leaders who were too old. She’d watched Hamnpork’s face when Darktan—younger, stronger Darktan—had been talking to his squads, and knew that Hamnpork was thinking about it, too. Oh, he was fine when people were watching him, but lately he’d been resting more, and skulking in corners.
    Old rats were driven out, to lurk around by themselves and go rotten and funny in the head. Soon there would be another leader.
    Peaches wished she could make him understand one of the Thoughts of Dangerous Beans, but the old rat didn’t much like talking to females.He’d grown up thinking females weren’t for talking to.
    The Thought was:

    It meant: We Are the Changelings. We Are Not Like Other Rats.

CHAPTER 4
    T he important thing about adventures, thought Mr. Bunnsy, was that they should not be so long as to make you miss mealtimes.
    â€”From Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure
    The kid and the girl and Maurice were in a large kitchen. The kid could tell it was a kitchen because of the huge black iron range and the pans hanging on the walls and the long scarred table. What it didn’t seem to have was what a kitchen traditionally had, which was food.
    The girl went to a metal box in the corner and fumbled round her neck for a string, which, it turned out, held a big key.
    â€œYou can’t trust anybody,” she said. “And the rats steal a hundred times what they eat, the devils.”
    â€œI don’t think they do,” said the kid. “Ten times, at most.”
    â€œYou know all about rats all of a sudden?” said the girl, unlocking the metal case.
    â€œNot all of a sudden, I learned it when—Ow! That really hurt !”
    â€œSorry about that,” said Maurice. “I accidentally scratched you, did I?” He tried to make a face that said Don’t be a complete twerp, okay?— which is quite hard to do with a cat head.
    The girl gave him a suspicious look and then turned back to the metal box.
    â€œThere’s some milk that’s not gone hard yet and a couple of fish heads,” she said, peering inside.
    â€œSounds good to me,” said Maurice.
    â€œWhat about your human?”
    â€œHim? He’ll eat any old scraps.”
    â€œThere’s bread and sausage,” said the girl, taking a can from the metal cupboard. “We’re all very suspicious about the sausages. There’s a tiny bit of cheese, too, but it’s rather ancestral.”
    â€œI don’t think we should eat your food if it’s so short,” said the kid. “We have got money.”
    â€œOh, my father says it’d reflect very badly on the town if we weren’t hospitable. He’s the mayor, you know.”
    â€œHe’s the government?” said the kid.
    The girl stared at him. “I suppose so,” she said.“Funny way of putting it. The town council makes the laws, really. He just runs the place and argues with everyone. And he says we shouldn’t have any more rations than any other people, to show solidarity in these difficult times. It was bad enough that