There was a murmur of agreement.

“I said do you hear me?”

This time there was a roar.

“Good! And we'll go on and on until these tunnels are safe, from end to end! Then we'll do it again! Until these tunnels are ours! Because…” Darktan grasped his sword, but leaned on it for a moment to catch his breath, and when he spoke next it was almost in a whisper, “because we're in the heart of the Dark Wood now and we've found the Dark Wood in our hearts and… for tonight… we are something… terrible.” He took another breath, and his next words were heard only by the rats closest to him: “And we have nowhere else to go.”

It was dawn. Sergeant Doppelpunkt, who was one half of the city's official Watch (and the largest half) awoke with a snort in the tiny office by the main gates.

He got dressed, a little unsteadily, and washed his face in the stone sink, peering at himself in the scrap of mirror hanging on the wall.

He stopped. There was a faint but desperate squeaking sound, and then the little grille over the plughole was pushed aside and a rat plunged out. It was big and grey and it ran up his arm before leaping onto the floor.

Water dripping from his face, Sergeant Doppelpunkt stared in bleary amazement as three smaller rats erupted from the pipe and chased after it. It turned to fight in the middle of the floor but the small rats hit it together, from three sides at once. It wasn't like a fight. It looked, thought the sergeant, more like an execution…

There was an old rat hole in the wall. Two of the rats grabbed the tail and dragged the body into the hole and out of sight. But the third rat stopped at the hole and turned, standing up on its hind legs.

The sergeant felt that it was staring at him. It didn't look like an animal watching a human to see if it was dangerous. It didn't look scared, it merely looked curious. It had some kind of red blob on its head.

The rat saluted him. It was definitely a salute, even though it only took a second. Then all the rats had gone.

The sergeant stared at the hole for some time, with water still dripping off his chin.

And heard the singing. It was drifting up from the sink's plughole and it echoed a lot, as if it was coming from a long way away, one voice singing out and a chorus of voices replying:

“We fight dogs and we chase cats…”

“…ain't no trap can stop the rats!”

“Got no plague and got no fleas…”

“…we drink poison, we steal cheese!”

“Mess with us and you will see…”

“…we'll put poison in your tea!”

“Here we fight and here we'll stay…”

“…WE WILL NEVER GO AWAY!”

The sound faded. Sergeant Doppelpunkt blinked, and looked at the bottle of beer he'd drunk last night. It got lonely, on night watch. And it wasn't as if anyone invaded Bad Blintz, after all. They didn't have anything to steal.

But it'd probably be a good idea not to mention this to anyone. It probably hadn't happened. It was probably just a bad bottle of beer…

The guardhouse door opened and Corporal Knopf stepped in.

“Morning, sergeant,” he began. “It's that– what's up with you?”

“Nothing, corporal!” said Doppelpunkt quickly, wiping his face. “I certainly haven't seen anything strange at all! Why're you standing around? Time to get those gates open, corporal!”

The watchmen stepped out and swung open the city gates and the sunlight streamed through.

It brought with it a long, long shadow.

Oh dear, thought Sergeant Doppelpunkt. This really is not going to be a nice day…

The man on horseback rode past them without a glance, and on into the town square. The guards hurried after him. People aren't supposed to ignore people with weapons.

“Halt, what is your business here?” demanded Corporal Knopf, but he had to run crabwise to keep up with the horse. The rider was dressed in white and black, like a magpie.

He didn't answer, but just smiled faintly to himself.

“All right, maybe you haven't any actual business, but it won't cost you anything just to say who you are, will it?” said Corporal Knopf, who was not interested in any trouble.

The rider looked down at him, and then stared ahead again.

Sergeant Doppelpunkt spotted a small covered wagon coming through the gates, drawn by a donkey which was accompanied by an old man. He was a sergeant, he told himself, which meant that he was paid more than the corporal, which meant that he thought more expensive thoughts. And this one was: they didn't have to check everyone that came through the gate, did they? Especially if they were busy. They had to pick people at random. And if you were going to pick people at random, it was a good idea to randomly pick a little old man who looked small enough and old enough to be frightened of a rather grubby uniform with rusty chainmail.

“Halt!”

“Heh, heh! Not gonna,” said the old man. “Mind the donkey, he can give you a nasty bite when he's roused. Not that I care.”

“Are you trying to show contempt of the Law?” demanded Sergeant Doppelpunkt.

“Well, I'm not trying to conceal it, mister. You want to make something of it, you talk to my boss. That's him on the horse. The big horse.”

The black-and-white stranger had dismounted by the fountain in the centre of the square, and was opening his saddle-bags.

“I'll just go and talk to him, shall I?” said the sergeant.

By the time he'd reached the stranger, walking as slowly as he dared, the man had propped a small mirror against the fountain and was having a shave. Corporal Knopf was watching him. He'd been given the horse to hold.

“Why haven't you arrested him?” the sergeant whispered to the corporal.

“What, for illegal shaving? Tell you what, sarge, you do it.”

Sergeant Doppelpunkt cleared his throat. A few early risers among the population were already watching him. “Er… now, listen, friend, I'm sure you didn't mean—” he began.

The man straightened up, and gave the guards a look which made both men take a step backwards. He reached out and undid the thong holding a thick roll of leather behind the saddle.

It unrolled. Corporal Knopf whistled. All down the length of leather, held in place by straps, were dozens of pipes. They glistened in the rising sun.

“Oh, you're the pipe–” the sergeant began, but the other man turned back to the mirror and said, as if talking to his reflection, “Where can a man get a breakfast around here?”

“Oh, if it's breakfast you want then Mrs Shover at the Blue Cabbage will—”

“Sausages,” said the piper, still shaving. “Burned on one side. Three. Here. Ten minutes. Where is the mayor?”

“If you go down that street and take the first left”

“Fetch him.”

“Here, you can't—” the sergeant began, but Corporal Knopf grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

“He's the piper!” he hissed. “You don't mess with the piper! Don't you know about him? If he blows the right note on his pipes, your legs will fall off!”

“What, like the plague?”

“They say that in Porkscratchenz the council didn't pay him and he played his special pipe and led all the kids up into the mountains and they were never seen again!”

“Good, do you think he'll do that here? The place'd be a lot quieter.”

“Hah! Did you ever hear about that place in Klatch? They hired him to get rid of a plague of mime artists, and when they didn't pay up he made all the town's watchmen dance into the river and drown!”

“No! Did he? The devil!” said Sergeant Doppelpunkt.

“Three hundred dollars he charges, did you know that?”

“Three hundred dollars!”

“That's why people hate paying,” said Corporal Knopf.

“Hang on, hang on… how can you have a plague of mime artists?”

“Oh, it was terrible, so I heard. People didn't dare go out onto the streets at all.”