‘They heard orright,’ said Suzy. She spat on her hands and gripped her sword more tightly. ‘I expect your Key can burn up a passel of ’em, though.’
‘I don’t want to burn them up,’ Arthur protested. ‘I just want to talk to the Raised Rats!’
‘We are very glad to hear that,’ said a voice from under the table.
Suzy swore and ducked down to have a look.
‘A trapdoor,’ she exclaimed in admiration. ‘Sneaky!’
A four-foot-tall rat clad in white breeches and a blue coat with a single gold epaulette on his left shoulder clambered out from under the table and saluted Arthur, his long mouth open in a smile that revealed two shiny gold-capped front teeth. He had a cutlass at his side, but it was sheathed. A Napoleonic hat perched at a jaunty angle on his head.
‘Lord Arthur, I presume? I am Lieutenant Goldbite, recently appointed to command this vessel following Captain Longtayle’s promotion and transfer. I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you before, but I am acquainted with your past dealings with us. Perhaps you and your companions would like to sit?’
He gestured at the armchairs.
‘Do we have a truce?’ asked Arthur, still standing. ‘And do you speak for all aboard?’
‘I am the captain,’ said Goldbite. ‘I say truce for all of us, Newniths and Raised Rats.’
‘The Piper’s not ’ere, is he?’ asked Suzy. She hadn’t sat down either, though Scamandros had settled back down only moments after finally managing to get up.
‘The Piper is not aboard this ship,’ said Goldbite. ‘And though we owe him a considerable debt and so will carry his troops and so forth, the Raised Rats have chosen to be noncombatants in the Piper’s wars, and should not be considered in the same light as the Newniths. Speaking of them, if you wouldn’t mind sitting down, I shall just pop out and stand down both my own folk and the Newniths.’
‘I’m sorry about the one . . . the one I killed,’ said Arthur. He was very aware that the Newniths, though they felt obliged to serve the Piper, actually just wanted to be farmers. Arthur felt they were much more like humans than Denizens. ‘He attacked me, and the Key . . .’
Goldbite nodded. ‘I will tell them. He was not the first, nor will he be the last. But I trust there will be no more fighting between us on the Rattus Navis IV. Please do help yourself to biscuits from that tin there, and there is more cranberry juice in the keg.’
‘Might as well,’ said Arthur as the Raised Rat left via the door. He picked up the silver jug and refilled it from the keg, while Suzy got out the biscuits, tapping them on the table to make the weevils fall out. She offered them around, but Arthur and Scamandros passed, the latter taking a slightly crushed ham and watercress sandwich on a red chequered china plate out of one of his inner pockets.
‘I’m curious to know why there are Newniths on board,’ said Arthur quietly. ‘I hope the Piper isn’t going to attack us here in the Border Sea.’
‘Port Wednesday is well defended,’ said Dr Scamandros. ‘The Triangle would be more at risk, if none of the regular vessels are there to protect it. But there would be little to gain from taking that, since it has no elevators or anything very useful. But of course the Rats could be taking the Newniths elsewhere by way of the Border Sea, out into the Secondary Realms—’
‘Ssshhh,’ Arthur hushed. ‘Goldbite’s coming back.’
Goldbite knocked and then poked his long nose around the door.
‘All settled in?’ he asked before coming in. ‘Very good. I’m afraid my First Lieutenant can’t join us, as she has the watch, but my Acting Third Lieutenant will do so. I believe you have already met.’
The Raised Rat behind Goldbite stepped out and saluted. Though his whiskers had been trimmed and he wore a blue coat, Arthur recognised him immediately.
‘Watkingle! You’ve been promoted!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Watkingle. ‘And it was for hitting you on the head, sir, and averting a disastrosphe or cataster, whichever you like. That was a good hit for me, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.’
‘I don’t mind – it was needed at the time.’ Arthur got up and shook Watkingle’s paw. ‘Feverfew would have had me, otherwise.’
‘You’re looking . . . uh . . . well, sir,’ said Watkingle. ‘Taller.’
‘Yes,’ replied Arthur, not very happily. He sat back down. Watkingle lounged back against the hull, bracing his paws so that he was not thrown off balance by the pitch and roll of the ship.
‘I take it you have come to ask your third question?’ said Goldbite, after the ensuing silence started to feel uncomfortable.