Unlike their flesh-and-blood counterparts, the fake rats were unable to physically interact with anything, but he had developed the level of control that allowed the apparitions to react to their surroundings. For instance, if someone swatted at them with a broom, the illusions scurried out of reach. Within the music, he embedded the commands for them to swarm food sources and avoid fire, people, and larger animals.
It took him hours to properly perform the lengthy tune that was required to create the sort of long-lasting, flexible illusion his con required. Ending the composition before the final note meant that he could play the concluding bit at a time of his choosing to begin the effect. Even with so much practice, the effort wore him out. He collapsed onto his bedroll that night and fell asleep at once.
As’ad’s constant wandering often caused him to lose track of the days. Upon arriving at the town, he discovered it was a rest day. Not displeased, as it worked in his favor, he checked the head covering he had thrown on that morning, then walked boldly toward the town square. Pretending to stop for a drink at the fountain, he gave Sarir and Yasruhk the “find food” command.
As he walked closer to the mayor’s house, he noticed a very pretty girl talking with an older couple who strongly resembled her. Perhaps a couple of years younger than himself, she appeared to be upset about something as she spoke with her parents in the square. Since it didn’t seem to be the rats, he ignored her and worked his way to the back of the mayor’s home. A conveniently open window invited him to send Khudha inside. So he did. Letting her out of his sight like that was a risk, but she was the most intelligent of his current batch of rats.
His efforts were soon rewarded as the villagers began catching sight of his friends. Before any of them could work themselves past cries of dismay, he discreetly retrieved the three rodents he had released and moved on to a different portion of the city. He sent out everyone but Fat Carl in strategic locations for a short time. They hit both taverns, the church, and as many barns or silos as he could reach in the two-hour time frame he had given himself.
Then As’ad pulled back to a smallish boulder by the water. Ducking behind the rock and trusting the sound of the current and the increasingly agitated townsfolk to hide his actions, he pulled the pipe out of his hip bag and carefully concluded the melody. After tucking the magical artifact away, he moved within earshot. Screams from multiple parts of the town confirmed that his illusion had taken effect.
Gambling that the town leadership would gather at the biggest and most important-looking storehouse, As’ad worked his way toward the northern edge of town. His luck held. From the shadow of an outbuilding, he watched as the farmers reacted to the flood of rats. The mayor himself had been called in and stared in horror at the mess.
Thanks to all his practice, the pretend rats were very realistically looking for a way into the building. They hustled out of reach whenever someone approached. The panic-fueled chaos had ceased to amuse As’ad long ago. Now he waited impatiently for them to come to certain realizations.
“C’mon, c’mon. Notice that they avoid the flames,” he muttered under his breath. “Finally!”
One enterprising youth had been brandishing a torch for a full five minutes before his elders realized he had stumbled upon a good idea. They scrambled to set up torches and lanterns around the perimeter of the storehouse. As’ad’s illusions reacted accordingly and milled about beyond the reach of the fire, still trying to get in.
The immediate crisis averted, the people turned to the mayor. They demanded that he do something; they couldn’t stand guard over their food stores day and night, they had other things to do. Someone mentioned that the Pied Piper had last been seen in a nearby village. The mayor seized on that knowledge and announced that he would send messengers out to search for the man. The pronouncement settled the crowd somewhat, and As’ad took his cue.
Chapter Two
Which Contains Even More Rats
Unabletohurrytooquickly with sleeping rats in his pockets, he traveled up and over the small hill that stood between this town and his camp farther out. He was banking on the fact that the messengers didn’t know exactly where to find him and hoping they would stick to the roads that most travelers used. He arrived in time to rearrange his camp as though he was simply stopping for lunch. Taking care, he tucked the rats and their cages at the bottom of his cart and wrapped a piece of canvas around them tightly. It wouldn’t prevent a determined rat from escaping, but his pets usually snoozed through this part and, being well fed, were inclined to stay put.
After putting away the headwrap he had worn in town and changing into a clean set of robes in a different color, he rewarded himself with the last of his food. As’ad was dousing his fire when a tall, gangly young man burst into sight. The youth pulled up short when he saw the camp, then leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees as he gulped air.
“Are you, by chance,” he gasped, “the Pied Piper?”
Asad nodded and walked closer. “Yes, I am he.”
“Oh, good!” The lad stood upright. “Nahr has been overrun with rats. Please, you must come save us,” he implored.
“By all means,” As’ad assured the young man. “I trust you’ve been sent to lead me there?”
“Yes. Can I help you pack your things?” he asked, eager to be of service.
“I don’t have much, as you can see. It will only take me a moment.”
The runner insisted on pulling the handcart. As’ad agreed easily. Following the road, their journey took the full hour, as the cart resisted moving faster than a quick walk. As they neared the town, the messenger’s posture grew taller and cockier. He may not be the one to actually fix the rat problem, but he would garner plenty of praise as the one who had brought the solution back.
Almost as soon as they were within sight of the town, As’ad’s escort began shouting. It took some time for him to be heard over the noise of the panic that still gripped the residents. When the pair was finally noticed, volunteers took over the cart-pulling duties and directed them to the town square. Something of a procession soon formed behind As’ad and his escorts.
Brought out by the hullabaloo in his courtyard, the mayor walked down to greet them by the fountain. His eyes scanned their hope of salvation, becoming more confident as he took in the piper’s traditional robes and smooth chin. As’ad slipped into the role he had played a hundred times before, confident that his appearance projected the right air of competence despite his relative youth. The older man with a slight paunch gave him a deep nod.
Nodding back, As’ad put on his I-am-taking-this-seriously-but-I’m-still-friendly smile. “Your messenger informs me that Nahr is having a rat problem.” He gestured back the way they had come. “I have seen the evidence with my own eyes. Could you, please, update me on what has happened since the messengers were sent out?”
The mayor responded to the professional tone, unconsciously relaxing his rigid posture. “We are keeping them at bay for now with fire. Every torch that can be spared. We have rings around the storehouses and a few other places, but we’re running out of supplies to protect everything.”
“Nor can your people be on watch all the time,” As’ad empathized.
“Exactly!” the mayor agreed.
“Will you show me one of the storehouses?”
“Yes, yes. This way, please.”
