Chapter 24: Rodent Roundup
Mrs. Bartleby was beside herself when they arrived.
“They won’t stop stealing from me!” Mrs. Bartleby cried when she opened the door and invited the two wizards in. “Those rotten little jerks!”
Her house was fairly standard for Harper Valley’s non-farming population. It was a small two bedroom house with an open living room connected to a small kitchen. Snug, cozy, and more than enough for the empty nester. She was a frumpy, nervous woman with thick spectacles, gray hair, and conservative clothes 20 years out of date.
“Err. You mean the mice?” Thomas asked, looking around as if he expected someone or something else.
“Of course I mean the mice,” Mrs. Bartleby huffed. “They’ve been insufferable for months, but this time they’ve gone too far. They’ve taken my late husband’s wedding ring and made off with it!”
Wil nodded sympathetically. “And we’ll do what we can to get your husband’s wedding ring back, and make sure this doesn’t happen again. Do you have any signs of the mice disturbing things or taking them? Do you know where they nest?”
Mrs. Bartleby didn’t take her eyes off him as she pointed to a corner of the kitchen. Wil smiled and said, “Wait here and let me take a look, okay? Thomas, if you’ll come with me.”
Although the kitchen was open and there was no separation between them and Mrs. Bartleby other than the distance she allowed them to keep, Thomas whispered, “Since when do wizards stop mice theft?”
“Ah ah, that sounds like complaining,” said Wil as he looked around. It was a standard, drab looking kitchen, clean but with no life to it. It wasn’t hard to find the hole in the wall where the mice made their lair. “Here we are.” Wil crouched to the ground and sniffed.
“Sorry,” said Thomas, sounding anything but. “I appreciate you wanting to help anyone, but this is mice, right? This would be a perfect task for Bram, wouldn’t it? Just set out some poison and -- “
“Set out some poison?” Mrs. Bartleby was outraged. “And risk my poor Mittens getting into it and dying? I think not!”
“Mittens?” Thomas mouthed to Wil.
“Her cat,” Wil supplied. “But she’s right, no need to kill all the mice when we can communicate with them. I just need something to anchor myself to. My rodent is a bit rusty. Hey, can you see into the hole better than I can?”
Thomas took a deep, long suffering breath before nodding. “Yeah, not a problem. A simple scry, add on a bit of night vision…” He fished a pad of paper out of his trousers and began writing down simple runes along the paper. Crouching down, he ripped out and stuffed the paper into the hole, and then sat cross-legged, eyes closed.
Wil waited patiently, and wasn’t disappointed. Thomas’ eyes remained shut as he spoke up. “Surprisingly roomy in there, past the initial tightness of the hole. If I go along it, it branches off along the walls. There’s droppings here, so I think it’s safe to say she’s not wrong about the mice, at least. A little deeper and…Huh. Well, there’s the wedding ring. Want me to nab it?”
“Yes please,” said Wil.
Thomas nodded and reached out with his hand. The sounds of scrabbling in the walls heralded the ring as it bounced around and popped out the front, into the wizard’s waiting hand, along with a ton of dirt, dust, and fur.
“Good job. Gross, but nice work.” Wil took the ring from Thomas, who brushed his hands off on his pants. “Here’s your ring, Mrs. Bartleby.”
“Oh thank you, thank you.” She clutched it tight to her chest. Her eyes watered, while her smile made the lines around her eyes increase. “But how do we know the damned mice won’t steal it again? They’ve been breaking into my locked jewelry case, and nothing seems to stop them.”
Thomas muttered, “We could always just gas the house and the problem’s solved.”
Wil shook his head. “I don’t know how much experience you have with mice and other pests, but unless they gnaw their way through, they’re not going to get into a jewelry box. Did they chew their way through?”
Mrs. Bartleby shook her head vigorously. “No! They picked the lock, I swear it.”
“Right,” said Thomas. “Lockpicking mice.”
“I’ll check it right now,” Wil said before Mrs. Bartleby could take exception to Thomas’ tone. “If you don’t mind me going into your room, of course.”
Her room looked exactly as Wil pictured it. Neat and orderly, with the same lost-in-time quality the rest of the house had. She’d not been the same since her kids grew up and her husband died, and nothing here looked like it had changed in the better part of a decade. The jewelry case on her vanity was open, with the tail and back legs of a mice hanging out of it. It continued rummaging without noticing either of them.
Thomas made a face and looked at Wil, who suppressed laughter. Wil held up a finger and concentrated on one of his more complex spells. When he spoke next, it came out as squeaks and chitters to Thomas, but sounded normal to him.
“Hello small friend, are we the interruption?” He asked, the words sounding stilted and off to him. He’d not communicated with a rodent in a while.
The mouse jumped into the air with a squeak. It landed and turned black eyes over to the two wizards. It trembled in place violently.
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“Do not afraid,” Wil continued. “Friends of no harm you.”
“Wil, what the hell are you saying?” Thomas asked. His voice jolted the mouse out of inaction. It took off running, dropping to the ground.
“Give chase!” Wil shouted in mouse before leaping forward. He reached for the mouse right as it reached a crack in the wall. He pulled it back using magic. It flew straight into his hand, where it twisted and fought to either get away or bite him badly enough to make it so. Too late. Wil had it floating in his palm, spinning in place.
“Stop! Stop! Do not like the spin, please!” the mouse chittered at him.
Wil held the mouse still. “Why must thievery small brother?”
The mouse stopped trying to attack him and sat in his palm. “Is shiny and pretty.”
“What is it saying?” Thomas asked.
Wil cleared his throat and switched languages. “I’m asking him why he’s stealing, and he said because the things he steals are shiny and pretty. Pretty relatable, honestly.”
“So?” Thomas prodded. “You got the culprit, you got the ring back. What more is necessary? Just bop the mice or drive them out elsewhere and we can move on to the next work order, right?”
“Might not even have to come to that. If the mice leave here, they’re going to go somewhere else. Once, I helped out Darlene’s dad clear out mice from their basement. They ended up going elsewhere in the house and to the fields outside, but the wards kept them from the food there. Could do that, but there are a lot of houses here. I think I’m going to check something else first.”
Clearing his throat, Wil switched back to his iffy version of mouse. “Gray lady here wants the family exiled from house. No thievery or gone into cold. Understand?”
“No,” said the mouse. “You talk odd.”
Yeah, that was fair. “Have you a daddy leader?” Wil grimaced. That couldn’t have been right. To his surprise, the mouse chittered in acknowledgement.
“Yes. Mik is daddy and leader. You want to talk to Mik? What’s in it for me?” The mouse groomed himself in a way Wil perceived as smug.
Clearing his throat and switching back to normal, he said, “Thomas? Would you ask Mrs. Bartleby for some fruit? And maybe some bread. I’ve got an idea.”
Ten minutes later, Wil sat on the floor in front of a succulent spread of meats, cheese, bread, and fruit. Thomas stood behind him, radiating impatience, irritation, and incredulity. On the other side of the feast was Mik and three dozen of his family. More than Wil expected, and way more than most would have comfortable living in their walls.
“I am here, Human. Speak now, or…?” Mik addressed him. He was a dark gray mouse with a long, naked tail.
“Eat now,” said Wil, gesturing at the food.
No one waited for their leader’s permission. They swarmed the bread and fruit first, while Mik took his first pick of meat and cheese. Wil wasn’t really the type to enjoy watching others eat, but the speed in which they devoured everything fascinated him.
“Not complaining, but how is this going to help?” Thomas didn’t look as entertained.
“Getting them in a good mood first. Watch.”
As the mice finished the feast, Mik crept closer to Wil. He looked as if he didn’t fully trust any human, even ones who fed him. “What do the humans be wanting with us?”
“I want to help you. If you stealing, old lady will want you gone. Don’t steal, maybe she is to be a friend.”
The mouse cocked his head to the side quizzically. “Old lady want treasures back? She can feed us! More like this.”
“I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll all come with me.”
Thomas waited more or less patiently for him to finish. When Wil stood again, Wil asked, “So, what’s the plan, then? And the purpose of this?”
“Watch and see,” said Wil, going back into the main room. He was trailed by all of the mice. They fanned out all over the nearby furniture and got comfortable. “Mrs. Bartleby? It appears the mice love your trinkets and treasures.”
Somehow, Mrs. Bartleby avoided screaming. “Well, I know that,” she said.
“Yes, but they’re willing to offer a trade,” Wil. “If you feed them some bread, meat, and cheese once a day, they’ll not only leave your treasures alone but will return what they’ve stolen. And not only that, but I think I can convince them to help keep your floors cleaner.” He spread his hands, smiling apologetically. “It’s one of the best offers I’ve heard an animal make, so you might want to take them up on it.”
Mrs. Bartleby looked at him as if he grew a second head. “Why on earth would I agree to that? That’s my food. Those’re my treasures!”
“Sure,” said Wil, “but they need a place to live too. If you do this, then you’re making a deal with a mouse family to share the place and for them to have no reason to get into your stuff.”
“How do I know they’ll keep to their side of things?” Mrs. Bartleby demanded.
Wil shrugged. “Animals are pretty simple, but aren’t known for lying much. Besides, these are very smart mice, and I think they’d appreciate a comfortable place to stay and raise a family. If you do this, maybe they can even be out in the open, and you won’t be alone anymore.”
Mrs. Bartleby froze. “I won’t?”
Ten minutes later they walked out of the house, one work slip down. Thomas was beside himself.
“How in the hell did that work? Why did it work?” He asked, laughing in disbelief. “You made it sound like you were doing her a favor by not getting rid of the vermin.”
Wil shrugged, not quite sure how to explain it. How did he tell someone results oriented that sometimes, you didn’t have to solve problems if you could sidestep them? Thomas was no fool, but things had to make sense for him.
“The way I see it, she’s a cranky older lady who needs something to fuss over. The mice are simple and just want food and to not be attacked. Make it clear they won’t be attacked and that she’ll have roommates…I will bet you a thousand zynce that we could come back in a week and she’ll be happy and things will be okay.”
Thomas eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure whether I want to take that bet or not. Let’s just…That’s one job down. How many left are there? Will they all be this…Unconventional?”
“Hey, bravo for not complaining more,” Wil said with mock applause. “It’s spring, so a lot of them have to do with allergies and helping with farms. This one just seemed the easiest. Really, you don’t have to keep coming with me. If you’d rather not waste your time, you could take today off or just work on your own.”
“No I can’t,” Thomas sighed. “You’ve got me curious now. And the more of these you get done, the less we’ll have in the future, right?”
“Right.”
Thomas reached into the box of work slips and pulled one out. He read it, making a face. “Carl the bull’s having stomach issues.”
Wil groaned. “Not again. Pick another one, we’ll do that one later.”
They did have other, better things to do, but there was a comfortable familiarity in running around town and solving problems. If nothing else, it would work wonders for his sense of accomplishment. With the clock working against them, he needed every mental boost available.