Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) by Peter David Page A

and therefore not all that far. “Now,” said Thomas, “we wait.”
    â€œWait for what?” The northerner was looking increasingly impatient and was clearly getting angrier. “How long are we supposed t’wait?”
    â€œAs long as it takes although it shouldn’t be too long . . . if you stop talking, that is. The more you talk, the longer it’s probably going to require.” Thomas looked at him blandly. “Do you have some other pressing engagement?”
    It didn’t seem possible that the northerner could scowl even more fiercely than he already had, but as it turned out, that was the case. Nevertheless, his beard bristling as if in response to his indignation, the northerner lapsed into silence.
    Nothing happened for long minutes. The coin simply sat there. Others in the inn, curious due to the lack of fighting or, at the very least, the severe mauling that had failed to ensue, crept up the steps to get a better look. The stairs creaked under their treads, and James would do his best to shush them, although it wasn’t as if he had much clearer an idea of what was transpiring than anyone else.
    And then, just when it seemed as if the northerner’s admittedly limited patience was at its end, Thomas’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed. “There,” he said, so softly that it could scarcely be heard.
    There was a loose plank in the floorboard at the far corner. Thomas had been eagle-eyed enough to spot it even when no one else had. Now the board moved ever so slightly, and a small pinkish nose emerged from beneath. Because the light was dim, and the men at the door remained unmoving at Thomas’s behest, the owner of the nose grew confident, thinking itself unobserved. Seconds later, it had emerged from the plank. It was a small, gray-furred rodent, larger than a mouse but smaller than a rat, with its eyes set up higher on its head than a typical rat’s would be. It skittered across the floor straight toward the coin and picked it up in its tiny claws. It gnawed on the coin for a moment and then, even though it clearly wasn’t any manner of food, turned and scuttled off with it back toward the plank.
    â€œWhat the hell—?” breathed the northerner.
    â€œShhh!” Thomas said sharply. The instant the creature had disappeared beneath the plank, Thomas was inside the room and on his knees. He preemptively put a finger to his lips, indicating that everyone else should remain quiet. Now they could all hear the skittering of the tiny creature under the floorboards. Thomas followed it, putting his head against the floor so that he could hear it more clearly. He followed it as it made its way around the room. Seconds later Thomas was crawling under the bed, and then he stopped. He waited a few moments, and said, “Someone slide me a dagger.” Unsurprisingly, the northerner was able to produce one instantly. He knelt and slid it carefully under the bed. They heard a faint scratching, then Thomas emerged from the bed. He extended the dagger to the northerner, hilt first, and then indicated the bed. “Push it aside,” he said.
    â€œBut what was that thing?”
    â€œIt’s called a pack rat. I heard something scuttling around under the floor downstairs earlier on. When you told me what had happened, I remembered it. They’re pretty common in more deserted areas in the land. If they see something sparkly and are carrying something when they do, they tend to drop whatever it is they have in their paws so that they can grab up the shiny item. And I think its nest is right under there.”
    The northerner, needing no further urging, yanked aside the bed and revealed an “X” on the floor that Thomas had carved into it with the dagger. “Now,” said Thomas, “you can use the dagger to pry up the—”
    The northerner dropped to one knee, drew back his huge right fist, and slammed it into the floor