‘Not so bad, ratling boy. Isn’t it a marvel what you can do with ascrap of decent grub in your belly? You were right up near thetop.’

And Saul felt pride at his climbing.

Below them was a little courtyard hemmed in on all sides by dirtywalls and windows. To Saul’s new eyes the robust dirt of theenclosure was almost too vibrant to look at. Every corner teemed withthe spreading stains of decay; this weak spot of the city had beenconvincingly annexed by the forces of filth. A disconcerting line ofdolls gently mouldered where they had been placed, their backs to thewall, eyes on the pewter-coloured plug in the corner of thecourtyard. A manhole.

King Rat exhaled through his nose triumphantly.

‘Home,’ he hissed. ‘Into the palace.’

He leapt from the top of the wall, landing in a crouch over themanhole, surrounding it. He made no sound as he came to rest on theconcrete. His coat drifted down around him, surrounding him like oilypuddle. He looked up and waited.

Saul looked down and felt the old fears. He steele himself,swallowed. He willed himself to jump, but his legs had locked into afearful squat, and he grew exasperated as he readied himself to landbeside uncle. He breathed in, once, twice, very deeply, to stood,swung his arms and launched himself at the shape waiting for him.

He saw greys and reds of bricks and concrete lurct around him inslow motion, he moved his body, prepared his landing, as he saw KingRat’s grin approached him at speed; then the world jolted hard, his eyesand teeth juddered in his face, and he was down. His knees pushed allthe air out of his stomach, but he smile with exhilaration as heovercame his spasming belly and sucked air into his lungs. He hadflown, had I landed ready. He was shedding his humanity like an oldsnakeskin, scratching it off in great swathes. It was so fast, thisassumption of a new form inside.

‘You’re a good boy,’ said King Rat, and busied himself with themetal in the ground.

Saul looked up. He saw figures move behind the windows above,wondered if anyone could see them.

King Rat’s London snarl had assumed a didactic tone. ‘Payattention, ratling. This here is the entrance to your ceremonialabode. The all of Rome-vill is yours by rights, you’re royalty. Butthere’s a special palace, the rat’s own hidey-hole, and you bing awaste there through these portholes.’ He indicated the metal cover.‘Observe.’

King Rat’s fingers scuttled over the iron disc like a virtuosotypist’s, investigating its surface. He turned his head from side toside, cocked it briefly, then suddenly tensed his body and slippedhis fingers into infinitesimal gaps between the seal and its shaft.It was like sleight of hand: Saul could not see what had happened, orhow the fingers had fit, yet they were there, pulling, in thegaps.

The manhole cover twisted with a yelp of rust. There was a rush ofdirty wind as King Rat pulled it free.

Saul stared into the pit. The swirling winds of the courtyardyanked at the rich-smelling wisps of vapour emerging from the hole.The sewer was gorged with darkness; it seemed to overflow, seepingout of the open concrete and obscuring the ground. The organic scentof compost billowed out. Just visible, a ladder driven into thesubterranean brick plunged out of sight. Where it was riveted to thewall, metal had oxidized and leached out profusely, making the sewerbleed rust. The sound of a thin flow of water was amplified by theyawning tunnels, making for a bizarre booming trickle.

King Rat looked at Saul. He clenched his hand into a fist,extended a pointing index finger, and his hand described an elaboratetwisting path through the air, playfully circling, till it spiralleddown and came to rest pointing into the sewer. King Rat stood at theedge of the thin circle. He stepped out over the hole and droppedthrough the pavement. There was a tiny echoing damp sound.

King Rat’s voice emerged from underground.

‘Down you come.’

Saul squeezed his hips through the hole.

‘Tut a lid on it,’ said King Rat from below, and laughed briefly.Saul fumbled with the metal cover. He was half in, half out of thesewer. He sank under the weight of the metal. He held it above hishead and descended. The light disappeared.

Saul shivered in the cold of the sewer. His feet clapped on themetal. He stumbled as his feet hit wetness. He backed away from theladder and rubbed himself in the darkness. Air gusted and hissed;freezing water flooded his shoes.

‘Where are you?’ he whispered.

‘Watching,’ came King Rat’s voice. It moved around him. ‘Wait.You’ll see. You’ve never tried this, laddie, so hold your horses. Thedarkmans is nothing to you.’

Saul stood still. His hands were invisible before him.

Shapes moved in front of him. He thought they were real until thecorridors themselves began to emerge from the darkness and herealized that those other fleeting, indistinct forms were born in hismind. They were dispelled as Saul began to see.

He saw the muck of the drains. He saw the energy it containedspilling out, a grey light that showed no colours but illuminated thedamp tunnels. Before him a study in perspective, the shit-andalgae-encrusted walls of the shaft meeting in the distance. Behindhim and to his right more tunnels, and everywhere the smell, rot andfaeces, and the pungent smell of piss, rat piss. He wrinkled hisnose, his hackles rising.

‘No worries,’ said King Rat, a figure saturated in shadows,drenched in them, a mass of darkness. ‘Some cove’s staked a claim andmade a mark, but we’re royalty. His territory doesn’t mean fuck tous.’

Saul looked about him. A thin rivulet of dirty water seeped by athis feet. His every movement seemed to set off an explosion ofechoes. He stood in a twisting brick cylinder seven feet in diameter.From everywhere came the noises of streaming water and fallingstones, and organic sounds of squeaks and scratches, peaking, dyingout and being replaced, sounds far away being written over by thosenearby, a palimpsest of noise.

‘I want to see you leg it, staying mum as you like,’ said KingRat. He startled Saul. His voice wandered through the tunnels,exploring every corner. ‘I want to see you shift your arse, climbsharpish. I want to see you swim. School is in.’

King Rat turned to face the same direction as Saul. He pointedinto the charcoal grey.

‘We’re off that away. And we’re off sharpish. So pull your ringerout and keep up. Ready, my old lad?’

Saul shivered with excitement, the cold irrelevant now, andcrouched in a starter’s position.

‘Come on, then,’ he said.

King Rat turned and bolted.

Saul did not feel his legs moving as he followed. The rapid, faintbeat of footsteps he heard was his own; King Rat was soundless. Saulcould feel his nose twitching and he felt like laughing.

He panted with exhilaration. King Rat was an ill defined blurbefore him, his coat flapping vaguely in the noisome wind. Tunnelspassed by on either side, water spattered him. King Rat disappearedsuddenly, cutting sharply left down a smaller tunnel where the waterpressure was greater, swirling insistently around Saul’s legs. Hepulled his legs up out of the stream.

King Rat turned his head for a second, a flash of pale flesh. Hecrouched as he ran and pulled to a sudden halt. He waited brieflywhile Saul caught him up, then ducked into a claustrophobic shaftbarely three feet high. Saul did not hesitate, but dove in afterhim.

Saul’s breath and the sound of his flesh on the brick camebouncing back at him, as loud and intimate as if they existed only inhis head. He stumbled, mud smearing his legs, careering along thetube in a messy, effective fashion.

His nose hit wet cloth. King Rat had stopped suddenly.

Saul peered over King Rat’s shoulder.

‘What is it?’ he hissed.