He
answers without thinking, naming a modest sum he thinks will help him
survive in this world.
The
mayor seems to blink with hesitation, not quite believing what he's
just heard.
“Well
then,” he declares loudly, “If you can rid us of these infernal
rats, the money is yours. Guards!” He punctuates himself with
vigorous bangs of his gavel. “Allow that man to leave the hall.
Everybody else,” he says, now addressing the congregation, “Should
stay here while our guest does his work.”
The
guest in question makes his way to the nearest door. The guard there
offers him a nod, before tentatively opening the door. Before either
of them can move, a large rat scuttles through, which the guard
stamps with his boot. “Out you go,” he says, “Quick as you
like,” shoving him through the door and slamming it closed behind
him.
Alone
in the street, surrounded by untold number of rats, he begins to
amble forward, humming a simple tune almost under his breath.
