“That's right, Maurice,” said the squeaky voice. “Dangerous Beans says we shouldn't live by trickery.”

“Listen, Peaches, trickery is what humans are all about,” said the voice of Maurice. “They're so keen on tricking one another all the time that they elect governments to do it for them. We give them value for money. They get a horrible plague of rats, they pay a rat piper, the rats all follow the kid out of town, hoppity-skip, end of plague, everyone's happy that no-one's widdling in the flour any more, the government gets re-elected by a grateful population, general celebration all round. Money well spent, in my opinion.”

“But there's only a plague because we make them think there is,” said the voice of Peaches.

“Well, my dear, another thing all those little governments spend their money on is rat-catchers, see? I don't know why I bother with the lot of you, I really don't.”

“Yes, but we—”

They realized that the coach had stopped. Outside, in the rain, there was the jingle of harness. Then the coach rocked a little, and there was the sound of running feet.

A voice from out of the darkness said, “Are there any wizards in there?”

The occupants looked at one another in puzzlement.

“No?” said the kid, the kind of “no” that means “why are you asking?”

“How about any witches?” said the voice.

“No, no witches,” said the kid.

“Right. Are there any heavily-armed trolls employed by the mail-coach company in there?”

“I doubt it,” said Maurice.

There was a moment's pause, filled with the sound of the rain.

“OK, how about werewolves?” said the voice eventually.

“What do they look like?” asked the kid.

“Ah, well, they look perfectly normal right up to the point where they grow all, like, hair and teeth and giant paws and leap through the window at you,” said the voice. The speaker sounded as though he was working through a list.