A Taste for Rabbit Read online

  Mr. Gerard? How is he involved in this?

  “Well, I can tell you, Mr. Isaac,” the weasel went on. “It’s smooth. Smooth as an otter’s behind. We ain’t never had no trouble with them stinkin’ rabbits.”

  Harry just nodded. The less he said, the more he’d find out, and he had a feeling he was about to find out everything.

  The weasel whipped off his cap. “I’m Martin,” he said with a deferential nod. “I seen you in Foxboro, but we ain’t never met. I deliver the product to one of your guards, sir.”

  “Right,” Harry said, trying to approximate Isaac’s snarl. “And you’ve been doing this for a while, correct?”

  “Since the spring, sir. Ain’t that when you hired Mr. Gerard? Ain’t that when he hired me?”

  This was it. This was the connection he’d been looking for. But what is this product he keeps talking about? Harry turned his attention to the wheelbarrow. “Well, what have you got there?” he asked gruffly.

  Martin gestured. “Same as always. Ain’t nothin’ different. Wanna look?”

  Leaning on the walking stick, Harry remembered to limp over to the ’barrow. Martin stood alongside it; Harry could sense his nervousness. The weasel reached in and fumbled with the drawstring that tied a burlap sack. He opened the sack, reached for the bottom, and shook it roughly, dumping the contents onto the snow-covered road.

  Three rabbits, a middle-aged male and two adolescents, tumbled out into the moonlight, and all dead, judging by the look of them, killed within the last twenty-four hours. There was no blood; all three had been strangled.

  Harry was shocked. Three rabbits but only the strange scent — how was that possible? It was rabbit, certainly, but there was nothing delicious about it, nothing tempting. Even more surprising, the rabbits were wearing clothes. The male wore boots and trousers of a heavy, woven material; the adolescents also wore shirts and boots. Why would anyone put clothes on a rabbit? “What’s this?” Harry asked, gesturing to the clothes.

  “What? Oh. Ain’t that the way we always deliver ’em?” Martin replied. “Don’t never remember no shipment that didn’t have no clothes. Mr. Gerard wasn’t happy none, the first time he seen it. Seems it don’t matter none to him no more, though.”

  “Right,” Harry said again with a curt nod. I’ll figure it out later, he thought. In the meantime, he was about to find out how Gerard and Isaac were connected. “Where is Gerard?”

  “Oh, he ain’t nowhere,” Martin replied with a shrug, laboriously stuffing the rabbits back into the sack and tying it tightly. “Not doin’ nothin’ but sleepin’ in his bed at the Inn while I make my delivery, as per usual. He won’t be doin’ nothin’ except meetin’ with you to pick up more gold. Then in a few days we ain’t doin’ nothin’ but collectin’ the next shipment. Just doin’ what we always done.”

  “Very well,” Harry said gruffly. “Stop wasting time, then, and keep moving. Wait!” Harry stopped the wheelbarrow with his walking stick. “I’ll take one of those.” He reached in, opened the sack, and pulled out the large male. He was hungry, although there was nothing in the rabbit scent that tempted him. Maybe they would taste good anyway. After all, could Harry the Fox walk away from a ’barrow full of rabbits? Wouldn’t he regret it tomorrow? Weren’t they fresh killed? It had been years since he’d eaten rabbit! He grabbed it by the ears and started to drag it away.

  “Stop!”

  Martin had pulled himself up to his full height and was staring at Harry. He held a stubby knife and was walking toward him unsteadily, his paw shaking. “I’m sorry, sir,” Martin said, his voice quavering, “but I can’t never let you do that.”

  “What did you say?”

  The weasel seemed to shrink into himself. “I can’t never let you do that. I have a contract, ain’t I? Ain’t I deliverin’ a specifical amount of the stinkin’ product to the guards at your front gate? Ain’t there a number written right here?” He fumbled for a piece of paper in his pocket with his free paw. “If I don’t deliver no product, I ain’t never gettin’ no money. And probably worse.”

  “But those rabbits are mine! Whether I get them now or later makes no difference. Have you forgotten who I am?” Harry said, experiencing a moment of genuine outrage. Pretending to be Isaac was easier than he expected. He turned toward Martin, his walking stick raised.

  Martin cowered, his paws protecting his head, and dropped the knife. “Please don’t kill me, sir,” he said, his voice a high-pitched whine. “Please. I ain’t doing nothin’ but my job.” He fell to his knees and began to weep. “Don’t kill me!”

  Harry stopped. He suddenly recalled John, the fox who’d asked Isaac for an extension on his loan when he and Isaac had gone to the bank. The image of the bloody cane returned and he put the walking stick down.

  “All right. Listen, Martin,” he said in his normal voice, “I’m not Isaac. I’m Harry, his brother. Tell me what this is all about and … I won’t say anything to Mr. Gerard about the bottle in your jacket pocket.”

  Martin fell back on the road. “You ain’t Mr. Isaac?” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “You ain’t going to kill me?”

  “No, I’m not going to kill you.” Harry returned the rabbit to the wheelbarrow.

  “I thought for sure you was Mr. Isaac,” Martin said, squinting at Harry suspiciously. “You look like him. You sound like him.” He stuffed the rabbit back into the sack. “You got a stick.” He nodded toward it. “But you ain’t him?”

  “No.”

  Martin turned away. “You say you ain’t,” he said under his breath. “And I say maybe I believe you.” He took out the bottle and drank from it deeply.

  Harry ignored him and pointed to the wheelbarrow. “I don’t like the way these rabbits smell,” he said, trying to move things along. “They have no scent at all, not in the regular way. What’s going on?”

  “I swore to Mr. Gerard I wouldn’t never say nothin’ to nobody. I could get into trouble.” Then he saw Harry’s face.

  Martin told Harry everything he knew.

  Harry was stunned. “Are you saying Wally and Dan are rabbits? Talking? Thinking? And that the whole colony is like them?”

  “Hard to believe, ain’t it?” Martin said, nodding sympathetically.

  “You’re making this up!”

  “I swear to you, Mr. Harry. I ain’t making nothing up. I couldn’t.”

  “What you’re telling me is impossible. Rabbits are prey — they are food. Food doesn’t talk and wear clothes. It doesn’t trade for gold. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Just listen. I’m sayin’ I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it, neither. First time ain’t I almost fainted? Even now, it still don’t make no sense to me.”

  “Dan … Wally — they’re selling their own kind to be … eaten as food … in exchange for gold? That’s disgusting,” Harry said. “It’s against natural law to eat any creature that can think and speak — and it’s illegal in every culture I’ve ever heard about. Besides, sentient creatures don’t smell like food.” That explains these rabbits. And I almost ate one anyway. He swallowed hard; just the thought of it made him gag.

  Martin nodded. “You’re right, Mr. Harry,” he said, nodding vigorously again. “You are so right. You definitely ain’t wrong about that!” He’d found another bottle in a different pocket after tossing the empty one into the forest. He offered it to Harry, who shook his head.

  “What is Isaac doing with them?”

  Martin shrugged and opened the bottle. “Maybe Mr. Gerard knows, but he ain’t telling me nothin’. But you know what, Mr. Harry? Old Martin here knows.” He tapped his head, hard. “I ain’t stupid. He ain’t doin’ nothin’ but sellin’ them to his rich friends for food. Ain’t I been to his house at night? Ain’t I seen the lights and smelled the smells?” He smacked his lips. “There ain’t no one who knows where the rabbits come from,” he said, starting to laugh and sounding like a barking dog. “Harf, harf! But I do. Harf, harf, harf!” He slapped his knee. “I kn
ow where they come from! Harf, harf!” He drank deeply from the bottle and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “When is the next … shipment?” Harry asked.

  “In a few days. You ain’t going to do nothing to stop this, are you?” Martin asked, looking alarmed.

  “Why should I stop it? It’s none of my business,” Harry said, standing up. “You have nothing to worry about, Martin. I’ll keep your secret.”

  Martin scrambled to his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Harry. Now you need to swear you won’t tell nobody neither.”

  What an idiot. Isn’t that what ‘I’ll keep your secret’ means? But Harry said, “I swear.” They shook on it.

  “I need to get movin’,” Martin said. “I ain’t never been late before and I ain’t goin’ to start now. Good-bye, Mr. Harry.”

  Harry reached into his jacket pocket. “Martin,” he said. “Can you keep a secret?” He held out one of the large bills Isaac had given him.

  Martin nodded.

  “You didn’t see me and we didn’t talk.” He handed the bill to the weasel.

  Martin nodded again, looking at the bill. His face was serious. “I ain’t never seen you and we ain’t never talked. Never seen you. Ain’t never talked. You can count on me.” He tucked the bill away in his pocket, lifted the end of the wheelbarrow, and continued toward Foxboro.

  Harry started down the road again and then stopped. If Isaac knows about the rabbits, then why did he send me to the fortress to investigate? As for Gerard, he obviously never had any intention of meeting me at the cabins. He went to this cave Martin mentioned to facilitate another exchange of “product.” Disgusting. There’s nothing wrong with his knee. He had to make up something to tell Elton.

  The encounter with Martin had slowed Harry’s progress, but in other ways had greatly enhanced it. Now I understand what “Remember: I trust you” means. Isaac must be making a fortune selling the rabbits for food. The money he’d be paying this Wally and Dan would be a pittance compared to what he was collecting. That’s why he had so much money in the bank!

  I should have asked for more.

  His mind raced. Who had killed the other fox scouts Isaac had mentioned — Wally and Dan? Harry laughed out loud. Foxes killed by rabbits had to be someone’s idea of a joke. Ridiculous. And the “irregularities” Isaac had referred to, the promises he’d had to make — were they connected to this trade in sentient creatures?

  Could he believe anything Isaac had told him?

  Harry stopped in his tracks again. Of course. In addition to being disgusting, Isaac’s plan was a criminal act with serious consequences. All I need is proof.

  I have found a way to win at Harry the Fox checkers.

  … “I swear it’s true, Your Honor. I saw for myself and heard the story of this morally reprehensible trade. I had no choice but to bring the matter to the proper authorities.”

  The High Judge was impressed. “You are a remarkable fox, and an upstanding citizen,” he said. “Not even fraternal loyalty prevented you from doing your duty.”

  “No, Your Honor.” Harry bowed his head modestly. “My utter devotion to a high moral code was stronger than the deep, abiding love I felt for my brother. I had no choice.”

  “The Court commends you, Harry.” The High Judge, normally austere and reserved, smiled, reached down from the bench, and shook Harry’s paw. The full gallery of spectators rose to its feet and cheered.

  The Judge turned to Isaac. “Have you anything to say for yourself, you despicable creature?”

  “Only that I never understood what a fine fox my brother Harry is,” Isaac said in a low voice, “and how in every way he is superior to me.” Then Isaac, his head bowed in shame, was led away in chains, to serve a life sentence in prison….

  Harry couldn’t help himself. He did a little dance on the snowy road. I can bring him down, he thought exultantly, and I can look good in the process.

  Harry walked the path with unflagging energy, his conversation with Martin ringing in his ears. He decided to return to the Inn to confront Gerard, perhaps inquire innocently about his knee. Then Harry could tell him what he knew; Gerard would deny his involvement, of course, but Harry would persist. After that … he’d wait and see. And there was no rush to get home, either. Let Isaac think that his plan to get me out of town for two weeks, for whatever reason, has been successful. I can still return early and go straight to the High Court. Whatever Isaac is cooking up, he thought with a grim laugh, will disintegrate once the Court brings him into custody. As for the rest of the money Isaac owes me, I’ll just collect it before I turn him in. A double victory.

  The day dawned clear and cold, but by midmorning it had started to snow again. Harry hardly noticed. The conversation with Martin had been stunning.

  It wasn’t only Gerard’s connection with Isaac, although that knowledge provided Harry with unending satisfaction. No. It was the idea of rabbits who could talk and think and wear clothes. I still can’t imagine having a conversation with one. What would we talk about, anyway? The weather? What could we possibly have in common?

  After a while he reached a point where the road turned toward the south; by late afternoon the sky was gray, and the snow fell in a steady curtain before him. As Harry walked along, he became aware of that odd rabbit scent again. He stopped. It couldn’t be Martin and his wheelbarrow. The weasel would be close to Foxboro by now, making his delivery to Isaac’s guards. The scent could not be coming from the fortress — he was too far from there, wasn’t he? — and there was no wind to carry it this distance. He walked cautiously toward a large, rocky outcropping where the scent seemed strongest, and peered around it.

  In a small clearing, he saw a rabbit wearing a jacket and boots, sitting under a roughly built lean-to and surrounded by several open packs and a small book. The snow fell silently over the scene. The rabbit sat with its head in its paws, a blanket wrapped around its shoulders.

  “Oh, gods,” it said, and its voice was muffled. “Oh, gods.”

  So it’s true! Harry thought. The shock of hearing the rabbit speak made his heart beat faster. He turned away and scooped up some soft snow and rubbed it on his face. The cold was startling; he shook his head to clear it, then turned back. The creature was still there, only now it stood up, wrapped the blanket more tightly around its shoulders, and started to pace.

  “It had to be the rebels and they have to have figured out by now that they made a mistake,” it muttered, and Harry noted its foreign-sounding accent. The rabbit ran a paw over its eyes. “Gods! I’m talking to myself! Another day and night like this and I’ll be completely out of my mind.” The rabbit sat down again. “If I go off looking for Zack and Frank, I’ll just get lost and they’ll never find me. I have to stay here and wait — but where are they?” It opened the book, then slammed it closed and rested its head on its paws again.

  Harry stepped into the clearing. “Who are you?”

  The rabbit, startled at the sound of Harry’s voice, jumped and peered through the falling snow. “A fox! You can talk!” It staggered back against the fallen tree. “Why didn’t I pick up your scent? I must be dreaming! Whatever you are, don’t come near me,” he said, reaching behind the nearest pack for a large, heavy stick. “I’ll defend myself, I swear it!”

  Harry didn’t move. Dan or Wally would not have been surprised to hear him speak. Then who was this one? The rabbit had long, delicate ears and didn’t look terribly strong, but Harry recognized the defensive posture of a desperate creature and knew from experience what strength could lie behind it. “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “You don’t smell like food.”

  The rabbit clutched the stick more tightly. “Who are you? What do you want? Oh, I know what you want, don’t answer that.”

  Harry didn’t move. “My name is Harry, and I told you,” he replied with irritation. “You don’t smell edible. And besides, it’s against the law.”

  “Law? You have laws?”

  “Surely you know there’
s a law against using a sentient creature for food. You appear to qualify.”

  “I know the law! What do you think I am? But you’re a fox,” the rabbit said. “Just because you don’t smell like one and know how to talk doesn’t mean you’ll obey the law. Why should I trust you?”

  Very true, thought Harry. “I don’t have to justify myself to anyone, certainly not to a rabbit,” he said scornfully. “You just proved my point. Just because you can speak doesn’t mean you can think.”

  The clearing was growing darker; Harry lit Elton’s lantern, which made a small yellow circle on the snow. It was getting very cold.

  Harry sat down, facing the rabbit, who dropped the stick and slid slowly to the ground. “This is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me,” the rabbit said. “If someone had told me yesterday that I would be sitting in the middle of the forest, all alone, talking to a fox who could talk back to me …! Maybe I am dreaming.” The rabbit shook his head. “Gods, I hope so.”

  “If anyone had told me two days ago that I’d be talking to a rabbit instead of eat …” The rabbit looked up, shocked. “Never mind,” Harry said. “Do you have a name?”

  “Quentin,” the rabbit said. “My name is Quentin.”

  “What are you doing here? Who are you waiting for? Who are the rebels?”

  “You heard me? Well, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Fine,” Harry said. He stood up and reached for the lantern.

  Quentin looked alarmed. “No, wait! You’re the first creature I’ve seen or spoken to since … yesterday.”

  “Well?”

  “The rebels … Zack and Frank … are my friends. They left me behind by mistake and are coming back for me.” Quentin peered into the darkening woods, as if he could hear their footsteps. “There are thousands of them,” he said, but his voice quavered. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  It was an obvious lie, but Harry was impressed with the effort. “You speak with an accent,” he said.