A night's rest did little to ease William's throbbing back. No matter which position he lay in, his muscles ached in time with his heartbeat. Each time he managed to drift into a fitful sleep, nightmares filled with rats and Father's belt biting his flesh sent him jolting awake gasping for breath.
As the sun's rays sliced through the window, William dragged himself into the kitchen with his eyes downcast. On days after Father disciplined him, it was best to look sufficiently chastened. Head bowed, feet shuffling, gaze firmly fixed on his feet. Once he finally reached the dining table. William eased himself into his seat, suppressing a wince as his still-healing cuts pressed against the back of the chair.
"Good of you to join us," Father said with a scowl. He showed no hint of weariness despite lashing William's back bloody the evening before. "We were just discussing your sister's first day back at school."
"I can't wait to see Peter and Matthew again," Emma said. "Mrs. Ward said she's going to let us go pick flowers after we practice our letters today."
"I wish you wouldn't spend time with that that Cunningham boy," Father grumbled. "Always had sticky fingers, that one. He may only pilfer candies now, but mark my words, it won't be long before he starts targeting coin purses."
"I'm just glad the children seem to be settling in," Mother said. She'd taken her time braiding Emma's hair even more carefully than usual this morning, tying it off with a blue ribbon the same color as her eyes. "Now that everyone's had more time to get used to being home again, hopefully things will be able to start going back to normal."
"Should see more business at the forge, at least," Father said. "Folks have already been asking for spare horseshoes for their children to play with. It's a waste of metal, but as long as I get paid, that's fine by me."
William silently chewed on his share of their morning bread. Relieved though he was to have the children home, his fear of the creatures that had stolen their bodies outweighed any happiness he might have felt. With only Mrs. Ward minding the children while they attended school, the rats would be largely free to conspire amongst themselves. Not for the first time, William wished he was not of the age where he was expected to apprentice under his father rather than attending school. Although the children now posed a danger to him much like his father did, he'd gladly assume the risk of spending all day at school with them if that meant he could watch over Emma as best he could.
Now that he knew what lurked inside her, William questioned Emma's every action. Was the way she devoured her bread without leaving a single crumb behind the desperate hunger of a child who had not eaten a proper meal in a year or the frenzied feasting of a rat with uninhibited access to food? Were her darting eyes reacquainting themselves with the home she had been born in, or were they searching for cracks in the walls in case the rat needed to make a hasty retreat? How much of his sister remained, and how much had been swallowed by the rodent squirming inside her stomach?
Father cleared his throat.
William jolted, nearly dropping his last morsel of bread. "Sorry, I was thinking about something."
"I'm sure you were," Father said. "Listen, boy. I've been doing some thinking of my own, and I want to apologize to you."
"You do?" Father never apologized for anything. Not when he arrived home reeking of ale after spending hours at the tavern. Not when he'd broken Mother's only jewelry, a delicate silver necklace she'd inherited from her grandmother. Never.
"I was too harsh with you yesterday," Father said. "Sometimes I forget you're little more than a child yourself, still too young to realize how foolish you can be."
"You're right, Father. I was foolish," William said quietly, his shoulders slumped. Foolish enough to believe his father was sincere, if only for a moment. He should have known better than to expect such kindness, yet some small part of him clung to that possibility all the same.
"I shouldn't have taken things as far as I did," Father continued. "I'm sorry."
With each word, Mother relaxed in her seat as if Father's words ensured a return to normalcy, but William knew the truth. It was not beating him his father regretted but leaving such prominent marks. Normally lashes from his belt remained hidden under William's shirt, but the buckle had left swollen lumps the size of his fist. Should William desire to reveal the way his father treated him to the rest of Hamelin, he need only show the metal's imprint branded into his back.
But that was not an option for him. Not if he wanted Emma and his mother to have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs.
"All I was trying to do was make sure you've learned your lesson." Father's steely gaze betrayed his light, inquisitive tone. "You have, haven't you, boy?"
William broke eye contact and stared at his hands. "Yes, Father."
Silence filled the kitchen. Father's unwavering stare burned into his soul.
"I'm sorry I hurt Peter," William said softly. "I'll never do it again."
A smile eased across Father's face, as easy and confident as a fox slipping into a henhouse. "I'm sure you won't."
The four of them ate the rest of their meal in silence. As soon as Emma finished her breakfast, she kicked her feet back and forth under the table as if she couldn't wait to run off to school and away from her family's prying eyes. William itched to put more distance between himself and Father as well, but with Father at least maintaining a façade of being in a good mood, now was his best chance to put Burdock's plan into motion.
"Will you be traveling to Aerzen soon?" William asked, praying to the Lord above that he didn't sound suspicious.
"Perhaps. I ought to replenish my coal stores, and I have half a mind to purchase a few skeins of yarn so your mother can sew Emma a new scarf before the frost comes." He raised an eyebrow, his jaw set in a firm line. "Why? Are you so eager to be rid of me simply because I punished you for your barbaric behavior?"
"No!" William inhaled sharply, startled the word had escaped his mouth far more harshly than he'd intended. "I just thought that since you wanted me to spend more time at the forge, now would be a good time for me to join you the next time you go purchase supplies."
"It would be good for him to get more experience," Mother said.
"Can I come, too?" Emma asked, practically bouncing in her seat.
"The journey is not for children," Father said firmly. His narrowed eyes pierced William like the chilly autumn air biting his aching back. "I will expect you to carry your weight."
"I have been helping you in the forge for over a year, Father." William forced himself to meet his gaze, curling his hands into fists and pressing them into his lap to hide his trembling. "Is it not long past time for me to begin carrying my weight?"
William took a deep breath as Father scowled. Perhaps he had been too forward. Though his father had been pressuring him to spend more time honing his craft at the forge and abandon his 'frivolous pursuit' of practicing his guitar, woe betide him should Father believe he had overstepped.
"You are overdue for a proper lesson in replenishing our supplies and bartering for a fair price." Father nodded. "Very well. You may accompany me when I leave for Aerzen on the morrow."
"Thank you, Father."
"Don't thank me yet, boy," Father said. "I ought to have brought you with me months ago. Perhaps this will finally teach you how to properly apply yourself to the trade. Pack a rucksack for a few hours' journey. We will not have time to waste on purchasing food once we arrive."
As William retreated to his room to pack, his heart thundered in his ears. He'd spend the whole day with Father. Alone.
Once Father went to the forge and Mother left to take Emma to school, Burdock slipped out from underneath his bed. "I will travel with you to Aerzen," he said firmly.
"You heard what Father said?" William slipped some cloth into his rucksack. There was little he could do to tend to his injuries in case Father's temper flared, but simply having something he could use as a makeshift bandage gave him peace of mind. "You don't need to come."
"Nonsense." Burdock twitched his ears. "I know the city and all of its dangers as well as my own paws. Though you may be vigilant, some things are not observable to humans."
William sighed. "How will I take you with me without Father noticing?" He'd flay him alive if he knew he was even considering bringing a rat with him.
"You have a cart, do you not? I will find a way." Burdock paused, baring his teeth. "If your father tries to harm you again, I will do everything in my power to stop him."
"I've been around Father my entire life. I'll be fine." With his meager supplies tucked inside his rucksack, William gave the drawstring one last tug and tied it shut. "He hasn't been able to stop me from playing the guitar before. He won't get in the way of me playing the Hymn of the Whole either."
No one could protect him from Father's wrath. Not Pastor Abrams, not his mother, and certainly not a rat.
"You believe I only care about the way he treats you because of the Hymn?" Burdock asked.
"You can't play it," William said, gesturing to the rat's clawed paws. "Seeing as everyone else who heard it is under the Piper's control, I'm your only option."
"That may be true," Burdock said, "but I do not believe it is so simple as that. We do not share blood, yet I feel a certain kinship with you. My family has been overtaken by a cruel master just as yours has. I do not know if I can free either of us, but I must try."
"Thank you," William said, his throat tightening. Tears fell from his eyes unbidden, and he cautiously stretched a finger toward Burdock. The rat sniffed his hand before bowing his head and accepting a gentle stroke behind the ears. "Nobody has ever stopped Father before, though Mother has tried. It means a lot that you would offer to help."
"Are we not together in our plight?" Burdock asked. "I am not familiar with human ways, but among my kind, it is customary for group members to aid each other as best as they are able."
"I suppose we are," William said quietly. Though his only ally in his quest to free the children stood little more than one hand high, he took heart in the fact that at long last, he no longer had to face his struggles alone.