Snorri was having some trouble following Sally's rapid stream of words. “Yorgon?”
she asked, catching the end of the sentence.
Sally nodded. “As good as,” she said. “Not dead exactly but they reckon it's only a matter of time. You feel fine for a while, then you get a red rash spreading up from the bite, feel dizzy and bang—next thing you know you're flat out on the floor and away with the fairies.”
“Fairies?” asked Snorri.
“Yes,” said Sally, springing to her feet at the welcome sight of a customer.
The customer was a tall woman with short spiky hair. She held her cloak close around her. Snorri could see little of the woman's face, but there was an angry look to the way she stood. A murmured conversation ensued between her and Sally, then the woman left as swiftly as she had come.
Smiling, Sally rejoined Snorri at her seat overlooking the river. “Well, it's an ill wind that blows no one good,” she said, much to Snorri's bemusement. “That was Geraldine who just came in. Strange woman, reminds me of someone, though I can't think who. Anyway, she asked if the RatStranglers can meet up here before they go out, er, rat strangling.”
“Ratstrang-gling?” asked Snorri.
"Well, rat catching. They reckon if they get rid of all the rats, they'll get rid of the Sickenesse, too. Makes sense to me. Anyway, I'm very pleased. A load of hungry and thirsty rat catchers is just what the cafe could do with right now."
No one else came into the cafe after the spiky Geraldine left, and soon Sally started noisily putting up the benches on the tables and began to mop the floor. Snorri took the hint and bade Sally good night.
“Good night, dear,” said Sally cheerily. “Don't hang around outside now, will you?”
Snorri had no intention of hanging around. She ran back to the Alfrun and was very glad to see the NightUllr prowling the deck. Leaving Ullr on guard, Snorri retreated to her cabin, barred the hatch and kept the oil lamp burning all night.
3
An Unwelcome Visitor
That evening, while Snorri Snorrelssen was barricading her cabin door, Jenna, Sarah and Silas Heap were finishing supper at the Palace. Although Sarah Heap would have much rather had supper in one of the smaller Palace kitchens, she had long ago given in to the Cook's insistence that royalty most definitely did not eat in the kitchen. No, not even on a quiet wet Wednesday, no way, not while she was Cook—"and that, Mistress Heap, is final."
And so in the vast Palace dining room, marooned at the very end of a long table, three figures sat in a pool of candle-light. A log fire spat and spluttered behind them, occasionally landing a spark on the wiry and somewhat mangy coat of a large dog, who lay snoring and grunting in front of the fire, but Maxie the wolfhound did not notice. Beside the wolfhound hovered the Supper Servant, glad of the warmth but longing to clear the food and get away from the smells of singed dog hair—and worse—that floated up from Maxie.
But supper was taking an age. Sarah Heap, adoptive mother of Jenna, the Princess and heir to the Castle, had a lot to say. “Well, I don't want you leaving the Palace at all, Jenna, and that is that. There's something nasty out there biting people and giving them the Sickenesse. You are to stay here where it is safe until this whatever-it-is is caught.”
“But Septimus—”
“No buts. I don't care whether Septimus needs you to clean out his disgusting dragon or not, though, if you ask me, it would be a whole lot better if he didn't clean it out quite so often—have you seen the mess down by the river? I don't know what Billy Pot is thinking of, the piles of dragon droppings must be ten feet high at least. I used to enjoy walking by the river but now—”
“Mum, I don't mind not cleaning out Spit Fyre, not one bit, but I have to go see the Dragon Boat every day,” Jenna said.
“I'm sure the Dragon Boat will manage without you,” Sarah told her. “It's not as if it knows you're there anyway.”
“ She does, Mum. I'm sure she does. It would be awful for her to wake up and find no one there, no one for days and days...”
“Far better than finding no one there ever again,” said Sarah sharply. “You are not to go out until something has been done about this Sickenesse.”
“Don't you think you're making a fuss about nothing?” Silas asked mildly.
Sarah did not think so. “I do not call having to open up the Infirmary nothing, Silas.”
“What, that old dump? I'm surprised it's still standing.”
“There's no choice, Silas. There are too many people sick for them to go anywhere else. Which you would have realized if you didn't spend so much time up in the attic playing silly games—”
“Counter-Feet is not a silly game, Sarah. And now I've found what must be the best Colony in the Castle—you should have seen Gringe's face when I told him—I am not going to let the Counters go. They won't be getting out of a Sealed room in a hurry.”
Sarah Heap sighed. Ever since they had moved into the Palace, Silas had practically given up his day-to-day Ordinary Wizard job and had taken up a succession of hobbies—the board game of Counter-Feet being the latest and most long-lasting, much to her irritation. “You know I don't think it's a good idea to go opening Sealed rooms, Silas,” Sarah chided. “They are usually Sealed for a reason, especially if they're hidden away up in the attic. We had a talk about it at the Herb Society only last month.”
Silas was scathing. "And what do those Herbs know about Wizard stuff, Sarah?
Nothing. Huh."
“Very well, Silas. I suppose you're safer up in the attic with your daft Counter Colony for now anyway.”
“Quite,” said Silas. “Is there any more pie?”
“No, you've got the last piece.” A strained silence followed, and in the silence Jenna was sure she could hear a distant clamor.
“Can you hear that?” she asked. She got up and looked out one of the tall windows that overlooked the front of the Palace. Jenna could see down the drive, which, as ever, was lit with burning torches, and through the great Palace Gates that were locked at night. But on the other side of the gates was a mob, shouting and banging trash can lids and yelling, “Rats, rats, get the rats. Rats, rats, kill the rats!”
Sarah joined Jenna at the window. “It's the RatStranglers,” she said. “I don't know what they're doing here.”
“Looking for rats, I suppose,” said Silas, his mouth full of apple pie. “Plenty of 'em around here. I think we had one in the soup tonight.”
The chanting of the RatStranglers picked up speed. “Rat trap, rat trap, splat, splat, splat! Rat trap, rat trap, splat, splat, splat!”
“Poor rats,” said Jenna.
“It's not rats that are spreading the Sickenesse anyway,” said Sarah. “I was helping at the Infirmary yesterday and the bites are definitely not rat bites. Rats have more than one tooth. Oh, look, they're off up the road to the servants' quarters. Oh, dear me.”
At that, the Supper Servant sprang into action. She scooped up the plates, wrestled Silas's last piece of apple pie from his grasp and rushed out of the room. There was a crash as she dropped the plates down the garbage chute to the kitchens below. Then she fled back to her quarters to check on Percy, her pet rat.
Supper didn't last long after that. Sarah and Silas went off to Sarah's small sitting room at the back of the Palace, where Sarah had a book to finish and Silas was busy writing a pamphlet entitled Top Ten Counter-Feet Tips, for which he had high hopes.
Jenna decided to go to her room and read. Jenna liked her own company and she loved wandering around the Palace, especially at night when candles cast great shadows across the corridors and many of the Ancient ghosts woke up. At night the Palace lost the rather empty feeling that it had during the day and became a busy, purposeful place once again. Most of the Ancients chose to Appear to Jenna and relished the chance to talk to the Princess, even if many could not remember which Princess she actually was. Jenna enjoyed her chats, even though she had soon discovered that each ghost tended to say the same thing every night, and she soon knew most conversations by heart.
Jenna wandered up the wide sweeping stairs to the gallery that ran above the hall, and stopped to talk to the ghost of an old governess of a pair of young Princesses who spent most nights wandering the passageways looking for her charges.