“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.
“Good eventide, Princess Esmeralda,” said the governess, who wore a permanently worried expression.
“Good evening, Mary,” replied Jenna, who had long since stopped telling Mary that she was actually called Jenna, as it had no effect whatsoever.
“I am glad to see you are still safe and well,” said the governess.
“Thank you, Mary,” said Jenna.
“Be careful, my dear,” said the governess as she always did.
“I will,” Jenna replied as ever, and went on her way. Soon she turned off from the gallery into a wide candlelit corridor at the end of which were the tall double doors that led to her room.
“Good evening, Sir Hereward,” Jenna greeted the Ancient Guard of the Royal Bedchamber, a disheveled and very faded ghost who had been at his post for some eight hundred years or more and had no intention of retiring. Sir Hereward was missing an arm and a good deal of his armor, as his entry into ghosthood had been the result of one of the last land battles between the Castle and the Port. He was one of Jenna's favorites and she felt safe with him on guard; the old knight had a jovial manner and a liking for jokes and, unusual for an Ancient, generally managed not to repeat himself too often.
“Good evening, fair Princess. Here's a good one: What is the difference between an elephant and a banana?”
“I don't know.” Jenna smiled. “What is the difference between an elephant and a banana?”
“Well, I won't send you out to do my shopping then. Hurr hurr!”
“Oh ... very funny. Ha-ha!”
“Glad you liked it. Thought you might. Good night, Princess.” Sir Hereward briefly bowed his head and stood to attention, pleased to be back on duty.