The next morning, Gideon asked Grimsby, Clonk, Ondine, and Uncle Kelvan to meet him in the dining hall for an important announcement. His Uncle was the last one to float in, already looking bored. Grimsby and Sir Clonk sat at one of the large circular dining tables, still covered in dust, while Kelvan’s mirror and Ondine’s ghostly form floated nearby.

Gideon realized it was not too different from the staff meetings he’d once attended in his former life as a spellmonkey at EnviroCharm. But now he was making decisions rather than just hearing about them. He swallowed nervously.

“I have important matters to attend to, Nephew,” Uncle Kelvan said. However, Gideon had no idea what those important matters were—his Uncle was cagey about what he actually did with his time down in the lab. “Need I remind you, your training isn’t for a couple more hours. How’s the aether lilium doing, anyway?”

“Uh, her few remaining leaves were looking very black this morning,” Gideon said, feeling his face grow hot with shame. “But I spent most of yesterday practicing.” Without success, he thought. “And I still have two days left, right?”

“Two days, give or take. You realize death isn’t an exact science, right?” Kelvan said, frowning. “You shouldn’t leave it to the last minute. In any event, why am I here? I told you to run things.”

“Of course,” Gideon said, “but in light of what I’m about to say, I thought you’d want to be in the loop.”

Uncle Kelvan considered this from within his mirror, stroking his beard. “Now, Nephew, I couldn’t care less what floral pattern you use for the dining arrangements or whatever. Just try not to spend any more of my money than you need to.”

“It’s about the rats.”

Kelvan’s hand fell, his red eyes narrowing slightly. “What about them?”

“I’m planning to hire them,” Gideon answered. At once, both Kelvan and Ondine frowned, then looked at each other. Grimsby grunted. “And possibly one orc, if she agrees. I’m not sure she will.”

“We could use more players for Dinner Adventures,” Sir Clonk said. “Are there any aspiring thespians among the new hires?”

“I was thinking mostly concierge, front desk, record keeping, passing messages, some housekeeping, those kind of things, at least to start with. But I could ask if any of them are interested,” Gideon said. “Good idea.”

“Are you sure about this?” Ondine asked. “Do you think people will want to stay at an inn filled with rats?”

“Our inn is already filled with rats,” Gideon said. “But now the rats will be working for us, which is entirely different.”

“They’ve kept to themselves for centuries,” Ondine said. “What changed their mind?”

He paused for a moment, unsure of how much he should say. “They’re starting to get desperately low on supplies. I saw that well enough while I was downstairs.” He felt movement in the pocket of his robes and patted it reassuringly. He looked at Ondine and thought he could see the guilt in the lines of her ghostly face. “And you owe them, don’t you? You told me an apology would be quite meaningless. But helping them is not. Certainly, it’s the least you can do.” Gideon turned to his Uncle, who was still floating there, stroking his beard. “What say you, Lord Kelvan?”

It was rare for him to address his Uncle by his title, and Kelvan looked surprised. “Well, Nephew, I said all staffing decisions would be your prerogative, and I don’t intend to rescind that. I acknowledge that I bear some responsibility for the state of all those living within the castle. Or underneath it.”

“It’s not your fault, Lord Kelvan. I was the one who—” Ondine began.

Kelvan raised a hand and cut her off. “Though they may have been your test subjects, I never attempted to stop you. On the contrary, I pushed for results farther and faster than prudence dictated, eager as I was for a breakthrough. There is plenty of blame to go around. And need I remind you of the origins of the orc Gideon mentioned.” He shook his head slowly. Yet there was a glint in his red eyes that Gideon found unsettling. “I didn’t know she was still alive… It means your experiment worked in the end, Lady Ondine. The rat trials were successfully translated to a humanoid subject. She must be two hundred and fifty years old by now.”

“Those results are hardly reproducible,” Ondine replied, frowning. She looked to Gideon. “I believe we’re missing the point. They’ll be welcome here, if they wish to come upstairs.”

“Wait,” Grimsby cried. “I’ve gotta cook for a bunch of rodents, now?”

“They can mostly cook for themselves, but they’ll need ingredients,” Gideon said. “You could cook for them sometimes? They loved your apple pie.”

“So that’s where it went,” Grimsby muttered. “I thought I’d miscounted my inventory.”

“Sorry,” Gideon said. “I took it last night. It was a last minute decision. Anyway, now that we’ve all agreed…” He paused, waiting for anyone to object. But no one did. He reached into his pocket and felt Juniper hop into his palm. He took her out and let her scamper onto the dusty table. “Juniper, meet Lord Kelvan, Lady Ondine, Grimsby, and Sir Clonk. Everybody, meet Juniper.”

“Hi, everyone,” Juniper answered, her thoughts echoing through their minds.

Ondine gasped.

Grimsby reached across the table with his bony hand, chuckling as he clasped her paw and shook it. “Grimsby Harrington. So you enjoyed the pie, did you?”

“Wow, Mr. Harrington, we all agreed it was the best we’d ever had. A few of us wanted some baking tips if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I could share the recipe and show you how it’s done,” Grimsby said. “They say teaching is good practice.”

“Do you like the theatre, Miss Juniper?” Clonk asked, leaning across the table and staring down at her intensely.

“I’m not so sure,” Juniper said hesitantly. “I never been to one.”

“Ah, well, we must fix that,” Clonk declared. “Have you read many books? I personally quite enjoy—”

“Don’t badger her, Clonk,” Ondine said, then floated down until she was level with the little rat. “Juniper, I must confess, I don’t remember you from … before.”

“That’s because we’ve never met, Miss Ashewood,” Juniper said. “I’m Rathe’s daughter.”

At this admission, Ondine looked pained and drifted backward. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize.” She glanced at Gideon, and he saw her eyes glimmering. But ghosts didn’t cry, did they? “Well, if we’re all done here, I’m afraid I’d better check my plants. It was a pleasure to meet you, Juniper.” She folded her hands neatly in front of her, then turned around and floated through the wall.

Uncle Kelvan nodded at the rat. “Welcome,” he said. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time here as our newest minion-associate. Please inform me if my Nephew does anything terribly stupid or disastrous. Otherwise, I prefer not to be involved in the mundanity of all this.” As if to demonstrate, he waved his hands around the room. His eyes focused on her for a moment, and then he grinned. Gideon realized he had just appraised her. “But I am impressed by your aptitude for such a tiny creature. Your father must have taught you well. Keep up with your training.”

Gideon hadn’t appraised Juniper or Rathe, because he thought it would be rude. But in light of Kelvan’s compliment, he felt the urge to check.

Status

Name:

Juniper

Level:

Attributes

Might:

Brilliance:

Fortitude:

Willpower:

Finesse:

Skills

Hydromancy:

Copper, A Grade

Vitamancy:

Copper, C Grade

Meditation:

Stone, D Grade