Free The Bag of Bones by Vivian French Page A

mind!”
    There was a tiny puff of purple smoke, and the rat began to cough.
    When he spoke again, his tone was very different. “ ’Scuse me. Sorry about that, lady. Didn’t mean to be rude.” He coughed again. “It’s our leader, Brother Burwash, ma’am. He’s gone missing, so it’s voting time. Gotta pick a new leader, see?”
    Truda gave him a sharp glance. “And who are you?”
    “Brother Bodalisk, ma’am, at your service.” The rat bowed to Evangeline. “
You
can call me Boddie, sweetheart.”
    The horrified Evangeline was saved from thinking of an answer. The sounds in the Royal State Room suggested that visiting time was ending, and a babel of voices drowned out any reply she might have wanted to make. Queen Bluebell, intermittently interrupted by ferocious sneezes, was wishing everyone a good journey home, and Prince Vincent was scurrying about, getting in everyone’s way.
    As the final footsteps departed, the queen heaved a loud, gusty sigh and remarked, “Thank goodness for that! ATCHOOO! Glad to see the back of them. Never seen such a lot of frilly-minded females in my life; couldn’t say a word when I asked them what they thought about this year’s hay crop or the price of peas. Not Kesta, of course. Good woman, even if she does talk too much. Vincent — stop shilly-shallying and go and do something useful.
ATCHOOO!
Find out if your rat catcher’s doing his stuff. We’ve got rats everywhere, and it won’t do. It won’t do at all. Never bothers
me,
of course — I quite like the little fellows, in fact — but what’ll our guests think if the place is running with rats tomorrow? They’ll all be off home again, quick as a wink, and there won’t be a single king or queen left to witness the Declaration.” There was another loud sigh. “D’you know what, Vincent? I’m feeling my age. I never thought I’d say it, but I am. I’m surrounded by nincompoops frightened by nothing more than a set of whiskers and a scaly tail . . . 
Atchooooooo
 . . .” And her booming voice faded away as she sneezed herself into the distance.
    At last there was no sound. The witches and the rat strained their ears, but there was an emptiness in the air. Brother Bodalisk took advantage of the silence to give Evangeline a quick squeeze, and she screamed again.
    “What’s that?” Prince Vincent, who had been brooding in the doorway, came clattering back. Bending down, he peered under the bookcase and was appalled to see six pairs of eyes staring back at him. Bodalisk had vanished.
    “EEEEEEEK!” Vincent’s shriek echoed to the roof turrets of Wadingburn Palace, and the pigeons fluttered away. Servants came running from all directions, and the gibbering prince pointed with a trembling finger to the bookcase. “There!” he quavered. “Under there! THOUSANDS of rats . . . I saw them!”
    “I’ll get the catcher, Your Highness,” said a tall footman as two of the maids jumped hastily onto chairs, and the others suddenly remembered they were urgently needed elsewhere. “I understand as he’s having a cuppa tea in the kitchen.” He marched off at speed. A second, braver footman bent down to see for himself, but a shaking Vincent pulled him away.
    “They might run out!” he said. “Don’t look! They’re horrible! They might leap on you! They’ve got the beastliest whiskers and hideous teeth!”
    The footman looked alarmed. “I’ll tell the rat catcher to hurry up, Your Highness!”
    As he strode away, Vincent climbed onto his grandmother’s golden throne. One of the maids tittered, and he gave her a chilly look. “I can observe the rodents better from here,” he announced.
    Under the bookcase, Truda glared at Evangeline. “Now see what you’ve done!” she hissed, and reached into her pocket.
    “Teach her a lesson, Grandma!” Mrs. Cringe encouraged, rubbing her hands together in glee. Evangeline, very pale, was beginning to stutter an apology when her hand was grabbed.
    “This