The Bag of Bones by Vivian French

who listen under floorboards and skulk behind skirtings — we hear these things. Already our runways and passages are fraught with danger, and traps are set that never were set before. Already the rat catcher is called for. Already the rat catcher’s dog is sniffing and whining —”
    “Wail! Wail for the ratcatcher’s dog —”
    “SILENCE, Sister Millifee!” Brother Bolder stamped his foot. “We will not wail! Our time for wailing is gone. Now is the time for action. Now is the time for us to rise against our oppressors, before it is too late!”
    As Brother Bolder paused there were loud and enthusiastic shouts from the floor, as well as a good deal of air-punching.
    “Vote for Brother Bolder!” yelled a voice, quickly followed by many others.
    “Uh-oh,” Bodalisk breathed in Evangeline’s ear. “Brother Bolder’s going to cause trouble. . . .”
    “It’s time to rise!” Brother Bolder began to march around the top of the cardboard box. “What have the Large Ones done for us? Are they not our enemies? Who among us has ever had kindness from a Large One? Who knows of —”
    “Excuse me!” A single skinny arm waved in the air.
    Brother Bolder stopped and stared in amazement. “What? Who’s that?”
    “Excuse me!” The owner of the arm was elderly and apologetic. “Sorry, Brother Bolder, very sorry — but it’s Brother Brokenbiscuit here. I feel I ought to mention Loobly. . . . Loobly Higgins.”
    Evangeline Droop and Truda Hangnail jumped.
    “She’s been a real friend to me,” Brother Brokenbiscuit went on. “And to my dear sister and her husband. A
best
friend, even though she is a Large One. Why, we’ve known her since she was a tiny girl, and she’s never —”
    “That’s enough!” Brother Bolder was acutely aware that the militant atmosphere was fading fast. “One Large One is an exception, not the rule! Is she here? No! Is she cheering with us? No! Has she ever waved a flag on our behalf, demanding the end to all rat catchers and their fiendish dogs? I think not!”
    “It would be difficult for her.” Brother Brokenbiscuit was determined to be heard. “You see, she lives in the orphanage—”
    “Then she’s not here!” Brother Bolder snapped his fingers, and a couple of well-muscled young rats detatched themselves from the walls of the cellar. With practiced ease they slid a paper bag over Brother Brokenbiscuit’s head and whisked him away to a far corner of the cellar.
    “And now, let’s have a show of hands!” Brother Bolder looked around expectantly. “Who here believes our time has come? Who stands with me, to right our wrongs?”
    “
I
do!” Truda Hangnail stepped forward. “I’ll stand with you, if you’ll stand with me!” And she pulled her hand out of her pocket.
    The mist of purple floated into the cellar above the heads of the shocked and wide-eyed rats. Slowly it sank down, and slowly the rats’ whiskers began to droop and their eyes to glaze over.
    “Wail! Wail! Wail! Wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a . . .” The wailing died away.
    “Hey!” Bodalisk grabbed Evangeline’s arm and hauled her into the tunnel behind the water tank. “What’s she doing? What’s that purple stuff?”
    “Shh!” Evangeline whispered. “It’s Deep Magic!”
    “Deep Magic?” Bodalisk’s eyes popped. “You don’t want anything to do with that, doll.”
    “I know!” Evangeline stamped her foot in frustration. “But if I don’t do what she wants, I’ll never get back to normal. I can’t stay like this!”
    The rat blinked. “You look perfect to me, babe. But if there’s anything I can do to help . . .”
    Evangeline looked at Brother Bodalisk and saw that he was in earnest. It didn’t seem likely that one romantic rat could save her and the entire kingdom of Wadingburn, but she thanked him before the sound of Truda’s voice made her turn away from him to see what was going on.
    “Rats of Wadingburn,” Truda was chanting, “rats of Wadingburn, do you