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the door to his room. Mine was farther down on the opposite side. I was surprised that my room was as clean as it was when I walked into it.
    Getting rid of the rats and vermin was my first objective—I'd learned a trick during my tenure with the ASD. When I went Thifilatha, small or large, I frightened small animals and insects. Any insect thinking to get close to my gold scales was burned. They stayed away. Same thing with rats, mice and other vermin. I'd once chased a criminal through rat-infested sewers while in my smaller Thifilatha. The rats were running before me. They helped bring the culprit down—they were knocking him over after a while and racing across his back in their efforts to escape what they saw as a larger predator—me.
    Skipping into the dark, cluttered and stinking attic later, I turned to my smaller Thifilatha. You should have heard the squeaking and shrieking as tiny feet scrabbled across boards and stored items, making a hasty retreat from the worst danger they'd ever smelled in their short lives. I have no idea where they went and I had no care to know—I just knew they wouldn't be back until I moved out. This boded well for the restaurant downstairs—I saw it was closed on my way in.
    Skipping back to my room, I went to check out the bathroom. I wasn't satisfied with the cleanliness of it, so I went in search of cleaning supplies. Except for the cracked and peeling floor tiles, it was as clean as I could make it when I finished.
    Then I skipped into the closed restaurant. I found the reason for the closure—the clerk knew very well they had rats—the writ of closure was lying on the bar, citing vermin and unsanitary facilities as the reasons. It gave three moon-turns for the problems to be addressed before the license reapplication process would be forced. A moon-turn remained before it was completely condemned and additional fees would have to be paid to apply for a license from scratch. Squaring my shoulders, I began to clean. Now that the rats were gone, things should be simple.
    * * *
    "Edan, I am giving a small salary increase," Addah said, pushing a comp-vid across his desk toward his second-born. "Your pastry is quite good and your salads please the guests."
    "Thank you," Edan ducked his head respectfully. The salary increase worried Edan, though. What might Aldah do if he learned of it? Was this just a game Addah played, attempting to pit his children against one another? Edan had checked employment listings only that morning—a new restaurant was opening and every shift and position was available. He intended to apply on his afternoon break.
    * * *
    "You want what?" The desk clerk, whom I learned was also the owner, stared at me in shock.
    "Only a few fittings and fixtures. It should be inexpensive—I can do the work. The rest of the restaurant is clean."
    "But I will have to call the inspectors and hire a cook."
    "You have a cook," I said. "You only need two assistants."
    "You—cook?" The man almost hooted. Briefly, I considered slapping him before coming to my senses.
    "It costs nothing to bring the inspector back. All we have to do is repair the sink."
    "Fine. Repair the sink. Then prepare a meal for me. I will decide if you can cook." The man was short, although taller than I, with graying dark hair, a thin moustache and narrow brown eyes. He looked much like the rats I'd chased from his inn.
    Good, inexpensive fare was my goal—the inn didn't draw the customer base to support expensive dishes. I used fowl, pork and beef to prepare three dishes. I'd spent my own money on the meat, too. Rat-face, whose name was Neidles, approached the food with trepidation, although his nose might have twitched a time or two. He tasted the pork dish first. I'd wrapped the loin around a stuffing and then surrounded that with a crust before baking. It was moist, succulent and exactly the kind of fare that would appeal to the locals.
    Neidles didn't say anything, chewing and swallowing before