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She was expecting a frail elderly gentleman, perhaps with a walking stick, thin hair, and a weaker voice typical of an aging and reclusive aristocrat.

Instead, she got a very large and surprising hug from her uncle, who wasn’t frail, had a full head of shining silver hair, and a warm voice that welcomed her with obvious delight.

“My darling niece,” he whispered, holding her tightly. “I wondered when you’d have chance to visit me. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

He let her go and stepped back, looking her up and down. “And what a beauty you are, Maelin. All grown up now, with your Tidehold Conservatory experiences tucked away up there...” He tapped her forehead. “And finally you’re here, with me.”

“Uncle Phineas,” she began, “I would have come sooner...”

He held up his hand. “Don’t even try to explain, my dear, I know full well what it’s like at Theryn House at the moment.”

He grinned, a surprisingly wicked grin that made Maelin smile too.

“Well,” she began hesitantly.

“I understand completely. Which, of course, is why I’m here.” He waved his hand around. “I have peace and quiet. And books. No parties, balls, endless dinners with idiots, or trips to the theatre with even more idiots.” He sighed. “But come and sit down and tell me everything.” He reached for a small bell. “Would you like tea?”

“No, no, Uncle, thank you anyway. I had breakfast a little while ago.”

“Well, at least she’s feeding you,” he sighed.

“I...I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she frowned a little.

“Then don’t. We have much better things to discuss. Let’s just leave that portion of our lives outside the door for the moment, shall we?” He tipped his head to one side. “I’m thinking that something has brought you here other than a wish to visit your poor old Uncle...am I right?”

“To begin with, I don’t regard you as my poor old uncle, since you are neither poor nor old. Had you decided to stay at Theryn House, I have the feeling you’d have out-danced and out-entertained Aunt Varelle with ease. Which is probably why it’s a good thing you’re here. She might have taken umbrage to being upstaged.”

“You’re right,” he laughed. “She’d have taken umbrage indeed, which in her case would be a large and heavy frying pan applied to my head with considerable force.”

“Ouch.” Maelin winced.

Phineas waved his hand. “Enough of that. Time to come clean, my dear. Tell me how I and my books can help you.”

“You’re very astute,” began Maelin. “Which is one thing I remember vividly about you. So, please don’t be shocked...I am hoping that you will be able to give me some information on the Rhovan.”

Phineas straightened, all signs of amusement gone from his face. “That’s...surprising, my dear. Very surprising indeed.” He paused. “May I ask why?”

Maelin held silent for a few moments, assessing what she knew and whether her Uncle might react badly if she told him all about it.

“I am not going to betray your confidence, Maelin. You don’t know me well, but I have a code of conduct firmly ingrained in my head. Your secrets are safe with me.”

His eyes remained on her face.

She squared her shoulders. “It began with a killing in the Gloamtide...”

When she was done, her Uncle’s face was completely expressionless. He had stared at her, watching her as she recited the series of events she’d experienced, not by a flicker of an eyebrow betraying any kind of reaction to her words.

As the silence fell, and she leaned back in her seat, he finally pursed his lips.

“The Rhovan existed, Maelin. There is no question about that. They were brutal killers with one goal only, to dominate their world. And, if necessary, eliminate every other species who dared to live in it.”

“Were they shape-shifters? Some of the material I’ve read suggested that idea.”

“Some said yes.” He waved a hand toward the bookshelves. “I have volumes that detail their ability to do just that, shift their shapes. It’s also said that you could look at a Rhovan and not recognise what it was. It’s also said that you could look at a Rhovan and not know you met it the day before as something else.”

“Isn’t that shape-shifting?”

“Not if what you met the day before was a large tickerkin.”