Accidental Sorcerer (14 page)

'Well, for a start, he turned Tavistock into a lion.'

Rupert dropped his pruning shears. 'He did
what?

She slumped against the back of the bench.'And far from being angry, Lional was
pleased.
I'll tell you, Rupert, it's making me very nervous.'

He sank onto the bench beside her. 'I'm not surprised! I mean, I am, but not about you feeling nervous. If I was standing that close to a lion I'd be
terrified,
even if it was only Tavistock in disguise. And Lional isn't angry?'

She shook her head. 'No. He's even meeting with the Kallarapi tomorrow'

'Well, that's good, isn't it?' Rupert said encouragingly. 'That's what you've been after him to do ever since they got here! Shouldn't you be happy?'

'You're right,' she said, and patted his knee. 'I should.'

'But you're not.'

'I'm not unhappy,' she said, frowning. 'I'm just .. . I don't know' She stood.'I've got a fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach, Rupes.'

'I know that feeling,' he said, and grinned. 'Butterflies!'

'Oh,
you'
she said, and mussed his hair.'Is that all you can think about?' 'Yes,' he said. 'Sorry'

'That's all right. To be honest, Rupes, I find it rather restful.'

'Oh, so do I,' he said cheerfully. 'Which is lucky, because we both know I'm not clever enough to be prime minister, or a king. Why, I shudder to think where we'd be if I'd been born first instead of Lional.'

He was right. It didn't bear thinking about. But it hurt her, sometimes, to know that Rupert knew exactly how short-changed he'd been when it came to intellect.

She turned back towards the palace. 'I'd better be off. I'm only out here to avoid the mountain of paperwork waiting for me in my office.'

'Ouch,' said Rupert, standing.

'Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that!' she said, and impulsively hugged him.'I just meant -'

'I know what you meant, Mel,' he said, hugging her back. 'Go on. You're keeping me from my very important chores. And don't worry about the new-wizard. If Lional stays true to form he'll have the poor man packing his bags within the month. And then perhaps he'll
finally
give up this nonsense of having a royal court wizard.'

'Perhaps,' she said. 'But I wouldn't bet on it if I were you!'

She left Rupert to his pruning and trudged back to her office, where Boris was draped helpfully across her desk. He yowled as she entered the room.

'I know,' she said, depositing him on the chair. 'I agree completely. Tavistock as a lion is taking one-upmanship
far
too far. But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it, at least for now. So just you go back to sleep and let me get on with my paperwork!'

Gerald didn't really need a bath. It was just the only place he could think in peace. Think, and experiment.

He'd snuck his back-up staff into the bathroom with him, bundled into a change of clothes. Soaking in warm, bubble-frothed water, he began to explore the new limits of his power. Simple incants at first, that a good Third Grader could master if he were on top of his game, like turning the towels from white to green and back again;

chequer-boarding the white wall tiles orange and puce, then a less eye-searing black and gold.

He rather liked the effect, so he left them that way.

After that he had another look at the advanced incants Reg had pummelled into him, that he'd never been able to perform. The incants he'd reached for back in Ottosland, holed up in his shoebox of a bedsit, and been unable to access.

/ must still have been recovering from what happened at Stuttley's. I needed more time jor my body to adjust. Or finish changing. Or whatever the hell it is that's going on with me ...

Even though the water was warm, he shivered.

Talk about butterflies ... have I turned into a chrysallised grub? When this is over am I going to hatch into someone - something - completely different?

He didn't want to think about that. The idea was far too disconcerting.

Perhaps being a genius is over-rated.

Heart banging hard he put aside the spare cherrywood staff and reached for his newmade power. Incanting without a staff was supposed to make the etheretic energies ten times harder to control but he barely noticed the difference. Holding his breath, he constructed bogwights out of thin, steamy air. Unravelled his dull and serviceable brown suit into the shorn marsh fleece it was made from, then reconstituted it into finest grade superior mountain fleece and redyed it, creating for himself a rich purple suit his father would be proud to own. For good measure he changed his plain white cotton shirt to pearlescent silk. Finally he coalesced all the random etheretic energies in the atmosphere into a single glowing ball of raw thaumic energy and let it hover like a burning blue sun beneath the bathroom's high ceiling.

'Oy!' shouted Reg on the other side of the bathroom door. 'Even / felt that! Gerald, what the devil are you doing in there?'

Entranced, he floated in the cooling bathwater and smiled at his bright blue miracle.

On the other hand I think I could get used to being a genius.

'Nothing,' he called back. 'You're imagining things.'

Reg retreated in a cloud of muffled curses.

With a snap of his fingers he released the coalesced energy back into the atmosphere, then climbed out of the enormous tub to dry and dress. Reg was waiting for him in the bedroom.

'Nice threads,' she said from the bedhead, staring at his re-made suit. 'And good timing.' She nodded at a slightly torn piece of parchment with a broken wax seal, discarded on the bedspread.'That just got shoved under the front doors. His Nibs has invited you to dinner.'

He snatched up the parchment. 'Reg! How many times do I have to say it?
Don't
go reading my mail!'

As usual the complaint was water off a duck's back. 'You're to report to his private dining room at seven o'clock sharp,' she said.'Not me. Just you.' She sniffed. 'I think my feelings are hurt. Gerald -'

He gave her a look. 'No. We'll talk when I'm ready to talk and not a minute sooner.'

'That might not be soon enough,' she retorted. 'Gerald, you're not treating this with the seriousness it deserves. What's happened to you, well, it's just not
normal.
And it's
certainly
not something you should be playing with like a shiny new toy. I want you to tell me again what happened at Stuttley's. Now that you're sober you might remember something that -'

He tossed the parchment back on the bed. 'No. Reg, I'm fine. I have never felt better. And this is one gift horse I
won't
be looking in the mouth. I'm going to be the best royal court wizard King Lional has ever seen, and when a decent interval has passed I'm going home to get retested and officially regraded. And afer that -' He released a long slow sigh of satisfaction. 'After
that,
Reg: the world will be my oyster.'

She glowered. 'Haven't you heard? Oysters give you food poisoning!'

He threw a pillow at her.

'Butterflies are actually very loving, you know, Professor Dunwoody,' said His Royal Highness Prince Rupert, confidingly 'Loving and gentle.' There were smears of butterfly dust all over his patched mustard yellow velvet dinner jacket, and in his eyes the gleam of the fanatic. His long thin nose was disfigured by a neat strip of plaster.

'Really?' said Gerald, trying not to stare at it. 'I didn't know that.'

It was twenty past seven, he was seated with the prince and the princess in the king's private dining room, and they were waiting for King Lional to arrive.

Noticing him trying not to notice his nose, the prince blushed and laughed. He sounded like a lamb separated from its mother. 'Just a little misunderstanding with one of the
Vampirella Majesticas,
Professor,' he explained, giving the bandaged wound a self-conscious tap. 'I blame myself, naturally. I mean, the poor little
Vampirellas
can't help themselves. Their instinct is to bite and they follow their instincts, so if one is silly enough to put one's nose in their way, well, one can hardly blame
them,
now can one? Creatures - and people - act according to their natures and there's no point expecting otherwise. Don't you agree?'

Gerald shot a beseeching look across the table at the princess but she wasn't paying attention. She'd brought a folder of work along with her and was busily totting up figures. In honour of the occasion she'd changed her clothes, but despite the fact that silk and satin and a certain amount of lace figured in the ensemble she still managed to look rumpled and tweedy.

He turned his attention back to the prince. 'Agree? Certainly, Your Highness.'

The prince beamed. 'I say, I do
like
you, Professor.' He leaned a little closer. 'So what do you think of Lional's private dining room? Isn't it the swankiest you've ever seen?'

It was. The ceiling was some thirty feet overhead, and ripe with chandeliers. The walls were panelled with gilded mirrors. The mahogany dining table was laden with gleaming cutlery in four different varieties. There were three different kinds of glasses, an assortment of gold plates and bowls and two napkins for each diner.

Resisting the impulse to tuck one under his chin as a subtle hint that yes, on the whole he
was
ready for his dinner, thanks ever so much, he scowled at the overabundance of ironmongery and cursed himself for cutting short Reg's 'Etiquette For All Occasions'lecture.

As a finishing touch, whoever was responsible for setting the table had managed to squash in arrangements of wan-looking flowers. Any minute now they were going to start him sneezing. Behind each gilded dining chair, ramrod stiff and conspicuously not listening to both the conversations of his betters and any rumbling digestive systems, stood a magnificently liveried manservant complete with white gloves and a little napkin laid over the left arm, which was held away from the body at a precise ninety-degree angle. It looked like a desperately uncomfortable way to spend an evening.

Prince Rupert leaned even closer. 'Don't tell anyone I told you so,' he whispered,'but for what it cost to have the place refurbished three months ago we could've paid the Kallarapi twice what we owe them and still have change left over.' One bony finger tapped the side of his bandaged nose. 'But there you are. Lional does love his little comforts.'

Without looking up, the princess said, 'Rupert. No telling tales out ofTreasury.'

The prince blushed. 'Sorry, Mel.' He tittered, embarrassed, then nodded. 'I say, Professor, I do like your robe. Reminds me of the pattern you find on a Greater Winged Triple-Tipped Thribbet.'

'Thank you, Your Highness. It's actually Fandawandi silk. Quite rare.'

'Beautiful.
Where did you get it?'

Back home, wizard robes were largely seen as pretentious affectations from a bygone era. But he suspected they were the kind of thing that would appeal to the king ... and besides, this particular robe had sentimental value.'It was a graduation gift from my father, Your Highness. He's a tailor.'

'Really?'
Prince Rupert marvelled. 'I say, that's fantastic. I'm useless with my hands, I'm afraid. All thumbs. I'd never dare pick up a needle and thread, you know, in case I stabbed myself in the eye. How desperately clever of him, I'm sure.'

Gerald considered the prince. Was he being sarcastic? No. No, there wasn't a sarcastic bone in Prince Rupert's daft body. The compliments were genuine.'Thank you, Your Highness.'

Another bleating laugh. 'Goodness, Professor, there's no need to stand on ceremony. Plain old Rupert, that's me. A prince in name only, I'm afraid. No credit to the crown.' The foolish mouth drooped for a moment. 'Sad to say, I'm a trial and a tribulation to the king. No, no, don't try to deny it, Melly. It's true. They think Nanny Prendergast dropped me on my head when I was a baby and never admitted it. I dare say that's true, too. It's the only reason I can think of, at any rate.'

'Well, well, well,' drawled an impeccable voice from the doorway. 'How ...
delightful
... to see you all enjoying yourselves so much. Without
mel

'So sorry to have kept you waiting,' Lional said, smiling as he eased into his throne-like chair.

He didn't sound sorry at all.

'That's quite all right, old chap,' Rupert said cheerfully as they sat down again. 'We hardly noticed you weren't here, actually. Been having a lovely chat with the new wizard. I must say I think you've made an excellent choice this time, Lional. This one's much chirpier than those other old fossils. Grand, isn't it?'

Princess Melissande shoved aside her paperwork and covered her eyes with one hand. Sprawled indolently by the king's chair, Tavistock complained with a throaty rumble like distant calamitous thunder.

The king's smile widened. 'I'm relieved you approve, Rupert. Professor -' he added, as the manservants began pouring wine and serving soup, 'allow me to compliment you on your attire. You quite put me to shame.'

'His father made it, Lional,' said Rupert. 'Wasn't that grand of him?'

The king stared, his cerulean eyes wide. 'Your
father?
Really?'

Pillock, pillock, pillock and prat. Gerald smiled. 'Yes, Your Majesty. He's a tailor. Or at least he was, until he retired.'

'Was he indeed?' Lional spread out his napkin with a snap.'Fancy that. Mine was a king, you know'

He felt his fingernails bite into his palms.
Bastard.
'Indeed, Your Majesty. But then I think that to his son, every father is a king.'

Silence, broken only by Tavistock's resumed rumbling. Then Lional threw back his golden head and laughed. He sounded genuinely amused. Princess Melissande, the colour flooding back to her face, loosened her grip on her spoon.

'Professor, I believe you're right!' Lional declared. 'Let us raise our glasses to fathers, shall we?' He laughed again. 'Especially
absent
ones."

The toast was drunk. Abruptly bereft of appetite, Gerald toyed with his bread roll. One of the manservants had given Tavistock an enormous bloody haunch of something to gnaw on. He'd never realised how big a lion's teeth were. Or how sharp. What had he been
thinking?

Unlike his brother, who slurped, Lional consumed his lobster bisque daintily, fastidiously. Pausing between spoonfuls he dabbed his lips with his napkin and said, 'Melissande, I hope you've informed the Kallarapi I'm granting them the honour of an audience tomorrow'

She nodded. 'Yes, Lional.'

'Excellent. I look forward to showing them the error of their ways. Don't you, Professor? Naturally, you will be in attendance. Lending the appropriate air of gravity and menace.'

Menace?
He cleared his throat, very carefully not looking at the princess. 'Of course, Your Majesty. Although you know, my skills haven't been what you'd call honed in the international arena. I wonder if there's not someone else more suited who could take my place? Or at least join us. Her Highness Princess Melissande, perhaps. She is your prime minister, after all.' And if she attended the meeting he wouldn't have to worry about the king thinking he was her spy.

Lional's expression chilled. Sublimely oblivious, Rupert pulled a dog-eared book out of his pocket, propped it up against a vase and began to read as he continued to slurp his soup. The book's cover was graced with a watercolour of an improbably smiling butterfly.

'My dear Professor,' said Lional. He didn't sound at all friendly. 'That won't be necessary. Your experience as a wizard will be quite sufficient for my purposes.'

Across the table, Princess Melissande was attempting to semaphore a message via her unplucked eyebrows. Gerald tried to ignore her. 'I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Would you mind explaining what you mean by that?'

The king considered him. 'Oh, dear. Please don't tell me you're going to be
obtuse,
Professor. I find obtuse people very ...
wearing!

Not as wearing as they find you, I'll bet.
'Obtuse, Your Majesty? No. At least, that's not my intention. I just don't want any misunderstandings when we meet with the Kallarapi. Misunderstandings could give rise to an unfortunate international incident.'

The king dropped his spoon into his emptied soup bowl. The manservant behind his chair winced. 'I am not concerned about international incidents. No great nation can afford to concern itself with the hurt feelings of its inferiors. I hope you are not suggesting, Professor, that I place the selfish desires of these Kallarapi above the welfare of my own people?'

Oh, thank
God
Reg wasn't here. 'Of course not, Your Majesty' he said carefully. 'But -'

'There is no
but,
Professor,' said the king. 'It has been said that diplomacy is the waging of war by other means. If that is indeed the case then where the Kallarapi are involved
you
may consider yourself my secret weapon.'

Secret
weapon?
What the hell was
that
supposed to mean? He snuck a glance at the princess. She was very pink about the face and her fingers were white-knuckled on the stem of her almost emptied wine glass.

'Lional,' she said with commendable calm, 'is that a good idea?'

Lional ignored her. 'Do you know, Professor, what the very best thing about being king is?'

He couldn't help himself. 'The hours, Your Majesty?'

Beside him, Rupert surfaced from his butterfly daydreams long enough to bleat his amusement. 'The hours! I say, that's a good one! The hours! That
is
a good one, isn't it, Lional? The hours?'

'The very best thing about being king, Professor,' said Lional, as though his brother didn't exist, 'is that all my ideas are good ideas. In fact since I came to the throne I haven't had a single bad one. Have I, Melissande?'

Rupert said, 'Ooh, I don't know about that, Lional, I mean there was that business with the horses, the monkeys and the -'

'Rupert,'
said his brother.
'Get out.'

Rupert flinched. 'Sorry, Lional,' he whispered, picked up his book and retired.

'All I
meant!
the princess began, and was silenced with a glare that sizzled the air between them.

'It seems to
me,'
said the king, his voice lightly coated in ice, 'the time has come for us to remind the world that New Ottosland is a sovereign nation, a kingdom of tradition, antiquity and significant heritage. We must no longer allow ourselves to be dismissed and trifled with because we appear insignificant. The fire ants of Sanarabia appear insignificant yet they can reduce the mighty elephant to bloody bone and sinew. So it may be with New Ottosland, should the unwise choose to render us one whit less than our proper due. For too long nations like Kallarap have treated us with contempt. Well, to that I say:
no longer.
We must assert ourselves as New Ottoslanders, the equals of any nation in the world.'

'And I'm not saying we shouldn't,' the princess persisted. 'But to be taken seriously on the world stage we have to look like a world power. Which means we need things like privy councils, to give us gravitas.
And
supply valuable diplomatic experience.'

'My privy council was short-sighted, lily-livered and stuck in the past like hogs in mud,' snapped Lional. 'Aged relics ... and their sons are relics-in-waiting. Which is why I banished them to their estates where they can dwindle their dying days in contemplation ot the nation they and theirs
might
have birthed had they the least wit, imagination or courage.'

Princess Melissande released an exasperated breath. 'I
know
they're ancient and irritating, Lional, but as it turns out they actually got quite a lot done around here and I have to say, in all honesty, that expecting me to pick up the slack is a bit unfair. I mean, I'm doing my best, and so are my staff, we really are, but we just can't keep up and -'

'Then I suggest you find new ways of motivating your employees,' said Lional, smoothly. 'And yourself. Unless you'd like me to do it for you?'

She bit her lip and looked down. 'No. Thank you.That won't be necessary'

'I suspected as much,' said Lional. Still rankled, he shifted in his chair. 'And what about you, Professor? Is there anything
you'd
like to add while we're all feeling so
delightfully
conversational?'

If he said what he
really
wanted to say he'd find himself getting intimately acquainted with a headsman's axe. 'Well ... as a matter of fact there is, Your Majesty. Another question, if you don't mind.'

'No,' said the king. 'I don't mind. Provided it's not
obtuse'.

'Well, sir, in short: what exactly do you mean,
secret weapon?'

'The man's barking mad," said Reg late the next morning, through the remains of her breakfast mouse. 'How does he think
you're
going to make those Kallarapi buggers change their minds about the tariffs?'

Gerald stirred his porridge with his solid gold spoon and frowned.'He didn't say. He just laughed and waved in the next course.'

'I mean,' she continued, 'as far as I can tell, the only thing that's going to stop this tariff tiff before it gets well out of hand is Lional sitting down to a great big slice of humble pie.' She sniffed. 'And how likely is that, I ask you?'

'Not very,' he said, still frowning.

Reg cackled. 'Not at
all,
sunshine. Trust me. There's nothing you can tell me about Lional that I don't already know. I was giving his type the cold shoulder when I still had a shoulder to give 'em, and that's more centuries ago than I care to think about. I tell you, he's lost his marbles down the privy.'

He winced and looked around the fountain-tinkled foyer. 'Careful, Reg. For all we know the walls have ears. Pillock or not, Lional's the king. You can't flap about the place saying he's mad.'

With a burp Reg hopped off the back of her gilded chair and started marching to and fro across the table. 'Listen, sunshine, the fact he's a king only makes it
more
likely he's off his rocker. Royalty's always inbred. Comes of them being snobs and refusing to marry a good bit of commoner every third generation or so. I mean, look at that Prince Rupert. From what you've told me it's clear he's a grade A nutter. Madness probably runs in the family. You want to keep an eye on that Melissande or next thing we know she'll be after you in the middle of the night with a jewelled dagger and a fixed smile, you mark my words.'

He groaned.
'Honestly,
Reg. You do go on.'

She waved an emphatic wing under his nose. 'Gerald, I'm serious. You need to respect my experience in these matters. Sending a bunch of worn-out dukes and barons and their gormless offspring on a one-way trip to their country estates is one thing. Nothing wrong with that. Did it myself on a regular basis, generally speaking they're nothing but a bunch of parasites anyway. But seriously entertaining the idea that he could use an oath-protected wizard as
any
kind of weapon, secret or otherwise, is clear proof that Lional's two oars short of a rowboat.'

On second thoughts he wasn't in the mood for porridge after all. Reaching to the fruit bowl for an orange he said, 'His Majesty's not mad, Reg, he's just ... determined to have his own way. I swear, if he thought I could make the Kallarapi back down by turning up at this meeting naked I'd be well advised to get used to inconvenient breezes.'

'Deary deary me, I don't know,' Reg fretted, kicking the solid gold toast-rack in passing. 'The more I hear, the unhappier I am about staying in this place.'

Moodily, he peeled his orange. 'It's a crazy setup, all right.'

Reg stopped.'Hallelujah, he's seen the light! You start packing and I'll nip down to madam's office to give her the good -'

'Not so fast!' he said, waving orange peel in her face.'You're forgetting my contract.'

She made a sound like an exploding firecracker and turned a complete somersault. 'For the love of Saint Snodgrass, Gerald, there isn't a contract signed that can't be broken and lord knows you've got grounds with this one. I ask you, where is the benefit in dancing to the whirligig tune of some addle-brained power-drunk third-rate backwater king?'

There was orange juice running down his fingers. Reaching for a napkin he said, teeth clenched tight, 'That's not the point. The
point,
Reg, is -'

'Oh, I know what your point is, Gerald. It's that bloody princess! You've gone and fallen arse over tea-kettle for Madam Fashion Disaster, haven't you? Oh
Gerald]
How
could
you!'

He could have banged his head on the table. 'Reg, for pity's
sake.
I have
not
fallen arse over teakettle for the princess.'

Reg squinted at him suspiciously 'Are you sure? Because I'm not blind, Gerald, I saw the way you were around her yesterday, dumbstruck with admiration, and -'

'Are you cracked? I wasn't dumbstruck with admiration, I was just dumbstruck!' he cried.'She's even bossier than you are and I didn't think that was possible! I'm telling you, Reg, I am
not
in love with -'

'Good morning,' said a bemused voice from the doorway.'I knocked, but nobody answered.'

Princess Melissande, even more rumpled and harassed than she'd been yesterday. This morning she was wearing dark blue trousers and a pale green shirt that may or may not have been recently introduced to a hot iron. Her hair was scraped back into a lumpy plait and the freckles on her face remained uncamouflaged by makeup. Behind the glasses, her eyes looked tired.

Gerald dropped the orange and stood. 'Your Highness. Good morning. Please, come in.'

As he hurried to close the foyer doors behind her she slumped into his vacated chair and reached into the fruit bowl for a candied kumquat. 'I interrupted you, Professor. You were saying something about not being in love with ... what?'

'What?' He glared at Reg, who crossed her eyes at him. 'Ah - oh, yes! The idea of being His Majesty's secret weapon against the Kallarapi. I think, as a plan, it could do with a rethink. Reg agrees.'

The kumquat stopped halfway to the princess's mouth.
'Reg
agrees? You were discussing affairs of state with a
bird?'