Accidental Sorcerer (15 page)

'Oh, yes. She's very knowledgeable. Well. About some things, anyway. You'd be surprised.'

Princess Melissande continued to stare. 'You were discussing affairs of state with a bird.'

Reg snorted. 'Says the woman with a brother who probably starts the day by asking his butterflies what underpants he should wear!'

'Rupert?'The princess smiled.'Oh, you mustn't mind Rupert. He's quite harmless and very sweet once you get to know him.'

Gerald perched on the edge of the tinkling fountain, mindful of splashes. 'So ... what do you think, Your Highness?'

'About what?' she asked around a mouthful of kumquat.

'About Gerald the secret weapon,' said Reg. 'Oy - you don't suppose that pretty brother of yours has got some bright idea about using him as leverage, do you?'

'You mean is he thinking
literally
a secret weapon? Spells of destruction at thirty paces followed by some hasty handiwork with a mop and bucket?' The princess swallowed and reached for another kumquat. 'No. Look, Lional talks big, he always has, but it never comes to anything.'

'Are you sure?' said Reg. 'I mean, he does know, doesn't he, he can't just point Gerald like a musket and
shoot
this Zazoor when he holds out his hand for the dosh? I mean, he does
know
that?'

'Of course he does,' snapped the princess.'Look, Professor, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Lional knows perfectly well he doesn't have any choice but to pay Zazoor what's owed. I expect all he wants to do is show you off to the Kallarapi. Make the pill he's got to swallow a little less bitter.
You
may have a holy man but
I've
got a wizard, so
nyah.
Nothing
dangerous.
Just diplomacy'

He pulled a face. 'That doesn't sound terribly diplomatic to me. What if things get out of hand?'

'You won't let them.' She sighed.'Professor, I'm not a complete ignoramus. I do know that wizards are forbidden to use their magic to cause harm.'

Reg rattled her tail feathers. 'You might, ducky, but what about that brother of yours?'

'He knows too!' she insisted, exasperated.'You're not the first wizard we've had around here, remember?'

Now there was a point. And an idea. He narrowed his eyes. 'Exactly how many were in the job before me, Your Highness?'

The second kumquat eaten, she pretended to be interested in a banana. 'A few,' she muttered.

'Forgive me, but that's not very specific'

'You want specific? Fine. Five. All right? There were five court wizards before you.'

'F(Ve?' He slid off the fountain. 'The king's had
five
other wizards? I'm his
sixth
wizard?'

'Oh, don't you stand there looking surprised! You've met him!'

'I'm not
surprised,
Your Highness, I'm
deceivedV

'I did
not
deceive you!' said the princess, shoving out of the chair. 'If you'd asked me in the interview how many wizards had been in the job already I'd've told you! You didn't ask!'

Perched on the edge of his abandoned porridge bowl, Reg snickered.'She's got you there, sunshine.'

Disgusted, Gerald considered Lional's angry sister. Then he sighed. 'Yes. She does. I apologise, Your Highness.That was uncalled for.'

'It certainly was.'

'But not unexpected,' added Reg. 'You knew perfectly well he'd never have taken the job if all your dirty linen had been hanging on the line in plain sight, madam.'

Princess Melissande sat again, slumping. 'What can I say? I was desperate.'

Gerald dropped once more to the edge of the fountain. 'I know the feeling.' He and the princess exchanged tentative, rueful smiles. 'So who were they, then? These predecessors of mine?'

'Why does it matter?'

He shrugged. 'It doesn't. I thought I might know one or two, that's all.'

'I doubt it.They were all years older than you.' 'Still ...'

She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, for the love of Saint Snodgrass. As if I didn't have anything better to do than go staggering down memory lane ...' Then she sighed. 'All right. Give me a moment.'

As she chewed her lip, he triggered a recording incant under cover of scratching his nose then dabbled his fingers in the fountain's water, waiting.

'Well,' she said at last,'net in chronological order, there was Humphret Bottomley, the prat.'

In the air above and behind her the name
Humphret Bottomley
appeared in glowing silver letters. It hung there unmoving, like liquid smoke. 'That's an old-fashioned Ottosland name,' he murmured. 'Who else?'

She screwed up her face. 'Pomodoro Uffitzi. Aloysius Beargarden. Er - er - oh, yes! Grumbaugh. Lord, how could I forget him? Barked in monosyllables and spent most of his time locked up in what's now your workroom, making smelly smoke. And Bondaningo Greenfeather.' Her face softened into a smile. 'Terribly sinister-looking with

all those tattoos and facial piercings but actually very nice. And that's all of them. Satisfied now? Say yes.'

With another deceptive nose scratch Gerald closed down the recording incant with its five silver smoke names and stored it in a nearby pot plant. He'd retrieve it later and run the names past Monk at the first opportunity. Get him to find their whereabouts and how they could be contacted. Seeing as how he was going to be stuck here in New Ottosland for a while it seemed only prudent to do some belated homework on his charming pillock of an employer.

'Yes. Thank you, Your Highness,' he said. 'Your patience is most appreciated. Doubtless you didn't come here to -' He sat up. 'Good lord. I'm so sorry. Why
did
you come here?'

princess, still glaring at Reg. 'You're looking claustrophobic, Professor. I thmk you're overdue for some fresh air. Meet me downstairs in the east wing forecourt in twenty minutes.'

'Why? Where are we going?'

'Where do you think?' she said, sounding resigned. 'Sightseeing, of course. Didn't you know? On top of everything else, I'm New Ottosland's Minister of Grand Tours!'

Half an hour later they were seated in a scarlet and gold touring carriage pulled by a pair of flashy dapple grey horses, bowling along a wide, tree-lined avenue. The sky was cloudless and deeply blue, the air flower-scented and fresh. Delightful.The carriage, unfortunately, was rococo in the extreme, all gilded carved fruit and simpering cherubs with hideously love-struck expressions. Gerald squashed himself into one corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Thank God Monk can't sec me now.Thank God no-one I know can see me now.
It was bad enough that the pavement strollers and passengers in passing carriages and street-corner vendors and impressively uniformed policemen on foot patrol could see him.

Sitting opposite, the princess noticed his discomfit and snorted. 'Welcome to my world, Professor.'

'Thank you,' he said. 'I think.'

She smiled wickedly and pointed her predictably no-nonsense green parasol over the side of the carriage. 'Now, to your left you'll see the Royal Music Hall. Isn't it pretty?'

He considered the Music Hall's impressive marble steps and its honour guard of pigeon-splattered dead composer statues lining the entrance. 'I was going to say familiar. In fact,
everything
looks familiar.'

'You noticed? It's quite simple. We never got over being a colony. There isn't a street or a building here whose original you won't find back in the Old Country.' The princess grimaced. 'It's ghastly, like living inside an echo. What I wouldn't give to just
once
see somebody else's idea of architecture!'

'What's stopping you?'

She looked at him. 'Nothing much. Just a small matter of running the kingdom.'

'But you've got staff. And what about His Majesty?'

'Yes?' she sighed.'What about him?'

Gerald opened his mouth to answer but was stopped by Reg whacking him over the head with her wing. She was sitting behind him on one of the cherub's plump bottoms and humming a risque ditty under her breath in time to the
dip-clop
of the carriage horses' hooves.

'Ow!' he exclaimed, and turned.
'Now
what?'

She pointed at the driver sitting high above them on his box. 'Discretion, Gerald! Muggins up there is probably taking notes.'

'No, he's not,' said the princess.'He's deaf

'"Deaf as a post" deaf, or "I'm a loyal servant and it'll cost a lot more than that to loosen my lips, squire" deaf?' Reg demanded.

'Deaf as a post deaf, of course. Why do you think I chose him to drive the carriage? Oh, look,' the princess added, and waved the parasol. 'There's the Royal Zoo! Do you know, Professor, I'm sure they have a spare birdcage in there somewhere. Would you like me to ask?'

He patted spluttering Reg on the head. 'She'd only teach the other parrots rude words.'

Princess Melissande sat back amongst the carriage's overstuffed cushions and considered Reg thoughtfully.'I'm sorry but I have to ask.
Where
did you find such a singular creature? If there's another one in existence anywhere in the world I swear I'll eat my parasol. With mustard.'

'Good idea,' said Reg. 'You've the look of a woman who doesn't get enough roughage.'

Gerald winced.'Reg!'

'Well what do you expect? She called me a singular creature!'

'Itwas a compliment.Wasn't it, Your Highness?'

The princess looked down her nose. 'Not intentionally'

'Rightl'
squawked Reg. 'I've had this. You and me, madam, parasols at twenty paces, and -'

He grabbed her and pushed her beak-first among the cushions. We seem to have strayed from the topic. I believe Your Highness was wondering how Reg and I met ...'

'Well, yes, I
was,'
agreed the princess. 'But now I'm wondering what the wretched bird's lung capacity is.'

He rescued Reg and dangled her in front of his face.'Have you
quite
finished?'

She spat out a beakful of cushion fluff, gasping. 'Gerald Dunwoody!'

'I'm sorry, Reg, but Her Highness -'

'Oh, call me Melissande,' said the princess.

'Thank you, Your - Melissande,' he said, surprised.'And you can call me Gerald.'

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. 'Yes, I know'

She was the most
irritating
woman ...

Wriggling free of his grasp, Reg hopped onto the nearest cherub's dimpled buttocks and scowled. 'If you
must
know, madam, and not that it's
any
of your business, Gerald and I met when he helped me out of a sticky situation.'

Remembering, he laughed. 'Literally. I was in the local woods, looking for fresh wizard's beard for one of my First Year assignments, and practically fell over her. She'd managed to get herself gummed up in some bird lime and was swearing so hard she didn't hear me coming. So I ungummed her and we've been stuck with each other ever since.'

'Gracious,' said Melissande, dryly. 'It sounds positively romantic'

'Romantic?' screeched Reg.'If you don't mind, I'm old enough to be his -'

'Yes?'

'Aunty,' said Reg, eyes gleaming. 'Gerald's problem is he can't resist a damsel in distress.'

'Well then," said Melissande, 'lucky for him I'm not in distress.'

'Or a damsel.'

'Anyway
...' he said quickly, 'about the Kallarapi delegation ...'

Melissande drummed her fingers on her knee. 'Yes. About them. Prince Nerim is Sultan Zazoor's younger brother; his official title is Blood of the Sultan. I get the feeling if there'd been another brother to send he'd have been spared a long camel ride. Shugat is the sultan's holy man. He's the most important religious figure in Kallarap. Nerim's a lightweight.
Shugat
's
the one to look out for.'

'And what do you think they're hoping to get out of this meeting?"

She pulled a face. 'From the number of camels they brought, I think they're expecting to take a lot of our money with them when they go.'

'Are there enough funds in Treasury to cover the entire debt?'

Melissande hesitated, her expression troubled. 'Barely,' she said at last. 'But it pretty much wipes us out. Since he took the throne Lional's been a bit ... extravagant, in places. If we could just get terms for an extended period of payment ... I'm sure Zazoor would agree, he's not unreasonable.'

'And what about His Majesty?'

'I don't know. He -' She stopped, distracted by the delighted cries and excited hand-waving from a long crocodile line of schoolgirls out for an airing. Gritting her teeth she smiled a professional, painted-on smile and waved back. 'Sometimes,' she muttered, as the schoolgirls squealed and clutched at each other despite their scandalised mistress, 'I think I should just put myself in the zoo and be done with it.'

'Good idea,' said Reg. 'You can have my cage, I won't be using it any time soon.'

Melissande glared. 'Don't count on it.' The carriage rounded a corner into yet another tree-lined avenue of stately buildings, leaving the schoolgirls behind. She heaved a sigh of relief and stopped waving.

'All right,' he said. 'Let's assume the worst and say the king categorically refuses to pay up. What are the chances of the Kallarapi deciding to, I don't know, take back New Ottosland in lieu of monies owed?'

'I haven't a clue. But let's hope it doesn't come to that,' Melissande replied. 'If they did decide to invade we'd have no hope of stopping them.'

Disconcerted, Gerald considered her grim expression. 'Why not?'

'Because quite apart from the fact that the Kallarapi have an ancient and sophisticated warrior tradition and we don't, the only army we've got is Rupert's old tin soldiers in the nursery'

Reg choked. 'What do you mean, you've got no army? What self-respecting kingdom doesn't have its own army?'

'We did have one, once," the princess said, defensive. 'But nobody ever attacked us. All the soldiers did was sit around eating and playing dice. They were costing the crown a fortune, so one of the Lionals - number twenty-seven, I think - pensioned them off.We never missed them.'

Until now.
Gerald shook his head.
Deary, deary me, as Reg would say. This lot really are in a pickle. Wliat a pity they can't pension off the current King Lional ...

'So let me get this straight, Your - Melissande,' he said carefully. 'In all the centuries since New Ottosland was established the Kallarapi never once tried to invade you or -'

'Never. They're a scrupulously honourable people, Gerald. When they signed the treaty that established New Ottosland they swore an oath to never attack us, and they take their oaths seriously.'

'How seriously? I mean, what's the penalty for breaking one?'

'You don't want to know,' said Melissande. 'Vomiting in public is so uncouth.'

This was just getting better and better. 'So if His Majesty
doesn't
pay up then as far as the Kallarapi are concerned he's an oath-breaker?'

'Well, nobody's actually come right out and
said
it, but ...'

'If the crown fits,' Reg concluded, and ruffled her feathers.'Glory gumboots.And if the Kallarapi do declare him an oath-breaker then all bets are off. Deary, deary me, you lot really are in the privy, aren't you?'

Melissande sighed. 'Yes. To be honest, I'm afraid this audience today might be a case of too little, too late. I've tried to convince myself it's not, but -'

Reg gave a snort of disgust. 'But in fact, ducky, the light at the end of the tunnel is most likely the sun glinting on a million righteous Kallarapi swords!'

'I know!' said Melissande, freckles pronounced against her sudden pallor. 'Why do you think I'm so worried?'

'You're
worried?' Reg retorted. 'What about my Gerald? Your nincompoop of a brother is obviously under the misguided impression his wizard's a one-man army in disguise!'

In which case King Lional was destined to be bitterly disappointed.'It's out of the question,' Gerald said, leaning forward. 'I'm not an oath-breaker either, Melissande. I won't be a party to -'

'Violence, I
knowV
she shouted.'But Gerald, you have to do
something!
You said it yourself! It's your duty!'

'His
duty?' shrieked Reg, before he could protest on his own behalf. 'And what about
yours?
What kind of prime minister lets matters get sucked this far down the gurgler, eh? Well, don't just sit there like a soggy pudding, madam. Answer me!'

Melissande's face now burned a dull red. 'You don't understand. It's not as -'

'Oh, I understand, all right!' snapped Reg. 'You and your idiot brother have made a complete mess of things and now you expect Gerald to pull your bacon out of the fire before it's burned to a crisp! Well let me tell you something, ducky, I won't have it! I won't have you -'

'Oh,
shut
up, you
stupid
bird!' cried Melissande, and threw the nearest pillow.

'Hey!'
said Gerald, catching the pillow and tossing it out of the carriage. 'Don't you tell her to shut up! She's got a point! I'm a wizard, not a miracle-worker, and I've only been here a day. Now you expect me to solve an international crisis with one snap of my fingers? What are you,
crazy?

'Of course she is,' said Reg, nodding vigorously. 'Didn't I tell you it runs in the family? Perhaps next time you'll listen when I -'

'If you don't
shut up,'
hissed Melissande,'I
swear
I'll feed you to Boris! For your information I am
not
crazy, I'm
desperate!
In fact I am
so
desperate I'm prepared to entrust the fate of my kingdom and all its subjects to a Third Class wizard who takes advice from some freakish mutated
parrot
with terminal verbal diarrhoea!' She laughed, somewhat wildly. Which means I
must
be crazy!' Abruptly, the laughter exploded into a loud sob. 'Oh
damnV
she cried, threw herself face down into the remaining cushions, and burst into tears.

Horrified, Gerald stared at Melissande's heaving shoulders.
Oh, God, what do I do now? She's royalty and we're in public, I can't cuddle her ...

Reg jumped over to the seat beside the weeping princess and poked her in the behind with her beak. There was an eruption of cushions as Melissande wrenched herself upright. 'How
dare
you? You are the most
repulsive
creature I've ever met!'

'In that case you need to get out more,' Reg retorted. 'Now just you get a grip on yourself, Madam Watering-Pot. Yours aren't the kind of looks that are improved by blubbering. Besides, this isn't the behaviour I expect from a princess. Or a prime minister. You've got to walk the walk, ducky, not just talk the talk.'

As Melissande gaped, speechless, Gerald fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. 'She means well, you know. And she's right.'

'Really?' said Melissande, snatching the handkerchief and pressing it to her wet face. 'What about? The fact I'm a frump or that I'm a failure?'

Hello, my name is Gerald and I'm between a rock and a hard place ...
'You're not a failure,' he said after a difficult pause.

'Yes I am,' she retorted, glowering. 'I never should've let Lional start this stupid game of brinksmanship with Zazoor, I
knew
it'd end up pear-shaped.' She looked at the soggy handkerchief. 'Do you want this back?'

'Not particularly. Besides, I've got another one somewhere.'

She shoved it up her sleeve and heaved a shuddering sigh. 'I'm sorry, Gerald. I never should have dragged you into this.'

Yes, she was bossy. But she wasn't so bad, really. He shrugged.'It's all right. 1 let myself be dragged.'

'Well, for what it's worth ...' She managed a watery smile.'I'm glad.'