Accidental Sorcerer (22 page)

Lional laughed. At his feet his hunting hounds whimpered. 'Of course. It's true you have ambition - just not enough. Or the right kind. But it was amusing watching you try to pretend. A piece of advice, Gerald: don't go on the stage. I'm afraid as an actor you make a very fine wizard.'

His heart pounded brutally against his ribs.
'Are
you mad, then? Or are you evil?'

Lional shrugged. 'I'm both. Or neither. It's not significant. They're just words, Gerald. Hot air. Blah blah blah.'

'You must know I'm oath-bound to stop you.'

Another shrug. 'You're oath-bound to fry.' Lional's lip curled, sneering. 'You orthodox wizards, you're all the same. Cowards. Hidebound by rules and regulations. Rigidly unadventurous. Suffering from a catastrophic failure of imagination. Incapable of seeing past your oaths and your artificially imposed boundaries to what is possible. Just
once
I wish I could meet a wizard who -'

Without warning and with blinding speed he pulled his hand from his pocket and threw something, very hard and very fast.

Gerald flinched. Pure, unthinking reflex raised his hand, outstretched his fingers, curled them around the flying missile ...

Oh my God!

... and he was caught, trapped in a web with strands of metaphysical steel. He could breathe, move his eyes, but that was all. He couldn't run. He felt his fingers convulse around the thrown lump of rock ... and then he cried out, assaulted by a tornado of dreadful images and excruciating pain. Faces screaming. Flame-licked bodies writhing. Greasy smoke spiralling into the air. And Lional, his golden face a glowing mask of power ...

'Imust say, Gerald, it's rather a pity you have to die,' said Lional, plucking the rock from his nerveless grasp. 'There are a number of incantations requiring the involvement of two wizards that I'd really like to try and you're the first wizard I've met who could manage them. Ah well. Life is full of small disappointments. I'll just have to console myself with the taking of your formidable powers.' A gentle hand reached out and patted him on the cheek. 'I expect you're wishing you'd made me that dragon now, aren't you?'

Speech was beyond him, his mind and will held as fast as his body. But inside the confines of his skull he was screaming.

/'//
kill you ... I'll kill you ... you bastard, I'll kill you ...

'Useful little gadget, this, don't you think?' Lional said brightly, tossing the rock from hand to elegant hand. 'It's called a Wizard Trap. An appropriate title, don't you agree? I made it courtesy of an interesting little book I - well, let's just say I inherited it.'

There was sweat beading on his forehead, rolling down his face and into his eyes.
Lional's a wizard? That isn't possible. This can't be happening ...

Lional's smile widened.'Ah, Gerald ... but it
is'

And then the forest clearing was filled with power, a black seething maelstrom that boiled inside Lional's deceptively commonplace aura as though searching for a way to burst free. The hunting hounds howled and fled into the shadows. Dorcas broke her bridle and bolted. Demon, sweating, stayed where he was.

Ignoring them, Lional stepped forward and raised his hands, eyes narrowed, face contorted into something no longer human. From between his lips hissed a stream of filthy words that burned the air to a stinking foulness ... and a searing ball of power exploded from his outstretched fingertips.

It struck Gerald over his heart. Lifted him high into the air. Flung him against a tree.

The world ended.

The first thing he heard as consciousness begrudgingly returned was a voice saying, 'He's not dead, is he? Please tell me he's not dead. You've no idea of the paperwork that's involved if he's dead.'

A second voice said snippily, 'Your stupid brother almost gets him killed and all you can think of is
paperwork?'

The first voice replied, seeing the snippy and raising it a snide, 'If anybody here is stupid it's your precious wizard, falling off
Dorcas
for the love of Saint Snodgrass! The wretched pony's one hundred and one in the shade and can barely get out of a trot!'

A third voice said silkily, 'Melissande? What are you doing here? Have you changed your mind about marrying Zazoor?'

Gerald unglued his eyes. Slowly, grindingly, the world swam into fuzzy focus. He was in bed. Somebody was sitting on his aching chest. They were wearing feathers and an outraged expression.
Reg.
And to his left, camouflagingly trouser clad, on her feet and staring at his bedroom doorway with a mixture of hostility and apprehension, was Melissande.

'Oh,' she said, chin lifted. 'Lional. I can explain. I was just -'

'Returning to your apartments. Where you shall remain until you agree to do your duty. I shall be along presently to chastise you.'

'Chastise
me!' she echoed, furious.'You're not my father and I'm not five years old! How
dare
you -'

'Melissande!

She went red, then white. 'Fine. Banish me to my rooms. Put a guard at the doors while you're at it, why don't you, and see to it I'm fed on nothing but bread and water from now until doomsday! I don't care. You're making a mistake with the Kallarapi, Lional, and the only duty I have is to see that you realise that!'

She marched from the room without a backwards glance. Lional stepped aside to let her pass then approached the bed, his expression grave. Despite his pounding head Gerald tried to sit up. 'Your Majesty ...'

'Gerald!' screeched Reg.'You're awake!'

'More or less. What happened?'

'What happened?' Lional echoed. 'Don't you remember?'

'No,' he said, after a moment's frantic thinking. 'The last thing I recall is riding out of the stable yard. I take it I fell off?'

'Comprehensively,' said Lional, smiling. 'I'm afraid Dorcas put her foot in a rabbit hole and threw you headfirst into a tree. It's a miracle you didn't break your neck. You are concussed, though, according to my doctor.'

'Ouch,' he said, and with tentative fingers explored the top of his head.
'OuchV
He looked at Lional. 'What about Dorcas? Is she all right?'

'Who cares?' said Reg. 'Are
you?'

He took a quick inventory. 'I think so. Apart from my head ... and my chest.'

'Your chest? Ah. Yes,' said Lional. 'Possibly you were bruised by my saddle. I carried you home on Demon, you see.' He laughed. 'Draped before me just like a kill.'

Oh. How
embarrassing.
'Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I -'

'I say!' said an excited voice from the bedroom doorway.'He's awake? That's
marvellousV

Rupert. Underneath a voluminous green apron he wore canary yellow plus-fours and a bright violet shirt. His socks were striped red and pink.

'Blimey' breathed Reg. 'That's no sight for a sick man to bear!'

Lional speared his brother with a look. 'Yes, Rupert. Now isn't there a butterfly somewhere you can chloroform?'

Rupert blinked. 'No. I
never
chloroform my butterflies, not unless they're suffering.'

'Trust me, Rupert, that can be arranged! Now go away. The professor doesn't need to be disturbed by your mindless drivel, he needs to rest.'

'Oh,' said Rupert. 'All right. If you say so, Lional. I'm so happy you're not hurt, Gerald. If you're feeling up to it later perhaps you'd like to come visit me? The Grandiose Feather-Headed

Lobbet babies hatched an hour ago and they're ever so sweet.'

'That would be very nice, Your Highness,' he said weakly, not daring to look at Lional. 'Once my head stops aching.'

'Wonderful!' said Rupert, beaming. 'Only Grandiose Feather-Headed Lobbet babies don't stay sweet for very long, so -'

'Rupert!

Rupert departed.
'Dreadful
man,' said Lional, shuddering. 'I sometimes wonder if he isn't a changeling.' Then he smiled. 'Now, Gerald, you must rest. There are urgent matters of state about which I must ask your advice, as soon as you feel up to it.'

Wonderful. Just what he needed. /
really feel rotten. I'll never ride again.
'Of course, Your Majesty,' he said weakly.'Thank you, Your Majesty'

'Oh, no, Gerald,' said Lional, and pressed a friendly hand to his shoulder.'Thank
you'.

'Well!' he said as the door closed quietly behind the king. 'Do you suppose he's concussed too?'

'Don't know, don't care,' said Reg. 'How bad are you feeling really? Can you get up?'

He raised his head from the pillow and nearly vomited. 'I don't think so. I feel hideous. And why would I want to get up, anyway?'

'Because we're leaving.'

' WliatV

Reg lowered her voice. 'Look, sunshine. I don't know exactly what happened out there because I zigged when I should've zagged and lost you for a bit in all that dratted greenery, but I do know this.
Whatever
happened didn't have anything to do with that horse sticking its clumsy hoof down a rabbit hole!'

His jaw dropped.'You were
following
me?'

She had the grace to look guilty. 'I had a feeling, all right? And my feelings are never wrong.' She leaned closer. 'I think Lional tried to
murder
you.'

Oh, for the love of Saint Snodgrass. This was taking the little brother routine
way
too far.
'Murder
me? Why would Lional want to
murder
me?'

Her expression became mulish. 'There could be any number of reasons. Lord knows
I've
been tempted once or twice. But when I finally found you in that wretched forest, Gerald, you were laid out like a corpse at the base of a tree and Lional was staring down at you as though you'd just swallowed the keys to his Treasury. Proper put out, he was, swearing and muttering and carrying on.' She sniffed. 'Very unroyal behaviour.'

He rubbed his aching head. 'Really? Knowing you I thought it was par for the course.'

'Gerald, stop trying to be clever and
listen]
Not only was that sluggard Dorcas nowhere to be seen, because it had bolted for home, when I looked it over in its stable I couldn't find hide nor hair to prove it'd fallen flat on its face.'

'So?'

'So a fall like Lional says it had, should've broken its knobbly knees! That nag shouldn't have been able to hobble ten yards, let alone gallop all the way home to bed!' Reg snapped. 'And I'll tell you something else. There wasn't a rabbit hole within a hundred yards of that tree you were supposed to have been thrown against. Show me your chest.'

'What? No, I'm not going to show you my chest!'

With an impatient cackle she tugged open his night-shirt. 'Lional says his saddle bruised you. Well, I'm not looking at any bruises, sunshine, I'm looking at three chest hairs and some underdeveloped pectoral muscles. And what does that tell you?'

'That you've got no respect for a man's privacy' he muttered, covering himselt again.

'No, you idiot! Lional's
lying]
If you got yourself knocked silly by falling off that pony then I'm Shugat's maiden aunty. And trust me, I'm not.'

'Reg, this is ridiculous. If Lional wanted to murder me he could've done it while I was unconscious on the ground! Why bring me all the way back to the palace? You've got this all wrong.'

'Oh,
GeraldV
said Reg, stamping one foot for emphasis. 'Forget about my outside and remember what I am on the
inside.
What I
was.
I
know
about these things, you fool, they were my meat and drink and they put me in a feathered dress for the rest of my unnaturally long life and I don't want you to end up the same way or worse! Just because I don't know
why
Lional wants you dead doesn't mean he
doesn't]
Or that he won't try again! That's why you've got to get out of here. You might not be so lucky next time.'

He frowned. He'd never seen Reg this upset before. She was really frightened. He felt an answering stab of fear.
If Reg
was really frightened ... He brushed a fingertip across the top of her head. 'Sorry' he said gently'It's just a little hard to believe, that's all. As a rule, tailor's sons from Nether Wallop don't have kings trying to kill them.'

She rattled her tail feathers. 'Not unless they've done a
very
poor job with their pin tucks, no.'

It was ridiculous. But Reg was so convinced ... 'Oh lord,' he groaned. 'What's Melissande going to say when I tell her you think her brother tried to kill me?'

'Nothing useful,' Reg said briskly. 'She probably won't believe you. Lional's got her well and truly hoodwinked, the cad.'

'Well, I have to tell somebody in authority here.' He screwed his eyes shut against the pounding pain inside his skull, i suppose I could tell Rupert.'

Reg laid a wing across his forehead. 'Don't look now, Gerald, but fever is making you delirious.'

He managed, just, to push the wing away. 'He's next in line for the crown, Reg. It's my duty to tell him.'

'And /f you tell him, Gerald, what is he going to do? Send his trained attack butterflies to carry Lional off the throne and put him under lock and key?'

He hardly heard her exasperated question. Suddenly there was a fuzzy kind of ringing in his ears and the world was going smeary round the edges. 'No. No, of course not,' he said vaguely. 'But something ...'

'Gerald?' said Reg, sounding alarmed and querulous.'What's wrong? Gerald! Talk to me!'

He tried, but his tongue felt like a fat roll of flannel, his eyes wouldn't focus and none of his limbs would obey him. Reg was saying something else but he couldn't hear her, she sounded as though she were speaking from the opposite end of a very long tunnel.

And then all the lights went out, and he tumbled headfirst into welcome oblivion.