Accidental Sorcerer (23 page)

burp. 'Happy now? Right. The way I see it, if we get a move on we should be back through the portal to Ottosland before that murderous lunatic Lional has even opened his eyes. Do you want to start packing or shall I?'

He sat up.'Neither. I'm having a bath.'

Closing the ensuite door on her outraged shrieks, he inspected himself in the mirror as the tub filled with steaming water. The lump on his skull had almost disappeared and the sore spot on his chest barely protested when he poked at it. That was the good news. The bad news was his memory still hadn't returned. And, after yesterday's hours in the saddle, the rest of his body felt like it had been racked.

Inching himself into the bath, moaning as the seeping heat began to unknot his tortured muscles, he closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the chaos that was currently his life. In the sober light of morning, and without that vicious pounding headache, the idea of Lional as a homicidal maniac seemed increasingly unlikely. Not only was the king completely without motive, wizards just weren't that easy to murder. They had in-built alarms. Extra sensitivities. Wizards got murdered by other wizards, not civilians, even if said civilians were royal.

So. That disposed of one problem. Unfortunately it still left him with several others, the most pressing ot which was the Kallarapi situation.

Even if Lional
had
tried to murder him, which he
hadn't,
he couldn't possibly leave New Ottosland before making sure he'd prevented a full-scale religious conflict with the kingdom's neighbour ... or found a way to stop Melissandes unwilling marriage to Zazoor.

If Lional was so keen on asking for his advice, he'd make sure to give him some. Forget the marriage. Pay your debts. Pull your head in. And
no
religious hanky-panky.

Once all that was accomplished
then
he'd go home to Ottosland.

Much cheered, he finished bathing.

Reg had made herself comfortable on his pillow and was in the middle of a half-hearted primping session. She took one look at his face as he emerged pink, damp and towel-wrapped from the bathroom and groaned. 'You're not leaving, are you?'

'I'm sorry' he said, hunting through his chest of drawers for fresh clothing. 'I know you're worried but I can't leave until I've stopped Lional from provoking a war when he doesn't have an army to protect his kingdom with.'

'He doesn't have one
now!
said Reg. 'But that doesn't mean he can't get one.'

He looked up from buttoning his shirt. 'How? There's no such thing as a mail-order defence force.'

'There doesn't need to be. You forget that somewhere in this drafty old pile of a palace there's a nursery with a whole battalion of tin soldiers in it.'

'So?'

'So you've got a nifty knack of turning one thing into another, haven't you?'

He gaped at her. '
What?
You think I'd turn tin soldiers into
real
ones? That could
hurt
people?'

'Not willingly, no,' said Reg. 'But I think if Lional put his mind to it he could be very ... persuasive.'

'I would
never
use my magic to make something that could hurt people, no matter
what
Lional said!'

Reg considered her wing tips. 'It's not his pretty speeches that worry me, sunshine.'

'So now you're saying he'd try to - to
torture
me? How? I'm a wizard, Reg! A damned powerful one as it turns out. He wouldn't get close enough to torture me, I'd have him flat on his back and across the other side of the room before he took one step towards me.'

Reg shrugged.'He managed to lay you out cold and get you to forget how it happened, Gerald. Right now I wouldn't put anything past him.'

'Oh, don't start that again! For Lional to do what you're suggesting he'd have to be a wizard himself, and he's not. I can smell a wizard a mile away'

She considered him steadily. 'Really? You didn't smell that tatty old Shugat, did you, till he was right under your nose.'

Damn.
He didn't think she'd noticed that. 'Shugat's not a wizard. Not in the accepted sense of the word. He's a holy man. All bets are off when it comes to religion. And Lional is
not
a wizard. The only thing he smells of is expensive aftershave.

Anyway, if he was a wizard he wouldn't need me, would he? Now can we
please
not talk about this any more?'

She flapped from the pillow to the chest of drawers. 'What about Humphret Bottomley?'

He retreated to the bedroom armchair and threw himself into it.'What about him?'

'He's missing.'

'No, he's not!'

'That Markham boy says no-one's heard from him in months,' she retorted. 'In my book that's called missing.' She sniffed. 'But in yours, apparently, it's called wilfully disregarding the facts.'

'What facts? There are no facts! There's just you having some kind of mid-life crisis!'

She fixed him with a gimlet glare. 'Trust me, sunshine, when I'm having a crisis you'll be the first to know. Now wake up your crystal ball and call that Markham boy. Tell him what's happened around here in the last day and see if he doesn't agree with me. And while you're at it, see if he knows how many more of Lional's ex-court wizards have disappeared.'

He drummed his heels into the carpet.
'Reg ...'
But it was depressingly clear from the look on her face that she'd give him no rest until he indulged her, so he stamped to the workshop, activated the crystal ball ... and completely failed to get a call through to Monk.

'Did you get the address right?' said Reg, flapping from the bench to Gerald's shoulder. 'Try the wretched thing again.'

'Yes of course I got the address right,' he said, teeth gritted.'And I was just about to try again.' He did. Still nothing.

'Maybe it's the ball,' said Reg. There was just the faintest hint of panic in her voice. 'It's an old ball, Gerald, it was fourth or fifth hand when you got it and it's taken a bashing in the last few years. Try it again.Third time lucky'

'Or unlucky, as the case may be,' he said a moment later, staring at the inert lump of crystal in front of him.'Now what?'

Reg clattered her beak. 'Now we sneak into Madam Fashion Plate's office and use
her
crystal ball.'

'Why sneak? Why don't I just go and ask Melissande -'

'Because she's being guarded under lock and key, remember? We don't have time to fart about with all that. Being underhand is faster.'

'What about my breakfast?'

'Bugger your breakfast, Gerald!' snapped Reg, launching herself into the air. 'We have to get cracking. I've got a very bad feeling about this!'

Groaning, he followed her out of the workshop. 'Wait, Reg, I really need my breakfast!'

But she was already on her way to the foyer, so he shoved his sockless feet into his shoes and hurried to join her.

'You'll have to pick the lock,' said Reg, as he rattled Melissande's office door-handle. 'Quick, before a lackey comes along.'

Gerald rolled his eyes. 'A lackey would be useful, Reg. I could ask them to let us in.'

'At this hour of the morning?' she snapped. 'Go on, you know how to diddle it. Stop dithering and get us inside!'

He turned his head to stare at her nose to beak.
' What
has gotten
into
you?'

'I told you. I've got a very bad feeling.'

'So have I,' he muttered, and sprung the lock with a word and snap of his fingers.'Doctors call it dangerously low blood sugar.'They slipped into the office. 'So where's the crystal ball?' he whispered, staring at Melissandes desk. 'It was right there, she was using it as a paperweight.'

'Search me,' said Reg. 'She must've had an unexpected fit of tidiness and put it away somewhere. Start looking.'

If Melissande finds out about this she's going to kill me.
He hunted in the cupboards, behind the books in the bookcases and
in
the filing cabinets. Opened all the desk drawers, including the ones that were locked, and nearly bit his tongue at what he found in the last.

'Reg!'

'You've found it? Excellent!'

'No,' he said, and held up a book bound in dimpled red leather.'But I found this!'

'Gerald,' said Reg severely. 'We don't have
time
for reading!'

'It's a textbook,' he said, flipping open the cover. 'Monk's sister Emmerabiblia's got the same one. Melissande's been studying witchcraft!'

'So she's got a hobby! At least it's not butterflies! Now is that crystal ball in here or not?'

'Not,' he said, tucking the textbook under his arm.

'Maybe she took it with her when Lional locked her in her apartments,' said Reg. 'We'd better go and ask her.'

'How can we ask her? Guard, lock and key, remember?'

'So we get rid of the guard, unlock the doors and
then
we ask her.'

'I don't know which part of the palace she lives

in.'

Reg groaned. 'That bang on the head really rattled your marbles, didn't it? You've got her textbook, haven't you? Use it!'

Oh. Right. Feeling like an idiot he spread his fingers flat against the book's cover and closed his eyes.'
Locatio Melissande anuxi.'
An answering tingle of energy ran through his hand. The book quivered and tugged. 'All set,' he said, and headed for the door. 'Let's go.'

Melissande's suite of rooms was four staircases and three corridors away from her office. The good news was that only one guard stood sentinel. The bad news was that he was young and athletic. But if the expression on his face was anything to go by he was also bored to sobs and therefore not inclined to be a martyr to his job. Back to good again.

Reg nipped Gerald's ear. 'Come on, then. Get rid of him.'

Ducking back around the corner before the guard noticed them, Gerald shoved the book under one arm and wrestled with his conscience. He wasn't going to hurt the man, not really. Creating an illusion of discomfort wasn't the same as actually hurting someone.
And
it was in a good cause. An
excellent
cause. If the guard knew how he was helping his kingdom he'd probably volunteer.

Reg bounced on his shoulder.
'Gerald]
What are you
waiting
for?'

He took a deep breath and peered around the corner. The guard was still there, scratching his armpit. Softly, Gerald let out his held breath and with it the hex a very tipsy Monk had once invented as a practical joke.

'What's happening, what's happening?' Reg demanded.

'Shh,' he hissed. 'Any second now ...'

The guard, who had short black hair, pimples and an impressive pair of biceps, stopped looking bored and started looking puzzled. After a moment puzzlement grew to unease. He began to shift himself from one foot to the other and back again as his brows knitted tighter and his hands bunched into fists.

Half a minute later he was trying to cross his legs without falling over. Half a minute after that he uttered an anguished moan and fled.

'Right!' With Reg clinging to his shoulder Gerald rushed to the double doors of Melissande's apartments, opened them, eased through the gap and locked them again. Then he turned to see exactly where they were.

Reg groaned. 'Oh my deary gracious me. What is this, a boudoir or a second-hand bookshop?'

'Well technically, Reg, it's a foyer ... but I know what you mean. Blimey!'

Floor to ceiling, from one side of the room to the other, the walls were lined with bookshelves, and the bookshelves were crammed with books. Thick books, thin books, yellow and red and brown and blue books, old books and new. They were piled on the floor as well, little towers of books listing alarmingly to port and starboard. Somewhere beneath all the clutter were a few scattered rugs, faded and threadbare.

Reg sneezed. 'That girl is beyond redemption!'

The girl in question walked through an open doorway on the far side of the foyer, head down and nose in a book as she came.

Reg sneezed again. 'You really weren't joking when you said you didn't want to get married! Well I don't think you've got too much to worry about, ducky.This lot's better than a chastity belt!'

Melissande's head snapped up and she froze mid-stride. '
Youl
How did you two get in? You didn't do something awful to Ronnie, did you?'

Gerald hid the textbook behind his back. If she'd just turn around for a moment he could stick it on a pile with some others and she'd never know he'd had it ... 'Ronnie? You mean the guard?'

'No, the pot plant in the corner. Of
course
the guard. What have you done with him?'

'You're on first-name terms with your guard?'

'Please. He's two months younger than I am and we've known each other all our lives. Now stop trying to weasel out of answering the question! Did you do something awful to him?'

He managed a weak smile. 'That would depend on your definition of awful.'

'Tentacles and exploding boils leap to mind.'

'Nothing of the kind!' he said, offended. 'What kind of a wizard do you think I am? I just made him think he needed to answer a call of nature.'

As Reg cackled her amusement, Melissande snorted.'Very creative of you. Juvenile, but creative. The nearest loo is two floors away. What do you want?'

'Your crystal ball,' said Reg. 'Ours is on the blink and we need to reach Markham.'

'Who?' said Melissande, then held up a hand.'No. I remember.' She shuddered. 'Unfortunately. All right. It's in the study. Just because I'm locked up doesn't mean I don't have work to do.' She stepped aside and with a sweep of her arm indicated the doorway she'd just walked through.'After you.'

Damn.
So much for surreptitiously ditching the textbook. He waited for Reg to fly through the open doorway then finagled his way past the princess, who followed him in and headed straight for a paperwork-cluttered table in the middle of the study. This room, like the foyer, was stuffed to the gills with books.

'Nice to see you've kept the motif going,' observed Reg as she landed on the back of a ratty old armchair piled high with leather-bound tomes. 'Very thematic'