Accidental Sorcerer (34 page)

'It's Reg,' he said, dizzy with relief. 'At least, I thought it was Reg. Lional told me it was Reg.'

Wriggling free of his embrace, Reg flapped over to the corpse on the cave floor and inspected it. 'That's not me,' she said. 'That's -' She took a closer look. 'That's a dead chicken hexed to look like me. And it's not even a very good likeness.' She fixed him with a gimlet eye.

'Gerald Dunwoody, are you saving you couldn't tell the difference between me and a hexed dead chook? Please don't tell me you couldn't tell the difference between me and hexed dead chook!
Look
at it! The beak's all wrong
and
the eyes are crossed
and
it's missing a claw on the right foot! And it s
fat.
How could you
possibly
think that was me?'

He didn't care that she was scolding, i'm sorry,' he said, getting up. i was a bit ... distracted ... at the time.' He stared at them, breathless, i can't believe you
found
me. How -'

'Locator incant and a portable portal,' said Monk.

'A
portable
por-?'

'Monk invented it,' said Reg.

'Of course Monk did,' he said, dazed. 'But how could it work, Lional set a lodestone, it -'

'What?' said Reg. 'Gerald, what are you talking about?'

Oh, hell. The lodestone.
'Lional hid a lodestone in here so I couldn't escape via magic,' he whispered, nauseous. 'He deactivated it so I could make the dragon ... and then he lost himself inside the damn thing's mind. He never turned the lodestone back on. And I've been so busy feeling sorry for myself I -'

i don't know what you're bleating about and I don't care!' said Melissande. 'What the hell were you
thinking,
Gerald? Making a
dragon?'

i'm sorry' he whispered.

'How did you do it?' she demanded, hands fists on her hips. 'Transmog a lizard? What kind? The only exotic lizards we have live in the zoo, and none of them look like that flying monstrosity
you've
set loose!'

He could barely look her in the face, it was a Bearded Spitting Lizard from Lower Limpopo. Lional said Bondaningo Greenfeather got it for him.'

'That's a
HeV
Her eyes were hot with anger and betrayal. Glittering with tears. 'Bondaningo was a good man. He would
never
bring something like that into the country!'

i'm afraid he did. Your brother can be ... very persuasive.'

iil bet!' she said, contemptuous. 'So what did he promise you in return for his dragon? Gold? Jewels? Land?
Wlrat did he promise you?'

He made himself meet her furious gaze. 'You don't want to know what he promised me, Melissande.'

With a subdued flutter of feathers Reg flew from the floor to his shoulder. 'She may not want to, Gerald, but she needs to. It's the only way she'll understand what has to be done.'

Gently he prised Reg free. 'No,' he said, thrusting her blindly into Monk's unready hands. 'And don't ask me again.'

Monk cleared his throat. 'Look, mate ...'

'Are you deaf? /
said no\'
he shouted, and turned away.

'He tortured you, didn't he?' said Monk. He always was a stubborn bastard.

'Tortured him?' said Melissande. 'Don't be ridiculous. He looks fine to me, there's not a scratch on him.'

Her fresh contempt was like acid. Gerald spun around, shaking, and whatever she saw in his face drove her backwards till she struck the cave wall.

'I'm
sorry,
all right, Melissande? Sorry I wasn't strong enough, sorry I gave in to him, sorry I made his bloody dragon!'

Her chin lifted. In so many ways she was her brother's sister. 'Sorry doesn't help the people it's killed. Did you know that, Gerald? Did you know that it's
killed
people?'

'Yes. I know.' He saw them whenever he closed his eyes.

'Then how could you
do
it? How could you make such a monstrous creature?
Why
weren't you strong enough? You're a
wizard,
you swore an
oath).
You as good as killed those people
yourself.'

'You think I don't
know
that?' he demanded, his voice ragged. 'You think I don't know I've got their blood on my hands? I tried to resist your damned brother, Melissande! I did resist him, at least for a while. But in the end ... in the end ...' Helpless, he stared at her. 'In the end I wasn't good enough. I broke. I failed.'

'That's not fair,' Monk said quickly. 'We know what Lional's been up to, Gerald. The stolen
potentias.We
know he had access to illegal grimoires, the kind of filthy magic he's got at his fingertips.'

Melissande turned on him. 'How
dare
you make excuses for him, Mister Markham? Haven't you been
listening?
People have
died
because Gerald made that dragon. He's an oath-sworn wizard,
he
should have died before -'

'Do you think I didn't try?' Gerald said, grabbing her elbow and hauling her around. 'He wouldn't let me, all right? Everything he did was designed to keep me alive. Alive and - and -'

'And
what?'
she said. Her tone was scathing.

He opened his mouth and the memories poured out. By the time he was finished she was crying, Monk looked like a ghost and Reg was stamping to and fro across the cave's dirt floor swearing a blue streak.

'There's something else you should know,' he said tiredly, as Reg finally ran out of curses. 'Lional's controlling the dragon using the
Tantigliani sympathetica!

Melissande smeared a dirty sleeve across her wet face. 'What does that mean?' she said unsteadily.

it means your brother and the dragon are two bodies with one mind. He sees through its eyes, it breathes with his lungs. It's got all his cunning, his intelligence, his knowledge. And he's got its ... savagery'

Shaken, Monk said, 'Bloody hell. Every wizard who's ever tried that incant has gone mad. Even Tantigliani in the end.' He frowned. 'You said he'd lost himself inside the dragon's mind? Does that mean ...'

Gerald looked at Melissande. Despite everything he could have wept for her. 'Yes.' In his memory, Lional and the dragon whispering. 'I'm pretty sure it's too late for Lional.'

Reg rattled her tail feathers. 'Then the only way to stop the dragon is by capturing the king.'

'How can we capture him, Reg?' said Monk. 'He's as good as half a dragon himself now!'

'Fine,' she said, shrugging. 'Then we don't capture the bastard. We kill him.'

'Kill
him?' Melissande stared. 'You can't! / can't! He's my brother!'

'He was your brother,' Gerald said gently. 'What he is now ... is anybody's guess.'

'It's a simple equation,' said Reg. 'Kill Lional and we kill the dragon.'

'And if we kill the dragon instead?' demanded Melissande, folding her arms.

Monk put his hand on her shoulder. 'Lional still dies. But the chances of us killing that dragon ...'

'Are non-existent and none,' Reg said briskly. 'Sorry, ducky. Lional's got to go.'

Melissande dissolved into tears again. As Monk put his arms around her, cradling her against his chest, Gerald picked up Reg.'Can't you even
try
to be tactful?'

'Who cares about tact in a crisis?' she retorted. 'And after what she said to you -'

He sighed. 'Forget about what she said to me. It doesn't matter. She didn't understand.'

Reg's eyes were bright. Birds couldn't cry but he could tell she was weeping on the inside. 'I never should've left you, Gerald. If I'd stayed here with you -'

'There'd still be a dragon. And we wouldn't have Monk with his portable portal.' He kissed her beak. 'Reg, it's all right. It wasn't your fault.' He released a hard breath. 'Now, what about the Department? Are they -'

She made a rude noise. 'We can't trust those idiots Markham works for to get here in time! They're probably still discussing the matter over crumpets and cocoa! No, Gerald, it's up to us. And if we don't act
now,
it could be too late! For New Ottosland, for Kallarap . .. maybe even the world!'

'She's right,' said Monk over Melissande's bowed head. 'We can't afford to wait for the Department. We have to deal with Lional ourselves. Or try to.'

'How? He's not going to let us just walk up to him and kill him. He'll kill us first, or his dragon will.'

Melissande pulled out of Monk's embrace.
'I'll
stop him. He's my brother. He'll listen to me.'

'No, he
won't,
Melissande. Haven't you been paying attention? He's not plain old Lional any more!'

i don't
card
I have to
tryV
She turned to Monk. 'Can that portable portal of yours get us to the palace roof?'

Monk took a nondescript rock from his pocket, i think so. Or pretty close, anyway'

'How close is pretty close? A six foot tall onto dirt is one thing. A fifty foot fall onto brickwork is something else entirely!'

Monk looked insulted, i said I can do it.'

Gerald grabbed his arm.'Wait. Send me and Reg to the palace. Weil do our best to keep Lional occupied. You and Melissande go back to the Department and kick up the biggest stink it has ever seen until those idiots get off their arses and send some help.'

'I'm not leaving New Ottosland!' said Melissande. 'You three can go if you like, but I'm staying here. I have to be
seen.
The people
need
me. I won't be the second person in my family to let them down on the same damned day!'

'No - Melissande - the only hope your people have is if you stay safe!' he insisted. 'Let Rupert fly the family flag, he -'

Her expression changed. 'Oh, lord.
Rupert.
I forgot about Rupert! I have to find him, he'll be terrified. And if
Lional
finds him ...' Then she rallied. 'You can take him with you when you go for help.'

'Melissande -'

'No! I'm the prime minister, my duty is
here!
She folded her arms and lifted her chin. 'So shut up, Gerald, because you're wasting your time. Monk? Get that portal thing working and take us out of here!
NowV

Passing Reg to Monk he joined her at the roof's edge and stared at the ground far below.

There were great burned ^ patches in the gravel and on the grass edging the palace forecourt, as though someone had upended huge barrels of acid onto them. Even at this height he could smell the acrid stench of the dragon's poison. See the remains of what once had been people. Laughing, living New Ottoslanders, reduced to charred and stinking carcasses. Palace staff, perhaps the very same servants who'd cooked him breakfast. Answered his questions. Bowed to him in passing. The servants he'd never bothered to notice, hardly, and whose names he hadn't asked. His empty stomach heaved.

There were tears on Melissandes cheeks. 'Is one of them Rupert? One of them could be Rupert, he could be dead down there, or in his butterfly house, I have to -'

Gerald grabbed her before she could do something stupid. 'Melissande,
think.
If he is dead, there's nothing you can do for him now. And if he isn't, that means he's hiding safely somewhere. If that's the case we'll find him, I promise. But like you said, you're the Prime Minister. You've got a lot more to worry about than the fate of one man. Even if that man
is
Rupert.'

For a moment she resisted him, her muscles rigid under his fingers. Then she slumped. He let her go. 'This is ridiculous,' she whispered. 'Why did Lional let the dragon do this? Why didn't he
stop
it? I don't care what you say, Gerald. Lional's not
evil.
I grew up with him, for God's sake! He used to feed me my bottle, play piggyback with me all around the palace! All of this ... it isn't
him!

A
creak and flap of wings. Reg. Balanced carefully on the balustrade beside Melissande's white-knuckled hand she said sternly: 'That Lional's dead, ducky. He's been dead for months. What's stalking this kingdom isn't your brother. It's not even a man, it's an abomination. And abominations must be destroyed.'

As Melissande flung herself away, and Monk went after her, Gerald closed his eyes, i should've been a tailor.' His voice broke, i should've died at birth.'

'Gerald!
Reg's wingtip touched his hand. 'Look at me.'

Reluctantly he looked.

i know it's bad,' she said, i'm not going to pretend it isn't. But you don't have the luxury of remorse right now. Lional and his dragon are still out there and they have to be stopped.'

Stopped?
Stopped?
'How?' he demanded, almost hating her. 'The bastard's five times stronger than I am and filled to the brim with black magic. He's got a copy of
Grummen's Lexicon,
for God's sake. How can I -'

'What?' said Reg, and flapped her wings at him. 'Gerald,
what?
What are you thinking?'

Barely breathing, he stared at her. 'Beside his bed. Uffrtzi's copy of
Grummen's Lexicon.
If I could get to it, if I could
read
it, I could -'

'Put the same evil, poisonous muck into
your
head?' she said, almost snarling. 'And then what? You'll kiU him?'

'You said it yourself, Reg. He has to be destroyed. If I
don't
kill him, more people will die!'

She nodded. 'I know. And probably you'd succeed, if you did what you're suggesting. But even if you managed to kill that Lional, who'd kill
you?
Because someone would have to, Gerald. The filth in books like
Grummen's Lexicon
stains your soul forever and makes you
bad.
It'd make you
worse
than bad. Let's not forget, sunshine: you're a
prodigy'.

'That's why I have to do this,' he retorted. 'Don't you understand? There's a good chance I'm the only wizard available with a hope against Lional and his stolen
potentias.
But
only
if I fight him with the same weapons he's got!'

'No. You're the one who doesn't understand,' she said, shaking her head. 'With Lional dead, Gerald,
you'd
be the danger. And whoever tried to stop you, well, they'd need to read the
Lexicon
too. And it wouldn't end there, I promise you that. Say this hypothetical wizard succeeded and managed to kill you. All it means is there'd be
another
rotten wizard who'd have to die ... and so the
Lexicon
would be used again ... and again ... and again. Is that what you want, sunshine? Every last good wizard in the world dead because of you?'

He turned on her. 'What else can I do? The magic I know doesn't have teeth, it doesn't have talons, it can't kill Lional
or
his damned dragon! I
have
to use the
Lexicon,
Reg!'

'NoV
she shouted, and with a great fluster of wings launched herself into the air to hover furiously above him. i'd rather see you dead here and now - I'd rather kill you
myself
than see you -' She stopped. Stared straight ahead, down the long straight carriageway leading from the palace forecourt to the distant palace gates. 'Oh
blimeyl
That's
all
we need!' Dropping back to the balustrade she looked over at Melissande, sitting with Monk on the edge of a low rectangular flowerpot. She raised her voice.'Oy! You! Madam-Queen-in-Waiting! Front and centre, ducky, New Ottosland's got visitors!'

Melissande and Monk stared. Monk had a protective arm around her shoulders; strangely, she didn't seem to mind. Gerald sighed.
So that's what arse over teakettle looks like, does
it? 'Queen-in-Waiting, Reg?'

Reg sniffed. 'Well, once we've dealt with Lional this placeil have a monarching vacancy, won't it? And who in his right mind is going to put Butterfly Boy on the throne? If he hasn't been burned to a crisp, that is.'

'What visitors?' Melissande demanded as she and Monk joined them.

Reg pointed a wing. 'Those ones.'

Shading her eyes, Melissande squinted down the length of the carriageway and further into the distance, i can't see them.They're too far away'

Gerald summoned the hand-held magnifying glass from his suite's workshop then flicked it with his fingers.'
Binoculari expandarium'.

'Very nifty, mate,' said Monk, impressed.

'Oh yes. I'm nifty all right.' He couldn't hide the bitterness.

Monk flinched. 'Look ... Gerald ...'

'No sympathy,' he said quickly. 'Not unless you want to see a grown man cry' He handed Melissande the enhanced magnifying glass. 'Here. Make sure to keep it six inches from your face or you'll hurt your eyes.'

Clasping it gingerly she looked again. 'Oh,
what?
It's the Kallarapi army!
Hundreds
of them!
TlwusandsV

'Three thousand six hundred and forty seven,' Reg said glumly. When they stared at her she added, 'I've always been good at maths. And birds have excellent eyesight.'

'Huh,' said Melissande. 'How the hell did they get here so
quickly?
Lord, look at all those swords! And those camels - those are
war
camels, they're trained to rip out a man's throat with one bite and disembowel with a kick!' Her fingers were bloodless on the magnifier's handle. 'Gerald, I can't see their faces properly! Beef this thing up for me!'

'Certainly' he said.'If you want your eyes to pop like overripe plums.'

'Not really' She lunged over the parapet, trying to get a better look at the approaching army. As one, he and Monk grabbed her by the shirt tails before she overbalanced and plunged headfirst to the ground.
'Damn.
I'm sure their leader looks familiar. Who
is
that?'

'Trouble, that's who,' said Reg. 'With his best friend Disaster come to keep him company'

Melissande gasped. 'Oh, Saint Snodgrass save us! It's Sultan Zazoor!'

Gerald stared at her. 'Zazoor? Are you sure?'

'She's sure,' said Reg. 'He's riding a black camel. Sultan's privilege, that is. And guess who's at his left hand?'

His heart sank. 'Shugat. Who else?' He took another look down the carriageway. The Kallarapi army was much closer now. Sunshine gleamed on the unsheathed scimitars at their sides, and the ominous drumbeat of padded camel feet on the gravel was now just audible.

'Who's Shugat?' said Monk.

'Trust me,' he said, still staring at the approaching army.'Nobody you want to meet.'

i don't know,' said Reg. 'Might not be such a bad thing, him turning up. That ratty old holy man's got power to burn. Maybe if you two worked together, Gerald ...'

Oh yes, that was likely. If Shugat had come all this way to make friends with the wizard responsible for Tavistock and the dragon
he'd
eat Melissande's parasol, with mustard. 'You'd best get down there to meet them, Your Highness,' he said to Melissande. 'Once you've explained the situation there's no chance Shugat and the Sultan will blame you for what's happened. With any luck they'll be able to protect you from Lional.'

'We'd all best get down there,' said Reg, with an anxious glance at the cloudless sky. if that dragon comes back it'll pick us off like pigeons up here.' She looked at him, eyes narrowed. 'And as for what we were discussing -'

Before he could answer, Melissande said, 'Reg is right, Gerald. As your de facto employer I forbid you going anywhere near black magic. If Pomodoro Uffitzi's books are what made my brother -' She stiffened her spine. '- what he's become, then you can't risk using what's in them. I know we have to ... stop ... Lional. But not like that. It's out of the question.'

'You heard her,' said Reg. 'And rumour has it she's the prime minister.'

'It's not worth the risk, mate,' Monk said unhappily. 'It's obvious you're something extraordinary, but even so. You'd be mad to try it.'

One by one Gerald looked at them, all so anxious on his behalf. 'You don't understand, any of you. You don't understand what Lional -'

'We understand what might happen if you use that bloody
Lexicon)'
said Monk, and shoved him. 'Just - pull your head in, Gerald. You're not throwing your life away if you don't have to!'

/ don't deserve him. I don't deserve any of them.
'And if I have to?' he asked gently.

Monk stepped back. 'We can cross that bridge when -
if
- we come it. But we're not there yet, mate, so for now you'll do as you're told.
Right?'

Definitely I don't deserve them.
He nodded. 'Right.'

'Wonderful!' said Reg, shaking her wings. 'So now
that's
settled, can we please go and greet the Kallarapi before their ratty old holy man leaves a calling card we'll never forget?'

By the time they'd flapped and run down and along and through the deserted palace staircases and corridors and out onto the forecourt, Zazoor and his slow-marching army were just a stone's throw away. Panting, sweating, they skidded to a halt on the gravel. Down here the smell of death and destruction was thick enough to turn the stomach; up close the charred bodies were sickening. Gerald watched Melissande's expression harden as she stared at them. Watched her make a conscious decision not to react, not to give way. To be royal ... whatever that meant.

Back on his shoulder, Reg breathed, 'Good girl, ducky.That's the way a princess does things.'

i knew them all,' she said bleakly. 'But Rupert's not one of them.' Letting out a hard breath she shoved loose hair pins back in her bun, then blotted her face on her grubby sleeve. 'Right. You lot wait here. I'm the prime minister, I'll take care of this.'

They watched her march forward to meet the Supreme Ruler of Kallarap, his holy man and his army.

'You know,' said Monk, after a moment. 'That's a lot of camels.'

Reg snorted. 'And warriors. And swords. And spears.'

'That holy man.' Monk shuddered. 'I see what you mean, Gerald.'

Power roiled off Shugat like heat from the sun. Gerald nodded.'He's something, all right.'

'Every last one of them stinks of magic,' said Monk. 'Explains how they got here so fast. They must have used some kind of
accelerando
incant. I wonder if -'

'Shut up, Monk,' he said, as Shugat's power crawled like fire ants over his skin. 'I want to hear what they're saying.'

Monk started to object, changed his mind, and shut up.

Standing alone and stiff-backed in the wide gravel driveway, Melissande looked small and vulnerable as Zazoor drew his jet-black camel to a complaining halt before her and inclined his head in greeting. From his unadorned turban to his curly-toed boots he was dressed in shimmering white. His face was clean shaven, lean and hard and unreadable. He looked pristine and cool and frighteningly unapproachable. All his attention was focused on the princess.

Gerald felt sweat trickle the length of his spine.
The rest of us might as well he rocks. Or rose hushes.

Defiant in her ghastly shirt and trousers and sensible shoes, Melissande bobbed a kind of curtseying bow. 'Welcome to New Ottosland, Sultan Zazoor.'

'Princess Melissande,' Zazoor replied politely. 'My gods-betrothed wife ... or so I am given to understand by your esteemed brother the king.'

The breeze had stilled. Nothing stirred. Their voices carried clearly through the warm, death-tainted air.

'Yes. And your gods, Magnificence?' countered Melissande. 'Do they agree with my brother?'

Zazoor flicked a glance at Shugat, silently menacing to his left on a camel so white it was hard to look at. 'No. They say your brother the king is ... mistaken.'

'Alas, Magnificence,' said Melissande, her chin lifting. 'My brother the king is mad.'

Zazoor pressed a flat palm to his heart. 'So my holy man Shugat has also told me. You have my sympathies, Highness.'

She nodded graciously then looked at Shugat. i did not look to see you again so soon, Holy Shugat. Such a short time has passed since you left us.'

Shugat's look was inscrutable. 'The gods give us wings, Princess, when desiring us to fly towards ... justice.'

'Ouch,' Monk muttered. 'Think that was a threat?'

i don't know,' Gerald muttered back. 'Is your brother a pillock?'

'Shhhh!' hissed Reg, and thumped him with her wing.