The Accidental sorcerer

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

When Gerald opened his eyes again, morning sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window, bathing his face in golden warmth and painting the cream bedspread butter yellow. His headache was gone, and the dull pain in his chest with it.

'Hmmph,' said Reg's slightly muffled voice from above him. 'You're awake.' He looked up: she was sitting on the bed's padded headboard, consuming a mouse.'It's about time.The clock's just struck seven.'

'Reg! How many times do I have to say it? No eating in bed!'

'Now, now, keep your underpants on,' she replied, unmoved. 'I'm not a young woman any more and a sight like that might do me a mischief.'

'So help me, Reg, if you leave the tail in the bedclothes again…'

Hopping onto a convenient pillow she slurped down the last inch of mouse and gave a genteel 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'

Melissande looked up from tidying the mess, frowning. 'Are you here to use my crystal ball or give me interior decorating advice?'

'I can do both,' said Reg, scratching her head. 'It's no skin off my beak, ducky' She peered around the room suspiciously.'Where's that Boris?'

'Out. Just because I'm a prisoner there's no need for him to be one as well.'

Reg sniffed.'Typical. Bloody cats. Wouldn't know the meaning of loyalty if it bit them on the bum.'

'So. Gerald,' said Melissande, pointedly ignoring Reg as she sorted through the clutter. 'Why do you want to get hold of Markham so urgently?'

Taking advantage of her distraction he shoved the textbook into the general disorder and took a step back. 'Oh. Ah. I need a second opinion.'

'If it's to do with your bird I'll give you — ha!' With a pleased smile Melissande unearthed the crystal ball from beneath a tumbled pile of ledgers. 'No. It's nothing to do with Reg.'

'What, then?' she said, polishing the crystal ball with her sleeve. 'Has something else happened I should know about?' What she doesn't know can't hurt her. 'Ah — no.'

She looked at him, eyes narrowing behind those unflattering glasses.'Gerald?'

'Why don't you ask him how he's feeling?' said Reg, all spurious sweetness. 'Mere hours ago he was writhing on a bed of pain… or had you forgotten?'

Melissandes cheeks coloured. 'Sorry. Of course. How are you feeling, Gerald?' 'I'm fine. Starving to death, but fine.'

'Now ask him what really happened yesterday' Reg added.

Exasperated, Melissande planted her hands on her hips.'What are you talking about?' 'In a nutshell? Your pretty brother lied, ducky'

Melissande laughed, and started to make more space for the crystal ball. 'Don't be ridiculous! Lional's the king. He doesn't need to lie. If you don't mind I've got a lot of work to do, so call Markham and — ' 'Oh,' said Gerald.'Ah — I can explain that.'

She'd noticed the pilfered textbook. 'I left this in my office,' she said, picking it up. 'At the bottom of a locked drawer.' Damn, damn, damn. 'Your Highness — '

'Have you been spying on me, Professor?' she demanded, her fingers bloodless as they gripped the book. 'Did Lional put you up to this?'

He turned on Reg before she could speak. 'Don't. All right? Just don't. Let me handle this, all right?'

Reg closed her beak, fluffed up all her feathers, and retreated into sulky silence.

Hesitantly he took a step closer to the furious princess. 'Melissande, listen. Please. It's not what you think.'

Her chin came up. 'It isn't? So you didn't break into my office and go through my desk? My book just magically appeared out of thin air and dropped into your lap?'

'No, of course it didn't,' he said. 'You're right. I broke into your office and I went through your desk. But trust me, not for Lional!'

' Trust you?' She tossed the book back onto the table then wrestled her temper under control. 'AH right. Why, then? And I give you fair warning, if I don't like the answer you will be sorry'

I'm already sorry. 'It's like Reg said,' he told her, carefully. 'I need to get through to Monk and my crystal ball's not working.' 'So you thought you'd steal mine?' 'Borrow' 'It's only borrowing when you ask first!'

He risked a smile. 'Believe me, I wish I had. I didn't want to disturb you. Sorry'

She just looked at him, stony-faced. Clearly the smile wasn't working. 'Well, there's the ball. Use it and go.'

He nodded at the discarded textbook. 'I didn't realise there was a Witches' Academy here in New Ottosland.'

'There's not,' she said stiffly, arms folded. 'If you must know I'm doing a correspondence course with Madam Ravatinka's Exclusive School of Witchery. It was advertised in a back-issue of The Ottosland Express. And don't you dare sneer. You're a correspondence-course graduate yourself!' i wasn't going to sneer,' he protested. 'Are you any good?'

She unfolded her arms. 'I'm not bad. I've passed all my First Year tests. But so far it's just been theory. We don't start the practical stuff till next year.' Calmer now, she flicked him a sharp look. 'Gerald, did Lional really lie about your accident?'

The nearest chair was piled high with books. He shifted them to the floor, buying some time, and sat down. 'Go on,' said Reg. 'Tell her.' He sighed. 'Well…'

'For the love of Saint Snodgrass stop trying to protect me!' cried Melissande. 'I'm not a little girl, I'm — '

'A princess and a prime minister. I know,' he said. 'Melissande, I'm not trying to protect you.' Her eyes were scornful.'No?'

'All right. Perhaps I am. A bit. But I'm protecting me, too.' 'From what?'

'The consequences of unfounded accusations. Reg has a bee in her bonnet but I don't hear it buzzing. At least not very loudly. There's suspicion but no proof to back it up and until there is proof…' Troubled, he considered her. 'But leaving yesterday aside, it's likely things are going to heat up around here anyway. With the Kallarapi. 1 don't suppose you'd consider leaving? I could get you to the portal undetected. You could go and stay with Monk till the dust settles.' Melissande stared.'Leave? Run away, you mean.'

Reg clattered her beak. 'Run away, make a strategic withdrawal, charge in a backwards direction, make tracks, bugger off — does it matter what you call it? Just answer the question, ducky. If he gave you the chance would you scarper?'

'And if I did?' said Melissande, still staring. 'Who'd take over as prime minister? Rupert? He wouldn't last five seconds against Lional.'

True, true, lamentably true. 'You could take him with you.'

'Well that'd be nice and inconspicuous, wouldn't it?' said Melissande, rolling her eyes. 'Me, Rupert and five thousand butterflies all sneaking out of the country together. Because you'd never get him to leave them behind, you know. And I wouldn't leave him. If I was going. Which I'm not. Shocking as this may sound, Gerald, you aren't the only one around here who's sworn an oath and takes it seriously. Or do you think only wizards have a sense of honour?' Stung, he stood up.'Of course not.' 'So I guess that answers your question, doesn't it?' 'Yes. I guess it does.'

Reg cackled.'I'll give you this, ducky. You may have the deportment of a demented mongoose but you've got guts to go with it.' Melissande looked at her.'Thank you. I think.'

'More guts than sense is what you've got,' Gerald retorted.'If you'd give me some privacy I'll rustle up Monk, then Reg and I'll be on our way'

She shook her head. 'Whatever you have to say you can say in front of me. Unless it has nothing to do with New Ottosland.' Her eyebrows lifted; for a moment she looked like just Lional.'Has it?'

For a heartbeat he considered lying. For her own good, naturally. Then he discarded the idea. Not only would she probably not believe him, if she did then found out later he'd deceived her, well… 'Fine. On one condition: whatever gets said in this room stays in this room.'

She sighed. 'Naturally. Shocking as it sounds I do have a passing familiarity with discretion, Gerald.' Also with sarcasm. He nodded. 'Right.'

But when he tried to put the call through, nothing happened.

'Don't look at me,' said Melissande. 'It was working last night when I spoke to the Babishkian Minister for Trade about their last shipment of grooslok.Try it again.' Stomach churning, he tried it again. Still nothing.

'Maybe it's you,' said Melissande. 'You're concussed, that could — '

'No,' said Reg, frowning. 'It's not Gerald. The etheretic transductors have gone hinky' 'The what?' said Melissande blankly.

Reg looked down her beak. 'The etheretic transductors, ducky. The squillions of teeny tiny thaumaletic particles bumping around in the atmosphere acting as crystal ball carrier waves.' She sniffed. 'I hope you didn't pay a lot for this Madam Rinky Tinky's correspondence course. Because if she doesn't know enough to teach you about etheretic transductors, madam, I'd say you've done your dosh.'

'It's none of your business how much I paid,' said Melissande, colouring. 'And anyway, all that technical stuff isn't covered until next year.'

'Well, if this Madam Rinky Tinky doesn't know-enough to teach her First Year students about etheretic transductors, the dangers associated with, I'd be very surprised to learn she had any Second Year students on her books at all!' retorted Reg. 'In fact it's a wonder to me you haven't blown yourself to smithereens already!'

'I'll have you know,' Melissande said hotly, hands on hips, 'that Madam Ravatinka is a highly qualified expert and — '

She was interrupted by the sound of her apartment doors opening and an autocratic voice crying, 'Melissande? Where are you? Come out here immediately, I wish to talk to you!'

'LionalV whispered Melissande. 'Damn. If he finds you two here we're cooked. I'll get rid of him. Whatever you do don't make a sound or tonight the three of us will be sleeping in chains!'