by K. E. Mills
'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!'
'Lional.' 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!'
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Heart thumping, Melissande plastered a welcoming expression onto her face, pulled the study door not quite closed behind her and shoved her hands into her pockets. 'Good morning, Lional.'
Lional tossed the book he was perusing onto the floor. She tried not to wince as the cover loosened, spilling pages. 'What took you so long?'
'Sorry. I was working.' She cleared her throat. 'Actually, I'm glad you're here. I need to make an urgent call on my crystal ball and it won't connect.'
'Why tell me?' said her difficult brother. 'I'm a king, not a crystal ball repairman. And I don't recall giving you permission to have a crystal ball in here while you're under house arrest.'
Oh, Saint Snodgrass. Give me strength ... 'I may be under house arrest, Lional, but I'm still the prime minister. Who's going to shuffle the paperwork if I don't? Unless you'd like to fire me and appoint Rupert to the position instead?'
He frowned. 'Don't be ridiculous. Rupert is an idiot.'
'I rest my case.'
'Why won't the wretched thing work?' he demanded, eyeing her with cold, impatient displeasure. 'Did you drop it?'
Her fingers clenched inside her pockets but she managed, just, to keep her temper. Losing it now would be fatal; Lional was clearly in a precarious mood.
'No, Lional, I didn't drop it,' she said, flawlessly reasonable. 'The etheretic transductors are on the blink. Tell Gerald—Professor Dunwoody—to fix them, would you? It's about time he started earning his keep.'
'Thank you, Melissande! I will be the judge of who's earning their keep in my kingdom and who isn't! And speaking of which—'
'Of what?' she said, after a moment. 'Lional?'
Lional stared into thin air, his expression suspended. Then he stirred. 'Did you just say… etheretic transductors?
Taken aback, she blinked at him. 'Yes. Why—don't tell me you've heard of them?'
'As a matter of fact, I have. And they're on the blink, you say?'
'They are. Yes.'
'Ah. Then it would appear we've been struck by polarised lightning,' said Lional. 'In which case there's nothing our good Gerald can do. Wizards can't reverse the effects of a polarised lightning strike. Nobody can. All one can do is wait for the etheretic conditions to return to normal. So, Melissande. About this wedding…'
'Forget about the bloody wedding, Lional!' she snapped before she could stop herself. At the look on his face she whipped her hands from her pockets and held them out placatingly. 'At least for the moment, and tell me what you're talking about. I've never heard of polarised lightning. How do you know what it is, or what it does to etheretic conductivity?'
He let out a short sharp sigh. 'Polarised lightning is an extremely rare, practically unheard of thaumaturgical phenomenon, a bizarre concatenation of colliding atoms, random particles and misfiring tetrothaumical emissions.'
Well, Madame Rink— Ravatinka had definitely never mentioned that. 'It is?'
Lional glared. 'Didn't I just say so?'
'Er—according to who?'
'Former Court Wizard Grumbaugh, actually. The city was struck by it during his brief and unlamented tenure. Grumbaugh was most put out. He couldn't use his crystal ball for nearly three days. Yes, and it knocked out the portal too. Most inconvenient.'
Lional could be the most plausible liar when he felt like it. But why would he lie about something like this? Sorry Gerald, it looks like you're clean out of luck. 'And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?' she asked, feeling slighted.
'You were away at the time, officiating at some dreary little village ceremony somewhere unimportant,' said Lional, waving away her annoyance. 'By the time you got back the disruption was over. It must've slipped my mind.'
'But I was working practically all last night and I didn't see any lightning.'
'You wouldn't,' he said promptly. 'It's black, apparently. More or less invisible even during the day. But etheretic disruptions are a classic indicator of polarised lightning activity. Grumbaugh left behind some kind of monitoring apparatus, he said we were uniquely prone to the problem because of the desert and other technical claptrap I didn't listen to.' Lional's expression subtly shifted and his eyes took on a militant glitter. 'If you don't believe me I can fetch it and—'
'No, no,' she said swiftly. 'Of course I believe you, Lional. It's just a nuisance. I've got so much work to do.'
'Leave it to your staff,' he said coldly. 'That's what they're for. You, Melissande, have a wedding to plan.'
Bloody hell, the wedding again? When would her impossible brother listen? 'Lional, please reconsider! How can you do this? Hand me over to a man you despise as though I were a—a—lamp you didn't care for? Don't my feelings come into this? Doesn't it matter to you that I don't want to marry Zazoor?'
'Putting it bluntly, no,' he said. 'All that matters is my kingdom. And I'll use any coin I have to secure its future, Melissande; even my own flesh and blood.'
She couldn't swallow a choked protest fast enough. 'How can you be so cruel? I thought you loved me!'
'I do!' he cried. 'Do you think this is easy for me? That I relish the thought of Zazoor's hands upon my sister? I don't. The idea revolts me. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the good of this nation.'
'How very… noble ... of you,' she said unsteadily, when she could trust herself not to scream. 'But Lional, can't you see that marrying me to Zazoor will do far more harm than good? His people will never accept me. I'm an outsider, probably an infidel. And as for this ridiculous charade involving the Kallarapi gods—oh, Lional, change your mind! New Ottosland needs me, surely you can see that!' You need me, you fool, if you're not to destroy yourself and the kingdom with this madness! But she didn't dare say that aloud. Instead she just stared at him, willing him to hear her for once. This once.
He shook his head. 'You're needed in Kallarap more.'
'Well, I'm sorry, Lional, I don't agree.' On a deep breath, she folded her arms. 'And I can't—I won't — do it. I won't marry Sultan Zazoor.'
In silence he looked at her. Not raging. Merely… unreachable. 'Then I'm sorry too, Melly' he said at last. 'Because until you change your mind the most you'll be seeing of New Ottosland is the view from your windows. And while you contemplate that view I suggest you contemplate this as well. There are cages much less gilded than this one, far beneath our feet. Don't be fool enough to think I won't use them, and far more swiftly than you'd like. In the meantime… consider yourself my ex-Prime Minister.'
The foyer doors slammed hard behind him. She stared at them, feeling her insides tremble. Fighting to hold back the tears. What's happened to you, Lional? You never used to be like this…
Behind her Gerald's voice said, 'Don't lose hope, Melissande. This isn't over, not by a long shot.'
She nodded, unwilling to turn or trust her voice.
'You listen to Gerald, ducky,' the bird said bracingly. 'You'll be a card-carrying member of the Spinsters' Club a good while yet—especially if you don't engage a decent interior decorator.'
When she was sure she could speak like a princess she said, 'You heard what he said? About the—the polarised lightning?'
'Yes,' said Gerald.
/> Now she turned. 'And?'
He and the bird exchanged swift looks. 'And I suppose we'll just have to wait for the etheretic disturbance to subside. Sorry to have bothered you, I know you're busy'
His quite plain face was impossible to read. 'So… you have heard of it, then. This polarised lightning.'
'I think I recall a passing reference in a couple of trade journals. It's… rare.'
'Ah.' She nodded. 'I see. Well, you two should go now, in case Lional sends for you.'
Another shared look with the bird. 'Yes. But what about you? Will you be all right? We heard what he said about cages, too.'
If he started getting all solicitous she was going to cry, and she'd done enough crying lately to last the rest of her life. 'Don't worry about me,' she said briskly. 'I'll be fine. Just… fix this, Gerald. Please. Fix it.'
Gerald didn't reply, but touched her arm in passing. With Reg hunched on his shoulder he pressed his ear to the foyer door, nodded to himself, whispered something under his breath and waited. A couple of moments later he eased the doors open and slipped outside.
Once more, she was alone.
'All right,' said Gerald, having gotten them safely outside the palace and into a section of the gardens full of flowers but not gardeners. 'Have you ever heard of polarised lightning, Reg? Because I haven't!'
Reg snickered. 'I knew you were fibbing.'
'Yes, well, Melissande's got enough on her plate. So. Have you ever heard of it?'
She clacked her beak thoughtfully. 'I can't say I have, and you know how long I've been around,' she said eventually. 'But the world's a large strange place, Gerald, full of fantastical things. You've only got to look at madam's hairdos to realise that. For all I know, polarised lightning could be a phenomenon peculiar to New Ottosland. It is the only country in the world surrounded by weeks of desert, after all, and who knows what strange things lurk in the sands of Kallarap? It's not like anyone's ever explored them.' She sniffed. 'Not unless you count camels. What do your wizarding senses tell you?'
He stopped and closed his eyes. Breathed deeply for a moment, trying to ignore the hollow pit in his stomach where his breakfast should be, then let his instincts quest outwards.
Silence. Stillness. An odd kind of muffling…
'Bloody hell!' he said, and opened his eyes. 'The whole place is dampened.'
'Dampened?' said Reg.
'Like—like—fogged in. There's enough ambient energy to ignite the smaller incants but that's all, I think.' He stared at her. 'You really can't feel it?'
She sighed. 'Of course not. I'm a witch in name only these days, Gerald, you know that.'
As always, behind the tartness he heard the aching regret. 'Sorry,' he said, and reached up to stroke her wing. 'I'm a bit distracted.'
She flapped from his shoulder to the back of a nearby garden bench. 'You must be if you didn't notice this before.'
Thoroughly disconcerted, he slumped onto the bench beside her. All of a sudden food didn't seem so important. 'Do you think it's a side-effect of this polarised lightning?'
She shrugged. 'I suppose it could be. If such a thing does exist.'
'If it doesn't,' he said slowly, 'then Lional was lying. Why would he do that?'
'Deary me,' said Reg, rolling her eyes. 'Have I taught you nothing? He's royalty, Gerald. As far as royalty's concerned truth is what happens to other people. Unless of course telling the truth will gain us an advantage, in which case we're as honest as the day is long.'
'That still doesn't explain why he'd lie about this.' He drummed his fingers on his knee. 'I suppose the timing could just be a coincidence… me not being able to contact Monk right when I need to talk with him, urgently, the morning after I have a mysterious accident in the woods. If it was a mysterious accident.'
'Trust me,' said Reg robustly. 'It was mysterious. But what of it? If Lional's not a wizard and he isn't trying to kill you, which is what you're saying, how can this sudden communications blackout be anything but a coincidence?'
He looked at her. 'You know, it makes me nervous when you agree with me.'
She snorted. 'But I don't agree with you, Gerald. And I certainly don't believe in coincidence. This entire situation stinks to high heaven. I might not understand the details yet but I do know this much: that Lional's a weed and he needs to be pulled!'
'I know, Reg,' he sighed, and rubbed his aching head. 'The trouble is I'm not a gardener. I'm a failed probationary compliance officer who can turn cats into lions to impress mad kings and in my spare time ruin an innocent woman's life while pushing two entire nations to the brink of armed conflict.' He groaned. 'How long have we got, do you think?'
She stared down her beak at him. 'To do what, sunshine? Avert a war, depose a madman and rescue a princess?'
'Is that the plan?' He sighed again. 'Yes, I suppose it is. The war part, anyway. If I don't stop that the rest of it won't matter.'
'Not a lot, no,' said Reg.
'We're going to have to move fast,' he said. 'The Kallarapi will be back, and in strength, you can bet on it. That show we put on may have fooled Nerim but it didn't fool Shugat, no matter what Lional thinks. And when Shugat pays us a second visit he won't just bring the sultan's gullible brother. He'll come with hordes of Kallarap's fiercest warriors.'
'Which means we'll need reinforcements,' said Reg, and began to march back and forth along the garden seat's back. 'You're a wonderful young man with unplumbed talents, Gerald, but you aren't an army. That Markham boy has to be told what's been happening. He may work in Research and Development but he and his family know everyone who's anyone in wizarding, domestic and foreign. And they've got the clout to cut through the red tape.'
She always was one for stating the bleeding obvious. 'I know that, Reg, but how?'
She stopped, tipping her head to one side to stare at him intently. 'You say there's still some etheretic juice in the air?'
'Yes.'
'Enough for an accelerando maxima?
He nearly fell off the bench. 'A Speed-Em-Up hex? Reg, are you out of your mind? No. It's out of the question. We've got some time up our sleeves yet, camels can't run that fast. I'll contact Markham once the ether clears, then—'
'And what if it doesn't?' said Reg, severely. 'What if this dampening effect lasts five days, not three? Or a week? Or forever! With a good strong hex to help me along I'll be back in Ottosland in just over two days. I can—'
'Explode into so many pieces there won't be anything left to bury!' he retorted. 'The Speed-Em-Up was never designed to be used on living things! Don't you remember the bookmaker and the racehorse? It was disgusting! And that was using the hex at quarter strength!'
Reg snorted. 'The wizard that bookmaker hired was a third-rate hack who couldn't tie his shoelaces without a diagram and a scantily clad assistant. I have total faith in your ability to do the thing correctly, Gerald. You're a metaphysical prodigy, remember? There's absolutely no reason to assume I'll explode, provided you take the proper precautions. Besides, what other choice is there? We have to reach that Markham boy somehow'
She was right, dammit, but hell. The risk. 'What about Lional?' he demanded, desperate. 'What if he wants you? What do I tell him?'
'Tell him I'm sick.'
'And if he doesn't believe me?'
'Then tell him I'm dead! Boo-hoo your eyes out, put on a show. Now stop arguing, Gerald! We both know I have to do this.'
Overwhelmed, stomach churning, Gerald pushed to his feet, stamped to and fro for a minute then collapsed to the grass against a handy chestnut tree and closed his eyes tight. He could hear the drone of bees amongst the flowers, the twittering of birds in the branches overhead, the laughter of children playing two gardens along and the measured snick-snick of secateurs somewhere off to the right. The morning sun was warm on his face, the heady perfume of roses and luvvyduvvies tickled his nose. He felt Reg's claws prick gently through the fabric of his trousers as she jumped onto his knee.
'Come on, m
y boy' she coaxed. 'I'll be fine, you'll see. I'm a smart old bird and I have no intention of blowing myself to kingdom come on behalf of that oink Lionel.'
Unconvinced, he banged his head against the tree trunk and welcomed the pain. He was familiar with the accelerando maxima hex. For a while, until Scunthorpe played spoilsport and put an end to the hijinks, he and a bunch of other probationary compliance officers had spent their lunchtimes souping up some model cars and zooming them round the Department car park, to the amusement and bruised ankles of all. The employment market for top-notch speed wizards was excellent, and lucrative; the international car-racing circuit paid a fortune for wizards with the knack of making race cars go really, really fast. Briefly he'd dreamed of the big-time himself, but mostly his model cars had crashed. Of course that was before Stuttley's. The hex would work now. He knew it would.
I am, after all, a metaphysical prodigy.
Suddenly he was angry. If only he could be the old Gerald Dunwoody again, the Gerald Dunwoody who'd forgotten New Ottosland even existed, who'd honestly believed he'd found his level and was—if not happy—then resigned to staying there, doing what good he could for the welfare of wizardry and civilians alike. Where was that Gerald Dunwoody when he needed him?
Gone.
And in his place breathed a wizard of untried, untested limits who held the fate of two nations and who knew how many thousands of souls in his ill-prepared and sweating hands.
With his heart like frozen lead in his chest he opened his eyes to meet Reg's expectant gaze. 'Do you even know how to find Markham from here?' he asked tiredly.
'More or less. Trust me, Gerald, that's the least of my worries.' She rattled her tail. 'So. Does this mean you'll do it?'
'Do I have a choice?'
'Sorry' she said. 'You really don't.'
No. He really didn't. If I get out of this mess in one piece I'm retiring. The world will he a safer place without a wizard like me let loose in it. He looked at Reg. 'Well. Are you ready?'
She ruffled all her feathers. 'And waiting, sunshine.'
'All right then,' he sighed. His chest hurt. 'But if this doesn't work and your wings fall off or your brain explodes or you fly in one side of a mountain and out the other don't you dare come back to haunt me because I'm telling you right now, for the record, I think this is a very bad idea.'