by K. E. Mills
'Good morning,' said a bemused voice from the doorway.'I knocked, but nobody answered.'
Princess Melissande, even more rumpled and harassed than she'd been yesterday. This morning she was wearing dark blue trousers and a pale green shirt that may or may not have been recently introduced to a hot iron. Her hair was scraped back into a lumpy plait and the freckles on her face remained uncamouflaged by makeup. Behind the glasses, her eyes looked tired.
Gerald dropped the orange and stood. 'Your Highness. Good morning. Please, come in.'
As he hurried to close the foyer doors behind her she slumped into his vacated chair and reached into the fruit bowl for a candied kumquat. 'I interrupted you, Professor. You were saying something about not being in love with… what?'
'What?' He glared at Reg, who crossed her eyes at him. 'Ah — oh, yes! The idea of being His Majesty's secret weapon against the Kallarapi. I think, as a plan, it could do with a rethink. Reg agrees.'
The kumquat stopped halfway to the princess's mouth. 'Reg agrees? You were discussing affairs of state with a bird?'
'Oh, yes. She's very knowledgeable. Well. About some things, anyway. You'd be surprised.'
Princess Melissande continued to stare. 'You were discussing affairs of state with a bird.'
Reg snorted. 'Says the woman with a brother who probably starts the day by asking his butterflies what underpants he should wear!'
'Rupert?'The princess smiled.'Oh, you mustn't mind Rupert. He's quite harmless and very sweet once you get to know him.'
Gerald perched on the edge of the tinkling fountain, mindful of splashes. 'So… what do you think, Your Highness?'
'About what?' she asked around a mouthful of kumquat.
'About Gerald the secret weapon,' said Reg. 'Oy — you don't suppose that pretty brother of yours has got some bright idea about using him as leverage, do you?'
'You mean is he thinking literally a secret weapon? Spells of destruction at thirty paces followed by some hasty handiwork with a mop and bucket?' The princess swallowed and reached for another kumquat. 'No. Look, Lional talks big, he always has, but it never comes to anything.'
'Are you sure?' said Reg. 'I mean, he does know, doesn't he, he can't just point Gerald like a musket and shoot this Zazoor when he holds out his hand for the dosh? I mean, he does know that?'
'Of course he does,' snapped the princess.'Look, Professor, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Lional knows perfectly well he doesn't have any choice but to pay Zazoor what's owed. I expect all he wants to do is show you off to the Kallarapi. Make the pill he's got to swallow a little less bitter. You may have a holy man but I've got a wizard, so nyah. Nothing dangerous. Just diplomacy'
He pulled a face. 'That doesn't sound terribly diplomatic to me. What if things get out of hand?'
'You won't let them.' She sighed.'Professor, I'm not a complete ignoramus. I do know that wizards are forbidden to use their magic to cause harm.'
Reg rattled her tail feathers. 'You might, ducky, but what about that brother of yours?'
'He knows too!' she insisted, exasperated.'You're not the first wizard we've had around here, remember?'
Now there was a point. And an idea. He narrowed his eyes. 'Exactly how many were in the job before me, Your Highness?'
The second kumquat eaten, she pretended to be interested in a banana. 'A few,' she muttered. 'Forgive me, but that's not very specific'
'You want specific? Fine. Five. All right? There were five court wizards before you.'
'F(Ve?' He slid off the fountain. 'The king's had five other wizards? I'm his sixth wizard?'
'Oh, don't you stand there looking surprised! You've met him!' 'I'm not surprised, Your Highness, I'm deceivedV
'I did not deceive you!' said the princess, shoving out of the chair. 'If you'd asked me in the interview how many wizards had been in the job already I'd've told you! You didn't ask!'
Perched on the edge of his abandoned porridge bowl, Reg snickered.'She's got you there, sunshine.'
Disgusted, Gerald considered Lional's angry sister. Then he sighed. 'Yes. She does. I apologise, Your Highness.That was uncalled for.' 'It certainly was.'
'But not unexpected,' added Reg. 'You knew perfectly well he'd never have taken the job if all your dirty linen had been hanging on the line in plain sight, madam.'
Princess Melissande sat again, slumping. 'What can I say? I was desperate.'
Gerald dropped once more to the edge of the fountain. 'I know the feeling.' He and the princess exchanged tentative, rueful smiles. 'So who were they, then? These predecessors of mine?' 'Why does it matter?'
He shrugged. 'It doesn't. I thought I might know one or two, that's all.' 'I doubt it.They were all years older than you.' 'Still…'
She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, for the love of Saint Snodgrass. As if I didn't have anything better to do than go staggering down memory lane…' Then she sighed. 'All right. Give me a moment.'
As she chewed her lip, he triggered a recording incant under cover of scratching his nose then dabbled his fingers in the fountain's water, waiting.
'Well,' she said at last,'net in chronological order, there was Humphret Bottomley, the prat.'
In the air above and behind her the name Humphret Bottomley appeared in glowing silver letters. It hung there unmoving, like liquid smoke. 'That's an old-fashioned Ottosland name,' he murmured. 'Who else?'
She screwed up her face. 'Pomodoro Uffitzi. Aloysius Beargarden. Er — er — oh, yes! Grumbaugh. Lord, how could I forget him? Barked in monosyllables and spent most of his time locked up in what's now your workroom, making smelly smoke. And Bondaningo Greenfeather.' Her face softened into a smile. 'Terribly sinister-looking with all those tattoos and facial piercings but actually very nice. And that's all of them. Satisfied now? Say yes.'
With another deceptive nose scratch Gerald closed down the recording incant with its five silver smoke names and stored it in a nearby pot plant. He'd retrieve it later and run the names past Monk at the first opportunity. Get him to find their whereabouts and how they could be contacted. Seeing as how he was going to be stuck here in New Ottosland for a while it seemed only prudent to do some belated homework on his charming pillock of an employer.
'Yes. Thank you, Your Highness,' he said. 'Your patience is most appreciated. Doubtless you didn't come here to — ' He sat up. 'Good lord. I'm so sorry. Why did you come here?'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'To get you all primed to spy on her brother, I'll bet,' said Reg.
Princess Melissande gave her a haughty look. 'Must you retiuce everything to the crudest possible motive?' Reg smirked. 'Told you, sunshine.'
'Then perhaps you'd like to tell me what else I'm supposed to do?' the princess demanded.'Since you're such a font of wisdom. I have to know what happens in that meeting, this kingdoms future could depend on it, and since Lional refuses to let me be there — '
'All right, all right,' said Reg. 'I never said you were wrong, did I? No need to get your bloomers in a twist, ducky'
'What she means. Your Highness,' Gerald said quickly, 'is that you're in a very difficult position and — ' 'And I don't wish to talk about it here,' said the princess, still glaring at Reg. 'You're looking claustrophobic, Professor. I thmk you're overdue for some fresh air. Meet me downstairs in the east wing forecourt in twenty minutes.' 'Why? Where are we going?'
'Where do you think?' she said, sounding resigned. 'Sightseeing, of course. Didn't you know? On top of everything else, I'm New Ottosland's Minister of Grand Tours!' Half an hour later they were seated in a scarlet and gold touring carriage pulled by a pair of flashy dapple grey horses, bowling along a wide, tree-lined avenue. The sky was cloudless and deeply blue, the air flower-scented and fresh. Delightful.The carriage, unfortunately, was rococo in the extreme, all gilded carved fruit and simpering cherubs with hideously love-struck expressions. Gerald squashed himself into one corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Thank God Monk can't sec me now.Thank God no-one I know c
an see me now. It was bad enough that the pavement strollers and passengers in passing carriages and street-corner vendors and impressively uniformed policemen on foot patrol could see him.
Sitting opposite, the princess noticed his discomfit and snorted. 'Welcome to my world, Professor.' 'Thank you,' he said. 'I think.'
She smiled wickedly and pointed her predictably no-nonsense green parasol over the side of the carriage. 'Now, to your left you'll see the Royal Music Hall. Isn't it pretty?'
He considered the Music Hall's impressive marble steps and its honour guard of pigeon-splattered dead composer statues lining the entrance. 'I was going to say familiar. In fact, everything looks familiar.'
'You noticed? It's quite simple. We never got over being a colony. There isn't a street or a building here whose original you won't find back in the Old Country.' The princess grimaced. 'It's ghastly, like living inside an echo. What I wouldn't give to just once see somebody else's idea of architecture!' 'What's stopping you?'
She looked at him. 'Nothing much. Just a small matter of running the kingdom.'
'But you've got staff. And what about His Majesty?' 'Yes?' she sighed.'What about him?'
Gerald opened his mouth to answer but was stopped by Reg whacking him over the head with her wing. She was sitting behind him on one of the cherub's plump bottoms and humming a risque ditty under her breath in time to the dip-clop of the carriage horses' hooves. 'Ow!' he exclaimed, and turned. 'Now what?'
She pointed at the driver sitting high above them on his box. 'Discretion, Gerald! Muggins up there is probably taking notes.' 'No, he's not,' said the princess.'He's deaf
'"Deaf as a post" deaf, or "I'm a loyal servant and it'll cost a lot more than that to loosen my lips, squire" deaf?' Reg demanded.
'Deaf as a post deaf, of course. Why do you think I chose him to drive the carriage? Oh, look,' the princess added, and waved the parasol. 'There's the Royal Zoo! Do you know, Professor, I'm sure they have a spare birdcage in there somewhere. Would you like me to ask?'
He patted spluttering Reg on the head. 'She'd only teach the other parrots rude words.'
Princess Melissande sat back amongst the carriage's overstuffed cushions and considered Reg thoughtfully.'I'm sorry but I have to ask. Where did you find such a singular creature? If there's another one in existence anywhere in the world I swear I'll eat my parasol. With mustard.'
'Good idea,' said Reg. 'You've the look of a woman who doesn't get enough roughage.' Gerald winced.'Reg!'
'Well what do you expect? She called me a singular creature!' 'It was a compliment.Wasn't it, Your Highness?'
The princess looked down her nose. 'Not intentionally'
'Rightl' squawked Reg. 'I've had this. You and me, madam, parasols at twenty paces, and — '
He grabbed her and pushed her beak-first among the cushions. We seem to have strayed from the topic. I believe Your Highness was wondering how Reg and I met…'
'Well, yes, I was,' agreed the princess. 'But now I'm wondering what the wretched bird's lung capacity is.'
He rescued Reg and dangled her in front of his face.'Have you quite finished?'
She spat out a beakful of cushion fluff, gasping. 'Gerald Dunwoody!' 'I'm sorry, Reg, but Her Highness — ' 'Oh, call me Melissande,' said the princess.
'Thank you, Your — Melissande,' he said, surprised.'And you can call me Gerald.' Her lips quirked in a wry smile. 'Yes, I know' She was the most irritating woman…
Wriggling free of his grasp, Reg hopped onto the nearest cherub's dimpled buttocks and scowled. 'If you must know, madam, and not that it's any of your business, Gerald and I met when he helped me out of a sticky situation.'
Remembering, he laughed. 'Literally. I was in the local woods, looking for fresh wizard's beard for one of my First Year assignments, and practically fell over her. She'd managed to get herself gummed up in some bird lime and was swearing so hard she didn't hear me coming. So I ungummed her and we've been stuck with each other ever since.'
'Gracious,' said Melissande, dryly. 'It sounds positively romantic'
'Romantic?' screeched Reg.'If you don't mind, I'm old enough to be his — ' 'Yes?'
'Aunty,' said Reg, eyes gleaming. 'Gerald's problem is he can't resist a damsel in distress.'
'Well then," said Melissande, 'lucky for him I'm not in distress.' 'Or a damsel.'
'Anyway…' he said quickly, 'about the Kallarapi delegation…'
Melissande drummed her fingers on her knee. 'Yes. About them. Prince Nerim is Sultan Zazoor's younger brother; his official title is Blood of the Sultan. I get the feeling if there'd been another brother to send he'd have been spared a long camel ride. Shugat is the sultan's holy man. He's the most important religious figure in Kallarap. Nerim's a lightweight. Shugat's the one to look out for.'
'And what do you think they're hoping to get out of this meeting?"
She pulled a face. 'From the number of camels they brought, I think they're expecting to take a lot of our money with them when they go.'
'Are there enough funds in Treasury to cover the entire debt?'
Melissande hesitated, her expression troubled. 'Barely,' she said at last. 'But it pretty much wipes us out. Since he took the throne Lional's been a bit… extravagant, in places. If we could just get terms for an extended period of payment… I'm sure Zazoor would agree, he's not unreasonable.' 'And what about His Majesty?'
'I don't know. He — ' She stopped, distracted by the delighted cries and excited hand-waving from a long crocodile line of schoolgirls out for an airing. Gritting her teeth she smiled a professional, painted-on smile and waved back. 'Sometimes,' she muttered, as the schoolgirls squealed and clutched at each other despite their scandalised mistress, 'I think I should just put myself in the zoo and be done with it.'
'Good idea,' said Reg. 'You can have my cage, I won't be using it any time soon.'
Melissande glared. 'Don't count on it.' The carriage rounded a corner into yet another tree-lined avenue of stately buildings, leaving the schoolgirls behind. She heaved a sigh of relief and stopped waving.
'All right,' he said. 'Let's assume the worst and say the king categorically refuses to pay up. What are the chances of the Kallarapi deciding to, I don't know, take back New Ottosland in lieu of monies owed?'
'I haven't a clue. But let's hope it doesn't come to that,' Melissande replied. 'If they did decide to invade we'd have no hope of stopping them.'
Disconcerted, Gerald considered her grim expression. 'Why not?'
'Because quite apart from the fact that the Kallarapi have an ancient and sophisticated warrior tradition and we don't, the only army we've got is Rupert's old tin soldiers in the nursery'
Reg choked. 'What do you mean, you've got no army? What self-respecting kingdom doesn't have its own army?'
'We did have one, once," the princess said, defensive. 'But nobody ever attacked us. All the soldiers did was sit around eating and playing dice. They were costing the crown a fortune, so one of the Lionals — number twenty-seven, I think — pensioned them off.We never missed them.'
Until now. Gerald shook his head. Deary, deary me, as Reg would say. This lot really are in a pickle. Wliat a pity they can't pension off the current King Lional…
'So let me get this straight, Your — Melissande,' he said carefully. 'In all the centuries since New Ottosland was established the Kallarapi never once tried to invade you or — '
'Never. They're a scrupulously honourable people, Gerald. When they signed the treaty that established New Ottosland they swore an oath to never attack us, and they take their oaths seriously.'
'How seriously? I mean, what's the penalty for breaking one?'
'You don't want to know,' said Melissande. 'Vomiting in public is so uncouth.'
This was just getting better and better. 'So if His Majesty doesn't pay up then as far as the Kallarapi are concerned he's an oath-breaker?'
'Well, nobody's actually come right out and said it, but…'
'If the crow
n fits,' Reg concluded, and ruffled her feathers.'Glory gumboots.And if the Kallarapi do declare him an oath-breaker then all bets are off. Deary, deary me, you lot really are in the privy, aren't you?'
Melissande sighed. 'Yes. To be honest, I'm afraid this audience today might be a case of too little, too late. I've tried to convince myself it's not, but — '
Reg gave a snort of disgust. 'But in fact, ducky, the light at the end of the tunnel is most likely the sun glinting on a million righteous Kallarapi swords!'
'I know!' said Melissande, freckles pronounced against her sudden pallor. 'Why do you think I'm so worried?'
'You're worried?' Reg retorted. 'What about my Gerald? Your nincompoop of a brother is obviously under the misguided impression his wizard's a one-man army in disguise!'
In which case King Lional was destined to be bitterly disappointed.'It's out of the question,' Gerald said, leaning forward. 'I'm not an oath-breaker either, Melissande. I won't be a party to — '
'Violence, I knowV she shouted.'But Gerald, you have to do something! You said it yourself! It's your duty!'
'His duty?' shrieked Reg, before he could protest on his own behalf. 'And what about yours? What kind of prime minister lets matters get sucked this far down the gurgler, eh? Well, don't just sit there like a soggy pudding, madam. Answer me!'
Melissande's face now burned a dull red. 'You don't understand. It's not as — '
'Oh, I understand, all right!' snapped Reg. 'You and your idiot brother have made a complete mess of things and now you expect Gerald to pull your bacon out of the fire before it's burned to a crisp! Well let me tell you something, ducky, I won't have it! I won't have you — '
'Oh, shut up, you stupid bird!' cried Melissande, and threw the nearest pillow.
'Hey!' said Gerald, catching the pillow and tossing it out of the carriage. 'Don't you tell her to shut up! She's got a point! I'm a wizard, not a miracle-worker, and I've only been here a day. Now you expect me to solve an international crisis with one snap of my fingers? What are you, crazy?