by K. E. Mills
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 madnessl 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 / 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 dampenedV '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 s
ome 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, my 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. / 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 ideal
Reg rolled her eyes. 'Yes, Gerald. I hear you, Gerald. Now can we please get on with it, Gerald, because I'm not getting any younger!'
She hopped down from his knee and crouched on the grass before him, eyes gleaming with determination, wings outspread and ready. He leaned forward and rested a finger lightly on the top of her head. Closed his eyes. Sought for the power hidden within and felt it shudder, waiting. 'Accelerando maxima,' he whispered. 'Accelerando maxima qui.Accelerando maxima deco dea'. Nothing happened.
'Gerald, if you're waiting for me to change my mind you're much sillier than I ever gave you credit for!' said Reg, flapping her wings. 'I'm going and that's all there is tooooo — ooooh — ooooh — GceeraaaaaaldV And she was gone. For a long time he sat in the shade of the chestnut tree, listening to a nearby gardener's tuneless humming and staring at the point of sky into which Reg had launched herself like an arrow of flame. He lost track of time. Felt bodiless, as though he were nothing but a vast and pulsing pain contained within a tissue-thin sack of skin. As though at any moment he would tear to shreds and the pain would come pouring out in a torrent of tears to soak into the grass and put an end to him entirely.
He thought that might be a good thing. Because if anything happened to Reg…
Then a voice cried: 'Oh there you are, Professor! I've found you!' and he was dragged back into passing time and aching flesh and solid sorrow.
Oh no. Not Rupert. Not now. Someone make him go away.
He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again Melissande's batty brother stood directly in front of him, beaming like a little boy who'd found his lost teddy. He was dressed in a puce velvet suit with lace trimmings, and wore a butterfly like a hair ornament.
'Rupert,' he said, struggling for rudimentary good manners. 'Hello. Ah… on your head — there's a — '
Rupert's smile widened. 'Oh, yes, that's Esmerelda. Isn't she beautiful?' Collapsing his knees and ankles he dropped to the grass to sit cross-legged in the shade. The green and white butterfly clinging to his tangled hair fluttered its wings but didn't fly away. 'I named her after my mother. Her name was Esmerelda, before she became a Melissande. She was beautiful too. Lional looks just like her. Unfortunately Melly and I seem to have taken more after Father's side of the family' He reached up a gentle fingertip; the butterfly stepped onto it, dainty as a ballerina. 'Esmerelda's a Dumb Cluck,' he added, grinning soppily at the docile insect. / can't stand this, not right now… 'A what?' Gerald said, ungritting his teeth.
'It's a specialty breed,' Rupert explained.'Designed as a house pet. They can't fly so they almost never escape. If you're not careful though you tread on them, with unfortunate consequences. But they do make excellent companions, provided you remember to look where you're stepping.' He winced. 'Or sitting.'
Gerald tried to imagine the kind of person who'd go to all the trouble of purpose-breeding a butterfly that made a good pet but couldn't fly. Probably they looked a lot like Rupert.
'The Dumb Clucks used to be very popular,' said Rupert, carefully returning the insect to his head. 'But then Andrea Wallington-Finch successfully crossed a Dumb Cluck with an Exciteable Clampet.' He sighed. 'And after that hardly anybody wanted a plain old Cluck in the family. I suppose I have a certain amount of fellow feeling for the poor things.'
There was no way to answer that politely, so he nodded. 'Hmm.'
'Now tell me, Gerald, how are you feeling this morning? All recovered from that nasty fall?' 'Yes. Quite recovered.Thanks for asking.'
Rupert peered at him. 'Are you sure? Because when I saw you just now I thought: Oh dear, Gerald's having a relapse.'
Reg. With a supreme effort he ba
nished the haunting fear. 'No. No relapse.'
'You'd tell me if you were, though, wouldn't you?' Rupert said anxiously. 'I mean, if there was anything upsetting you, you'd tell me? I know I'm a bit of a ninny but I'm a very good listener. You'd be surprised, I think, the things people tell me. Especially the staff. They all come to me with their little problems because they know I'll listen. Sometimes I even solve them, only please don't go repeating that because Lional doesn't like me getting familiar with the staff
Tell Rupert his little problems. There was an idea. Your brother probably tried to murder me, I accidentally arranged for your sister to be sold into a loveless marriage, I've almost certainly plunged your kingdom into a religious war and there's a good chance I've just killed my best friend. He dredged up a smile. 'That's incredibly kind of you Rupert, truly. But I'm fine.'
The prince beamed. 'I'm so glad you're calling me Rupert. It makes me feel like we're proper friends. You don't mind, do you?'
He stared at Melissande's dotty brother, ambushed by compassion. What a sad man Rupert was. Hardly even a man, really. More a case of tragically arrested development. A figure of idiocy, with his tremulous mouth and his watery eyes, his shrinking posture and his grating laugh. Dressed in that dreadful suit… crowned with a butterfly… and everywhere he turned — Lional. Tall and handsome and mercunally gifted. Poor Rupert, doomed to be a perennial scholarship boy in the university of life. 'No,' he said gently. 'I don't mind at all.'
'Wonderful. That means I can tell you what's bothering me!' His heart sank.'Bothering you?'
Rupert nodded eagerly. 'Yes! You see I'm rather worried about Melissande. She and Lional are very alike you know, Gerald. Both dreadfully stubborn.' 'You don't say?'
'Oh yes. They both take after Father in that respect. Once Father's mind was made up you couldn't have changed it with a block and tackle. And I really do think that the more Lional says "you will marry the sultan", the more Melly will dig her heels in and say "I won't"'. Rupert chewed his lip. 'And to be honest, Gerald, although it hurts me to say so because he is my brother, if Lional doesn't get his own way he can be a trifle… snarky.'