by K. E. Mills
'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
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The portable portal spat them out a mere two feet above the palace roof. The first thing they did when they regained their feet was look up, but the dragon was nowhere in sight. Neither was Lional.
'Oh hell,' said Melissande, her voice almost a sob. i don't believe this…'
In every direction they looked distant pillars of black smoke churned into the sky. Closer to the palace, out-buildings not reduced to mounds of rubble smouldered and burned; the greedy crackling of flames reached them in fits and starts on the erratic, smoke-laden breeze.
She pointed. 'Over there! I think that's Rupert's butterfly house!' She ran to the nearest balustrade and leaned over it, precariously. 'Rupert! RupcrtV And then she looked down, and her next cry died in her throat. 'What?' said Gerald.'Melissande? What is it?'
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, silentl
y 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.
Zazoor was gazing around the eerily hushed and deserted palace grounds. At the burned bodies. The blackened vegetation. At the plumes of smoke still rising in the distance. 'Calamity has come upon your kingdom, it seems, Highness. The city streets we rode through on our way here were sadly damaged and as empty as this grand royal residence. Tell me, if you can: where are all your people?' indoors. Underground. Run away' said Melissande. 'They're hiding from the dragon, Magnificence.'
'Well there's no point pretending,' said Reg as Gerald cursed under his breath. 'The wretched thing could land on our heads any moment.' Zazoor's eyebrows lifted. 'Dragon?' it's… an internal matter. Nothing for you to worry about, Magnificence.' Melissande looked at the army ranged at Zazoor and Shugat's backs. Silent. Disciplined. Waiting for a signal. 'Let us instead address your uninvited presence. You've come for the monies owed to you by our kingdom. With an army, to use force if we don't willingly part with them. Sultan Zazoor, if I had those monies to hand I would give them to you gladly. I don't… therefore I can't.'
Waving a fly away from his face Zazoor said, 'It saddens me to hear you say so.'
'And I'm not happy to say it,' she replied. 'But good neighbours are honest with each other.'
'Honest?' Zazoor smiled. 'A strange word in these strange times. Highness, it is not your debt that brings me here. Kallarap will not starve without your pennies. I am sent to you by my gods, who would have me speak with you of sacrilege. And treachery. And yes, indeed: of honesty!