The Accidental sorcerer ra-1

by K. E. Mills

  'Please.' She said the word stiffly, as though it was completely unfamiliar. And probably it was; royalty wasn't in the habit of begging. Her clear green eyes — rather nice eyes, actually, now that he came to look more closely — were suspiciously shiny. And her hands were caught together in a gesture that used by anyone else would surely be called wringing. In short, she looked desperate. Dangling on the end of a very short tether. 'The thing is, you see, I could really use your help.' 'Oh, lord,' Reg muttered. 'That's torn it.'

  The princess blushed, making all her freckles disappear, and shoved her hands back in her pockets. 'The king's getting a bit impatient with me, you see, taking so long to find him the right wizard. If you change your mind and leave before even meeting him, well, it's bound to make him tetchy. And I've got so much on my plate as it is, I am the prime minister, you know, I don't just sit around painting my nails, Mister Dunwoody; I work very hard around here and, to be perfectly frank, the last thing I need is to have to go scouring the globe for another wizard, really, it's a most prestigious appointment, I would've thought you'd jump at the chance to serve as a royal court wizard and — '

  'All rightY he said, before she dropped dead at his feet from asphyxiation.'I'll stay!'

  'You will?'The words came out in a disbelieving squeak. 'Oh. Well — good.' She cleared her throat, and with a visible effort banished all signs of vulnerability.'Then let's go. Boris, heel!'

  And off she marched again, the long thin cat undulating in her wake.

  Gerald, with Reg muttering on his shoulder and his carpet-bag banging against his leg, hurried after them. Endless corridors and staircases later — blimey, the palace was worse than a rabbit warren, he'd get lost five times a day — they arrived at an antechamber occupied by a single attendant, standing at attention before a pair of open double doors. Over the man's uniformed shoulder Gerald caught a glimpse of a larger room beyond, full of windows, plush gold carpet and a great deal of gilt.

  'The prime minister and Professor Dunwoody to see His Majesty,' announced the princess. 'Professor Dunwoody is His Majesty's new wizard.'

  The attendant bowed; only the extreme rigidity of his spine betrayed his surprise. 'Certainly, Your Highness.' His gaze flickered to the black cat at her heels.'Er…'

  'I know, I know!' She plopped the cat on the nearest velvet-covered chair.'Wait out here, Boris.'

  The cat crossed its eyes in displeasure but condescended to stay put. After another flickering glance the attendant rapped his pikestaff smartly onto the scuffed parquetry floor. 'Her Royal Highness the Princess Melissande, Prime Minister of New Ottosland, and Professor Dunwoody,Wizard!'

  Gerald's first thought, as he and Reg followed the princess into the king's presence, was that if this was the Small Audience Chamber he didn't want to see the Large one.

  The room was huge and opulent in the extreme. Chandeliers like exploded diamonds dripped light onto every surface. Stained glass windows framed with silk curtains admitted shafts of stained glass sunshine. The walls were striped blue and gold and crammed with oil paintings of well-fed, self-satisfied aristocrats astride unlikely horses, or patting blockish cattle, or presiding over flocks of sulky children.

  Apparently oblivious to the surrounding magnificence and his choked amazement at it, Princess Melissande led Gerald and Reg along a narrow strip of crimson carpet towards a dais at the far end of the chamber. Upon it loomed an extraordinary confection of wrought gold and rubies: the throne. And on the throne, with a fat orange cat puddled in his lap, sat a man.

  Gerald swallowed. No. Not a man. A king. And if he was going to survive here, let alone thrive here, he musn't ever forget it.

  'Cor,' said Reg in an undertone. 'This is all gone a bit upmarket compared to last time. Last time the throne was wood with a bit of gold paint slapped on and even then it was peeling. That one's got to be giving him piles.' She let loose an admiring whistle.'And he's an improvement on last time, too! Phwoar! What a looker! If he'd been king then instead of the old fat one, history'd have a different story to tell and no mistake!'

  Three paces ahead of them, the princess's fingers curled into fists and her head jerked sideways, just a fraction. Anguished, Gerald joggled his shoulder as hard as he could.'Reg! Shut upV Reg subsided, complaining under her breath.

  She was right, though. Lional the Forty-third possessed the kind of astonishing male beauty generally found only on the cover of a romance novel. He even made Errol Haythwaite look plain, and that was an achievement. Gerald, more or less resigned to the face that looked back at him from his mirror every morning, suppressed a stab of envy. He had a lot more to worry about here than coming a distant last in an unlikely beauty contest.

  Aside from himself and Reg, the princess, the king and his cat, the chamber was empty. Was that usual? According to Reg, kings and queens habitually surrounded themselves with advisors, fawners, toadies and any number of extraneous personnel designed to remind the monarch of his or her importance, wit, intelligence and general indispensability to the welfare of the kingdom. So… where was everyone?

  They reached the dais, eventually, and the narrow crimson pathway widened into a square. Princess Melissande stopped and cracked her knees in a brief, trouser-legged curtsey. 'Here's the new wizard, Your Majesty. Professor Gerald Dunwoody, lately of Ottosland.' She stepped aside. 'Professor, you have the honour of addressing my brother, His Sovereign Majesty King Lional the Forty-third.'

  Nakedly revealed to royalty's stringent perusal Gerald dropped his carpet-bag and bowed, but not too deeply He didn't want Reg to fall off his shoulder. 'Your Majesty. It is indeed an honour.'

  From atop his lofty perch, Princess Melissande's brother stared down his architecturally perfect nose. In his lap, the fat orange cat favoured Reg with a slit-eyed glare and rumbled deep in its throat.

  'Now, now,Tavistock,' the king reproved.'You've already had lunch.' He glanced at his sister. 'Where's your horrible beast, by the way?' The princess sighed. 'Outside.'

  'Good. See that it stays there.' One kingly finger, graced with an eyeball-sized emerald, tickled the orange cat under its chin. 'So. This is my new wizard. He looks a bit young, Melissande.'

  The princess's expression became a trifle fixed. 'Does he?'

  'Yes,' said King Lional, frowning. 'Very young, in fact, when you consider the others. They were old enough to be this one's father — or possibly an uncle.'

  Gerald looked from king to princess, not certain whether to be annoyed, amused or apprehensive. Was royalty generally in the habit of discussing people as though they were in another room when in fact they were standing right next to them?

  'Oh, I don't know,' said the princess valiantly. 'He's not that young. And anyway, lots of people don't look their age.' Apparently royalty was. At least around here.

  The king's elegant fingers were drumming the arm of his throne. 'That may be so, but unless this one's discovered an incant to knock twenty years off his face, I think I may be right in suspecting he lacks the requisite minimum fifteen years' wizarding experience. Well?'

  It took Gerald a moment to realise the comment was aimed at him. 'What? Fifteen years experience? But the Positions Vacant piece said "no experience necessary", Your Majesty.'

  'I can explain, Lional,' the princess said as her brother's expression frosted over.

  'I certainly hope so, Melissande,' said the king. 'For your sake.'

  Princess Melissande flinched, but she stood her ground.'I thought we needed a different approach. All the other wizards met your specifications to the last full stop but none of them worked out, did they? So I thought perhaps we'd have more success if I found you a wizard who was slightly less… set in his ways. One who could more easily adapt to the way we do things here in New Ottosland. A wizard who'd be grateful for the opportunity to serve a king instead of always banging on about how much better old Emperor Whosiewhatsit from Somewhere Else ran his country back in the day. You see? I was just thinking of you, Lional.'

  The
king was not amused. 'And I'm sure that's very touching, Melissande, but if you'd just gone on thinking for a moment or two longer perhaps you might've realised that there is such a thing as appearancesl What will other realms and sovereignties think of me, Melissande, when they see I am being counselled by a beardless escapee from the nursery?'

  Princess Melissande snorted. 'Well, Lional, seeing as how you refuse to meet with any other realms and sovereignties, I don't see how they're going to think anything at all!'

  The king leaned forward, which made the orange cat hiss.'And what is that supposed to mean?'

  'You know perfectly well what it means! It means when are you going to give an audience to the Kallarapi delegation? This tariff business is serious, Lional! It's only a matter of time before they widen the camel-train ban to include essential imports! You can't ignore — '

  'I've already told you, Melissande, it is beneath my dignity to treat with a mere younger brother. If Sultan Zazoor is serious about resolving this situation he can come and talk to me himself.'

  'And what am I supposed to do with his delegation?' 'I told you before! Show them the sights!'

  'I have, Lional,' said his sister, sounding pressed to her limit. 'I've shown them the Royal Capital, the Royal Art Gallery, the Royal Gardens, the Royal Zoo and the Royal Duck Pond. I have taken them riding in the Glen and boating on the Zigzag and I'm afraid there's nothing left to do with them short of putting them in the post and sending them home. Wliich — ' and she held up a finger as he opened his mouth '- goes without saying is out of the question.'

  'But you're the prime minister!' said the king, affronted.'I told you to deal with this!'

  'And I've tried, Lional, but the delegation doesn't want to be dealt with. Not by me, at any rate,' Princess Melissande pointed out. 'Apparently they don't treat with mere younger sisters. Prince Nerim seems to think he should be speaking with you, seeing as how you're the king and he's the sultan's brother. And the holy man agrees. It's an odd notion, I know, but there you are. They're foreigners, so what can you expect? Of course, since they've got us surrounded and our economic survival depends on keeping their goodwill, I've always found it prudent to humour them but then that's just me. I suppose as you're the king you can do what you like, but on the whole I'd rather not push them any further than we have already because you and I both know that — '

  'Yes, yes, I know!' the king snapped pettishly.'All right. I'll see them.' 'Today?'

  'No. Tomorrow. I'll not have them thinking I'm a pushover!'

  The princess frowned, apparently consulting an inner diary. 'In the afternoon? Say three o'clock?'

  'If I must,' the king said with a martyred sigh. 'But I'll not see them without a wizard!'

  'You've got a wizard, Lional! He's standing right in front of you!'

  Lional the Forty-third threw up his hands. 'Well, something is standing in front of me, I grant you! But I'm yet to be convinced it's a wizard. Good God, Melissande, look at him! He's even younger than that daft idiot Rupert! He's almost as young as youV

  'So? What's age got to do with it?' the princess replied. 'You sacked your entire privy council because they refused to accept that anybody under the age of sixty can rule a kingdom then turned round and made me prime minister, so how can you say that Gerald's too young to be a wizard? What would you know about it anyway? You're not a wizard!'

  The king's eyes narrowed. 'Oh, so it's Gerald now, is it?'

  'Professor Dunwoody, I mean,' said the princess. She was blushing. 'And he absolutely is a wizard. Aren't you, Professor?'

  'What?' said Gerald. It'd been so long since they'd noticed him he'd almost forgotten he was standing there. 'I mean, yes, Your Highness! I absolutely am a wizard.'

  'A deaf one, from the looks of it,' the king snapped. 'You've brought your qualifications, I take it?'

  He nudged the carpet-bag at his feet. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

  King Lional held out a hand, his expression long-suffering. Gerald dropped to one knee, rummaged inside the carpet-bag and pulled out his certificate of registration, complete with its impressive Department of Thaumaturgy crimson seal. Straightening, he proffered it to the king.

  New Ottosland's monarch inspected the certificate. Then he looked up, frowning. 'Is this your idea of a joke?' He blinked.'Joke? Ah — no, Your Majesty' 'You're a Third Grade wizard?' 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

  'Third Grade? Not First — or even Second? Third?'

  He risked a nervous glance at the princess, who was chewing on her lip. 'Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry Is that a problem? Only the Positions Vacant piece said grading wasn't relevant. But as it happens I do have a little First Grade experience. Sort of. If that helps.'

  King Lional stared, his golden eyebrows shooting up. The orange cat yowled. 'No, it does not! Melissande — '

  'He's the only one who answered the ad, Lional!' the princess cried.'Nobody else was interested!'

  'What do you mean, nobody', the king said, after an awful silence. 'There must be hundreds of wizards in the world.'

  'Thousands,' said his sister. 'But not one of them put his hand up to be your new royal court wizard. And can you blame them, after all the ads we've placed lately? Did you think nobody would notice we've got a revolving door exclusively for royal court wizards in New Ottosland?'

  'But a Tliird Grader?' the king shouted, and threw the certificate onto the floor. 'You might as well have hired me a toy wizard! One of those silly wind-up dolls with the battery-operated staff]'

  Gerald looked up from retrieving his qualifications. 'I assure you, Your Majesty, I'm a trifle more magical than a doll!'

  'Oh, bugger,' muttered Reg. 'Now you've done it.'

  King Lional the Forty-third sat back on his throne, smiling. His teeth were ice-white and immaculately even.'Really?' he drawled.

  To hell with being intimidated by good dentistry. 'Really'

  The king's smile widened. 'How exciting. Prove it.'

  Without meaning to, Gerald took a backwards step. Oh, hell. He really had done it, hadn't he? Prove it? Prove it how?

  Still smiling, the king continued. 'You have sixty seconds, Professor, by the end of which you'll have demonstrated one of two things: why I should keep you here as my royal court wizard, or why you'll be discovering first hand the joys of traversing the Kallarapi Desert on foot. Do I make myself clear?'

  Horrified, he looked at Princess Melissande. She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug, mute.

  The king cleared his throat. 'Tick tock, tick tock, Professor.'

  'Yes, Your Majesty!' he said.'Please — if I might have a moment to think?'

  'You have fifty moments, Professor,' said King Lional. 'What you do with them is entirely your own affair.'

  Gerald shoved the certificate back in his carpetbag and turned away, hunching his shoulder. 'Okay, Reg,' he whispered. 'What do I do now? I can't walk across a desert! I'll fry!'

  'Calm down,' Reg whispered back. 'This won't be solved by panicking.'

  'It won't be solved by magic, either! A simple Third Grade incant won't save me! You heard him, he wants a First Grade wizard!'

  'Then a First Grade wizard's what you'd better give him, Gerald,' hissed Reg.'And quick!'

  'Professor,' said the king, 'am I imagining things or are you consulting with that fusty heap of feathers on your shoulder?'

  He spun around, struggling not to glance guiltily at the princess. 'Consulting? With Reg? Oh, no, Your Majesty. Why would I do that? Reg is a bird. No. I was just — thinking out loud.'

  'Then I suggest you think more quietly,' said the king. 'And faster.'

  The royal smile was by this time unsettling. 'Yes, Your Majesty. Sorry, Your Majesty.'

  But it was easier said than done. His mind felt like cold molasses. All the incantations he'd ever learned whether he was supposed to or not stirred sluggishly, unwilling to be examined, and he couldn't feel so much as a twinkle of the power that had burst from him at Stuttley's. A dream, a dream, it was all a mad dream.
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  Obdurately immune to King Lional's menace, Reg leaned close. 'Come on, Gerald, you're running out of time! For the love of serendipity do something! Anything1.'

  With a fire-flashing of jewels in the bright chandelier light the king stood, tossing his fat orange cat unceremoniously to the floor. It dived beneath the throne and crouched there, swearing gruesomely under its breath.

  'Well, Professor, this has been somewhat less than entertaining,' he said briskly. 'Such a pity you've come all this way for nothing but you can blame my sister for that. Melissande, do be sure to meet me in my privy chamber an hour from now so that we can discuss this little contretemps in delightful, private and uninterrupted detail. As for you, Professor, I'll have someone provide you with a map and a little bottle of water and show you the way to the kingdom's border. Such a pity but — '

  As Princess Melissande leapt forward, protesting, Gerald threw caution to the winds and shouted at royalty. 'No, Your Majesty! Wait!'

  Encouraged by the pin-dropping silence, Lional's cat inched itself out from under the throne and began washing one chubby leg, still grumbling. Astonished, the king stared.

  'You raised your voice to me,' he said, wonderingly. 'Are you deranged?'

  Gerald winced.'No, Your Majesty. Just desperate. You see I really, really want this job.'Well. Needed it. But want sounded better.

  The king's eyebrows shot up.'Of course you do. But your desires are hardly relevant. What is relevant, Mister Third Grade Wizard, is whether / want you!

  The cat snickered in the back of its throat. Hating it, Gerald felt his fingers itch to conjure a resounding case of feline scabby-arse. Feeling his hot gaze the cat looked up and smirked.

  A nugget of an idea rolled to the surface of his stunned mind and glinted, briefly.

  The fat, obnoxious cat. King Lional's ego. The memory of a First Grade wizard's power coursing through his veins. All those mysterious, forbidden incantations Reg had bullied him into learning… and one in particular…