The Accidental sorcerer ra-1

by K. E. Mills

  As he turned, exploding with baffled outrage, Reg flapped into his face. Hovering with difficulty she said, eyes flashing,'Don't say it don't say it don't say it!'

  'Say what?' he hissed, sticking out his arm for her to perch on before she had a heart attack. 'I wasn't going to say anything!' He snuck a quick look at Melissande, who was gurgling down the last of the whiskey and surreptitiously wiping away tears.'But you know I'm right. You said it yourself. Lional's stark staring bonkers!'

  Reg clacked her beak impatiently. 'Look, Gerald, you know that, I know that, probably the apprentice scullery maid knows that… but there's no point saying it to her. He's family and that'll always come first. At least to someone like Melissande.'

  He stared. 'You just called her Melissande. Are you feeling all right?'

  Before Reg could stab his eye wtih her beak, the princess cleared her throat. 'Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt or anything but we happen to have a crisis on our hands, in case you hadn't noticed!'

  / swear, the Moody woman is as bad as her brother. 'A crisis? Really?' He parked Reg back on the chair and marched to the fountain. 'Are you sure? I thought it was just an interesting variation on the giddy social whirl that is life in the royal court of New Ottosland!'

  She glared at him from behind her foggy glasses. 'That's not funny!' 'No? Well, neither was being in that meeting!'

  'And for all the good you did, Mr Royal Court Wizard, it's a great pity you were in it!'

  'Ha. Royal court wizard,' he said bitterly. 'And what a crock that's turned out to be. I don't mind telling you, Melissande, accepting this stupid job was the biggest mistake of my lifeV

  'And the biggest mistake of my life, Gerald! she retorted, precariously thrusting her face into his, 'was offering it to you!'

  They glared at each other, nose to nose. After a fraught moment Reg cleared her throat. 'Entertaining as this is, I don't think it's going to get us very far past a double homicide. I suggest we all take a deep breath and discuss the situation rationally'

  'You know,' said Melissande, splashily slumping again,'I was just starting to like you, Gerald. I really thought that together you and I could work to make New Ottosland a better place. But now…'

  Still fuming, he watched as her green eyes overflowed with yet more tears. This time he had the nasty suspicion they came from her heart and not a bottle of whiskey. He crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling.

  'Oh, no. You're not getting me with that trick. The tears of a woman are to me as rain on a statue. I am impervious. Unmoved. See?' He looked at her. She was still crying. 'Oh bugger! he said, pulled off his Fandawandi silk robe and climbed into the fountain beside her.

  Melissande shifted over to make room. 'And this is supposed to make me feel better, is it?' she enquired, sniffing. 'Well, it won't. The only thing that's going to make me feel better is waking up in my bed to discover this has been nothing but a very bad dream.'

  Which makes two of us. 'Look, Melissande. I would've stopped the king if I could but everything happened so fast and, to be honest, I was afraid of making things worse.'

  She patted his knee. 'It's all right,' she sighed. 'I know what Lional's like when he gets the bit between his teeth. I'm the only one who's ever been able to stop him, and even then, not often. I should've been there. This is my fault, not yours.'

  'No, it's Lional's fault,' said Gerald, and covered her hand with his.

  Reg glided from the back of her chair to the top of the fountain and looked down at them, her head on one side. 'Go on then, kiss and make up. You know you want to.'

  Only the crystal ball's off-key chiming from the workshop saved her. 'What's that racket?' said Melissande.

  Still glaring at Reg, Gerald said, 'My crystal ball. Someone's trying to contact me.'

  Reg was grinning. 'Better answer it then, sunshine. With any luck it'll be that Markham boy'

  Melissande's eyebrows lifted. 'What Markham boy?'

  'A friend,' he said. 'Who may have some information that can help get us out of this mess.'

  She shoved the wet hair away from her face. 'Gerald Dunwoody. You haven't gone blabbing about this to a complete stranger, have you?'

  'Monk's not a stranger. He's my very good friend.'

  'Well he's not my very good friend! I don't have any friends, unless you count Boris. And Rupert. And don't bother telling me how pathetic that is,' she added to Reg. 'I know perfectly well how pathetic that is.'

  'It's all right,' Gerald assured her hastily. 'You can trust Monk. And no, he doesn't know anything.' 'Then how can he possibly help?'

  'Blimey,' said Reg, rolling her eyes. 'Make up your mind, ducky'

  As Melissande threw a handful of water at her he summoned the chiming crystal ball with a hurried' Ventifastioso!

  A moment later it floated into the foyer and came to a gentle halt midair in front of him, pulsing an urgent bright blue. As he waved his hand in front of it the pulsing stopped, the blue faded, and Monk appeared in the depths of the crystal, cutting off a chime in mid-ring.

  'Ooo-kay,' he said, a grin spreading slowly over his face.'I'm not even going to ask.'

  'Good,' said Gerald, acutely aware of Melissande squashed damply beside him. 'What have you found out?' Monk waved a reproving finger. 'Hang on, hang on, not so fast. Aren't you going to introduce me?' 'Do I have to?' 'Only if you want my help.'

  He sighed. 'Monk, Her Royal Highness Princess Melissande. Your Highness, Monk Markham. There. You're introduced. Now I'm kind of in the middle of something here, so — ' Monk grinned. 'No kidding.' 'MarkhamV

  Monk relented. 'AH right! Keep your hat on, Dunnywood.' Another grin. 'And everything else while you're at it.'

  You can't kill him, you need him. 'Monk. Have you managed to track down any of those wizards yet?'

  'One. Sort of,' said Monk. 'Bottomley. The others are all foreign nationals, that takes more time.' 'What do you mean, sort of?'

  Monk shrugged. 'I mean I've got him entering New Ottosland, but not leaving.'

  Melissande shoved herself into the ball's field of vision.'Do you mean Humphrct Bottomley?' 'Yes, Your Highness.'

  'And why are you investigating the whereabouts of Humphret Bottomley?' 'Because Gerald asked me to.'

  Thanks, Monk. 'Look, Melissande,' said Gerald. 'I'll explain later.'

  She glowered. 'You certainly will.' She turned back to the crystal ball. 'I don't know where you learned this, Mr Markham, but I suggest you recheck your source of information. Humphret Bottomley certainly did leave New Ottosland. Months ago, and good riddance.'

  'Call me Monk,' said Monk, cheerfully. 'Your Highness, I don't know what to tell you. Two weeks after he started work at your brother's court his family got a letter saying he'd been offered an even better position somewhere else and he'd contact them when he got there. But they've not heard a peep from him since. There's an official investigation been launched but I don't know what it's found out, and if 1 start poking around asking questions — '

  Alarmed, Gerald straightened.'Hell, no, don't do that! The last thing I need is the DoT noticing me.' He chewed at his thumb. 'How soon will you be able to track down the others?'

  'How should I know? I'm a wizard, Gerald, not a miracle-worker,' Monk said severely. 'Trust me, I'll call you when I've got any news.'

  He couldn't ask for more than that. 'Thanks, Monk, I really appreciate it. Talk to you soon, bye!' And he severed the connection before any awkward questions could be asked.

  Melissande poked him. 'Are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to — '

  'Yes. But first — ' He sent the crystal ball back to the workshop then, with a certain amount of grunting and scraped shins, clambered out of the fountain and held out his hand.'Your Highness?'

  She let him assist her back to dry land. 'Thank you.'There was a pause as she extracted a distressed goldfish from her decolletage and dropped it back into the water. Then, cheeks pink, she cleared her throat. 'Ah… look, Gerald…'

  W
ith a wave of his hand and a hex muttered under his breath, he dried them both off. 'It's all right, Melissande. The idea of marrying Sultan Zazoor would drive anyone to drink.'

  Her lips twitched. 'Marrying Zazoor and the rest of it. Gerald, what are we going to do?'

  'Find a way out of this that doesn't involve gods, swords and blood leaking all over the place," he replied. 'The reason I asked Monk to find my predecessors is so I can ask them for any tips on how to keep Lional in line. Now I'm thinking I need to know if they managed to dig up any dirt on him.' Her eyebrows shot up. 'Dirt?'

  He cleared his throat. 'Yes. Sorry. But if he's as bent on gaining acceptance on the world stage as you say, the chance of being cold-shouldered by all the other nations might be the only thing to make him think twice!' He pulled a face.'Which I suppose is treason.'

  Melissande managed a swift, wry smile. 'You suppose?' Then she sighed. 'Oh well. We'll be skipping hand-in-hand to the headsman then, because I have no intention of marrying Zazoor even if he wants me, which he won't. The next time I see Lional I'm going to tell him where he can stick his wedding plans.'

  Uh-oh. Brave but foolhardy, surely. 'Is that a good idea?'

  'Probably not,' she said, her expression grim. 'But at least it'll take his mind off the Kallarapi for a while. And that might buy your friend Monk enough time to find Bondaningo and the others. Unless…' She looked suddenly hopeful. 'Surely today's fiasco would put any number of important nations off-side? If you threatened to tell — ' 'I can't do that!' "Why not?'

  'Because chances are the king would call my bluff and I'm as culpable as he is! I aided and abetted in duping the Kallarapi. Not only will I get clobbered for that, they'll find out about Tavistock — '

  'And me,' added Reg, flapping from the chair to his shoulder.

  He rubbed her wing with the side of his finger. 'Yes. And Reg. I can't risk — '

  Melissande frowned. 'You're not telling me Reg is some kind of bewitched criminal, are you? Because that would certainly explain a lot.'

  He shook his head. 'No. She's not a criminal. And she really does grow on you, I promise.'

  'So does fungus,' Melissande observed. 'Are they related?' 'Oy!' said Reg.

  'The thing is,' he said quickly, 'Reg is — unusual — and the fewer people who know about her the better.' 'Especially official p'eople?' 'Exactly' 'And Tavistock?' Melissande said delicately.

  'Tavistock was… unsanctioned.' He scrubbed a hand across his face. 'Look. Lional's invited me to go hunting with him in the morning, and since I don't suppose there's any hope I can get out of it…'

  'None whatsoever,' she agreed. 'Short of death. And even then I wouldn't put it past him not to tie you to the saddle as an example to any other slackers who might be watching.'

  She was right. Lional would. 'Okay. So perhaps while we're cavorting about the countryside I could persuade him to forget this whole wedding idea.' She snorted.'Good luck.' 'What? You don't think I should try?'

  'Well, you can certainly try,' she said. 'But don't hold your breath waiting for Lional to agree. Not unless blue is your colour.' 'Then what would you suggest?'

  She sighed. 'Honestly? I don't know. I need to sleep on it. In the meantime, I have work to do. Enjoy your outing with Lional tomorrow. And please don't get yourself killed. With my luck I'd inherit the bird.'

  She turned and headed for the door. He took a step after her. "Melissande — wait — '

  She stopped. Looked back. 'I apologise for barging in here the way I did,' she said stiffly 'And for the things I said. Most unprofessional. I don't know what got into me.'

  'I do,' said Reg. 'The best part of a very large bottle of Orpington's Superior Single Malt.'

  The foyer doors banged shut with a bad-tempered thud.

  'Honestly, Reg…' said Gerald, and collapsed into a convenient armchair.

  'Well, she called me a fungus!' Reg complained, and flapped from his shoulder back to her chair. 'Cheeky young besom. I'll give her fungus…' She rattled her tail feathers.'So. What now?'

  Now I go looking for my own large bottle of Orpington's. 'I find out what Lional's really after. Because I'll never believe he's been pining for Zazoor as a brother-in-law. There's a hell of a lot more to this than meets the eye, Reg.' He thumped the chair with his fist.'Losing my temper with him was a mistake. I'll have to work twice as hard now, to make him believe I'm on his side.'

  'On his side?' said Reg. 'What are you talking about? You're not on his side!' 'No, but I have to make him think I am.'

  'You mean really spy on him?' she shrieked. 'Gerald Dunwoody, are you out of your mind?' He snorted. 'Probably.'

  'Then get back into it! That Lional's as flash as a rat with a gold tooth! You'll never bamboozle him into thinking you're after a life of crime. What do you think you are, a government secret agent?'

  'Of course not,' he said impatiently. 'But I'm partly responsible for what's happened. If I don't do everything in my power to put things right I don't deserve to be a wizard. Now you can either help me or get out of my way.'

  After a brief internal battle she heaved a sigh, wings drooping, and said, 'All right, Gerald. But when you're up to your armpits in alligators, don't say I didn't warn you.' He blew her a kiss.'I won't.'

  'I think I should come with you in the morning,' she added. 'Just to be on the safe side.'

  'You can't. Lional said to leave you behind, and flouting a royal command won't help me discover his secrets.' Brooding, he picked at a loose thread in his trousers.'I wonder if a truth incant would work on him? I don't see why it shouldn't. I mean, they work on everyone else…'

  Reg fluffed up her feathers. 'You don't know any truth incants.' 'No,' he agreed.'But I'll bet you do.'

  'That's not the point,' she said, looking harassed. 'Truth incants are restricted to law enforcement, and for very good reason. They're extremely temperamental and can even cause brain damage if something goes wrong. I won't be responsible for turning you into a vegetable, Gerald.'

  And there she went, treating him like a wayward little brother again. He sat up. 'Look, Reg, I appreciate the concern but I'm prepared to risk it.'

  'Well I'm not,' she said. 'Just you stick to your original plan, sunshine. At least for now.'

  'And if I can't convince Lional to let me in on whatever he's scheming? What then?'

  She shrugged. 'Then we'll just have to wait for the other shoe to drop, won't we?'

  'When the other shoe drops,' he said sourly, 'it's going to hit me on the head and give me concussion. And when that happens, Reg, I'm going to blame youV After a restless night filled with disquieting dreams, Gerald walked into Lional's private stable yard at two minutes to seven. It was a pretty cobblestoned place with neat flowerbeds and some twenty stables with horses in most of them. Another ridiculous extravagance; what did one man need with twenty horses? Lional was little more than a gluttonous child, snatching at everything he saw just because he could.

  And everyone else in the kingdom goes without to keep him in ponies. Whoever thought royalty was a good idea?

  It was a dank, cool morning; mist draped the treetops and curled in tendrils across the damp ground. Moisture beaded his hair and stippled his shiny black boots, his breeches and the jacket hastily conjured up from his existing wardrobe. Maybe when this was all over, provided he was still in one piece, he could set up shop as a magical tailor? He was certainly getting enough practice with clothes…

  Lional, of course, had arrived before him. The king stood in the middle of the yard surrounded by a milling horde of black and tan hounds, all barking and snapping and slavering, competing for his attention. Lional laughed at them, his face alight with pleasure. He was sheathed in silk and supple leather, dark as midnight. A long-bladed hunting knife rode his right hip. 'Good morning, Professor!'

  'Good morning, Your Majesty,' Gerald replied, giving the hounds a wide berth and trying not to look at the prancing black monstrosity of a horse making a spirited attempt to flatten its handler as
it was led from its stable. If Lional thought he was going to ride that thing he really was mad.

  'Looking forward to our little expedition?' said Lional, taking the black monstrosity's reins and feeding it a sugar lump. '1 know I am!'

  'Ah…' Even though his belly was empty, he still wanted to be sick. 'Certainly, Your Majesty. Wouldn't miss it for the world.'

  'Excellent. Now, let's mount up, shall we?' He clapped his hands. 'Stable boy! The professor's horse, if you please!'

  Oh hell, oh shit… He turned, braced for the sight of a second fire-breathing monster.

  'This is Dorcas,' said Lional as he vaulted — vaulted, the bloody show-off — into the black horse's saddle. 'I'm sure the two of you will get along like peas in a pod.'

  Dorcas was a pony. A short, fat, mud-brown pony with a resigned expression and sleepy eyes. She stared at Gerald with a minimum of interest and he stared back with a maximum of surprise. Then he realized. Of course he was riding a Dorcas: how likely was it that Lional would risk being upstaged by his wizard?

  'Get a leg over, Gerald!' said Lional, as his wild black horse fought the restraint of the bit and plunged amongst the excited hounds like something possessed. 'The morning gallops away, sir, and so must we. Come, Demon'.' Clapping his spurred heels to the black horse's flanks he charged out of the stable yard, scattering gravel and grooms. The hounds bolted in his wake, yelping.

  The stable boy rolled his eyes as he manhandled Gerald into the saddle. 'Have fun, sir.'

  He managed a faint, sickly smile. 'Oh, yes. Fun. I knew I was doing this for a reason…' And then he bounced up and down until Dorcas reluctantly took the hint and shuffled off in the black horse's vanishing wake.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It didn't take long for the hounds to flush their first quarry. Lional and Demon pounded after them across the open fields that stretched towards the woodland on the west side of the palace. Gerald and Dorcas laboured doggedly in their wake. Despite his rapidly increasing physical discomfort and his distaste for the purpose of the outing, he had to admit it was good to be outside breathing clean, fresh air. He felt… released.