by K. E. Mills
Gerald leaned forward, fury kindling beneath his fatigue and sorrow. 'Well I suggest you find something, Sir Alec. I never would've beaten Lional without Monk. So he bent — broke — all right, disintegrated a few rules. By all means rap his knuckles. Rap them twice if that'll make you feel better. But Monk Markham's a bloody genius and you'd be a fool to throw him away. You say we're at war? Then we need as many weapons as we can lay our hands on. You won't find a better one than Monk.' After a long moment Sir Alec nodded, is that a condition of your accepting my offer?' He sat back.'Say it is.'
Sir Alec examined his manicured fingernails, it so happens I share your opinion of Mister Markham. As I'm sure you can appreciate, we are obliged to rap his knuckles. We may even be forced to spank him slightly. But once he can sit down again we'll certainly find a use for him. You have my word, Mister Dunwoody: Monk Markham's unorthodox career is safe.'
There was a violent pounding behind his eyes. The effort of focusing now that he was half-blind, most likely. He pushed the pain aside.'This job. Your organisation. What aren't you telling me?'
'A great deal,' said Sir Alec. 'Most of it is… irrelevant. At least for now.'
'Then tell me what you wish you'd known when your Sir Alec made you the same offer.' Reg rattled her tail feathers. 'Gerald…'
He flicked her a severe glance. 'I need to know, Reg.' She subsided, grumbling under her breath.
Sir Alec's expression was guarded, as though he were afraid of revealing too much. 'It's a lonely life. You can never tell anybody outside the inner circle what it is you really do. That includes your family and friends. Acquaintances of the female persuasion. In effect you'll be living a lie. And you'll be placing your life at risk on a fairly regular basis. We swim in murky waters and we take as few people with us as possible. To the outside world you'll be plain Gerald Dunwoody, Wizard Third Class. A passably competent, never more than adequate locum who drifts from job to job, never settling down, and certainly never making a name for himself getting rich, or being noticed.' He pulled a face. 'It sounds irresistible.'
'I never said it would be easy' Sir Alec said curtly. 'But it is worthwhile. And with your unique talents I believe you'll make a contribution that will save many lives. I happen to think that's worth a little personal sacrifice. Perhaps you don't. Only you can say'
Gerald looked at Reg. Held out an arm, waited for her to jump on it, then set her on his upraised knees. 'What do you think?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't look at me, sunshine. It's your decision.'
He turned to Sir Alec. 'Can I keep Reg? I won't do it if I can't keep Reg.'
Sir Alec sighed, in principle, yes. But there will be wrinkles we'll have to iron out.' 'Wrinkles?'
'She may make you… conspicuous. Janitors often disguise their appearance when they enter a new… situation. Reg could compromise your anonymity. She may even cost you your life.'
'That'll be the day,' Reg snorted. 'Trust me, Sir Alec, or whatever your real name is, I've forgotten more about stealth than you'll learn in three lifetimes. Whatever else you've got to worry about, you won't need to worry about me!
Sir Alec smiled faintly.'Yes. Well.That remains to be seen, doesn't it? But as I say, Mister Dunwoody is welcome to keep you with him. For the time being, at least.'
Gerald closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, i don't know. I'm so bloody tired…' His eyelids felt like lead. He dragged them open and squinted at Reg. 'What do you think? Honestly. I want to hear it.'
'Honestly?' she echoed. 'Honestly, Gerald… what've you got to lose? Except your life. And everybody dies sooner or later. Even me, I expect. It's not how long you live that counts. What's important is how you live.'
He let his eyelids slam closed again, retreating into welcome darkness. He really was tired. No. Exhausted. Hollow. All used up. Changed, on some fundamental level having nothing to do with his potentia or the fact that he was a miraculous rogue.
Whoever Gerald Dunwoody had been the day he arrived in New Ottosland… that man was gone. In his place stood a new Gerald Dunwoody, with one working eye and blood on his hands and a power that nobody living seemed to understand. Least of all himself. A man who understood pain and sorrow, though, in ways he'd never dreamed were possible.
Sir Alec was right.There was no going back.Too much had happened. Too much had been done to him. By him. The memories were raw now. Brutal. And although they'd fade in time, they'd never disappear completely. Forever and always, till the day he drew his last breath, he'd be the Gerald Dunwoody who'd made Lional that dragon.
If he wasn't careful he knew that could destroy him.
Mysterious Sir Alec was offering him a new life. The chance to make a difference. Put a stop to all the other Lionals in the world, wherever they were, before their greed and madness and cruelty, their lust for power in all its forms, destroyed the lives of innocent people. Dangerous work, but necessary. Perhaps even vital.
And in doing it he might eventually atone for the ninety-seven souls whod died because of him. Killed by the dragon hed made.
Knowing the debt he owed them, how could he refuse?
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Opened his eyes. Looked at Reg as he answered Sir Alec. 'AH right. I'll do it.'
'Excellent!' said Sir Alec and stood. 'I'll get the paperwork started immediately. I understand from that singular Kallarapi holy man you've a few more days in bed ahead of you. Just as a precaution.' He sniffed. 'I'm sure he's an admirable fellow but of course you'll be receiving a full physical from our own medical staff once you return to Ottosland. As soon as you're feeling up to the journey, call me at this vibration.' He produced a business card from an inside jacket pocket. 'You'll portal directly into the Department.'
Gerald took the card. 'Actually I want to go home first.' His parents weren't there but he had a key. He needed to go home, to sleep in his childhood bed and breathe in memories of love and laughter.
'Yes. Of course. Family business. Friends. Two days grace, then. But only two.' From the look on Sir Alec's face and the tone of his voice it was clear the man didn't have a family of his own. No close friends either.
Gerald promised himself he'd never let his new job do that to him. No matter how hard it tried.
'Naturally,' Sir Alec continued, 'you won't be going into the field right away. We'll need to get a proper idea of what you can do. Test you inside out and back to front to get a handle on the extent of your potentia. Then of course there'll be training. Lots and lots of training.' He started towards the bedroom door. 'You've a great deal of hard work ahead of you, Dunwoody. But you won't regret this decision, I'm sure of it.'At the door he turned back, lips curved in that thin, sardonic smile. 'Although there'll be times when you'll come very close.'
The bedroom door shut behind him with a decisive thud. Groaning, Gerald collapsed onto his bank of pillows. Well, he'd done it now. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and most probably excruciatingly dangerous and imminently life-threatening situations… he was cryptic Sir Alec's newest secret janitor.
With a sniff, Reg hopped onto his chest. Stared down her beak at him, pinning him to the bed with her bright and brilliant gaze.
'Well, well, well,' she said, and balanced on one precarious foot to scratch the side of her head. 'This is going to be interesting, sunshine!'
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