Accidental Sorcerer (11 page)

'And an interesting one,' added Reg. 'Full of magic and mystery, not to mention beautiful queens, dastardly sorcerers and --'

'Fascinating,' said the princess, ignoring Gerald's outstretched hand and picking herself up off the floor. 'But I'm far too busy for fairy tales. I have to get you settled, Professor, then I have to deal with the Kallarapi and -' She swallowed the rest of the sentence as though the words hurt her throat. 'But I digress. Shall we continue?' Bending over, she scooped the still-shaken Boris into her arms, flung him backwards over her shoulder and continued her brisk way along the corridor. The cat flopped bonelessly down her back, pulling hideous faces.

'You could at least
try
to glide!' Reg screeched after her. 'You look like the goal keeper on an all-girl hockey team!'

Gerald snatched her from atop his head and shoved her under his arm. 'Do you
mind?
What are you trying to do, get me arrested?'

'Of course not,' said Reg, in a squashed voice. 'But someone's got to tell her, she's obviously got no mother to do it and she's letting the side down.'

He heaved a long-suffering sigh, picked up his carpet-bag and started after the princess. 'Reg, how many times do I have to say this? Like it or not, you are a
bird
now. The rest of it - well, it's all gone. I know you don't want to accept that but honestly, don't you think it's time you did?'

'No, I don't,' retorted Reg. 'I'll never accept it, not if I live to be a thousand, which isn't going to happen if you keep on shoving me into your armpit! Phew!'

'Oh! Sorry' He stuck her back on his shoulder. 'Look, you suit yourself. But
please
Reg, would you for once think before you speak? The last thing I need is to get fired from this job, at least not before I've figured out what's going on with me and my sudden upgrade.'

'Well, I can't promise anything,' said Reg grudgingly. 'But I'll try. Now get a move on, would you? I want to get all the bureaucratic claptrap out of the way and put my feet up. I don't know about you but after all this excitement I could kill for a cup of tea and a nice fat mouse.'

Several corridors and a couple of staircases later, the princess led them into a small room crowded ceiling to floor with overburdened bookcases and crammed wall to wall with a desk, filing cabinet, two chairs and several wilting pot plants. The only painting in sight was of a terminally pathetic kitten sitting on a dustbin, with its billiard-ball eyes cast mournfully to the heavens. It bore a faded resemblance to Boris.

'Oh, please,' Reg muttered. 'Spare me.'

'My office,' said Princess Melissande, and waved at the battered visitor's chair. 'Have a seat, Professor. There's just some paperwork to sort out, then I'll show you to your suite.' She deposited Boris on top of the nearest bookcase and slid in behind the desk, which was covered with files, papers, pens, inkpots, an antiquated telephone and some heavy leather-bound books. The crystal ball was there, too, doing double duty as a paperweight.

'Urn ... Your Highness ... can I beg a favour?' he said as he sat in the proffered chair and settled Reg on its right-hand arm.

'By all means you can
beg!
she said, discouragingly.

'It's about Reg. I realise it's pointless trying to go on pretending that she's just a trained parrot ...'

'Certainly it's pointless trying to pretend that she's
trained.
But?'

'But,' he continued, willing Reg to silence, 'if you don't mind I'd rather it didn't get about that she's ... unusual. There might be unfortunate consequences.'

The princess smiled thinly. 'Trust me, Professor, I'm quite happy for your bird to remain silent. Whether your bird will be happy is another matter entirely'

'She will be,' he said, and closed a hasty thumb and forefinger around Reg's beak.

'If you say so. Now, to get down to business -' The phone rang, and with an apologetically impatient glance at him she answered it. 'Yes?'

As he waited, Gerald sat back and considered his surroundings more closely. They were positively ... shabby. Which didn't seem right, seeing as how the princess was not only a princess but a prime minister to boot. Granted, New Ottosland wasn't a very big country, nor an important one, but even so. The second most important person in
any
country should warrant an office larger and more attractively decorated than a broom closet.

Without appearing to, he shifted his attention to the princess. Reg was right. Compared to the lavish sartorial display that was her glorious golden brother, she really did look dowdy. And then he realised
no,
it was more than that. She looked
beleaguered.
As though she were being slowly pressed flat to the floor by a weight too heavy for her to bear. Of course it could just be the strain of dealing with the king. On short acquaintance Lional did seem like a handful. But glancing around the drab office, and remembering the dilapidated state of everything except Lional and the audience chamber, he had the nasty feeling it wasn't quite as simple as that.

'Very well, Swithins,' the princess said, bringing her conversation to an end. 'Make the arrangements. I'll see the costs are covered somehow.The Kallarapi might be making things a trifle - challenging - just now but I'll be damned if the mailroom staff have to forgo their annual picnic on top of everything else.'

So. His suspicion was correct. New Ottosland was running out of money. Unbelievable.
Can I pick them or can I pick them?

The princess replaced the receiver. 'Now ... where were we?'

'Starting to wonder if you lot can afford a royal court wizard, actually' said Reg, her eyes bright with suspicion.

Which was true, but even so ... 'No we weren't!' he said hastily. 'But if you don't mind me asking -'

This tune the princess's smile was resigned. 'Well, you were always going to find out sooner or later. New Ottosland is currently experiencing a minor and
temporary
cash-flow problem.'

Yes,
yes, just
what he needed: continued penury.
Wlien Monk hears this he's going to piss himself laughing.'Because
of the Kallarapi?'

'That's right:

'May I ask why?'

She fidgeted with a pen, avoiding his gaze. 'If you're worrying about being paid, Professor, don't. Lional always comes up with money for the things that matter to him.'

'Oh, I wasn't worried.' 'Speak for yourself,' said Reg.

'No,' the princess sighed.'I suppose I do owe you an explanation. So: New Ottosland Economics, A Beginner's Primer. Pay attention, you will be quizzed at the end of the lesson.'

'I already know that New Ottosland sits smack dab in the middle of a desert,' he said helpfully.

'That's right,' she said, nodding. 'The Kallarapi Desert. Which explains everything, really. You see, when the Kallarapi ceded the territory which in due course became New Ottosland -'

'Why did they do that, incidentally?' he interrupted. 'You'd think anybody who lived in a desert would
welcome
lots of grass and water.'

She grimaced. 'The best I've been able to figure out is that it's something religious. But since they don't discuss their religion with outsiders, that's as much as I can tell you. And anyway it doesn't much matter why, does it? It happened and now I have to live with it. So. As I was saying. When they ceded the territory a treaty-in-perpetuity was signed. We fly our balloons through Kallarapi airspace and drive camel trains across their deserts with our imports and exports and travellers and so forth, and they charge us a tariff for the privilege. And until five months ago the arrangement worked perfectly'

'So who put the fly in the ointment?' said Reg, scratching behind her head.'As if I didn't know'

'Weeeell,' said the princess at length, 'to be absolutely fair it's not
completely
Lional's fault.'

'Just mostly?' said Reg sweetly.

The princess ignored that. 'A month after Lional became king the old Sultan of Kallarap died and his heir Zazoor took over. Lional and Zazoor were at boarding school together in Ottosland and I'm afraid they didn't get along. They started competing with each other from the day they met, in everything from Algebra to Famous Ancestors, not to mention rugby, tennis, diving, cricket, polo and every other stupid game you can think of, and they didn't stop until the day they graduated.' She pulled a face.
'Men!

'So,' said Gerald, slowly, 'the minute Zazoor came to power he started up the old piss- er -
conflict
- by hiking up the tariff rates?'

'Not ... exactly,' said the princess, with a look that suggested she was perfectly familiar with the original choice of phrase, thank you very much. 'Yes, he started hiking up the tariffs but only after Lional started sending him snarky little notes implying some kind of financial double-dealing on his part.'

'And was there?'

'No. At least, not that I or Treasury have managed to discover, but that's neither here nor there. The accusation's been made now, there's no way Lional is ever going to
unmake
it, and after all the insults that have flown back and forth between him and Zazoor I think our friendly neighbourhood sultan would rather peel himself with a blunt bread-and-butter knife than admit there might be an error with the Kallarapi bookkeeping. And now the whole thing's come to a head because Lional's withholding the latest tariff payment altogether and Zazoor is threatening a total embargo of New Ottosland in retaliation. There's a Kallarapi delegation here now, being stiff-necked and difficult and demanding their money immediately or else.'

Ah. Politics. Gerald pulled a sympathetic face. 'A sticky situation, then.'

She rolled her eyes. 'More like syrupy. I've tried to sort things out myself but it's no good, the delegation won't even
begin
to discuss the crisis with me. So basically our entire future is riding on this meeting between them and Lional and to be perfectly honest I don't know that I can trust him to keep his temper. And that's where
you
come in.'

'Me, Your Highness?' He sat up. 'What's this got to do with me?'

'Everything. I need you to be my eyes and ears in that meeting tomorrow, Professor.'

'But - you're the prime minister! Isn't international diplomacy
your
job?'

She slouched in her chair, sighing. 'Ordinarily. The trouble is, I'm not invited.'

'Not
invited?

'The Kallarapi government is one big boys' club,' the princess said sourly. 'No girls allowed. And with the entire privy council sacked -'

'You want Gerald to be your spy!' said Reg.

He glared at her. 'Don't be ridiculous, Reg! Her Highness doesn't expect anything of the sort!'

Reg cocked her head. 'Really? Then why is she blushing?'

It was true: the princess's face was distinctly pink. 'Your Highness?'

Princess Melissande gave Reg a daggered look, then cleared her throat. 'The term "spying" is a gross exaggeration. Of course you musn't
spy
on His Majesty. But since I can't be there it would be extremely useful if I were to receive a report on what transpires between the king and the Kallarapi. Matters have reached a delicate crossroads, Professor. If I'm to avert disaster I need all the help I can get!'

her wayward little brother. 'Sorry, Reg. As New Ottosland's royal court wizard it's my duty to assist His Majesty - and Her Highness - in resolving this unfortunate impasse with the Kallarapi. As for your wings, if you don't want them to fall off I suggest you stop flapping them.'

Panting like a bellows, Reg lurched to the nearest bookcase that didn't contain a cat and landed with a thud. 'But didn't you hear what she
said?
Things are going to get ugly around here! And you know my feelings about unattractive situations!'

'Yes, I do,' he agreed. 'And you know mine about conduct unbecoming to wizards. Running away at the first sign of trouble is pretty unbecoming, don't you think?' Not to mention a shortcut to career suicide.

/ arn not giving up five minutes after getting here. I don't care how many camel pats this Zazoor starts lobbing over the border, I am staying put. And if I end up having to flush His Majesty's head down the bog to get him seeing sense, well, I'm practically a First Grade wizard. What can he do to me?

Reg slumped against the row of books behind her and draped a wing across her eyes. 'Gerald, Gerald, Gerald . . .' she moaned. 'You've been reading romantic adventure novels again, haven't you? What have I told you about romantic adventure novels? They're
codswallop
¹
.
The only reason the heroes get out of those ridiculous dilemmas is because the writer is on their side!'

Peripherally aware of the princess's ill-concealed sardonic amusement, he fixed Reg with his severest stare. 'You're being unnecessarily melodramatic. I have every confidence we'll be able to sort out this international misunderstanding. His Majesty and the sultan may be a bit at odds, but I'm sure the last thing they want is a lot of mess they have to clean up.'

'Oh,
pishwashV
gasped Reg, and flew heavily from the bookcase to her original perch on his chair. 'Didn't you learn
anything
from your ill-advised sojourn at the DoT? The Lionals and Zazoors of this world
never
clean up their own messes. That's left up to the poor fools who don't know when it's time to head for the hills!'

A slow smile was spreading across the princess's face. 'Well, don't look now, Reg, but I think your friend Gerald has misplaced his watch.'

He smiled back at her. 'Seems to me, Your Highness, you're a trifle watchless yourself.'

'Oh,
pleascV
said Reg, flinging both wings over her eyes. 'Any second now an invisible orchestra is going to strike up a jaunty, never-say-die little tune with lovey-dovey undertones and I'll have to be sick!'

Magnificently unmoved by Reg's histrionics, Princess Melissande sat back in her chair and fixed her no-nonsense gaze on him. 'Trust me, Professor, there's not going to be an international incident over this. Or if there is, it'll be over my dead body.'

'That's what I'm talking about!' moaned Reg.

Gerald patted her on the head. 'You missed your calling, Reg. You should've been on the stage.' He looked back at the princess. 'There is one thing.

What if the king commands me not to repeat anything I see or hear during the negotiations?'

She blinked. 'Oh - well - a stricture like that wouldn't apply to me. I'm his sister
and
his prime minister. He'll expect you to tell me so I can make the problem go away. That's what I'm for, you see. Making problems go away'

It sounded a daunting kind of life. 'Well. If you're sure ...'

'Positive, Professor.'

'Then I'll do whatever I can, Your Highness.'

Was it his imagination or did he see the merest shimmer of a tear in the princess's eyes? 'Thank you,' she said.'I'm grateful.'

Marginally recovered, Reg sat up. 'How grateful?'

'I'm sorry?' said the princess, frowning. 'What's the going rate for gratitude around here?'

For a moment the princess was perplexed. Then her frown cleared. 'Ah! You mean salary? Good lord. You know, I'd quite forgotten about that.'

Reg snorted.'I hadn't.'

'Behold me not shocked beyond the power of speech,' said the princess, staring over the tops of her glasses. 'Actually, now that I think about it we never did discuss remuneration, did we, Professor?'

Scandalised, Reg whacked him with her wing. 'Never
discussed?'
she screeched. 'Have you
completely
lost your marbles?'

He rubbed his arm. 'Calm
down,
Reg. The last time you got this excited it led to a spontaneous moulting and I don't want to go through that again! Do you?'

Reg's beak closed with a snap.

'As it happens,' said Princess Melissande, 'we can offer you a package deal, Professor.' She opened a desk drawer. 'Here are two copies of our agreement, which I need you to sign.' She handed them over then gave him a pen. 'Basically we - that is to say, the Kingdom of New Ottosland - undertake to provide you with a palace suite in keeping with your august position, plus all meals, plus one day off duty per week, plus a horse from the royal stables or a carriage if you don't ride, but if you don't ride
and
hunt Lional will be displeased so I suggest you learn fast, plus fifty goldtroons a month from the royal Treasury. And you. Professor, in accepting the position of royal court wizard, become an honorary citizen of New Ottosland with all the rights and obligations thereto attached and undertake the performance of any and all wizardly tasks His Majesty might require.'

He handed back the pen and her copy of the signed contract. 'Provided, as we discussed, there's no conflict with my oaths of office.'

'Yes, yes, I
knowV
she snapped. 'Is my word on the matter sufficient or did you want it in writing?'

He swallowed. 'Your word is perfectly sufficient, Your Highness.'

'Good! Because while we're embattled, Professor, we're hardly unprincipled!'

'Of course you aren't,' Reg muttered. 'You just don't pay your bills.'

'RegV

The princess stood. 'And now I'll show you to your apartment.'

'You don't need to do that, Your Highness,' he said, scrambling to his feet. 'Surely there's a servant who can direct us? I don't want to hold you up -'

'Too late,' she said. 'Besides. Your suite is on the way to the guest quarters for the Kallarapi delegation and I still have to tell them about their audience with the king. Come on ...' She squeezed out from behind her desk and crossed to the office door with a finger snap at Boris. Grinning, the cat leapt lightly from its bookcase perch and joined her at the door. 'I don't have all day'

'Of course not, Your Highness,' said Gerald. He shoved his employment terms into his pocket, picked up his carpet-bag, waited for Reg to hop onto his shoulder, then followed the princess out of the cluttered room.

'And here we have Ancestors'Walk,' she said as they turned yet another corner to be confronted by a long, wide, high-ceilinged corridor whose walls were covered with slightly tatty flocked wallpaper and crowded with ornately framed portraits. 'Or, as I prefer to call it, the Rogues' Gallery. All the kings and princess consorts since New Ottosland was settled.'

'It's very impressive,' he said, slowing his pace to examine the faces.

She spared him a wry glance, for once matching his speed.'Oppressive, you mean.'

'And which ones are your parents?'

The princess pulled a face. 'Oh ... well, actually, they're the only ones not here. Lional didn't get along with them so he refuses to hang their portraits. I'm hoping to sneak them in when I can be sure he won't notice.'

'Oh,' he said, and thought of the casual camaraderie and genuine affection he shared with his own parents.'I'm sorry to hear that.'

She shrugged. 'Don't be. I can't say I was overfond of them myself. Well, of my father. I sometimes think he'd have taken more interest in us if we'd had petals and stamens instead of arms and legs. As for my mother, I never really knew her. She died when I was very small.'

'What did I say?' Reg whispered in his ear. 'Practically motherless. I can always tell. Before you know it she'll be thanking me for my excellent grooming advice, just you wait.'

Reg's buzzing tickled; Gerald rubbed his ear and said, 'I really am sorry to hear that, Your Highness.'

'Goodness,' the princess said briskly. 'Don't waste your sympathy on me, Professor. One quickly learns not to pine after the unattainable.' She picked up her pace again.'Shall we get on?'

'You certainly have a lot of ancestors, Your Highness,' he said, as the array of portraits continued. 'Do you remember all their names?'

'Of course. On the left we have the Lionals and on the right, the Melissandes.'

'I beg your pardon?'

She pulled a face. 'Welcome to New Ottosland, Professor. A kingdom of Tradition.'

He considered her. 'You said that with a capital T'

'I did, didn't I?' She came to an abrupt halt, halting him, and looked him square in the eye.'Do yourself a favour, Professor, and don't ever forget it. Lional's doing his best to modernise us but I'm sorry to say it's an uphill battle. Here in New Ottosland we live and die by Tradition. You might think the horse-and-carnage look is quaint but trust me, it palls very quickly. However, since horses and carriages are what they had in colonial times that's what we still have today. No cars allowed. For the same stupid reason we don't have electricity, mass public transport, a stock exchange or any number of other modern conveniences which I'm sure you've taken for granted your whole life. Here in traditional New Ottosland we have candles and gaslight and an erratic hot-air balloon service, at least when the Kallarapi let us, and carriage post and exorbitantly expensive horseback couriers.'

'What about your telephone? That's modern, isn't it?'

'The only reason we've got telephones is because I argued myself practically into asphyxiation to get them after there was an incident at the Mint, and only then in the palace and public institutions. That, Professor, is the sole concession to modernity you'll find around here. Oh, and me not having to wear crinoline and hoops.' She shuddered. 'And if you only knew what I went through to win
that
argument ...'

'It's one you'd have been better losing,' said Reg. 'Hoops would do wonders for your posture, my girl.'

The princess looked at him. 'Tell me it gets better.'

'Sorry,' he said, shrugging. Then he stared again at the crowded wall of portraits. 'So let me see if I've got this right. All the kings are called Lional because the very first king of New Ottosland was a Lional?'

'Exactly,' she said, pleased. 'And since his princess consort was called Melissande,
all
princesses, consorts or otherwise, are called Melissande.' She marched off again, adding over her shoulder, 'Whether it suits them or not.'

'Well,' he said, catching up to her, 'I suppose it prevents unpleasant arguments at naming day celebrations. What about the queens of New Ottosland, then? What are they known as?'

'They're not. Women,' said the princess in a studiously neutral tone of voice, 'are unfit to rule, by virtue of their emotional natures and the woolliness of their wits.'

'Oh,' he said. 'What an extraordinary thing to say'

'I thought so. Unfortunately, since those particularly inane words were uttered by Lional the First and tradition being what it is ...'

He grinned. 'Say no more. Still. At least it means New Ottosland and Kallarap have
something
in common. Perhaps the king and the sultan could build on that?'

The princess spared him a withering glance. 'I'll be sure to mention it.'

'So where do you display the Rupert portraits?' he asked as they reached the end of the corridor.

'We don't. There aren't any,' she said. 'Second and third and fourth etcetera sons, and daughters for that matter, are named whatever takes their parents' fancy and they're not important enough to rate a portrait. Not unless they're bumped up the ladder of succession into the top job, in which case they automatically become the next Lional. Or Melissande. It's all very
tidy.'

'Tidy,' he said. 'Yes. I suppose that's one word for it. I could possibly think of one more.'

'Just one?' said Princess Melissande. 'Live here as long as I have, Professor, and trust me: you'll expand your vocabulary. Now let's get a move on, shall we? All this talk of tradition gives me hives.'

The walk to his living quarters was slowed considerably by constant interruptions, as various palace staff members popped out of offices and adjacent corridors to stop the princess with requests for advice and decisions. She seemed to know everyone by name, and dealt with their problems efficiently and with a smile. They in turn were respectful but relaxed, not the least bit intimidated.

'I'll say this much for her,' Reg muttered. 'She's got the common touch.'

Gerald nodded, grateful. If she'd been a female version of her kingly brother, life here wouldn't be worth living.

Eventually, despite all the interruptions, they reached an ornately carved set of double doors. 'Your suite,' the princess announced, stopping. 'I won't bother giving you a key since I expect you'll want to put in place your own wards or passwords or whatever it is you wizards use for locks. Your luggage should have been delivered by now. If it hasn't just pull on any one of the bell ropes and someone will attend you. Likewise if you have any questions, although I have prepared a handy little "Guide to New Ottosland" you'll doubtless find helpful. Now I'll bid you good afternoon. Ordinarily I'd see you inside and give you a tour but I really must go and soothe the Kallarapi before they implode.'

'Yes, of course, Your Highness. Don't let me hold you up,' he said to her departing rear view. 'Although -'

She turned back.'Yes?'

'I was just wondering ... what time is it, exactly? I don't seem to have worked out the difference yet.'

'A quarter to two,' she said, after consulting a dented old pocket watch. 'Past lunchtime. Which reminds me. Your predecessors usually ate meals in their suite unless they were summoned to sup with the king. If you don't hear from him just tell the kitchens what you want whenever you're feeling peckish.'