Witches Incorporated (61 page)

But even though Gerald’s entanglement with his unlikely friends had proven useful this time, it also promised to be problematic in the future. Unless it could be turned to the Department’s advantage, of course.

I could be wrong, but I have the sneaking suspicion that these friendships might be all that can keep Gerald on an even keel. Because if this portal business has taught us anything, it’s taught us that we’ve not begun to plumb the depths of his abilities… and we don’t know what in time he’ll become.

“
So,” said Ralph. “How are we going to clean the mess up, Alec?”

He smiled. “Funny you should ask me that. Ralph, I’ve been thinking. And I believe I have a workable plan…”

Suspension—exile—stretched out to ten days. Abandoning the dreadful bedsit, Gerald camped out with Monk. They amused themselves in Great-uncle Throgmorton’s attic, mucking about with various dubious experiments, and every day drove to the Witches Inc. agency to have lunch with the girls.

Really, it was almost like a holiday. Except he didn’t want a holiday, he wanted to get back to work.

“Don’t be in such a rush, mate,” said Monk. “Who knows when you’ll get some time off again, once Sir Alec’s put you back in harness?”

“
If
he puts me back in harness,” he replied, morose. “Ten days and not a word either way, Monk. I just want to know what’s going on. That’s all.”

“Nothing’s going on. This is just his way of slapping your wrist,” said Monk. “You don’t really think they’ll throw you on the scrapheap, do you? Their very own tame rogue wizard?”

He supposed not. But knowing that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Lunchtime on the tenth day rolled around, and found him and Monk at Witches Inc., again. Reg brooded on her ram skull, Melissande slumped at her desk, he sprawled in the client armchair, Monk perched on Bibbie’s desk, and Bibbie hovered outside the window on her flying dustbin lid. She and Monk were fighting a pitched battle with hexed paperclips.

According to Reg, the Witches Inc. phone hadn’t rung for a week.

Sighing, Melissande let the
Times
fall onto her knees. Curled up on her lap, Boris hissed a complaint.

“So I was talking to Rupert last night,” she said to no-one in particular. “He says Zazoor might have finally found himself a bride. Only Zazoor’s not quite sure, because apparently the gods are being coy about it.”

Gerald smiled, half-heartedly. “So what else is new?”

“Well, true… but Rupes seems to think Zazoor’s rather keen on this girl. And it is past time he settled down, after all.”

Reg stirred on her ram skull. “Tell him to tell Sultan Hoity-toity I’m happy to stop by and have a word with the gods on his behalf. That old Shugat’s probably past it, deaf as a post, I’ll bet, and as an honorary ex-god myself I’m sure I could—”

“
No
!” everyone said loudly. “Don’t you even bloody think about it, Reg!”

Reg cracked open one eye. “Yes, well, it was only a suggestion. I’m sure there’s no need to deafen a woman. And anyway, why shouldn’t I go on a little jaunt to Kallarap? It’s not like anything’s happening here.”

“It’s not
fair
,” said Bibbie, as her paperclips fought to the death with Monk’s. “That bloody Eudora Telford. I mean, we save her life and
this
is how she repays us? By telling everyone in the Baking and Pastry Guild that
we
got Ambrose killed and sent Permelia
insane
?”

“Well…” He shrugged. “I suppose, when you think about it, she’s not
entirely
wrong.”

“And look on the bright side,” said Reg. “At least she’s not heading off to New Ottosland to poison Rupert.”

“True,” said Melissande. “Although—”

The agency door opened without warning, and Sir Alec walked in. If the sight of Bibbie bobbing outside the window on a dustbin lid perturbed him, he didn’t show it.

Gerald sat up.
What’s he doing here
? He exchanged a worried look with Monk, who’d turned pale.

“
So
,” Sir Alec said briskly, hands clasped behind his back. “Listen carefully, ladies and gentlemen, as I explain to you how this arrangement is going to work. To all intents and purposes, Witches Inc. shall continue to operate as a legitimate thaumaturgical troubleshooting agency. In fact I anticipate that for most of the time, you shall be occupied with the kind of work you anticipated handling when you started the business. Of course, from this time forth most of that work will be filtered in to you from various avenues approved by my Department, and every job will be vetted for potential nefarious connections, but nevertheless the agency will, for the most part, be what it claims to be. Although the entire operating budget will be provided by the government and any revenue you generate shall be laid against expenses.”

Melissande, shocked, was staring with her mouth open. “
What
? I don’t think so, Sir Alec. At least not without the proper consultation. You can’t barge in here and—”

Sir Alec’s smile was particularly wintry, even for him. “Yes, I can, Your Highness. Or did you not realise you were interfering with an ongoing, highly classified government investigation?”

“
Interfering
?” said Reg. “You cheeky bugger! We saved your Department’s hide and you bloody well know it!”

Sir Alec ignored her. “
You
, Mister Dunwoody, shall be joining Witches Inc. as one of its employees. When not engaged on official Department business you’ll keep yourself busy with any Third Grade wizard work that might cross the agency’s desk.
You
, Mister Markham, will continue in your current position in Research and Development, but with secondment duties to my Department as and when I require your services. Miss Cadwallader, Miss Markham and Dulcetta—”

“I prefer Reg,” said Reg coldly. “If it’s all the same to you, sunshine.”

This time Sir Alec offered her a small bow. “Very well…
Reg
. The three of you shall be considered auxiliary Department personnel, subject to the same official government restrictions and conditions as restrain Mister Dunwoody and Mister Markham.” He frowned. “At least when it suits them to be restrained. In short, ladies, you are now
honorary janitors
, though I do strongly advise that you
not
let the title go to your heads.”

Her heart-stopping face framed in the open window, golden hair gleaming in the sun, blue eyes bright with unholy amusement, Bibbie bounced on her dustbin lid and laughed.

“How about that?” she crowed. “What a
wonderful
idea!”

“You think so?” Melissande demanded. “Well,
I
think it’s—it’s the most high-handed, autocratic,
bossy
—”

“I know!” said Bibbie. “He sounds just like you—and Reg!”

As Melissande spluttered, Sir Alec continued. “These new arrangements will commence immediately. Mister Markham, Mister Dunwoody, you will report to Nettleworth at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Miss Cadwallader, Miss Markham and Reg, someone will be stopping by this office later today with papers for you to sign. Or, in your case, Reg, scratch. Then you too shall report to Nettleworth for further briefings.”

“Um,” said Gerald, not daring to look at Melissande. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to add, Sir Alec?”

Sir Alec frowned. “No. I don’t think so. I think I’ve been quite clear.”

“No, no, I think there was something else,” he said. “Something about—I don’t know—asking if we’re
interested
?”

“I’m sorry,” said Sir Alec, one pale brown eyebrow lifting. “Did you not hear what I said to Miss Cadwallader? This is—as you’d say—most definitely a done deal. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what happens when you solve a highly delicate and dangerous secret mission.” He smiled, unamused. “You get given another one.”

“But—but—” said Melissande. “Rupert—he’s not going to like me getting involved with—”

Sir Alec considered her. “Actually, Your Highness, His Majesty has already been informed. He asked me tell you, from him, ‘
Have fun
’.”

“Oh,” said Melissande faintly. Stunned, she patted Boris on the head. “I see. Well. Gosh. Did he really?”

“Yes,” said Sir Alec, then added, “Your family has also been informed, Miss Markham.”

“And did they give you a message for me?” asked Bibbie brightly.

“No,” said Sir Alec. “But I’ve got one.
Get off that dustbin lid.
It’s time to grow up.”

As the agency door clicked closed behind him they all looked at each other, lost for words.

Well. Almost lost for words.

Comfortable on her ram skull, Reg let out a sudden cackle. “Well, boys and girls, you know what they say. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Bloody hell! What’s next?”

This writer is only as good as the people who tell her the truth about the quality of the current work in progress. I continue to be blessed by Glenda Larke, Mary Webber and Elaine Shipp, who never pull their punches and make sure I’m doing the best that I can. If I fall short, blame me. They did their best.

Tim Holman, a true gentleman of publishing, for his ongoing support.

Alex Lencicki, for all his wonderful PR efforts.

The production and design team, who lavish so much care on Orbit’s books.

North America’s fantasy readers, who are so willing to embrace this wordy foreigner.

The readers, who keep coming back for more.

North America’s wonderful booksellers, especially the team at Borders, without whom I’d be lost.

K. E. Mills is the pseudonym for Karen Miller. She was born in Vancouver, Canada, and moved to Australia with her family when she was two. She started writing stories while still in primary school, where she fell in love with speculative fiction after reading
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Over the years she has held down a wide variety of jobs, including horse stud groom in Buckingham, England. She is working on several new novels.

Visit the official Karen Miller Web site

at
www.karenmiller.net.

The Rogue Agent trilogy concludes with:

K. E. Mills

When thaumaturgical genius Monk Markham opens his front door, the last person he expects to see is himself. But it's not a dream, and it's not a hangover. There really is another Monk Markham in the world. And that's because there's a whole other world. There are lots of other worlds, alternative worlds, metaphysical reflections of each other— almost the same, but not quite. A little twist here, a different path taken there… and all of a sudden, the unthinkable becomes real.

Monk Markham's unexpected twin has broken the barrier between worlds in a desperate attempt to stop his Gerald Dun-woody before it's too late for everyone. Because his Gerald Dunwoody made their King Lional a dragon— and wasn't sorry. His Gerald Dunwoody didn't resist the lure of black magic grimoires. And now he isn't content with one world to rule. This Gerald Dunwoody wants to rule them all. And there's nothing he won't do to get what he wants.

The question is how far, exactly, will Gerald Dunwoody, Rogue Agent, have to go to stop a man with his face… and none of his scruples?