Her cheeks tinged pink. 'Oh. I see. That's very kind of you, Professor. Another time, perhaps. I'm rather drowning in paperwork just now.' He bowed.'Of course, Your Highness.'
'One last thing,' she said, darting a glance up and down the momentarily empty corridor. 'That business we discussed. You know. With the Kallarapi.' 'Yes, Your Highness?'
'I'd rather that stayed just between us, Professor. Consider it… a matter of state.'
Who did she think he was going to tell? 'Your Highness, as far as I'm concerned all our conversations are privileged.' She sniffed. 'Does that go for the bird, too?'
'Do you mind/.' said Reg, before he could answer. 'I'll have you know, madam, that I was conducting matters of state long before your great-great-grandfather was a tickle in his daddy's britches!'
Another sniff. 'I'll take that as a yes. Now, if there's nothing else?'
'Ha,' said Reg, fuming, as the princess marched away with Boris.''Does that go for the bird?' Who does she think she is?'
Gerald rolled his eyes. 'Call it a wild guess but… the boss?'
'Her? The boss?' Reg hooted. 'Ha! Bossy, I'll grant you. Definitely that.'
'Oh, give it a rest, Reg,' he sighed. 'And let's inspect our accommodation.'
'CorV said Reg admiringly as he closed the suite's front doors behind them.'Paint me pink and call me a flamingo! Would you get a load of this?'
'This' was the most luxurious, incredible decor Gerald had ever seen. After his drab shoebox at the Wizards' Club it made his eyes ache. Black marble floors scattered with kaleidoscope rugs. Chandeliers like glittering beehives. A skylight framed in solid gold. An enormous fountain-and-pond arrangement complete with vacuous goldfish. Exotic birds in gilded cages. A carved sideboard groaning beneath crystal bowls of fresh fruit and decanters of mellow amber nectars, two enormous armchairs and a gilded table and chairs. On the table a pink cardboard folder, neatly stencilled 'A Guide to New Ottosland'. Set into the back wall a gilded door inlaid with mirrors. And that was just the foyer.
Forlorn in the middle of a rug shaded like a rainbow, his luggage looked embarrassingly decrepit.
Reg took a gliding turn about the room, pausing briefly to insult the real parrots. 'Looks like New Ottosland really has gone up-market!' she declared, settling onto the back of a blue velvet armchair. 'Say what you like, Gerald, this king knows how to treat his wizards. He's really got style!'
'Is that what you call it?' he retorted. 'I'd have said more money than taste. Look at this place!'
Reg was grinning. 'Posh, eh? Somebody's tax goldtroons at work with a vengeance.' She flipped a wing at the mirrored door. 'Let's have a gander at the rest of the apartment, shall we?'
Beyond the foyer was a sumptuously furnished salon complete with dining table and lounge suite. It had three more doors leading elsewhere, one on the left, one in the middle, one on the right. Behind the left-hand door was his bedroom.
'This is ridiculous,' he said, confronted by a curtained expanse of pillow-laden bed.'I'll need a compass just to reach the other side!' 'Wheee!' said Reg, trampolining merrily.
The opaline carpet under foot sank a good three inches beneath his weight. It was going to take something hydraulic to lift him out of the armchair by the window. There was a walk-in wardrobe, an ensuite bathroom containing a bathtub big enough to drown a herd of elephants, with gold taps and knobs and soap holders fashioned to look like terminally cheerful dolphins, and too many full length mirrors that reflected back to him the distinctly wild look lurking in his eyes.
The salon's middle door opened onto a library with bare shelves, and the right-hand door led to a wizarding workshop complete with benches, stools, cupboards, more mirrors, crucibles, mortars, pestles, herb racks, bookshelves, cages of various sizes, a specially designed crystal-ball holder, a globe and a few bits and pieces he'd never seen before.
He looked around, impressed. 'Reg! Come in here!'
She flew in from the bedroom and landed on top of a cupboard beside the window.'Very nice. Gerald, we have to talk.This suite might be the bees knees when it comes to prestigous comfort but you can't seriously want to stay in New Ottosland!' He leaned against the nearest bench.'Why not?'
Boggled, she stared at him. 'I think that trick with the cat must have melted your marbles, my boy. Why don't I start with the most obvious reason: His Majesty King Pillock.'
Despite the brewing headache, which was threatening to erupt full force behind his eyes, and all his dark unanswered questions, he had to grin. 'Pretty bloody awful, isn't he?'
'No, actually, he's pretty bog standard as far as royalty goes,' said Reg. 'But that's no reason to hang about. I don't like him, Gerald, and I certainly don't trust him. You've got to watch out for the smooth blond ones, they're always the worst.'
'Reg…' He sighed. 'You can't make this personal. The fact that the king is blond and handsome does not mean he's a villain. This is my story, not yours. We're agreed he's a pillock, but that's all. As for why I'm staying, I'd think it was obvious. Not only do I need the money, I have to find out how it is I'm suddenly able to do things like contain Level Nine inversions and turn cats into lions.' 'Simple,' said Reg.'You're a late bloomer.'
He shook his head. 'No. It's more than that. I'm different, Reg. I can feel it. That massive jolt of raw thaumic energy in Stuttley's has done something to me. And until I've worked out what that is and what it means I'm staying as far as I can get from Ottosland and the Department ofThaumaturgy. All right?'
She fluffed up all her feathers, brooding. 'All right,' she said at last, reluctantly.'On one condition. Whatever else happens you are not to go falling in love with that sartorial disaster of a princess, is that clear? Because I won't have it, Gerald. If she was an orphaned only child I could possibly bear it. But she's a package deal with that pillock brother of hers so my foot is down. No falling in love!
Blimey, that was the last thing on his mind. 'Me fall in love, Reg? Now whose marbles are melted? I'm going to unpack.'
The first thing he did was unearth his medicine tin and swallow three painkillers to eliminate the headache. Then he tackled the meagre belongings in his tatty luggage. It didn't take long. The walk-in wardrobe still looked tragically empty by the time he'd finished, and the workshop's shelves were barely half-full of texts. The last item he unwrapped was his crystal ball. Surprisingly, it was pulsing a frantic red. Incoming? Already? It could only be Markham, surely. But why? I've only been gone a few hours. Unless…
He went cold. Snatched up the crystal ball, rushed into his workshop and slammed it into the specially crafted receptacle on the bench.
'What's the matter now?' Reg demanded, startled out of a doze. She hopped off the ram skull, which he'd put on top of the cupboard by the window for her, and onto the workbench. 'Are the Kallarapi invading?' 'Who knows? Who cares?' he muttered.
As anticipated, the first message was from Markham. 'Gerald, call me as soon as you get tin's.' That was it. No explanation or mention of a parental touring catastrophe. Monk's slightly wavering face, distorted due to the cheapness of the ball's crystal, looked strained but not distraught. That had to be a good sign.
He triggered the next message. Monk again. Now his friend did look a little perturbed, and his voice was clipped. 'Gerald, I really need to speak to you. Call me'. The third and final message was Monk, too. This time he was shouting. 'For the love of metaphysics, Dunwoody, stop playing with your bloody princess and call me! Do you have any idea what — look. Just bloody call me, would youV
'Oh dear,' said Reg. 'His knickers really are in a knot, aren't they? You'd better call him, Gerald, before something unfortunate happens to his wedding tackle.'
He spared her an exasperated look and made the call. After a few moments Monk's face bloomed in the depths of the crystal ball. 'Gerald! It's about bloody time!'
'What's wrong?' he demanded. 'It's not my parents, is it?'
'Your parents?' said Monk blankly. 'No. It's you You've gone and triggered the international thaumograph, you stupid bastard! I've nearly killed myself avoiding a Code Red investigation! How could you do this to me? You've only been there five minutes and I've already had three heart attacks!'
Damn. King Lional's bloody cat. He sat on the nearest stool. 'Monk, I'm sorry. I totally forgot about the DoT's monitoring station.' i know!' 'Look, I can explain — '
'Explain? You can explain an unauthorised Level Twelve transmog? How the hell can you explain that? How the hell did you do it? There are currently only Jive certified Ottosland wizards rated for that incant, three of them are in my family and none of them are in New Ottosland! According to the current status bulletin you are the only
