he was her spy.
Lional's expression chilled. Sublimely oblivious, Rupert pulled a dog-eared book out of his pocket, propped it up against a vase and began to read as he continued to slurp his soup. The book's cover was graced with a watercolour of an improbably smiling butterfly.
'My dear Professor,' said Lional. He didn't sound at all friendly. 'That won't be necessary. Your experience as a wizard will be quite sufficient for my purposes.'
Across the table, Princess Melissande was attempting to semaphore a message via her unplucked eyebrows. Gerald tried to ignore her. 'I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Would you mind explaining what you mean by that?'
The king considered him. 'Oh, dear. Please don't tell me you're going to be obtuse, Professor. I find obtuse people very… wearing!
Not as wearing as they find you, I'll bet. 'Obtuse, Your Majesty? No. At least, that's not my intention. I just don't want any misunderstandings when we meet with the Kallarapi. Misunderstandings could give rise to an unfortunate international incident.'
The king dropped his spoon into his emptied soup bowl. The manservant behind his chair winced. 'I am not concerned about international incidents. No great nation can afford to concern itself with the hurt feelings of its inferiors. I hope you are not suggesting, Professor, that I place the selfish desires of these Kallarapi above the welfare of my own people?'
Oh, thank God Reg wasn't here. 'Of course not, Your Majesty' he said carefully. 'But — '
'There is no but, Professor,' said the king. 'It has been said that diplomacy is the waging of war by other means. If that is indeed the case then where the Kallarapi are involved you may consider yourself my secret weapon.'
Secret weapon? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He snuck a glance at the princess. She was very pink about the face and her fingers were white-knuckled on the stem of her almost emptied wine glass.
'Lional,' she said with commendable calm, 'is that a good idea?'
Lional ignored her. 'Do you know, Professor, what the very best thing about being king is?'
He couldn't help himself. 'The hours, Your Majesty?'
Beside him, Rupert surfaced from his butterfly daydreams long enough to bleat his amusement. 'The hours! I say, that's a good one! The hours! That is a good one, isn't it, Lional? The hours?'
'The very best thing about being king, Professor,' said Lional, as though his brother didn't exist, 'is that all my ideas are good ideas. In fact since I came to the throne I haven't had a single bad one. Have I, Melissande?'
Rupert said, 'Ooh, I don't know about that, Lional, I mean there was that business with the horses, the monkeys and the — ' 'Rupert,' said his brother. 'Get out.'
Rupert flinched. 'Sorry, Lional,' he whispered, picked up his book and retired.
'All I meant! the princess began, and was silenced with a glare that sizzled the air between them.
'It seems to me,' said the king, his voice lightly coated in ice, 'the time has come for us to remind the world that New Ottosland is a sovereign nation, a kingdom of tradition, antiquity and significant heritage. We must no longer allow ourselves to be dismissed and trifled with because we appear insignificant. The fire ants of Sanarabia appear insignificant yet they can reduce the mighty elephant to bloody bone and sinew. So it may be with New Ottosland, should the unwise choose to render us one whit less than our proper due. For too long nations like Kallarap have treated us with contempt. Well, to that I say: no longer. We must assert ourselves as New Ottoslanders, the equals of any nation in the world.'
'And I'm not saying we shouldn't,' the princess persisted. 'But to be taken seriously on the world stage we have to look like a world power. Which means we need things like privy councils, to give us gravitas. And supply valuable diplomatic experience.'
'My privy council was short-sighted, lily-livered and stuck in the past like hogs in mud,' snapped Lional. 'Aged relics… and their sons are relics-in-waiting. Which is why I banished them to their estates where they can dwindle their dying days in contemplation ot the nation they and theirs might have birthed had they the least wit, imagination or courage.'
Princess Melissande released an exasperated breath. 'I know they're ancient and irritating, Lional, but as it turns out they actually got quite a lot done around here and I have to say, in all honesty, that expecting me to pick up the slack is a bit unfair. I mean, I'm doing my best, and so are my staff, we really are, but we just can't keep up and — '
'Then I suggest you find new ways of motivating your employees,' said Lional, smoothly. 'And yourself. Unless you'd like me to do it for you?'
She bit her lip and looked down. 'No. Thank you.That won't be necessary'
'I suspected as much,' said Lional. Still rankled, he shifted in his chair. 'And what about you, Professor? Is there anything you'd like to add while we're all feeling so delightfully conversational?'
If he said what he really wanted to say he'd find himself getting intimately acquainted with a headsman's axe. 'Well… as a matter of fact there is, Your Majesty. Another question, if you don't mind.'
'No,' said the king. 'I don't mind. Provided it's not obtuse'.
'Well, sir, in short: what exactly do you mean, secret weapon?' 'The man's barking mad,' said Reg late the next morning, through the remains of her breakfast mouse. 'How does he think you're going to make those Kallarapi buggers change their minds about the tariffs?'
Gerald stirred his porridge with his solid gold spoon and frowned.'He didn't say. He just laughed and waved in the next course.'
'I mean,' she continued, 'as far as I can tell, the only thing that's going to stop this tariff tiff before it gets well out of hand is Lional sitting down to a great big slice of humble pie.' She sniffed. 'And how likely is that, I ask you?' 'Not very,' he said, still frowning.
Reg cackled. 'Not at all, sunshine. Trust me. There's nothing you can tell me about Lional that I don't already know. I was giving his type the cold shoulder when I still had a shoulder to give 'em, and that's more centuries ago than I care to think about. I tell you, he's lost his marbles down the privy.'
He winced and looked around the fountain-tinkled foyer. 'Careful, Reg. For all we know the walls have ears. Pillock or not, Lional's the king. You can't flap about the place saying he's mad.'
With a burp Reg hopped off the back of her gilded chair and started marching to and fro across the table. 'Listen, sunshine, the fact he's a king only makes it more likely he's off his rocker. Royalty's always inbred. Comes of them being snobs and refusing to marry a good bit of commoner every third generation or so. I mean, look at that Prince Rupert. From what you've told me it's clear he's a grade A nutter. Madness probably runs in the family. You want to keep an eye on that Melissande or next thing we know she'll be after you in the middle of the night with a jewelled dagger and a fixed smile, you mark my words.' He groaned. 'Honestly, Reg. You do go on.'
She waved an emphatic wing under his nose. 'Gerald, I'm serious. You need to respect my experience in these matters. Sending a bunch of worn-out dukes and barons and their gormless offspring on a one-way trip to their country estates is one thing. Nothing wrong with that. Did it myself on a regular basis, generally speaking they're nothing but a bunch of parasites anyway. But seriously entertaining the idea that he could use an oath- protected wizard as any kind of weapon, secret or otherwise, is clear proof that Lional's two oars short of a rowboat.'
On second thoughts he wasn't in the mood for porridge after all. Reaching to the fruit bowl for an orange he said, 'His Majesty's not mad, Reg, he's just… determined to have his own way. I swear, if he thought I could make the Kallarapi back down by turning up at this meeting naked I'd be well advised to get used to inconvenient breezes.'
'Deary deary me, I don't know,' Reg fretted, kicking the solid gold toast-rack in passing. 'The more I hear, the unhappier I am about staying in this place.'
Moodily, he peeled his orange. 'It's a crazy setup, all right.'
Reg stopped.'Hallelujah, he's seen the light! You start packing and I'll nip down to madam's office to give her the good — '
'Not so fast!' he said, waving orange peel in her face.'You're forgetting my contract.'
She made a sound like an exploding firecracker and turned a complete somersault. 'For the love of Saint Snodgrass, Gerald, there isn't a contract signed that can't be broken and lord knows you've got grounds with this
