'So you keep saying,' she said impatiently. 'Fine. I'll hang a great big Out of Order sign on the portal door. Happy now?'
'Oh yes,' he said. 'I can just see your brother paying attention to that.'
Reg broke the crackling silence with a pointed rattling of her tail feathers. 'Yes, well, I suggest we worry about this little hiccup after we've dealt with the Kallarapi. What d'you say?' 'Fine,' muttered Gerald. 'Excellent,' snarled Melissande. 'Oh, please,' groaned Reg.
After that there was nothing more to be said. During the forty-five minute journey back to the palace they clip-clopped over the picturesque Canal Bridge, past the fountain-studded Art Gallery, the Mint, the recently vacated House of Ministers, an Academy for Young Gentlemen, a Seminary for Young Ladies, the Royal Playhouse, the Royal Opera House and down the full length of fashionable King Lional High Street where all the important people bought their necessities, apparently.
Eventually they arrived at the palace's rear entrance. Various servants bustled in and out with messages and packages and a constant stream of tradesmen's wagons trundled further along to the loading bay, where another servant was ticking off their deliveries and arguing about payment. They alighted from the carriage and stood looking at each other.
'Well,' said Melissande. 'That's that, then. You'll come and see me, after the meeting?'
Gerald made sure Reg was secure on his shoulder, and bowed.'Certainly, Your Highness.' 'Good. Excellent.'
She turned on her heel and marched away. He watched her go, frowning. 'I can't believe she let me travel through an unregulated portal. I could've been killed!
' We could've been killed,' Reg pointed out. 'But we weren't, so let's worry about it later. Right now there are far more interesting things to worry about.'
Yes. Like spying for the princess. He swallowed a groan. 'Fancy a walk? I need to air my brain, and those look like gardens over there…'
They were indeed gardens. Beautiful ones, spreading out from the palace in a lake ot colour and perfume. If they were Lional the Forty-Second's legacy, well, royalty had surely done worse. Like now, for instance.
Reg whistled approvingly as they wandered among the flowerbeds. 'Very nice. If more kings stuck to harmless pursuits like weeding and fertilising, the world would be a better place.' 'I say!' cried an excited voice.'I say, ProfessorV
Gerald turned — and there was Prince Rupert, bouncing up and down in the middle of a neighbouring pansy patch. Both hands were filled with plucked blooms.
He smiled and waved. 'Good morning, Your Highness.'
'Rupert,' said the prince. 'Remember? I'm just collecting a few treats for my butterflies. Since you're out and about would you like to come and see them?'
No. I've got better things to do with my time, like panic about this stupid meeting where I'm single-handedly supposed to avert a full-scale international invasion, complete with camels.
Reg leaned close to his ear. 'Say yes,' she muttered. 'He may be a prat but he's a royal prat. Never get on the wrong side of royalty, sunshine. It always ends badly.'
Swallowing a groan, he made himself smile. 'That sounds lovely, Rupert,' he said. 'I'd be honoured.'
Rupert beamed. 'Splendid! Come along, then! Follow me!' Rupert's butterfly house was situated on the far side of the gardens. Flooded with light, it was filled with beautifully maintained cages, a variety of aromatic mini- habitats and an immaculately arranged workroom containing butterfly food, magnifying glasses, three crammed bookcases, two microscopes and a wide array of nets and other butterfly-catching paraphernalia.
Gerald was surprised. Given Rupert's scatterbrained demeanour he'd not expected such clutterless order and pristine attention to detail. As for the butterflies… there were hundreds, in every colour, shape and size imaginable. They were riotously beautiful… and he hadn't been expecting that, either. Whoever noticed butterflies?
Rupert was still beaming. 'Don't tell Lional, but I call this butterfly house 'my little kingdom',' he confessed. 'And a well-run little kingdom it is too.'
'Well, you know, the butterflies rely on me, don't they?' said Rupert, as they wandered past cage after cage of jewel-bright insects. 'If I didn't look after them properly they might get sick, or die, and that would be unforgiveable.'
He nodded. 'You're right. It would be.' He stopped in front of a cage neatly labelled: Vampirella Majcsticas. Danger: Do Not Touch. The savagely scarlet and black insects clustered on their hunks of fresh raw meat and waved ominous antennae at him. Safely anchored to his shoulder, Reg burbled like a kettle with a sock shoved down its spout. He stroked her wing with a reassuring finger. 'So… they really are dangerous, then?'
'Everyone's dangerous, Gerald,' Rupert said gently. 'Or they can be, if you're not careful. I mean, you seem like a terribly nice chap and all that, especially for a wizard, but I expect you could do a mischief or two if you put your mind to it.'
'Well, yes, I could' he admitted reluctantly 'Only I wouldn't.'
'No, you wouldn't,' said Rupert. 'You're a thoroughly decent chap, I can tell. But some wizards aren't so scrupulous, Gerald. I've heard stories…'
The sight of the Majesticas sucking blood from the raw meat was… unsettling. He turned away. 'Old stories from our distant past, Rupert. It's true that once upon a time there were wizards who abused their powers, wizards who ran amok doing unspeakable things. But not any more. My colleagues and I are closely monitored. There are terrible penalties for the irresponsible uses of magic these days. Modern wizarding is about humanitarian advances and scientific discovery, not subjugation and warfare and dark deeds in the dead of night.' Rupert beamed.'Well, that's a relief!'
'Honestly,' he insisted as they continued to wander past more butterfly enclosures. 'Wizardry's perfectly safe and reliable these days. Those other kinds of wizard are history'
'I'm very pleased to hear you say so,' said Rupert earnestly. 'Because when you get right down to it there's something not very nice about a person who likes other people to be afraid of him. A person like that bears very close watching, don't you agree?'
'Er… yes. Probably' he said, after a moment. Was it his imagination or was Rupert trying to tell him something…
Rupert, his watery blue eyes wide, smiled his foolish, tremulous smile. 'You're staring, Gerald. Was it something I said?'
'What? Oh! No! Sorry. I just — I was off with the butterflies.'
Rupert chortled. 'I say. that's a good one! 'Off with the butterflies'! I must remember that! Now, I expect you'll want to be on your way. Busy, busy, busy. I'll see you again soon, though, yes?'
'Yes. Yes,' said Gerald. 'And thanks for showing me around.'
Outside in the gentle sunshine, Reg cackled. 'Hard to believe he's related to the other two, isn't it?'
'Practically impossible,' he agreed as they headed back to the palace. 'He's such a fluffy, harmless man I feel guilty for getting impatient with him.'
Reg snorted. 'He's such a fluffy, harmless man that after five minutes in his company I want to rush to the nearest park and find some pigeons to poison!'
'Oh, come on, Reg! You don't! I mean, isn't that practically mur-'
'Why hello, there. Professor,' said King Lional, stepping out from behind one of the large, flowering trees that lined the path. 'Fancy meeting you here.'
Gerald stopped, heart pounding, and managed a ragged bow. 'Your Majesty! Ah — you startled me.' Lional smiled. 'I'm sure I did.' 'Is there something I can do for Your Majesty?'
'Indeed there is,' said the king. There was something… unsettling in that smile. 'You can introduce me to your loquacious little friend!'
CHAPTER TWELVE
'Bugger,' said Reg.
