Lional wasn't alone. At his side appeared the muscular watchfulness of Tavistock, whose tawny mane had been shimmered with gold dust. The former cat stared up at Reg with slitted topaz eyes, tail swishing to and fro.
Leaning a negligent silk-clad shoulder against the trunk of the tree that had hidden him, Lional drawled,'Well? What's its name, Professor?'
'Reg,' said Gerald. Damn, damn, damn. Why the hell had he let Rupert waste his time with butterflies? He could've been up in his suite by now, sending that list of ex-court wizards to Monk. Instead… 'Her name is Reg. Your Majesty'
'How quaint,' said Lional, and straightened. In the bright summer sunshine everything about him glittered: his diamond rings, his ruby and emerald brooch, his bared teeth.
He cleared his throat. 'I can explain, Your Majesty.The thing is — '
'Thank you, Gerald, I'm perfectly capable of speaking for myself,' said Reg, with a rattle of tail feathers.'Let's start with you not call me 'it', Your Majesty. I'm a sensitive soul and my feelings are easily bruised.'
Lional's flawless face was vivid with delight. 'Extraordinary,' he murmured. 'Tell me. Professor, was it a very difficult ensorcelment to perforin? Of course, I realise you're a brilliant wizard but even so… birds are singularly stupid creatures. To give one such a convincing appearance of intelligence, I can scarcely — '
'Oy!' said Reg. 'What d'you mean appearance of intelligence! What d'you think I am, some kind of metaphysically enhanced ventriloquist's doll? I'll have you know — '
'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty,' said Gerald, Reg's beak caught firmly between thumb and forefinger. 'She gets flustered in the presence of royalty. Doesn't know what she's saying.'
To his surprise the king didn't appear in the least offended. 'Incredible. You must tell me how you did it!'
'But I didn't, Your Majesty. Reg was — articulate — when we met.'
Lional frowned.'You're telling me this isn't your handiwork? How disappointing. But you can duplicate the enchantment, can't you? Recreate the same extraordinary linguistic achievements elsewhere?' One elegant hand strayed to the top of Tavistock's head; the lion rumbled deep in its throat at the touch.
The implication was unmistakable. Oh God… 'Tavistock? Your Majesty wants me to — '
Wrenching her beak free of his fingers, Reg cackled scornfully. 'Why? What kind of conversation are you going to get from an overgrown cat? Milk now, scratch my tummy, and somebody empty the damned litter tray. Hardly what you'd call scintillating, is it?' 'Scintillating or not…' said Lional.
'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty,' Gerald said quickly. 'I'm afraid it's impossible.'
Lional's smile chilled. 'Does that mean you can't… or you won't?'
Saint Snodgrass, arc you listening? Get me out of thisl 'It means I don't know how,' he said, with care. 'And it would be far too dangerous for me to… experiment. I might end up hurting Tavistock and that would violate my oaths. I'm sorry'
For one terrible moment he thought the king was going to argue, or start making threats. A flush of temper mantled Lional's cheekbones and his lips pinched tight. Then he heaved a sigh. 'I'm sorry too, Professor. It would've been so entertaining! I shall just have to amuse myself with your bird here, shan't I?'
He wanted to ask 'Amuse how?' but didn't dare. Instead he bowed.'Your Majesty.'
'Very good. Go, now. I shall see you in the Large Audience Chamber at three.' Another bow.'Yes,Your Majesty.' 'And Gerald?'
Swallowing a curse, he stopped walking, rearranged his expression into bland helpfulness and swung about.'Your Majesty?'
Lional was suavely smiling again. 'Make sure to wear that splendid robe you had on at dinner. The Kallarapi are a primitive people, easily impressed by bright display, and we do want to put our best sartorial feet forward, don't we? No need to mention it's hand-made, of course. Oh, and bring your bird, too. I dare say they'll find it… charming.' Safely within their apartments once more, Reg gave vent to her feelings in a long, loud raspberry. 'Appearance of intelligence, my arse!' Then she whacked Gerald on the head with her wing. 'And what d'you mean I get flustered in the presence of royalty! Cheeky bugger! I'd have a bloody hard time of it looking in the mirror every morning if that was the case, wouldn't I?'
Slumping into the nearest chair, Gerald watched her fly outraged laps of the foyer. Each time she passed the caged parrots she paused to engage in rude exchanges. Ordinarily he'd have laughed but he didn't have the energy. He was exhausted and he had another headache; the royal family of New Ottosland was a lot harder going than he'd bargained for.
Temporarily puffed, Reg fluttered to join him on the arm of the chair. 'That wretched Lional's a menace,' she announced. 'He's let inheriting a crown go right to his head. No wonder all his other wizards sloped off or got themselves fired. You mark my words, Gerald, there'll be tears before bedtime if someone doesn't haul him into line quick smart.'
'Mine, probably' he said, pulling a face. 'Reg, why do you think he's so keen on having you at this meeting?'
She shrugged. 'I expect he wants to lord it over the Sultan's delegates. See, I've got a wizard and a talking birdie. So double nyah.' 'Well, that's just childish,'
'I know,' she sighed.'But you need to understand, Gerald, you're not dealing with normal people now. You're amongst royalty. Think Errol Haythwaite and multiply by a hundred. Which means our pretty friend Lional bears close watching.'
True, true, damnably true. And when I've done watching him, what then? I've no authority here, or jurisdiction. I'm not even a probationary compliance officer any more. If I had any sense at all I'd listen to Reg. Get out while the going's good. But even if I didn't have a contract, I promised Melissande I'd help. He pressed his fingertips into his eyes. Ale and my big mouth.
He pushed himself to his feet. 'I need to get Monk onto finding those former court wizards for me. I know it's a long shot, but if just one of them has an idea of how to keep Lional in check…'
But Monk wasn't answering his crystal ball. Disgruntled, he retrieved the recording incant, transmitted his predecessors' names with an urgent request for their contact details, then pulled the nearest bell-rope and ordered lunch from the breathless servant who turned up some fifteen minutes later.
Once he'd finished his soup and sandwiches, and Reg had gobbled her chopped chicken liver, it was perilously close to three o'clock.
With a show of devil-may-care he was a long way from feeling, he bathed, changed, then inspected himself in the mirror… Gerald Dunwoody, Wizard Spy… God help him…
After that it was time to go. He called for a servant to guide him through the labyrinthine palace corridors and made his way to the Large Audience Chamber with Reg uncharacteristically silent on his shoulder.
As for his spare cherrywood staff, he left it behind. Something told him he didn't need it any more. Lional was already in the audience chamber, ensconced on yet another extravagant throne. From head to foot he was swathed in gold and studded with rubies. Tavistock, freshly groomed and sleekly oiled, gleamed at his feet. As the herald's announcement of his arrival echoed beneath the lavishly frescoed ceiling Gerald made his way from the doors to the dais. The walk took forever: the room was absolutely enormous.
'Right on time, Professor,' Lional greeted him, glittering in the chandelier light. 'How gratifying. Do come and stand beside me. We must present a united front, musn't we?'
He climbed the dais stairs. 'Certainly, Your Majesty'Taking up a position discreetly to the rear of the throne, he looked around the empty chamber. 'Ah — I thought there'd be more people here. Attendants. Minor aristocracy'
Lional laughed. 'I have no need of them, Professor. On occasions similar to this one my late father, when he could be prised from his wheelbarrow, surrounded himself with ministers and secretaries, courtiers and chamberlains, experts all… and yet still we find ourselves in our present invidious position. He was a timorous fellow, my father. Too afraid to seize life by the throat. Too willing to let others do the thinking for him. In that respect, Professor, as in so many others, I am not my father's son.'
Which was a great shame. At least his father hadn't brought the kingdom to the brink of a war it had no hope of winning…
The herald positioned at the chamber's open doors cleared his throat. 'Your Majesty?' he called. 'The Kallarapi delegation is approach — owV