Melissande looked at her reflection.'Oh,' she said at last. Her expression was unreadable.
Eyes glittering, Lional stared intently at his sister. Slowly, as though in a trance, he slid off his throne, stepped down from the dais to the chamber floor and prowled around her in rapt silence. Then he turned. 'Professor, you are… magnificent.'
'Oh, no, Your Majesty' he said, his eyes not leaving Melissande's face. 'Not me. But I think Her Highness might be.'
She was still vertically challenged. Still horizontally overcompensated. Her hair was still, at heart, a rusty red. But any suggestion of frumpiness had vanished. She was sleek now, and polished, and she looked like Lional's sister. 'Cor!' said Reg.'It is a bloody miracle!'
Diffidently, he stepped forward. 'Your Highness? Is it — you know — all right? I can change it if you're not satisfied. Just say the word.'
Slowly, as though waking from a dream, Melissande tore her gaze away from her elegant, polished reflection. She appeared dazed. 'No,' she said faintly. 'That won't be necessary. Thank you very much.'
She didn't sound terribly grateful, though. If anything, she sounded… despairing.
'Yes indeed,' said Lional, and poured himself back into his throne, gold on gold. Beside him, Tavistock purred. 'That's another debt of gratitude you've incurred, Professor. At this rate you'll see me beggared!' He bowed.'Not at all, Your Majesty.'
Still dazed, Melissande said, 'Lional, we'd better not keep the Kallarapi waiting any longer.'
'Indeed not! Professor, get rid of the mirror. Melissande, invite our guests to join us.'
Gerald returned the mirror to his suite and watched Melissande cross the vast expanse of carpet to the audience chamber's doors. Wearing high heels she even walked differently. Almost… alluringly. 'Remarkable,' Lional murmured.
She opened the doors and said something to someone in the anteroom beyond. There was a pause, and then the sound of a male voice raised in protest. Melissande's shoulders stiffened. She tried to speak again and was over-ridden. She stepped back, closed the doors and marched back to the dais.
So much for allure. The way she was walking now, those high heels were deadly weapons.
'They won't come in,' she announced, flushed with anger.
'Won't come in?' said Lional, eyebrows lifting. 'Whatever do you mean?'
'Exactly what I said, Lional. The Kallarapi won't come in while I'm here. Prince Nerim refuses point blank to discuss anything with a woman present.'
Lional sat up. 'Well, that's unacceptable! You're not a woman, you're my prime minister! How dare he insult me in this fashion? He'll meet with both of us or go back to Kallarap with his tail between his legs and an empty purse to boot!'
Melissande sighed. 'No. New Ottosland's future is a million times more important than my pride. Or yours, for that matter. It's all right, Lional. I'll g°'
For a moment it looked as though Lional was going to argue, then he nodded. 'Very well. Your sacrifice is appreciated, Melly. And don't you worry: I'll make sure the Kallarapi pay for this insult.'
'Thank you. I think.' She turned, her expression strenuously neutral. 'Professor? Good fortune attend your first encounter with the Kallarapi. I look forward to hearing all about it.'
So. It was back to spying again. Damn. Gerald bowed. 'Thank you, Your Highness.'
As she disappeared through a small, discreet door in the wall behind the dais, the chamber's main doors flung open.
'Your Majesty!' the herald shouted. 'I present to you Prince Nerim of Kallarap, Blood of the Sultan, and Shugat, Holy Man of the Kallarapi.'
In walked the Kallarapi delegation to the strains of a blistering fanfare. Gerald let out a hard breath. Here we go, then. Saint Snodgrass defend me.
From the look of him, Prince Nerim hovered somewhere around eighteen years of age. His height was average, his build slender. Olive skin was moulded over high cheekbones and a broad brow. His deep-set eyes, fringed with extravagant lashes, were a clear light brown. A short black beard jutted from his chin, barbered and pomaded into a ruthless point which was tucked into a gold ferrule. His shirt and trousers were of pristine white linen. A belt of solid gold studded with emeralds clasped his waist. On his feet were curly-toed golden half-boots decorated with diamonds and on his head a cloth-of-gold turban. Fixed front and centre was a yellow diamond bigger than a hen's egg, with four curly white feathers dipped in gold sprouting above it. Shiny black ringlets curled from beneath the turban's edges, shyly brushing his shirt collar.
'Talk about sending a boy to do a man's job,' breathed Reg, swallowing a snort of disgust. 'That popinjay's window dressing, Gerald. It's the other one we need to worry about…' The other one. Kallarap s holy man.
Shugat was so old his spine had curved him over like a sapling under heavy snow. A scraggly grey beard adorned his brown leather face and his bald, polished head was bare. He wore a plain brown robe, rough-spun and ill fitting, which was belted around his concave middle with a ratty old bit of rope. His callused feet were encased in scuffed leather sandals and his gnarled, ringless right hand grasped a knobbly wooden staff taller than he was.
Set into his forehead, above the bridge of his fiercely hooked nose, some kind of rough-hewn crystal the colour of dirty milk and no bigger than a bantam's egg.
Shugat looked up, revealing deep-sunk eyes as bright and burning as newborn stars…
… and Gerald felt a shocking shudder run right through him as he fell headlong into that molten gaze.
Waves of power were suddenly radiating off the Kallarapi holy man, distorting the surrounding air. Holy man? Try wizard. Even from thirty feet away Gerald could feel his skin crisp and his hair curl from the raw thaumaturgical energy Shugat emitted. On his shoulder, Reg was gasping.
All that power… and he'd never sensed so much as a spark of it even though they were living in the same palace. He'd never met anyone who could hide himself so completely. Shugat was to First Grade wizardry what elephants were to ants.
Bloody hell! Lional thinks he can tell this man what to do? He thinks I can tell him? He really is mad. Shugat could squash us flat with the blink of one eye.
This meeting was a waste of time. Doomed to failure before it had even begun. The Kallarapi didn't need an army. They had Shugat… and all New Ottosland had was him. Damn. I really should have listened to Reg.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Just as Gerald thought he'd have to look away from Shugat or burst into flames, the holy man's measured strides faltered and his sulphurous gaze shifted abruptly to Reg and then to Tavistock. The lion stared back, lazily insolent. Reg gurgled in her throat.
Shugat halted, thrusting his head forward like a hunting dog in search of prey. Prince Nerim glanced back and stopped, surprised. Opened his mouth to query or protest and was silenced by Shugat's upraised hand.
Gerald felt his heart rate treble. Blimey, now what? He risked a glance at Lional. The king was perfectly relaxed, faintly smiling, as insolent as Tavistock as he sprawled on this throne.
Shugat's nostrils flared and his wild eyebrows shot up, then slammed down over his eyes in a ferocious scowl. He took three slow steps forward then halted again, lifted his staff and struck it onto the crimson carpet with all his might. The ensuing thunderclap shivered the chandeliers and rattled the lead-lined window panes. Tavistock leapt to his feet, roaring.
'Blasphemy!' the holy man roared back. The crystal in his forehead burst into burning life, pulsing like the sun. Prince Nerim was cowering. 'This is bad, Gerald, this is had' Reg muttered.
'I know, I know, shut up!' he muttered back, then sidled closer to the throne. 'Your Majesty?'
Lional was smiling, one hand stroking Tavistock's head, the other dangling idly over the side of the throne. 'Now, now, Professor. Blasphemy is in the eye of the beholder. The trick is to appear profoundly unimpressed. I encourage you to follow my example.'
Mad, mad, and with a crazy death wish. With an effort he smoothed his face to match Lional's bored, sleepy expression.'Yes, Your Majesty.'
