He stared at her. 'You really can't feel it?'
She sighed. 'Of course not. I'm a witch in name only these days, Gerald, you know that.'
As always, behind the tartness he heard the aching regret. 'Sorry,' he said, and reached up to stroke her wing.'I'm a bit distracted.'
She flapped from his shoulder to the back of a nearby garden bench. 'You must be if you didn't notice this before.'
Thoroughly disconcerted, he slumped onto the bench beside her. All of a sudden food didn't seem so important.'Do you think it's a side-effect of this polarised lightning?'
She shrugged. 'I suppose it could be. If such a thing does exist.'
'If it doesn't,' he said slowly, 'then Lional was lying. Why would he do that?'
'Deary me,' said Reg, rolling her eyes. 'Have I taught you nothing? He's royalty, Gerald. As far as royalty's concerned truth is what happens to other people. Unless of course telling the truth will gain us an advantage, in which case we're as honest as the day is long.'
'That still doesn't explain why he'd lie about this.' He drummed his fingers on his knee. 'I suppose the timing could just be a coincidence… me not being able to contact Monk right when I need to talk with him, urgently, the morning after I have a mysterious accident in the woods. If it was a mysterious accident.'
'Trust me,' said Reg robustly. 'It was mysterious. But what of it? If Lional's not a wizard and he isn't trying to kill you, which is what you're saying, how can this sudden communications blackout be anything but a coincidence?'
He looked at her. 'You know, it makes me nervous when you agree with me.'
She snorted. 'But I don't agree with you, Gerald. And I certainly don't believe in coincidence. This entire situation stinks to high heaven. I might not understand the details yet but I do know this much: that Lional's a weed and he needs to be pulled!'
'I know, Reg,' he sighed, and rubbed his aching head. 'The trouble is I'm not a gardener. I'm a failed probationary compliance officer who can turn cats into lions to impress mad kings and in my spare time ruin an innocent woman's life while pushing two entire nations to the brink of armed conflict.' He groaned. 'How long have we got, do you think?'
She stared down her beak at him. 'To do what, sunshine? Avert a war, depose a madman and rescue a princess?'
'Is that the plan?' He sighed again. 'Yes, I suppose it is. The war part, anyway. If I don't stop that the rest of it won't matter.' 'Not a lot, no,' said Reg.
'We're going to have to move fast,' he said. 'The Kallarapi will be back, and in strength, you can bet on it. That show we put on may have fooled Nerim but it didn't fool Shugat, no matter what Lional thinks. And when Shugat pays us a second visit he won't just bring the sultan's gullible brother. He'll come with hordes of Kallarap's fiercest warriors.'
'Which means we'll need reinforcements,' said Reg, and began to march back and forth along the garden seat's back. 'You're a wonderful young man with unplumbed talents, Gerald, but you aren't an army. That Markham boy has to be told what's been happening. He may work in Research and Development but he and his family know everyone who's anyone in wizarding, domestic and foreign. And they've got the clout to cut through the red tape.'
She always was one for stating the bleeding obvious. 'I know that, Reg, but how?' She stopped, tipping her head to one side to stare at him intently. 'You say there's still some etheretic juice in the air?' 'Yes.' 'Enough for an accelerando maxima?
He nearly fell off the bench. 'A Speed-Em-Up hex? Reg, are you out of your mind? No. It's out of the question. We've got some time up our sleeves yet, camels can't run that fast. I'll contact Markham once the ether clears, then — '
'And what if it doesn't?' said Reg, severely. 'What if this dampening effect lasts five days, not three? Or a week? Or forever! With a good strong hex to help me along I'll be back in Ottosland in just over two days. I can — '
'Explode into so many pieces there won't be anything left to bury!' he retorted. 'The Speed-Em-Up was never designed to be used on living things! Don't you remember the bookmaker and the racehorse? It was disgusting] And that was using the hex at quarter strength!'
Reg snorted. 'The wizard that bookmaker hired was a third-rate hack who couldn't tie his shoelaces without a diagram and a scantily clad assistant. I have total faith in your ability to do the thing correctly, Gerald. You're a metaphysical prodigy, remember? There's absolutely no reason to assume I'll explode, provided you take the proper precautions. Besides, what other choice is there? We have to reach that Markham boy somehow'
She was right, dammit, but hell. The risk. 'What about Lional?' he demanded, desperate. 'What if he wants you? What do I tell him?' 'Tell him I'm sick.' 'And if he doesn't believe me?'
'Then tell him I'm dead! Boo-hoo your eyes out, put on a show. Now stop arguing, Gerald! We both know I have to do this.'
Overwhelmed, stomach churning, Gerald pushed to his feet, stamped to and fro for a minute then collapsed to the grass against a handy chestnut tree and closed his eyes tight. He could hear the drone of bees amongst the flowers, the twittering of birds in the branches overhead, the laughter of children playing two gardens along and the measured snick-snick of secateurs somewhere off to the right. The morning sun was warm on his face, the heady perfume of roses and luvvyduvvies tickled his nose. He felt Reg's claws prick gently through the fabric of his trousers as she jumped onto his knee.
'Come on, my boy' she coaxed. 'I'll be fine, you'll see. I'm a smart old bird and I have no intention of blowing myself to kingdom come on behalf of that oink Lionel.'
Unconvinced, he banged his head against the tree trunk and welcomed the pain. He was familiar with the accelerando maxima hex. For a while, until Scunthorpe played spoilsport and put an end to the hijinks, he and a bunch of other probationary compliance officers had spent their lunchtimes souping up some model cars and zooming them round the Department car park, to the amusement and bruised ankles of all. The employment market for top-notch speed wizards was excellent, and lucrative; the international car-racing circuit paid a fortune for wizards with the knack of making race cars go really, really fast. Briefly he'd dreamed of the big-time himself, but mostly his model cars had crashed. Of course that was before Stuttley's. The hex would work now. He knew it would. / am, after all, a metaphysical prodigy.
Suddenly he was angry. If only he could be the old Gerald Dunwoody again, the Gerald Dunwoody who'd forgotten New Ottosland even existed, who'd honestly believed he'd found his level and was — if not happy — then resigned to staying there, doing what good he could for the welfare of wizardry and civilians alike. Where was that Gerald Dunwoody when he needed him? Gone.
And in his place breathed a wizard of untried, untested limits who held the fate of two nations and who knew how many thousands of souls in his ill-prepared and sweating hands.
With his heart like frozen lead in his chest he opened his eyes to meet Reg's expectant gaze. 'Do you even know how to find Markham from here?' he asked tiredly.
'More or less. Trust me, Gerald, that's the least of my worries.' She rattled her tail. 'So. Does this mean you'll do it?' 'Do I have a choice?' 'Sorry' she said. 'You really don't.'
No. He really didn't. If I get out of this mess in one piece I'm retiring. The world will he a safer place without a wizard like me let loose in it. He looked at Reg. 'Well. Are you ready?'
She ruffled all her feathers. 'And waiting, sunshine.'
'All right then,' he sighed. His chest hurt. 'But if this doesn't work and your wings fall off or your brain explodes or you fly in one side of a mountain and out the other don't you dare come back to haunt me because I'm telling you right now, for the record, I think this is a very bad ideal
Reg rolled her eyes. 'Yes, Gerald. I hear you, Gerald. Now can we please get on with it, Gerald, because I'm not getting any younger!'
She hopped down from his knee and crouched on the grass before him, eyes gleaming with determination, wings outspread and ready. He leaned forward and rested a finger lightly on the top of her head. Closed his eyes. Sought for the power hidden within and felt it shudder, waiting. 'Accelerando maxima,' he whispered. 'Accelerando maxima qui.Accelerando maxima deco dea'. Nothing happened.
'Gerald, if you're waiting for me to change my mind you're much sillier than I ever gave you credit for!' said
