hour, Professor! It simply isn't good enough!'
As a relieved servant closed the private dining room's door behind him, Gerald glanced warily at Tavistock, disapproving beside Lional's ornate chair, and bowed.'So sorry, Your Ma-'
'My instructions were perfectly clear, not even a moron like Rupert could've misunderstood me!' Lional seethed. 'Which means you've kept me waiting on purpose]'
The dining table was set for two and laden with tureens and platters and sauceboats of food. Poached fish. Roast duck. Delicately spiced gravies. Green beans and artichokes swimming in garlic butter. Their combined aromas teased and tantalised. On the sideboard a towering confection of cake, as yet untouched, with cream and chocolate and the seductive scent of coffee liqueur.
Almost deafened by his abruptly rumbling belly, Gerald swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. 'Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I intended no deliberate slight or disrespect. I think His Highness had some difficulty finding me.'
Eyes narrowed, lips pinched, Lional drummed his lingers on the table, vibrating the used cutlery on his emptied plate. Then he reached for his wineglass, tossed its blood-red contents down his throat and thrust it forward. 'Well, man, don't just stand there! Pour me another one!'
Hastily he poured Lional more wine from the large crystal carafe on the table. The king half emptied the glass then sat back in his chair, suspicion and anger still not fully allayed. 'So what were you up to, Professor, that Rupert couldn't find you?'
Damn. Of course Lional had to ask. 'Up to? Ah — ' Inspiration struck. A chance for two birds with one stone, no pun intended. 'I was out looking for Reg, Your Majesty'
Lional's eyes narrowed again. 'The bird? Why? Where's it gone?'
Schooling his face to an expression of innocent anxiety he said, 'Actually, Your Majesty, I'm not entirely sure.' 'Not sure?' Lional sat up. 'You mean you've lost it?'
Reg, hexed to the eyeballs and hurtling home. Oh lord, I hope not. 'No, no, Your Majesty. Not lost. Just — '
'Good,' said Lional.'That bird is an integral part of my plans for this kingdom. I would be excessively… disappointed… if you'd been so careless as to misplace it, Gerald.' J bet you would, Lional. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'
Lional didn't look entirely convinced. 'I should warn you, Gerald, that I don't much care for being disappointed.'
Too bad. Because you're long overdue and if I have my way…'I'm sure you don't,Your Majesty.'
Without warning, Lional smiled. One hand drifted down to scratch Tavistock between the ears. 'Well, you're here now so I mustn't complain. Do have a seat, Professor. You look positively peaky. Help yourself to some food and while you're eating you can explain what has happened to your little feathered friend.'
'Thank you,' said Gerald, and sat at the tables other place setting. He was so hungry he felt lightheaded and ill. He was so hungry he didn't care he'd be eating with Lional and Tavistock for an audience.
Plate hastily filled, he tried not to fall on the food like a starving wolf or choke when Lional poured wine for him into his glass.
'Drink up, Professor,' the king urged, positively genial. 'Your blood could do with some fortifying, I think.'
It certainly can. Reg, Reg… please be all right. 'Thank you,' he said, and swallowed a mouthful of the wine. It was exquisite, rich and robust and full of fruit. Just what he needed. He swallowed some more. Ate the fish and roast duck. Savoured the buttery garlicked artichoke. The rumbling ache in his belly eased, mouthful by mouthful. He drank the rest of the wine. It was fiibulous.
'Another half-glass?' suggested Lional, crystal carafe raised invitingly.
He shook his head, which was swimming gently like the goldfish in his foyer fountain. 'My thanks, Your Majesty, but — '
Lional ignored him. 'And now that your appetite is assuaged,' he said, expertly pouring, 'do feel free to tell me all about Reg. Where has the charming little wretch got to?'
His blood felt replaced, not fortified; rich red wine pumping in time with his heart. He almost emptied his refilled glass in a single swallow. It was so goodl He'd been worried about something. What was it? 'Reg?' he echoed. 'Oh! Yes! Reg! Well, Your Majesty, she went out early this morning to stretch her wings. She said she'd only be gone an hour but she still hasn't returned.'
'I see,' said Lional, gently frowning. 'And you're anxious? You feel there could be some cause for alarm?'
'Well, I was. I did. I mean I am! I do! Although…' He leaned towards Lional confidingly. 'Just between you and me, she does enjoy her little jaunts. Has been known to get a bit carried away in the sightseeing department. Your Majesty' He hiccuped. 'Scuse me.'
Lional's smile was camaraderie personified. 'Not at all, Professor.'
'The thing is, Your Majesty, I think I was overreacting,' he admitted. 'She's no spring chicken, is our Reg. Been about a bit in her time. You'd be surprised. She'll be fine. Be back before we know it. My word on it, believe me.'
Lional patted his arm. 'You're the wizard, Gerald. If you say that's the case, of course I believe you. And doubtless the gods of Kallarap will protect her.' He smiled again. 'Have some more wine, my friend. It wants drinking up.' He poured for the third time.
Gerald didn't need encouragement. All his knotted muscles were unravelling, leaving him loose and delightfully mellow. He raised his glass. 'To your good health, sir!'
'Thank you, Gerald,' said Lional, sitting back. 'I'm touched. Tell me, how are you feeling? No unfortunate repercussions from yesterday's tumble?'
Tumble? Tumble? Oh yes! I fell off a horse, aren't I clumsy? He stifled a giggle.'None at all, Your Majesty.'
'Ah, you wizards. Tough as old boots.' Elbows propped on his chair's gilded arms, Lional laced his fingers. 'And your memory of our little outing? Any sign of its return?'
'My memory?' he said vaguely. 'No, Your Majesty. I'm afraid it's as blank as ever.' He did giggle this time, a ridiculous sound. 'So if you happened to ravish a milk-maid or three while we were romping about the countryside, I promise your secret's safe with me!'
He held out his empty glass with a hopeful smile. Watched Lional fill it yet again. Drained it dry. Reached for the carafe himself this time, without asking, and sloshed more red gold into his glass.
Good old Lional. Excellent fellow. If only Errol Haythwaite and his cronies could see me now, chatting over lunch with my friend King Lional. Theyd be greensick with envy. And Scunthorpe, too, that miserable old paper pusher. Bet he'll be sorry when he finds out the calibre of wizard he let slip through his fingers. Too stupid to see the genius right under his nose, Scunthorpe. They all are. Idiots! They'll rue the day they disrespected Gerald Dunnywoodl
Replacing the carafe on the table with exaggerated care, he realised Lional was watching him intently. 'Cheers, Y'Majesty!' he said, and raised his glass in salute. 'Bloody nice drop this, innit?'
'Bloody nice indeed,' said Lional. He reached into his green silk coat's inside pocket and withdrew a red velvet covered box. Placing it on the tablecloth between them he added, 'And I hope you'll find this equally nice.' He leaned forward, peering muzzily.'Wazzat?'
'A gift, Gerald. A trinket. The merest token of my appreciation for all your efforts.'
'For me?' He felt his jaw drop. 'Y'Majessy… y'shouldn't have!'
'Of course I should! You've no idea how much I owe you, Gerald. Or how much more I'll owe you very soon. Open it.'
Fumbling, his fingers stubbornly uncooperative, he wrestled with the velvet box's lid. Inside, nestled in white satin, was a heavy golden ring set with a single cabochon-cut sapphire; the blue gem winked and flashed in the chandelier light.
Lional smiled. 'It's a signet ring. A gift from my father.'
'Y'father?' The box slipped from his clumsy fingers into a puddle of congealed gravy on his plate. 'Oh — no — can't take it — too precious — '
'Nonsense,' Lional said robustly. 'I never wear the wretched thing. Come. Put it on.' 'Oh, no, I — '
