the middle of the desert by mistake. Or worse.'
'Oh.' She thought for moment then slapped herself again. 'Oh! Of course! You can levitate us through the bedroom window!'
Another hesitation, then he shook his head. 'I don't think we should go anywhere till I've got a better understanding of this hex.'
'Mister Markham, I have a kingdom to run,' she said sharply. 'Get me out of here and you can spend as long as you like studying your precious hex. Better yet, ask Gerald to explain it.'
Markham slammed the doors with his fist, eyes blazing. 'For the last bloody time, lady, it wasn't Geraldl Gerald's in trouble somewhere, thanks to you! And if he ends up another one of your brother's victims I promise you: someone's going to pay, big time! And I don't have a problem if that someone is youV
There was an appalled silence. Then, panting and grunting, Reg flapped to the marble-topped table by the doors. 'Now, now. Let's take a deep breath and remember what's at stake here.'
'I know what's at stake!' Melissande turned on Markham. 'And don't you threaten me! I've been threatened by experts and I'm not scared! You — '
Reg let out a screech. 'Shut up the pair of you! Wasting time spitting like mangy alley cats when Gerald is out there somewhere expecting us to rescue him!' Silence. Then Markham ran his fingers through his hair.'You're right, Reg. I'm sorry' She crossed her arms.'Yes.Well.' 'All right, Markham,' Reg continued.'You're the genius here, so act like it. How many fingerprints can you sense in that hex?'
Markham sighed, i think… five. And they're all First Grade.'
Reg scratched her head. 'So. Five thaumic signatures… five missing First Grade wizards. Even Boris could do the maths on this one.' She sniffed. 'Where is that long black streak of misery, anyway? Last thing we need is for me to end up as his lunch.'
'One of the maids is looking after him,' said Melissande. 'What do you mean, even he could do the — '
But Reg and Markham weren't listening. They were staring at each other, eyes wide with dismay. is it even possible, Reg?' said Markham. 'I've never heard of-'
'You wouldn't have,' said the bird darkly. 'Seeing as you're a nice young man who doesn't read that kind of grimoire. But I've known men who do, Monk, and I'd say it's more than possible. It's the only explanation that makes any sense.'
Grimoire? 'What, so now you're saying there's black magic involved?' Melissande demanded, i don't believe it. This is getting more and more farfetched by the minute!'
Markham shook his head. 'Sorry. I know this is difficult but we have to face facts. The only way a single hex could contain five different thaumaturgical signatures is if someone stole the potentias of those five wizards.'
Not someone. Lional. Blinking rapidly, she stared at Markham. 'That is nothing more than wild speculation.'
'No,' said Gerald's annoying friend. His engaging grin was entirely absent. Now he looked angry and a whole lot older, it's not speculation. And I can prove it. All I need is something bearing the thaumaturgical signature of one of the missing wizards.'
'Well, ducky?' said Reg, not unkindly. 'Can you help him or would you rather go on sticking your head in the sand? Because all three of us know who's behind this trouble.'
She returned to the bedroom. Snatched up the brown painted tin horse from its special place on her dressing table and took it back to the foyer. i had a birthday a while ago,' she said, stroking the toy with one finger. 'Bondaningo Greenfeather — Lional's wizard before Gerald — gave me this. When you say a special word it — it — canters in little circles, neighing. Or it did. Now it can barely trot, I'm afraid I ran the magic down playing with it. Silly. It's not like I'm a child.'
Markham took the horse from her and lightly held it. 'Yes. Yes, Greenfeather's fingerprint is still quite clear,' he murmured, it's a clever incantation.' He reached out his other hand and pressed it to the door. Moments later his face twisted and his breathing harshened. He pulled his hand away. 'Blimey, that's disgusting!
'Never mind disgusting!' Reg said sharply. 'Did you recognise Greenfeather's signature?' Reluctantly, Markham nodded.'Yes. It's in there.' 'But not Gerald's?' 'No.' 'You're quite sure?' Reg persisted.
'I'm sure,' said Markham. 'Wherever he is Gerald's still got his potential
Reg fluffed up all her draggled feathers. 'Well, praise Saint Snodgrass for that.'
Hardly paying them any attention, Melissande took the toy from his unresisting fingers. Whispered 'tallyho' into its ear then put it on the foyer floor. All her insides felt hollowed out, scoured bare with sorrow. As they watched, the little tin horse lifted its head, flicked its tail and pranced in a slow jerky circle, neighing.
It wasn't till Reg said, in a strangled voice, 'There, there, ducky. Markham, give her a hanky' that she realised she was crying. Lional. Lional. Wlxat have you done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
'What I don't understand,' said Markham, 'is how Lional managed this in the first place. If he's not a wizard…'
Reg let out a thoughtful sigh. 'Well, magical ability usually runs in families and madam, there, is studying witchcraft. Inadequately, but she's studying it. So maybe he had just enough juice to get the ball rolling. And after that…' Another sigh. 'Well, Melissande? Did he?'
It was the first time Gerald's appalling feathered companion had ever addressed her by her actual name. Slumped in a chair, still clutching Markham's damp hanky, she looked up.'Did he what?'
'Aren't you listening: Did your miserable brother have a spark of magic in him? Sufficient, as it were, to get the engine started? Saint Snodgrass preserve me,' she added to Markham. 'From the look on her face you'd think I was talking Babishkian!'
'Don't be so hard, Reg,' said Markham, disapproving.'She's had a bad shock.'
'And she's going to get another one if she doesn't buck up! Royalty doesn't sit around glooming, it rallies, it rebounds, it seeks revenge! Look at me!'
Trying to sniff discreetly, Melissande watched as Markham ignored the damned bird, crossed to her chair and dropped to a crouch beside it. With flagrant disregard for protocol he took her hand in his; ridiculously, she felt comforted.
'Your Highness — Melissande — I'm sorry about this,' he said with surprising gentleness. 'I really am. I've got a brother. We can't stand each other but even so… I think I know how you feel. I mean, if I found out Aylesbury was a mass murderer…'
She pulled her hand free. 'Stop calling Lional a murderer. You don't know those other wizards are dead.'
'Melissande…' Markham's thin face was full of compassion. 'It's impossible to take a wizard's magicali potentia without killing him. Magic is in the blood, literally. It'd be like having your bones ripped out. Not even a First Grade wizard could survive it.'
She wasn't Lional's sister for nothing. 'I don't believe you. Show me five corpses and then I might accept what you're saying, but until you do, I — '
'Melissande! said Markham. His hand took hers again. 'The wizards are dead!
'And if you bleat 'no, no, Lional isn't a murderer' one more time when you know damn well he is,' said Reg, without any compassion, i swear on my phoney grave, ducky, I'll poke out your eyeballs like olives and feed them to your precious Boris.'
She tried not to think of dear Bondaningo, ripped apart from the inside out. 'Fine,' she said sullenly. Hating Markham. Hating the bird. Most of all, hating Lional.'Have it your way.They're dead.'
Markham chewed on a fingernail. 'Blimey, Reg. We've got a real problem. How are we supposed to stand up to a man with the potentias ot five First Grade wizards?' His expression changed, abruptly. 'Especially when one of them had access to texts from the Internationally Proscribed Index! He let go of her hand and unfolded to his feet, looking stricken. 'Damn. Pomodoro Uffitzi held a doctorate in Theoretical Applications of Reverse Thaumatics.' in Ottish please?' said Melissande, feeling waspish.
'Black magic,' he said, distracted. 'Uffitzi spent eleven years researching his thesis in several countries
