the agency.”
“Oh,” said Eudora Telford, woeful again. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. You’ve been too gracious. Too kind.”
“And speaking of Miss Wycliffe,” she added, “we’ve not forgotten the errand you were to perform on her behalf this evening.”
Eudora Telford blushed. “You know?”
“We guessed, Eudora,” she said gently. “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else for whom you’d have braved the streets of South Ott.”
“Please, Your Highness,” Eudora whispered. “You mustn’t tell a soul. I promised Permelia I’d take her secret to my grave.” She sobbed. “Just as I promised I’d help her, but I haven’t. I’ve let her down.”
“No, you haven’t,” said Melissande. “Miss Markham and I shall return tomorrow morning, promptly at ten, and escort you back to South Ott, so you can keep your word to Permelia.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose, Your Highness,” gasped Eudora. “I couldn’t possibly — ”
“Oh, but we insist, Miss Telford,” said Bibbie, smoothly taking her cue. “It’s the least we can do. Besides, I have so many more stories about Antigone to tell you.”
Flustered and flattered, Eudora Telford surrendered. “Well, as long as you don’t consider it a dreadful inconvenience. Only, the thing is-if you’d not mind-” Her blush deepened. “You must promise not to mention it,” she said beseechingly. “Permelia would be so displeased with me if she were to discover-”
“Miss Telford,” said Melissande, “we shan’t breathe a word. The last thing we want is for Permelia Wycliffe to know that we know anything about your errand to South Ott.”
“Oh thank you,” said Eudora Telford, and showed them out with a fervent promise to be ready for them again in the morning.
“ Gemstones?” said Bibbie in shocked disbelief, once she’d heard what was hidden in Eudora Telford’s reticule. She fired up the jalopy’s engine. “Are you sure?”
“Trust me,” said Melissande. “If there’s one thing I know about it’s jewels. I had to sell off most of ours to pay the palace gardeners towards the end.”
Bibbie whistled. “Gemstones and Haf Rottlezinder. Gosh. Things aren’t looking too good for Permelia, are they?”
“No,” she said shortly. “But let’s not jump to conclusions, Bibbie. We need to meet with Gerald and see what he found out. Let’s get back to the office, shall we? Fingers crossed Reg is waiting there for us, and she can fill in at least some of the blanks.”
It nearly killed him, but Gerald finally got Errol safely back to Wycliffe’s.
He came up with his plan of action during the mildly precarious journey to Errol’s parked car. Precarious not because the docilianti compulsion was in danger of wearing off, but because scant minutes after they left the ruined boot factory various civilian and government folk began descending on the area. Having paused to retrieve his staff from the vacant lot, he’d been forced to drag Errol further into the smelly shadows to avoid them being noticed. He’d stared anxiously at each passing vehicle but hadn’t-praise Saint Snodgrass-caught sight of Sir Alec. He did see Dalby, though, and thought his heart would stop altogether. But Dalby couldn’t see him this time… which meant he could start breathing again.
Once it was safe to get moving, he hauled Errol into an awkward dog-trot and hustled him as fast as he dared back to the wizard’s silver Orion. The old boot factory’s destruction had enticed quite a few people out of their homes, which was helpful. He and Errol lost themselves in the general excitement and reached the car without incident. It was still there, of course, its don’t-steal-me hex glowing a bold red warning on the windscreen.
“Unhex it, Errol. We have to get out of here.”
Dreamily, Errol did as he was told then let himself be bundled into the driver’s seat.
“Right,” he said, stowing his staff in the back and clambering into the passenger seat. “To Wycliffe’s, Errol. Slowly. Don’t draw any attention to us, whatever you do.”
Still trammelled in the docilianti, all the mean, superior sharpness in his face smoothed away, leaving it peculiarly pleasant, Errol obeyed. And as they glided through the advancing night in a car that cost more money than Gerald knew he could hope to earn in ten years, he ran through his plan again, looking for any holes that Sir Alec might poke in it. And then, when he couldn’t find any, hunched in the passenger seat and worked very hard at not thinking about anything
… most especially what had just happened back there at the factory.
Wycliffe’s front gates were locked, but he took care of that with a touch of his staff. Still beautifully obedient, Errol drove them round to the R amp;D block. Gerald had to admit it: while he didn’t at all care for the docilianti, or having to use it, he couldn’t deny it was coming in handy.
As he and Errol got out of the car a winged shadow swooped down from one of the nearby tall and spindly balibob trees.
“Reg?” he said, then shook his head. Surprise, surprise. Nothing changes. “ What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like, sunshine?” she said, landing on his outstretched arm. “I’m waiting for you.”
“But-but how did you know-”
“I didn’t,” she said, shrugging. “Not for sure. But it seemed like a safe bet. When I saw you and Mister Puppet, here, weren’t blown to smithereens along with that boot factory, I-”
“ Reg! You were there? But I told you to-”
“Yes, well,” she said, insufferably complacent, her eyes gleaming sardonically in the meagre light from his newly-kindled illuminato. “I don’t take orders from you, Gerald. I might, every now and then, adopt a politely worded suggestion, but-”
“So you saw what happened?”
She sniffed. “I saw you save Errol, here. I saw the factory blow itself to matchsticks-you’re making a bit of a habit of that, aren’t you? — and then when I saw all the bigwigs rolling in, I scarpered. So what happened?”
Briefly, he told her.
“Well, well,” she said when he was done. “You’re turning lucky escapes into an art form, aren’t you?” Considering him closely, she tipped her head to one side. “Gerald…”
He roused himself from unpleasant memory. “What?”
“It’s not your fault if that Rottlezinder’s dead.”
“ If he’s dead? Come on, Reg. That explosion spread him across half of South Ott.”
“Half?” She snorted. “You do exaggerate, Gerald. I’d say a quarter, if you’re lucky.”
“ Reg!”
“Oh, don’t start,” she snapped. “If you could’ve saved Rottlezinder too, you would have. But you had to choose, and you chose pillocking Errol Haythwaite. Though why-”
“Because he’s innocent.”
“ Innocent?” Incredulous, Reg stared at him. “ Errol Haythwaite?”
“Yes. He went to see Rottlezinder to make him stop the portal sabotage. And he tipped off the authorities about today’s attack.”
“Blimey!” she said. “I don’t mind admitting I never saw that coming.” Feathers ruffled with surprise, she hopped from his arm onto Errol’s head. Obligingly docile, Errol said nothing. He barely flinched. Seemed hardly aware he was wearing a bird for a hat. Reg’s gaze sharpened. “All right, Gerald. What have you done to him?”
He turned back to the car and fished out his staff. “Nothing permanent,” he muttered. “Just encouraged his co-operation.”
“Oh, yes? Using one of Sir Alec’s dirty tricks, I take it?”
“Please, Reg,” he sighed. “Not now.”
Relenting, she chattered her beak thoughtfully. “I’ll say this much. Dirty trick or not, the incant works a treat.” Suddenly her eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. “What d’you think? I mean, this chance won’t come again, Gerald. I could pretend I’m a pigeon and Errol’s a statue.”
Despite everything, he grinned. “I think I don’t have time for this,” he said, trying to sound severe. “I have to get him inside and make it look like there’s been a laboratory accident.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Well, as cover stories go I suppose I’ve heard worse. Are you sure it’ll hold?”
