dress.”
“Blimey,” Reg muttered. “Her elbow? I take it back, Gerald. She’s not a tropical depression, she’s a candidate for the asylum.”
“Hush,” he hissed at her under his breath.
“And this one-this one, you see?” said Eudora Telford. “Here I am with the Mogul of Fandawandi’s forty-third wife, and Permelia, at the opening of the Ott Homeland District’s annual fair. Four years ago.”
Melissande peered. “Ah. Yes. I take it this is your foot, Eudora?”
“That’s right,” said Eudora Telford. “I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless in photographs,” she confided. “Always moving at the wrong moment, or sneezing.”
“Yes, having your photograph taken is terribly tedious I know,” said Melissande, staring fixedly at one framed photo in particular.
“Hello,” said Reg. “What’s madam seen now?”
Gerald couldn’t tell. But from the look on her face…
“This lady here,” said Melissande, picking up the photograph. “She looks familiar for some reason. Do you know who she is?”
Eudora looked. “Yes. Of course. That’s me-well, the back of my head-and Permelia with the Prime Minister of Jandria’s wife. Madam Manawa Tambotan. That one was taken not quite two months ago, at the Annual Baking and Pastry Guild Charity Ball. Madam Tambotan was this year’s charity patron. She and Permelia were great chums at school, you know. And of course she’s the president of Jandria’s Baking and Pastry Guild.”
“Bloody hell,” Reg muttered. “Gerald…”
But he didn’t need Reg’s alarm tickling in his ear. He didn’t need Melissande’s startled expression, or Bibbie’s wide-eyed stare, or the swiftly-extinguished flare in Monk’s etheretic aura.
Jandria.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gerald felt his heart hammering at his ribs. Permelia was the connection between Errol and Jandria? But how could that be? She never set foot in Ambrose’s jealously guarded lab.
He realised then that something was nudging him… a thought… a memory… something important…
“Um,” said Melissande. “So Permelia and the prime minister’s wife-you’re saying they’re still good friends?”
“Oh yes, indeed,” said Eudora. “They’re always exchanging letters. They even talk on the telephone, though the calls are so expensive.” Her expression dimmed a little. “Doubtless there are things only two presidents can discuss.”
Gerald felt the nudging, niggling thought sharpen into a jabbing realisation. Permelia.
“Oy!” Reg muttered. “What’s wrong?”
Ignoring Reg, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, excuse me, Your Highness.”
Melissande gave him her snootiest look. “What?”
“We should-ah-the jalopy, Your Highness. We should warm it up before you and the ladies get into it. Me and-um-him.” He jerked his thumb at Monk, who was staring at him as though he’d gone mad. “Um. Can we? Please?”
Melissande heaved a sigh. “I suppose so. If you must. But don’t take all day. We’ll be joining you shortly.”
“What the hell are you going on about, Gerald?” said Monk, once they’d escaped Eudora Telford’s bungalow. “The jalopy doesn’t need warming up.”
“I know,” he said. “But I had to talk to you about Permelia Wycliffe.”
“Ah,” said Monk. “Yeah. She and Errol must be in cahoots. Him passing his work to her so she can pass it on to Jandria through her good chum the prime minister’s wife. Could be he’s the one behind the faked gemstones, too, which means sorry, mate, he also lied to you about not being involved with the portal sabotage.”
“You think so?” he demanded. “So you detected Errol’s thaumic signature on those fake jewels, did you?”
Monk frowned. “Well, no, but-”
“But nothing. I’m telling you, Monk, Errol didn’t make them. And he’s not passing his work to Jandria through Permelia Wycliffe either.”
Still anchored to his shoulder, Reg rattled her tail feathers. “Gerald, what’s going on? What is this obsession with Errol Haythwaite’s innocence?”
“This isn’t about Errol,” he snapped. “It’s about the principle of protecting the unjustly accused.” He plucked Reg off his shoulder, set her down on the roof of the jalopy and stared into her worried eyes. “The Janitorial Department-Sir Alec- me — we’ve got an awful lot of power, Reg. You don’t know how much. You don’t know the kind of incants they’ve given me or what I’ve learned to do in the last six months.”
“Then tell me,” she said. “Secrets aren’t healthy, Gerald.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. There’s no time.”
“Not at the moment, no,” she agreed. “But when this is done you can make time. That is, if you want to.”
“Reg,” Monk said quietly. “Don’t nag him, all right?”
Her feathers flattened. “I see.” She sniffed. “I suppose you know all about it, do you?”
And now her feelings were hurt. Gerald laid his hands flat on either side of her and touched his chin lightly to the top of her head. “Don’t be angry,” he whispered. “I’m dangerous now. I have to be careful. I can’t ever let myself be too convinced that I’m right.” Stepping back, he looked at Monk. “Eudora Telford’s not the only one with a voice in her head… and right now mine’s screaming.”
“All right, mate, all right,” said Monk, glancing at the bungalow. “Calm down. What is it screaming?”
Calm down. It was good advice. His heart was still racing, his thoughts tumbled and jumbled. Just as Melissande predicted, the pieces of the jigsaw were falling into place.
“Last night,” he said slowly, “after I’d faked the laboratory explosion and Wycliffe’s was crawling with inspectors, Ambrose and Permelia turned up… and something odd happened. I didn’t pay much attention at the time, but now I realise how important it was. When I was explaining to Ambrose what had happened-”
“Ha,” said Reg, eyes bright with sardonic amusement. “When you were lying through your teeth, you mean.”
“Yes, all right, when I was lying through my teeth,” he said, impatient, “I told them Errol and I had been working in the lab all night without a break.”
Monk frowned at him. “So?”
“So when Permelia Wycliffe heard that she nearly swallowed her tongue. I’m telling you, Monk, she couldn’t believe her ears. Ambrose assumed it was because she didn’t think we were dedicated enough to work back late, but I think it was more than that.”
“You mean she knew it was a lie?” said Monk. “But how would she know? Unless-”
He nodded. “Exactly. Unless she’d already been to the lab that night, sometime between when Errol and I left and when we got back. Permelia has no business setting foot in the place. R amp;D’s out of bounds for her and her gels.”
Monk’s face screwed up in a sceptical frown. “You’re thinking she snuck in there and stole some of Errol’s blueprints while you were both in South Ott? But how could she? Errol used to ward his school pencil box so we couldn’t nick his eraser. There’s no way that woman could get past one of his anti-theft hexes.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Gerald, but I think you’re stretching the facts a bit thin.”
Maybe, but what choice did he have? “The blueprints that ended up in Jandria were copies,” he said. “So maybe whatever black market thaumaturgist Permelia found to make her the fake jewels put together a recording incant and a hex-breaker, too.”
Reg rattled her tail feathers. “That’s not a bad theory.”
“It’s not a bad theory if you believe Errol’s innocent,” Monk said slowly.
