Yes, well, what they were saying was good old diplomatic double-speak as Melissande, Zazoor and Shugat quickstepped around the mess Melissande’s mad brother had made. Like fencers testing for a likely opening, they parried words and dodged lunges and sought for a face-saving way to retreat from the brink.
When they got to the bit about Melissande marrying Zazoor he came damned close to swallowing his tongue.
“Settle down, sunshine,” said Reg, leaning close. “Zazoor’s safe. Not even the Kallarapi are that desperate.”
“Reg!” he said. “How can you-”
And then he forgot what he was going to say, because Zazoor was smiling.
It wasn’t a good smile.
“Highness,” the sultan said, silky with polite menace. “The payment of debt is a good thing, but Kallarap will not starve without your pennies. I am sent to you by my gods, who would have me speak with you of sacrilege. And treachery. And yes, indeed: of honesty.”
Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn.
But before he could leap to the rescue Gerald shoved Reg at him and marched into the fray. “Sultan Zazoor, your quarrel is with me.”
“What? What?” Reg thrashed in his grasp, trying to get free. “What is that idiot boy doing now?”
Monk felt an unfamiliar sting in his eyes. Had to clear his throat before he could speak. “What does it look like, Reg? He’s being Gerald.”
Abruptly still, Reg moaned softly, the smallest sound of distress. “I want to bloody kill that Lional.”
“You and me both, ducky,” he said, close to snarling. “You and me both.”
Heartsick, they watched Gerald throw himself on the mercy of the merciless Kallarapi. Confess his sins and take all the blame, not a word in his own defense, no attempt to explain. “I made the dragon because I’m weak.”
“All right, that’s it! ” Reg shrieked, and in a wild flurry of wings and tail feathers flailed her furious way to Gerald’s shoulder. “Weak my granny’s bunions! Now you listen to me, Zazoor! If you knew what that bastard Lional did to my Gerald to get that dragon you’d-”
“The bird?” Zazoor said to Shugat.
Shugat nodded. “The bird.”
Zazoor considered her. “ Not, I think, trained.”
“Trained?” screeched Reg. “What do you think I am, a bloody circus act?”
Monk kept out of it. Not even he could defend Gerald the way Reg could. And she was defending him, fearlessly tongue-lashing Zazoor and the holy man. Interestingly they let her, indulging her tirade without interruption. Melissande glanced at him once, eyebrows raised. Should I chime in, do you think? He shook his head. Reg was doing just fine on her own.
But then Shugat climbed down off his camel and pressed his gnarled hand over Gerald’s heart. His own heart stopped beating. If this was retribution there was nothing he could do…
It wasn’t. With a great burst of light from the crystal in his forehead the Kallarapi holy man stepped back. “The bird does not lie, my sultan. The wizard has suffered. His blood still stinks of foul enchantments.”
His heart started beating again and he was able to breathe-until Zazoor’s dark gaze stabbed him, one hand beckoning.
Bloody hell. This’ll teach me to poke my nose outside R amp;D.
Zazoor wasn’t smiling now. “And who are you? Another wizard?”
“Yes, Magnificence. I’m-”
“A friend,” said Gerald, and burned him silent with a look. “Innocent of these doings. He’s not to be harmed.”
Zazoor almost laughed. “You would stop me?”
“I’d try.”
The sultan’s flickering glance indicated his army, and Shugat. “You would fail.”
Monk held his breath. Was he the only one who could tell just how shaken Gerald really was? How close he’d been pushed to losing his mind?
Back down, mate. Back down. I can take care of myself.
Gerald’s attention was focused solely on Zazoor. “Yes. I might fail. But not before I’d tried.”
Zazoor laughed. “Holy Shugat. This wizard asks us to help him destroy the dragon. What is our answer?”
As it turned out, not the one they were hoping for. Outright rejection. A refusal of aid. To be honest he wasn’t surprised-but Melissande was. She raged, she argued, she threw herself against Kallarap’s indifference. Gerald threw himself after her, but it was no use.
“He who made the dragon must now unmake it,” Shugat pronounced, eyes rolled to slivered white crescents. “So say The Three, whose words are holy and cannot be denied.”
And then Gerald, the mad bastard, the crazy fool, the damned hero, shrugged Reg off his shoulder and dropped to his knees. Offered himself to the Kallarapi in exchange for Melissande’s kingdom kept safe.
Holding Reg again, standing with Melissande, the world shifted and smeared as his eyes filled with proud grief.
Bloody hell, Gerald. Oh, bloody bloody hell.
Then two things happened and everything changed. Melissande’s loopy brother Rupert burst among them, covered in dead butterflies, making her cry…
… and one of Zazoor’s warriors pointed a finger and shouted.
“Draconi! Draconi!”
Lional’s dragon was coming, its emerald and crimson savagery blazing in the sun. For a moment, just a moment, Monk found himself transfixed. Damn. That thing’s beautiful. And then sanity returned.
Over the Kallarapi hubbub: “Monk- Monk- ”
Gerald, tugging on his arm. Tugging him to privacy. Still holding Reg, he wrenched himself away from the glory of the dragon. “What?”
“You’ve got to get out of here,” said Gerald, his voice low and his face worryingly intent. “Take Melissande and Rupert with you. Monk-”
He yanked his arm free. “Forget it. I’m not leaving you here to face that thing on your own!”
Something dreadful shifted behind Gerald’s eyes. “Why? Because you don’t trust me? Because you think Melissande’s right? I broke, so I’m broken?”
The sharp shift in Gerald’s expression told him he’d answered before he could speak a word.
Damn. “Gerald-”
With a terrible smile, Gerald shook his head. “Don’t. You’re probably right. What Lional did to me… what I did…” His lips pressed to a thin line. “It’s my mess, Monk. I have to clean it up.”
“Yeah, okay, but you don’t have to clean it up alone.”
“If you prod the Department off its ass I won’t be alone, will I?” Then Gerald sighed. “Please, Monk?” He glanced at the royal siblings, who were clutching each other like children. “I can’t do this if I’m scared something might happen to them. Or to you.”
God. How was he supposed to argue with that? He couldn’t. And when Melissande and Rupert tried to argue Gerald froze them with an impedimentia. Then he looked at Reg.
“I want you to go, too.”
“What?” the bird squawked. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gerald. I’m staying.”
But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it… and nothing Reg said could change his stubborn mind.
Dry-mouthed, defeated, Monk dragged the portable portal from his pocket, flicked it on and set the destination coordinates. “For the record, mate, I think this is a bad idea.”
“Probably.” Gerald smiled again. It was still ghastly. “Thanks, Monk.”
“Yeah, well, you want to thank me?” he retorted, scowling. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Like die. D’you hear me, Gerald? Don’t you dare bloody die.
Gerald kissed Reg, handed her over, then stepped back. With a soft whoosh the portal opened. On a deep breath Monk grabbed Melissande’s arm, then Rupert’s. Reg’s claws were sunk deep in his shoulder. For once the
