A bugger, that. Perhaps their only solid lead on the black market wizard who’d sold one killing hex to Permelia Wycliffe and another to someone who wanted the tycoon Manizetto dead-and maybe it was lost. So yes. With so much at stake Sir Alec would be keeping a close eye on his janitor. He’d have to know by now that Dunwoody had vanished.
But has he told anyone? He’d have to tell Monk, surely. Like it or not, he’d have to know his best chance of finding me lies with Monk.
Only… how was Monk going to figure this out? Sure, he and Sir Alec would suspect a kidnapping. Kidnap was an occupational hazard for janitors. But kidnap to an alternate reality? Not even Monk was likely to dream up that scenario.
So I have to face it. I am stuck. On my own. Unless…
But he was starting to think he’d never turn this world’s Bibbie. For one thing he was never going to get her alone. Not with Gerald jealously hovering. And anyway, she was in love with him. She was in love with the power. Even afraid, she was still in love.
She’s not going to listen to me. Which leaves me with this world’s Monk and Reg…
Except Reg wasn’t a witch any more and this world’s Monk was wearing a shadbolt.
Oh, God. Is he going to shadbolt me? He has to sooner or later, surely. He can’t honestly think that when push comes to shove I’ll stand by and let him slaughter tens of thousands, even to keep my two dearest friends safe.
Although… maybe he did. Maybe this Gerald was by now so lost to himself that he really had forgotten his lesson in the cave.
So yes, it seemed likely there was a shadbolt in his future. He wasn’t immune. The docilianti incant Lional had used on him in New Ottosland was a shadbolt’s kissing cousin, and it had worked just fine. Unless… could it be a question of thaumaturgics? Perhaps whatever this world’s Gerald wanted him to do had to be done without a shadbolt’s interference.
Bloody hell, I wish he’d tell me what it is. I wish he’d get this over with. I wish I had the first idea what to do.
But when the other Gerald finally did reveal his plan… what then? Chances were good it was going to be monstrous. Unspeakable. A violation of every wizarding oath.
And I know, I just know, he’s dreamed up a way to make me go along with it. Lord, if only I could throw myself out of the nearest window. That’d put a spoke in the mad bastard’s wheel.
But he couldn’t. He wasn’t sitting alone here with the trifle and cream. The Cabinet dining room was hexed tight with a dozen binding incants and though he’d tried until his nose bled, he couldn’t break them.
All he could do was sit at the table… and wait.
Tired of being stared at, sick of their miserable, pathetic faces, he banished everyone but Attaby back to their desks. Attaby he sent to sit in a side room, so that he and Bibbie had the Cabinet room to themselves. He took her on the Cabinet conference table, knowing Attaby could hear them, glorying in her wantonness and the flouting of society’s rules. Sometimes he wondered if she’d do it without the wild magics he’d found for her. But every time the thought crossed his mind he crushed it. What did why matter? She did it. She was his.
The Cabinet room’s crystal ball remained stubbornly silent. If Damooj didn’t call soon…
Finished making herself ladylike again, Bibbie perched on the edge of the table and considered him. “Gerald…”
“What?” he said, arms folded in front of him, chin propped on his wrists. The afterglow was fading fast, chased away by impatience and doubt.
“The other Gerald. When you look at him… what do you see?”
He flicked her a look. “Opportunity. Why?”
“No reason,” she said, shrugging. “I was just wondering. It’s odd. You’re the same age… but he looks younger than you. Even with his horrible poached eye.”
“That’s because in every way that counts, he’s a child.”
“I suppose…” She slid off the edge of the table and wandered to the nearest window. The clouds had lowered and thickened. Any minute now they’d start vomiting rain. “Gerald… it is going to work, isn’t it? Your grand plan?”
“Of course it’s going to work,” he said, stung. “Are you doubting me, Bibbie?”
“No, no, no! Of course not!” she said quickly. “Only-well, we’re cutting things awfully close, aren’t we? The UMN’s deadline is almost on us and the machine’s not finished yet and-” She traced a fingertip down the windowpane. “When are you going to tell Gerry about the machine?”
He pulled a face. “Later. Once I’ve dealt with that pond scum Damooj.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, glancing over her silk-clad shoulder. “He’ll toe the line. He doesn’t have a choice.”
“I know that!” he snapped. “I’m not an idiot!”
“Of course you’re not” she said, fingers clenching. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-sorry.”
He flung himself back in his chair and scowled at her. “I should think so.”
The first splats of rain struck the window. Turning her back on them, Bibbie sat on its sill. “What are you going to do about Gonegal?”
He felt his belly tighten. Gonegal. That arrogant pillock. Him and the other nations of the UMN who were too stupid to read the writing on the wall.
Threaten me, would you? You’ve no idea what you’ve done. When I’m through with you, Viceroy, you and your little friends, you’ll look at Sir Alec and think he got off easy.
“What do you think I’m going to do, Bibs?”
She smoothed her outrageously short hair. He’d been so cross at first, when she’d cut it. Now he rather liked the look. “Oh, I think you’re going to make him pay. Provided…”
“What?” he said, sitting up. “Provided what, Bibbie?”
For once she didn’t back down when he bit. “It’s just-well, everything’s riding on the machine, isn’t it? On Monk being able to build it properly in the first place and then you being able to convince Gerry to help you work it. I mean, what if Monk can’t finish it? And what if Gerry won’t cooperate?”
He smiled, then smiled wider when she flinched. “Of course Monk can finish it, Bibbie. He knows what’ll happen if he fails. Besides-since when did Monk Markham not finish what he started? People don’t call him a genius just to see him blush.”
“And Gerry?”
“The Professor?” He snorted. “The only thing that Gerald Dunwoody and I have in common is our rogue potentia. Otherwise he’s so weak I could snap him like a twig. Did you see him nearly burst into tears over Melissande? He’ll do exactly what I want, when I want it and how I want it. To the letter. Because he knows I’ll make other people sorry if he won’t.”
She slid off the window sill and walked to him, every footstep a promise. “And when you say other people…”
You mean me. She didn’t say the words aloud but he could read them in her eyes. She adored him and feared him. It was the perfect combination. Reaching for her, he pulled her roughly into his lap. “I mean other people, Bibs,” he murmured against her cautious lips. “Why? What did you think I meant?”
Before she could answer, the Cabinet room’s crystal ball chimed. He pushed Monk’s sister onto the floor. “Attaby! Get in here!”
Shadbolted Attaby, so delightfully obedient, appeared in the doorway. “Sir?”
He nodded at the chiming crystal. “Answer it. If it’s Damooj, you know what to say. And you know what I want to hear.”
“Sir,” said Attaby, wooden as a pine tree.
With Bibbie standing beside him, tossing him reproachful glances, he sprawled in his chair and watched Attaby answer the call. The chiming stopped, the green flashing stopped, and the image of a familiar face formed deep in the clear crystal. It looked wonderfully frightened.
“Prime Minister Attaby. I’ve called to give you my country’s response to your… request.”
Attaby nodded. “President Damooj. We were beginning to think silence was your answer.”
Damooj’s pale skin flushed an unbecoming dull red. Since his last communication his yellow hair had been
