'Oy!' shouted Reg on the other side of the bathroom door. 'Even / felt that! Gerald, what the devil are you doing in there?'
Entranced, he floated in the cooling bathwater and smiled at his bright blue miracle.
On the other hand I think I could get used to being a genius.
'Nothing,' he called back. 'You're imagining things.' Reg retreated in a cloud of muffled curses.
With a snap of his fingers he released the coalesced energy back into the atmosphere, then climbed out of the enormous tub to dry and dress. Reg was waiting for him in the bedroom.
'Nice threads,' she said from the bedhead, staring at his re-made suit. 'And good timing.' She nodded at a slightly torn piece of parchment with a broken wax seal, discarded on the bedspread.'That just got shoved under the front doors. His Nibs has invited you to dinner.'
He snatched up the parchment. 'Reg! How many times do I have to say it? Don't go reading my mail!'
As usual the complaint was water off a duck's back. 'You're to report to his private dining room at seven o'clock sharp,' she said.'Not me. Just you.' She sniffed. 'I think my feelings are hurt. Gerald — '
He gave her a look. 'No. We'll talk when I'm ready to talk and not a minute sooner.'
'That might not be soon enough,' she retorted. 'Gerald, you're not treating this with the seriousness it deserves. What's happened to you, well, it's just not normal. And it's certainly not something you should be playing with like a shiny new toy. I want you to tell me again what happened at Stuttley's. Now that you're sober you might remember something that — '
He tossed the parchment back on the bed. 'No. Reg, I'm fine. I have never felt better. And this is one gift horse I won't be looking in the mouth. I'm going to be the best royal court wizard King Lional has ever seen, and when a decent interval has passed I'm going home to get retested and officially regraded. And afer that — ' He released a long slow sigh of satisfaction. 'After that, Reg: the world will be my oyster.'
She glowered. 'Haven't you heard? Oysters give you food poisoning!' He threw a pillow at her. 'Butterflies are actually very loving, you know, Professor Dunwoody,' said His Royal Highness Prince Rupert, confidingly 'Loving and gentle.' There were smears of butterfly dust all over his patched mustard yellow velvet dinner jacket, and in his eyes the gleam of the fanatic. His long thin nose was disfigured by a neat strip of plaster.
'Really?' said Gerald, trying not to stare at it. 'I didn't know that.'
It was twenty past seven, he was seated with the prince and the princess in the king's private dining room, and they were waiting for King Lional to arrive.
Noticing him trying not to notice his nose, the prince blushed and laughed. He sounded like a lamb separated from its mother. 'Just a little misunderstanding with one of the Vampirella Majesticas, Professor,' he explained, giving the bandaged wound a self-conscious tap. 'I blame myself, naturally. I mean, the poor little Vampirellas can't help themselves. Their instinct is to bite and they follow their instincts, so if one is silly enough to put one's nose in their way, well, one can hardly blame them, now can one? Creatures — and people — act according to their natures and there's no point expecting otherwise. Don't you agree?'
Gerald shot a beseeching look across the table at the princess but she wasn't paying attention. She'd brought a folder of work along with her and was busily totting up figures. In honour of the occasion she'd changed her clothes, but despite the fact that silk and satin and a certain amount of lace figured in the ensemble she still managed to look rumpled and tweedy.
He turned his attention back to the prince. 'Agree? Certainly, Your Highness.'
The prince beamed. 'I say, I do like you, Professor.' He leaned a little closer. 'So what do you think of Lional's private dining room? Isn't it the swankiest you've ever seen?' It was. The ceiling was some thirty feet overhead, and ripe with chandeliers. The walls were panelled with gilded mirrors. The mahogany dining table was laden with gleaming cutlery in four different varieties. There were three different kinds of glasses, an assortment of gold plates and bowls and two napkins for each diner.
Resisting the impulse to tuck one under his chin as a subtle hint that yes, on the whole he was ready for his dinner, thanks ever so much, he scowled at the overabundance of ironmongery and cursed himself for cutting short Reg's 'Etiquette For All Occasions'lecture.
As a finishing touch, whoever was responsible for setting the table had managed to squash in arrangements of wan-looking flowers. Any minute now they were going to start him sneezing. Behind each gilded dining chair, ramrod stiff and conspicuously not listening to both the conversations of his betters and any rumbling digestive systems, stood a magnificently liveried manservant complete with white gloves and a little napkin laid over the left arm, which was held away from the body at a precise ninety-degree angle. It looked like a desperately uncomfortable way to spend an evening.
Prince Rupert leaned even closer. 'Don't tell anyone I told you so,' he whispered,'but for what it cost to have the place refurbished three months ago we could've paid the Kallarapi twice what we owe them and still have change left over.' One bony finger tapped the side of his bandaged nose. 'But there you are. Lional does love his little comforts.'
Without looking up, the princess said, 'Rupert. No telling tales out ofTreasury.'
The prince blushed. 'Sorry, Mel.' He tittered, embarrassed, then nodded. 'I say, Professor, I do like your robe. Reminds me of the pattern you find on a Greater Winged Triple-Tipped Thribbet.'
'Thank you, Your Highness. It's actually Fandawandi silk. Quite rare.' 'Beautiful. Where did you get it?'
Back home, wizard robes were largely seen as pretentious affectations from a bygone era. But he suspected they were the kind of thing that would appeal to the king… and besides, this particular robe had sentimental value.'It was a graduation gift from my father, Your Highness. He's a tailor.'
'Really?' Prince Rupert marvelled. 'I say, that's fantastic. I'm useless with my hands, I'm afraid. All thumbs. I'd never dare pick up a needle and thread, you know, in case I stabbed myself in the eye. How desperately clever of him, I'm sure.'
Gerald considered the prince. Was he being sarcastic? No. No, there wasn't a sarcastic bone in Prince Rupert's daft body. The compliments were genuine.'Thank you, Your Highness.'
Another bleating laugh. 'Goodness, Professor, there's no need to stand on ceremony. Plain old Rupert, that's me. A prince in name only, I'm afraid. No credit to the crown.' The foolish mouth drooped for a moment. 'Sad to say, I'm a trial and a tribulation to the king. No, no, don't try to deny it, Melly. It's true. They think Nanny Prendergast dropped me on my head when I was a baby and never admitted it. I dare say that's true, too. It's the only reason I can think of, at any rate.'
'Well, well, well,' drawled an impeccable voice from the doorway. 'How… delightful… to see you all enjoying yourselves so much. Without mel
CHAPTER TEN
King Lional. At his side Tavistock the cat-turned-lion, its expression now unbearably smug: seemingly the animal liked its new look. The king's ring-smothered hand rested negligently on the beast's vast, maned head. He was dressed neck to knee in richest black velvet, the lush fabric carelessly strewn with seed pearls and diamonds. Poised in the doorway, glittering beneath the chandeliers, he looked as though someone had draped him in a section of cloudless midnight sky.