The Accidental sorcerer

Reg rattled her tail feathers. 'You might, ducky, but what about that brother of yours?'

'He knows too!' she insisted, exasperated.'You're not the first wizard we've had around here, remember?'

Now there was a point. And an idea. He narrowed his eyes. 'Exactly how many were in the job before me, Your Highness?'

The second kumquat eaten, she pretended to be interested in a banana. 'A few,' she muttered. 'Forgive me, but that's not very specific'

'You want specific? Fine. Five. All right? There were five court wizards before you.'

'F(Ve?' He slid off the fountain. 'The king's had five other wizards? I'm his sixth wizard?'

'Oh, don't you stand there looking surprised! You've met him!' 'I'm not surprised, Your Highness, I'm deceivedV

'I did not deceive you!' said the princess, shoving out of the chair. 'If you'd asked me in the interview how many wizards had been in the job already I'd've told you! You didn't ask!'

Perched on the edge of his abandoned porridge bowl, Reg snickered.'She's got you there, sunshine.'

Disgusted, Gerald considered Lional's angry sister. Then he sighed. 'Yes. She does. I apologise, Your Highness.That was uncalled for.' 'It certainly was.'

'But not unexpected,' added Reg. 'You knew perfectly well he'd never have taken the job if all your dirty linen had been hanging on the line in plain sight, madam.'

Princess Melissande sat again, slumping. 'What can I say? I was desperate.'

Gerald dropped once more to the edge of the fountain. 'I know the feeling.' He and the princess exchanged tentative, rueful smiles. 'So who were they, then? These predecessors of mine?' 'Why does it matter?'

He shrugged. 'It doesn't. I thought I might know one or two, that's all.' 'I doubt it.They were all years older than you.' 'Still…'

She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, for the love of Saint Snodgrass. As if I didn't have anything better to do than go staggering down memory lane…' Then she sighed. 'All right. Give me a moment.'

As she chewed her lip, he triggered a recording incant under cover of scratching his nose then dabbled his fingers in the fountain's water, waiting.

'Well,' she said at last,'net in chronological order, there was Humphret Bottomley, the prat.'

In the air above and behind her the name Humphret Bottomley appeared in glowing silver letters. It hung there unmoving, like liquid smoke. 'That's an old-fashioned Ottosland name,' he murmured. 'Who else?'

She screwed up her face. 'Pomodoro Uffitzi. Aloysius Beargarden. Er — er — oh, yes! Grumbaugh. Lord, how could I forget him? Barked in monosyllables and spent most of his time locked up in what's now your workroom, making smelly smoke. And Bondaningo Greenfeather.' Her face softened into a smile. 'Terribly sinister-looking with all those tattoos and facial piercings but actually very nice. And that's all of them. Satisfied now? Say yes.'

With another deceptive nose scratch Gerald closed down the recording incant with its five silver smoke names and stored it in a nearby pot plant. He'd retrieve it later and run the names past Monk at the first opportunity. Get him to find their whereabouts and how they could be contacted. Seeing as how he was going to be stuck here in New Ottosland for a while it seemed only prudent to do some belated homework on his charming pillock of an employer.

'Yes. Thank you, Your Highness,' he said. 'Your patience is most appreciated. Doubtless you didn't come here to — ' He sat up. 'Good lord. I'm so sorry. Why did you come here?'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'To get you all primed to spy on her brother, I'll bet,' said Reg.

Princess Melissande gave her a haughty look. 'Must you retiuce everything to the crudest possible motive?' Reg smirked. 'Told you, sunshine.'

'Then perhaps you'd like to tell me what else I'm supposed to do?' the princess demanded.'Since you're such a font of wisdom. I have to know what happens in that meeting, this kingdoms future could depend on it, and since Lional refuses to let me be there — '

'All right, all right,' said Reg. 'I never said you were wrong, did I? No need to get your bloomers in a twist, ducky'

'What she means. Your Highness,' Gerald said quickly, 'is that you're in a very difficult position and — ' 'And I don't wish to talk about it here,' said the princess, still glaring at Reg. 'You're looking claustrophobic, Professor. I thmk you're overdue for some fresh air. Meet me downstairs in the east wing forecourt in twenty minutes.' 'Why? Where are we going?'

'Where do you think?' she said, sounding resigned. 'Sightseeing, of course. Didn't you know? On top of everything else, I'm New Ottosland's Minister of Grand Tours!' Half an hour later they were seated in a scarlet and gold touring carriage pulled by a pair of flashy dapple grey horses, bowling along a wide, tree-lined avenue. The sky was cloudless and deeply blue, the air flower-scented and fresh. Delightful.The carriage, unfortunately, was rococo in the extreme, all gilded carved fruit and simpering cherubs with hideously love-struck expressions. Gerald squashed himself into one corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Thank God Monk can't sec me now.Thank God no-one I know can see me now. It was bad enough that the pavement strollers and passengers in passing carriages and street-corner vendors and impressively uniformed policemen on foot patrol could see him.

Sitting opposite, the princess noticed his discomfit and snorted. 'Welcome to my world, Professor.' 'Thank you,' he said. 'I think.'

She smiled wickedly and pointed her predictably no-nonsense green parasol over the side of the carriage. 'Now, to your left you'll see the Royal Music Hall. Isn't it pretty?'

He considered the Music Hall's impressive marble steps and its honour guard of pigeon-splattered dead composer statues lining the entrance. 'I was going to say familiar. In fact, everything looks familiar.'

'You noticed? It's quite simple. We never got over being a colony. There isn't a street or a building here whose original you won't find back in the Old Country.' The princess grimaced. 'It's ghastly, like living inside an echo. What I wouldn't give to just once see somebody else's idea of architecture!' 'What's stopping you?'

She looked at him. 'Nothing much. Just a small matter of running the kingdom.'

'But you've got staff. And what about His Majesty?' 'Yes?' she sighed.'What about him?'

Gerald opened his mouth to answer but was stopped by Reg whacking him over the head with her wing. She was sitting behind him on one of the cherub's plump bottoms and humming a risque ditty under her breath in time to the dip-clop of the carriage horses' hooves. 'Ow!' he exclaimed, and turned. 'Now what?'

She pointed at the driver sitting high above them on his box. 'Discretion, Gerald! Muggins up there is probably taking notes.' 'No, he's not,' said the princess.'He's deaf

'"Deaf as a post" deaf, or "I'm a loyal servant and it'll cost a lot more than that to loosen my lips, squire" deaf?' Reg demanded.

'Deaf as a post deaf, of course. Why do you think I chose him to drive the carriage? Oh, look,' the princess added, and waved the parasol. 'There's the Royal Zoo! Do you know, Professor, I'm sure they have a spare birdcage in there somewhere. Would you like me to ask?'

He patted spluttering Reg on the head. 'She'd only teach the other parrots rude words.'

Princess Melissande sat back amongst the carriage's overstuffed cushions and considered Reg thoughtfully.'I'm sorry but I have to ask. Where did you find such a singular creature? If there's another one in existence anywhere in the world I swear I'll eat my parasol. With mustard.'

'Good idea,' said Reg. 'You've the look of a woman who doesn't get enough roughage.' Gerald winced.'Reg!'

'Well what do you expect? She called me a singular creature!' 'It was a compliment.Wasn't it, Your Highness?'