Swallowing a groan, he made himself smile. 'That sounds lovely, Rupert,' he said. 'I'd be honoured.'
Rupert beamed. 'Splendid! Come along, then! Follow me!' Rupert's butterfly house was situated on the far side of the gardens. Flooded with light, it was filled with beautifully maintained cages, a variety of aromatic mini-habitats and an immaculately arranged workroom containing butterfly food, magnifying glasses, three crammed bookcases, two microscopes and a wide array of nets and other butterfly-catching paraphernalia.
Gerald was surprised. Given Rupert's scatterbrained demeanour he'd not expected such clutterless order and pristine attention to detail. As for the butterflies… there were hundreds, in every colour, shape and size imaginable. They were riotously beautiful… and he hadn't been expecting that, either. Whoever noticed butterflies?
Rupert was still beaming. 'Don't tell Lional, but I call this butterfly house "my little kingdom",' he confessed. 'And a well-run little kingdom it is too.'
'Well, you know, the butterflies rely on me, don't they?' said Rupert, as they wandered past cage after cage of jewel-bright insects. 'If I didn't look after them properly they might get sick, or die, and that would be unforgiveable.'
He nodded. 'You're right. It would be.' He stopped in front of a cage neatly labelled: Vampirella Majcsticas. Danger: Do Not Touch. The savagely scarlet and black insects clustered on their hunks of fresh raw meat and waved ominous antennae at him. Safely anchored to his shoulder, Reg burbled like a kettle with a sock shoved down its spout. He stroked her wing with a reassuring finger. 'So… they really are dangerous, then?'
'Everyone's dangerous, Gerald,' Rupert said gently. 'Or they can be, if you're not careful. I mean, you seem like a terribly nice chap and all that, especially for a wizard, but I expect you could do a mischief or two if you put your mind to it.'
'Well, yes, I could' he admitted reluctantly 'Only I wouldn't.'
'No, you wouldn't,' said Rupert. 'You're a thoroughly decent chap, I can tell. But some wizards aren't so scrupulous, Gerald. I've heard stories…'
The sight of the Majesticas sucking blood from the raw meat was… unsettling. He turned away. 'Old stories from our distant past, Rupert. It's true that once upon a time there were wizards who abused their powers, wizards who ran amok doing unspeakable things. But not any more. My colleagues and I are closely monitored. There are terrible penalties for the irresponsible uses of magic these days. Modern wizarding is about humanitarian advances and scientific discovery, not subjugation and warfare and dark deeds in the dead of night.' Rupert beamed.'Well, that's a relief!'
'Honestly,' he insisted as they continued to wander past more butterfly enclosures. 'Wizardry's perfectly safe and reliable these days. Those other kinds of wizard are history'
'I'm very pleased to hear you say so,' said Rupert earnestly. 'Because when you get right down to it there's something not very nice about a person who likes other people to be afraid of him. A person like that bears very close watching, don't you agree?'
'Er… yes. Probably' he said, after a moment. Was it his imagination or was Rupert trying to tell him something…
Rupert, his watery blue eyes wide, smiled his foolish, tremulous smile. 'You're staring, Gerald. Was it something I said?'
'What? Oh! No! Sorry. I just — I was off with the butterflies.'
Rupert chortled. 'I say. that's a good one! "Off with the butterflies"! I must remember that! Now, I expect you'll want to be on your way. Busy, busy, busy. I'll see you again soon, though, yes?'
'Yes. Yes,' said Gerald. 'And thanks for showing me around.'
Outside in the gentle sunshine, Reg cackled. 'Hard to believe he's related to the other two, isn't it?'
'Practically impossible,' he agreed as they headed back to the palace. 'He's such a fluffy, harmless man I feel guilty for getting impatient with him.'
Reg snorted. 'He's such a fluffy, harmless man that after five minutes in his company I want to rush to the nearest park and find some pigeons to poison!'
'Oh, come on, Reg! You don't! I mean, isn't that practically mur-'
'Why hello, there. Professor,' said King Lional, stepping out from behind one of the large, flowering trees that lined the path. 'Fancy meeting you here.'
Gerald stopped, heart pounding, and managed a ragged bow. 'Your Majesty! Ah — you startled me.' Lional smiled. 'I'm sure I did.' 'Is there something I can do for Your Majesty?'
'Indeed there is,' said the king. There was something… unsettling in that smile. 'You can introduce me to your loquacious little friend!'
CHAPTER TWELVE
'Bugger,' said Reg.
Lional wasn't alone. At his side appeared the muscular watchfulness of Tavistock, whose tawny mane had been shimmered with gold dust. The former cat stared up at Reg with slitted topaz eyes, tail swishing to and fro.
Leaning a negligent silk-clad shoulder against the trunk of the tree that had hidden him, Lional drawled,'Well? What's its name, Professor?'
'Reg,' said Gerald. Damn, damn, damn. Why the hell had he let Rupert waste his time with butterflies? He could've been up in his suite by now, sending that list of ex-court wizards to Monk. Instead… 'Her name is Reg. Your Majesty'
'How quaint,' said Lional, and straightened. In the bright summer sunshine everything about him glittered: his diamond rings, his ruby and emerald brooch, his bared teeth.
He cleared his throat. 'I can explain, Your Majesty.The thing is — '
'Thank you, Gerald, I'm perfectly capable of speaking for myself,' said Reg, with a rattle of tail feathers.'Let's start with you not call me "it", Your Majesty. I'm a sensitive soul and my feelings are easily bruised.'
Lional's flawless face was vivid with delight. 'Extraordinary,' he murmured. 'Tell me. Professor, was it a very difficult ensorcelment to perforin? Of course, I realise you're a brilliant wizard but even so… birds are singularly stupid creatures. To give one such a convincing appearance of intelligence, I can scarcely — '
'Oy!' said Reg. 'What d'you mean appearance of intelligence! What d'you think I am, some kind of metaphysically enhanced ventriloquist's doll? I'll have you know — '
'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty,' said Gerald, Reg's beak caught firmly between thumb and forefinger. 'She gets flustered in the presence of royalty. Doesn't know what she's saying.'
To his surprise the king didn't appear in the least offended. 'Incredible. You must tell me how you did it!'
'But I didn't, Your Majesty. Reg was — articulate — when we met.'
Lional frowned.'You're telling me this isn't your handiwork? How disappointing. But you can duplicate the enchantment, can't you? Recreate the same extraordinary linguistic achievements elsewhere?' One elegant hand strayed to the top of Tavistock's head; the lion rumbled deep in its throat at the touch.
The implication was unmistakable. Oh God… 'Tavistock? Your Majesty wants me to — '
Wrenching her beak free of his fingers, Reg cackled scornfully. 'Why? What kind of conversation are you going to get from an overgrown cat? Milk now, scratch my tummy, and somebody empty the damned litter tray. Hardly what you'd call scintillating, is it?' 'Scintillating or not…' said Lional.
'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty,' Gerald said quickly. 'I'm afraid it's impossible.'
Lional's smile chilled. 'Does that mean you can't… or you won't?'
Saint Snodgrass, arc you listening? Get me out of thisl 'It means I don't know how,' he said, with care. 'And it would be far too dangerous for me to… experiment. I might end up hurting Tavistock and that would violate my oaths. I'm sorry'
For one terrible moment he thought the king was going to argue, or start making threats. A flush of temper mantled Lional's cheekbones and his lips pinched tight. Then he heaved a sigh. 'I'm sorry too, Professor. It would've been so entertaining! I shall just have to amuse myself with your bird here, shan't I?'