'Aye, aye, Captain,' he muttered. Gritting his teeth, he clapped his heels to Dorcas's unenthusiastic sides and hurried.
Seven rabbits and two foxes later, he swore he'd never go hunting again.
Lional had let the hounds devour the rabbits and the foxes but their latest prize, a deer, he forbade them. By this time they were plunged deep into the Crown Forest, according to Lional an exclusive royal hunting preserve. The mist had cleared and the sky was a patchwork of blue and green, with golden columns of sunlight shafting cathedral-like between the lacework branches overhead. The only sounds as they rode further and further in were the muffled thudding of the horses' hooves, the panting and padding of the hounds, the jingling of harness, the occasional startled cries of invisible birds… and the last desperate gasps of the doomed creatures who could run no more.
Lional looked up from wiping his hunting knife on the flank of the slain doe. 'Ah, Professor! There is nothing to match the taste of freshly roasted venison. Particularly when the kill is your own. We shall dine like kings tonight!'
The deer had been brought down in a small clearing littered with leaf mould and pocked with poisonous-looking mushrooms. Gerald, who couldn't bear to watch Reg humanely despatch a fieldmouse, swallowed nausea. He'd be dreaming of dagger teeth snarling and brown eyes glazed crimson with terror for the rest of his life. He slid down from happily dozing Dorcas and tied her reins to the nearest tree branch. Demon, trained to a hairsbreadth, stood like a statue with his reins still trailing. 'Well, Your Majesty, one of us will, anyway.'
Lional laughed. 'You're a witty man, Professor. I like witty men.'
He nodded. / wonder if he also likes men who vomit at the sight of blood? He snuck a glance at his watch. Four hours they'd been out here, charging across the countryside, and all he had to show for it was blisters on his backside. In four hours the only thing he'd gotten Lional to discuss was how much he enjoyed killing things.
Good thing he wasn't a government secret agent. After a dismal performance like this one he'd be fired from that job, too.
Lional slid his knife back into its sheath and rose to his feet with smooth, athletic grace. 'Yes,' he mused, leaning his shoulder against the mossy trunk of a convenient tree. '1 do like you, Gerald. Far more than the other tedious fellows I hired.'
And is that supposed to reassure me? Gerald bowed. 'A compliment indeed, Your Majesty.Thank you.' Lional smiled.'You're welcome.'
'Speaking of those other wizards…' He throttled any sign of eagerness, kept his tone casual, uncaring. 'Do you mind if I ask, sir, why none of them suited?'
'Not at all,' said Lional. 'I'll even answer you. Professor. In short they were dullards.'
Well, that was a big help. 'Dullards, Your Majesty?'
'Yes. Each time I had such hopes… and each time, alas, my hopes were dashed,' said Lional, regretful. 'You see, Gerald, I was searching for a man like myself, a man of vision. A man who understands the world and how it works. Who appreciates that timidity is the refuge o± cowards. I sought for that rare man amongst the world's premier ranks of wizardry and had come to think I'd never find him. And then, just as I was about to surrender to despair… you came along.' He laughed. 'What a pity Melissande didn't ignore my hiring instructions long ago. Then I needn't have wasted so much time.' His amusement faded and he frowned. 'She's being difficult about the wedding, you know. Tiresome wench. As if she's ever going to get a better offer. As if she's going to get any offer apart from this one.'
Condescending, patronising bastard. 'It's just shock, Your Majesty,' he said carefully. 'Once it passes I'm sure she'll be eager to marry Sultan Zazoor. As you know, women don't possess the most powerful of intellects. They find it almost impossible to see the big picture.'
Lional's eyebrows lifted. 'And what big picture would that be, Professor?'
The surrounding forest had fallen deeply silent. Even the bright shafts of sunlight had faded, dimmed by incoming rain clouds high overhead. The hounds' panting as they lay sprawled around the carcass of the deer sounded even louder, impatient and foreboding. Gerald glanced at them uneasily and they stared back, eyes shining. Here was his chance. It was now or never.
'The one you are painting, sir, with breathtaking brushstrokes. Your Majesty, I owe you a humble apology. I spoke hastily and without thought yesterday after the Kallarapi departed.'
'You certainly did, Gerald,' said the king, his guarded gaze sharp and watchful. 'Indeed, I was brought to the brink of doubting you.'
'Your Majesty, it shames me to hear you say so,' he said, and lowered his head in what he hoped looked like heartfelt contrition. 'In my defence, allow me to say that your actions took me by surprise.' 'I'll allow it,' said Lional, after a moment.
So far, so good. He risked lifting his head. 'It also shames me, Your Majesty, to recall my childish response to your bold attack upon the Kallarapi's rapacious demands. It is clear to me these are a rudely primitive people, desperately in need of New Ottosland's civilising influence.' 'They certainly are.'
'To be frank, Your Majesty, after my ill-judged actions yesterday I wouldn't blame you if you chose to dispense with my services and sent me packing.'
Even though Lional appeared relaxed as he leaned against the tree trunk, there was about him the air of a nocked arrow, quivering and ready for flight. He smiled. 'Oh, no, Professor. That would be quite the over-reaction. You are young, and allowances must be made for youth.' Gerald pressed his hand to his heart. 'Your Majesty is graciousness personified.' 'Yes, I am, aren't I?' said Lional. 'Then… I am forgiven?' 'Of course you are.'
But only because you want something from me. What is it, you smarmy sanctimonius maniac? What else do you want me to do for you? 'Thank you, Your Majesty. How can I repay such generosity?'
'Oh…' Lional waved a careless hand. 'I'm sure I'll think of something.' Pushing away from the tree, he began a casual circumnavigation of the clearing. The hounds watched him, ears pricked, tongues lolling. 'See here, Gerald, this dead deer,' he said, and kicked it casually in passing. 'It's dead because I killed it. Because tonight I will be hungry and require sustenance. There was no malice in my action. Certainly I committed no crime. I merely obeyed an immutable law of nature: the strong devour the weak in order to survive and prosper.'
As Lional circled, Gerald found himself turning too so the king never managed to get behind him. Suddenly it was very important Lional not get behind him. His mouth was dry. 'As you intend to devour Kallarap, Your Majesty?' 'Is that what you think?'
He nodded. 'Of course. Marrying Melissande to Zazoor is but the first… mouthful of the meal, is it not?'
Lional laughed, a soft whisper of amusement. 'You disapprove?'
Yes, yes, yesl 'Not at all, Your Majesty. The strong must always overpower the weak. As you say, it's the law of nature.'
'But you are curious, CTerald. I see the question in your eyes. Why bother with conquering Kallarap? That barren wasteland of sand and sun. What use can it be to lush delicious New Ottosland?'
'I assume for access to the trade routes, Your Majesty,' he replied. 'They represent significant financial value to New Ottosland, after all.'
'Yes,' agreed Lional. 'But they are merely the beginning.'
Deep in his eyes burned a fervid, greedy flame. Seeing it, Gerald felt his chest tighten. Here it comes… here it comes… 'Princess Melissande has told me Kallarap possesses a formidable army, Your Majesty, while New Ottosland stands defenceless. If they should resist…'
'New Ottosland defenceless?' Again Lional laughed. 'Not at all, Professor. New Ottosland has you.'