The Accidental sorcerer

Without warning, Lional smiled. One hand drifted down to scratch Tavistock between the ears. 'Well, you're here now so I mustn't complain. Do have a seat, Professor. You look positively peaky. Help yourself to some food and while you're eating you can explain what has happened to your little feathered friend.'

'Thank you,' said Gerald, and sat at the tables other place setting. He was so hungry he felt lightheaded and ill. He was so hungry he didn't care he'd be eating with Lional and Tavistock for an audience.

Plate hastily filled, he tried not to fall on the food like a starving wolf or choke when Lional poured wine for him into his glass.

'Drink up, Professor,' the king urged, positively genial. 'Your blood could do with some fortifying, I think.'

It certainly can. Reg, Reg… please be all right. 'Thank you,' he said, and swallowed a mouthful of the wine. It was exquisite, rich and robust and full of fruit. Just what he needed. He swallowed some more. Ate the fish and roast duck. Savoured the buttery garlicked artichoke. The rumbling ache in his belly eased, mouthful by mouthful. He drank the rest of the wine. It was fiibulous.

'Another half-glass?' suggested Lional, crystal carafe raised invitingly.

He shook his head, which was swimming gently like the goldfish in his foyer fountain. 'My thanks, Your Majesty, but — '

Lional ignored him. 'And now that your appetite is assuaged,' he said, expertly pouring, 'do feel free to tell me all about Reg. Where has the charming little wretch got to?'

His blood felt replaced, not fortified; rich red wine pumping in time with his heart. He almost emptied his refilled glass in a single swallow. It was so goodl He'd been worried about something. What was it? 'Reg?' he echoed. 'Oh! Yes! Reg! Well, Your Majesty, she went out early this morning to stretch her wings. She said she'd only be gone an hour but she still hasn't returned.'

'I see,' said Lional, gently frowning. 'And you're anxious? You feel there could be some cause for alarm?'

'Well, I was. I did. I mean I am! I do! Although…' He leaned towards Lional confidingly. 'Just between you and me, she does enjoy her little jaunts. Has been known to get a bit carried away in the sightseeing department. Your Majesty' He hiccuped. "Scuse me.'

Lional's smile was camaraderie personified. 'Not at all, Professor.'

'The thing is, Your Majesty, I think I was overreacting,' he admitted. 'She's no spring chicken, is our Reg. Been about a bit in her time. You'd be surprised. She'll be fine. Be back before we know it. My word on it, believe me.'

Lional patted his arm. 'You're the wizard, Gerald. If you say that's the case, of course I believe you. And doubtless the gods of Kallarap will protect her.' He smiled again. 'Have some more wine, my friend. It wants drinking up.' He poured for the third time.

Gerald didn't need encouragement. All his knotted muscles were unravelling, leaving him loose and delightfully mellow. He raised his glass. 'To your good health, sir!'

'Thank you, Gerald,' said Lional, sitting back. 'I'm touched. Tell me, how are you feeling? No unfortunate repercussions from yesterday's tumble?'

Tumble? Tumble? Oh yes! I fell off a horse, aren't I clumsy? He stifled a giggle.'None at all, Your Majesty.'

'Ah, you wizards. Tough as old boots.' Elbows propped on his chair's gilded arms, Lional laced his fingers. 'And your memory of our little outing? Any sign of its return?'

'My memory?' he said vaguely. 'No, Your Majesty. I'm afraid it's as blank as ever.' He did giggle this time, a ridiculous sound. 'So if you happened to ravish a milk-maid or three while we were romping about the countryside, I promise your secret's safe with me!'

He held out his empty glass with a hopeful smile. Watched Lional fill it yet again. Drained it dry. Reached for the carafe himself this time, without asking, and sloshed more red gold into his glass.

Good old Lional. Excellent fellow. If only Errol Haythwaite and his cronies could see me now, chatting over lunch with my friend King Lional. Theyd be greensick with envy. And Scunthorpe, too, that miserable old paper pusher. Bet he'll be sorry when he finds out the calibre of wizard he let slip through his fingers. Too stupid to see the genius right under his nose, Scunthorpe. They all are. Idiots! They'll rue the day they disrespected Gerald Dunnywoodl

Replacing the carafe on the table with exaggerated care, he realised Lional was watching him intently. 'Cheers, Y'Majesty!' he said, and raised his glass in salute. 'Bloody nice drop this, innit?'

'Bloody nice indeed,' said Lional. He reached into his green silk coat's inside pocket and withdrew a red velvet covered box. Placing it on the tablecloth between them he added, 'And I hope you'll find this equally nice.' He leaned forward, peering muzzily.'Wazzat?'

'A gift, Gerald. A trinket. The merest token of my appreciation for all your efforts.'

'For me?' He felt his jaw drop. 'Y'Majessy… y'shouldn't have!'

'Of course I should! You've no idea how much I owe you, Gerald. Or how much more I'll owe you very soon. Open it.'

Fumbling, his fingers stubbornly uncooperative, he wrestled with the velvet box's lid. Inside, nestled in white satin, was a heavy golden ring set with a single cabochon-cut sapphire; the blue gem winked and flashed in the chandelier light.

Lional smiled. 'It's a signet ring. A gift from my father.'

'Y'father?' The box slipped from his clumsy fingers into a puddle of congealed gravy on his plate. 'Oh — no — can't take it — too precious — '

'Nonsense,' Lional said robustly. 'I never wear the wretched thing. Come. Put it on.' 'Oh, no, I — '

'Gerald! Please! You must, it's a gift! Do you want to hurt my feelings?'

Hurt Lional's feelings? Good old Lional, his mate, his chum? 'No, course not!'

'Then put it on, Gerald. Let me see how it suits you.'

It took him two attempts to fish the box clear of his plate. Growing dizzier by the second he gave it a half-hearted swipe with his napkin. 'Sorry, Y'Majessy,' he mumbled.'Must've drunk a bit more than I realised.'

Lional laughed. 'Not to worry, old chap. We all get a bit tipsy from time to time. Quickly, now. Slip on the ring. Or I'll think you've not been truthful and you don't care for my gift.'

'No, Y'Majessy! Lovely gift! Never expected it!" With difficulty he extricated the ring from its box. It was cool, heavy, and slid on as though made for him. Weighted his hand and -

— dosed around his left forefinger like a vice. He was caught, trapped, held fast in a web with strands of metaphysical steel. He could breathe, move his eyes, but that was all…

In a searing burst of pain and light his foggy mind cleared and he remembered everything. The hunting expedition. The Wizard Trap. The captured images of all those other wizards screaming, burning, their powers ripped from them by magics fouler than the deepest pits of hell. Lional, laughing… Make me a dragon.

Drenched in sweat and horror, he stared. Oh, God. Oh, God.'\ remember.'

Lional appeared mildly interested. 'Really? I wondered if you might.'

Gerald's gaze shifted to the almost empty crystal carafe. Rising fast, understanding laced with bitter shame and self-derision. Wlien Reg hears about this she'll go spare…'The wine?'

'Your glass,' said Lional. He was smiling, a thin nasty curve of unkind lips. 'Coated with a neat little concoction I cooked up in my spare time. Very handy for rendering impotent any wizard who might fight back.'

He tried to wrench the ring from his finger but he couldn't even lift his hand. His body was like a sack of wet sand. Inert. Immoveable. You fool. You fool. You let your guard down…

Lional laughed. 'There's no escape, Gerald. Not even you are strong enough to break this binding. Trust me, after what happened in the woods I made quite certain of that.'

/'// bet you did, you murdering bastard. He'd never felt anything like this before. As though he were a puppet and his strings had been cut. 'You're wasting your time,' he said, forcing the words out. 'I won't make you a dragon.'