The Accidental sorcerer

The body shook the floppy black hair out of its face, offered her an engaging grin and waved its inkstained fingers at her.'Hi there, Your Highness. Monk Markham. Remember me?'

Far too much whiskey. A dip in Gerald's fountain. A wobbly face in his crystal ball. She repressed a shudder. 'Vaguely' she said, and scooted herself backwards to a decorous distance.'How did you get here?'

Markham wriggled himself into a sitting position.'Long story. Where's Gerald?'

She scowled.'I neither know nor care. I consider myself gravely deceived in Gerald Dunwoody'

'Deceived?' Reg demanded, heaving herself unsteadily upright. 'You watch what you're saying about that boy, there's not an ounce of deception in him! And not for want of my trying, either. A good wizard needs a dash of the devious but will he listen? No, he won't.'

'Really?' She glared at Reg. 'Then why did he hex my doors so I can't get out after he swore blind he'd help me?'

'How should I know?' said Reg. 'I haven't been here. But I'll bet you a new hairdo it wasn't Gerald. Or if it was, he had a very good reason. Probably something to do with saving you from yourself. The ether knows you could do with it. Those trousers, girl! With that shirt? With any shirt?'

Just what she needed in a time of crisis: more acerbic fashion advice. 'Of course it was Gerald, who else could it be? And what do you mean you haven't been here? Where have you been? And what are you doing in my bedroom? With Markham? Answer me!' i would if you'd let me get a word in edgewise!' Reg retorted. 'We're in your bedroom because we couldn't get into my bedroom! And we couldn't get into my bedroom because Gerald wasn't there to let us in! Now where is he, ducky?' 'Don't ask me! And don't call me ducky!

Reg glared. 'Why shouldn't I ask you? Are you the princess round here or aren't you?'

'Yes. I am. I'm the princess who's been locked in her suite since the day that rotter Gerald fell off Dorcas! You're his keeper, why don't you know where he is?'

'Because I've been out of the country since the day after that!'

Grabbing hold of a handy chair, Melissande hauled herself to her feet. 'Out of the country? What are you talking about? What the hell is going on around here?'

Markham glanced at Reg, who nodded. He got up, lifted her onto the back of the same chair then pulled a lump of rock from the pocket of his slightly threadbare blue jacket. 'Can you keep a secret, Melissande?'

She looked at him. 'I'm the prime minister of New Ottosland and I have two older brothers, one of whom is Lional, King of Insane and Inappropriate Wedding Plans and the other Rupert, Prince of Butterflies. What do you think? And don't call me Melissande. It's "Your Royal Highness" to the likes of you.'

'It's all right, Monk,' Reg said gruffly. 'We can trust her. She's got the manners of a warthog and the grace of a drunken rhinoceros but unlike Rupert she's not a complete ninny'

She goggled. 'Excuse me? Did you just call me a — '

Markham cleared his throat. 'Okay, ladies, probably right now we should be concentrating on — '

'Oh, why don't you put a sock in it, ducky]' Reg snapped. 'If you can't dress like a princess you can at least act like one. Now listen up. We — '

'Listen up? To you? The biggest mistake I ever made in my life — after hiring Gerald, that is — was listening to you] You're a bird, for God's sake! A scruffy, coarse, drab, irritating, uninvited bird] What do you know about being a princess? What do you know about anything?'

'What do / know?' said Reg, clutching at the chair back to stop herself from falling; she was swaying with exhaustion. 'A damned sight more than you do, ducky, I'll tell you that for nothing! I may well die a bird, dearie, but I sure as shooting wasn't born one. I was born a princess and became a queen and I was a witch to boot. The most powerful witch in all of Lalapinda!'

Melissande opened her mouth then closed it again.Turned to Markham.'Is that true?' Markham shook his head and sat on the end of her four-poster bed. 'Don't ask me. Reg's past is a closed book, Your Highness.'

Frowning, she leaned against a bedpost and considered the bird.'So what happened?'

Reg sighed, it's not important. What's important is finding out what's happened to Gerald.'

'Nothing's happened to Gerald!' She scowled. 'Yet.'

'Urn…' Markham exchanged a worried glance with Reg. 'Look. Not that I make a habit of contradicting royalty, but… we're pretty sure you're wrong.' 'Why?'

'Because a few hours ago the Ottosland Department of Thaumaturgy's thaumatograph's readings hit the roof, kept on going and are currently headed for outer space,' said Reg. 'So?'

'So,' said Markham, 'the source of the readings was New Ottosland. And their cause was the biggest Level Twelve transmog ever recorded. Gerald's the only wizard I know who's capable of successfully pulling one off.'

Oh. She rallied. 'That still doesn't explain what you're doing here.'

'He promised me he wouldn't do another one and he's a man of his word,' said Markham. He looked worried. 'Gerald must've been under duress.' 'Duress? From who?'

Markham and Reg exchanged cryptic glances. 'We're not sure,' he said, cautiously. Then he held up the nondescript rock. 'But it's why I risked using this.' 'And what is that, exactly?' i call it a Stealth Stone. It's a kind of portable portal. You can use it to go pretty much wherever you like without needing any physical apparatus or a destination module, and nobody at the other end is any the wiser when you get there.'

'A portable portal?' she said, peering suspiciously. 'I've never heard of such a thing.'

He cleared his throat. 'That's because I only just invented it. This is a prototype.'

'You invented it?' Despite herself she was impressed. 'How?'

Markham shrugged, it just sort of happened while I was mucking about with transdimensional keys.'

Reg eyed him with proprietal favour. 'He's a bit of a genius himself, is our Markham.'

He slipped the rock back in his pocket. 'Anyway. I haven't told my bosses about it yet. I wasn't even sure it would work. But when the thaumatograph spiked and the Department brass launched into hysterics I thought it was as good a time as any to try it.'

'So that explains how you got into the country. But I'm still waiting to hear how Reg got outV Reg sniffed, i flew.' 'To Ottosland? In what, a week?'

'Four days. It was supposed to be two,' said Reg. 'Only the accelerando wore off prematurely. I had to hitch till my wings worked again.' 'And why did you have to go at all?'

'To find Markham, of course,' said Reg, rolling her eyes. 'And raise the alarm. He'd just finished finding out what happened to all of Lional's other wizards when I reached him, but then he had to convince those idiots he works for he wasn't making it up! I was just about to start cracking some heads myself when the thaumatograph went haywire and they finally took him seriously. Except then they had to form a committee to investigate and we didn't have time to hang about. So here we are.'

She was feeling bewildered, which always made her cross. 'Reg, this is nonsense. Nothing happened to Lional's other wizards. They quit or he fired them. I told you that already'

Markham shook his head. 'I know that's what your brother said, Your Highness, but… he lied.'

Shaken, she shoved a couple of hairpins back into her lopsided bun. 'Nonsense. I've got three letters of resignation in my office. I'll show them to you, assuming I ever get out of this stupid suite.' 'Did the wizards hand them to you in person?'

'Not to me. To Lional. He's the king and they were his court wizards.'

'Fair enough,' said Markham. 'But did you see them afterwards? See them leave, wave them goodbye? Any of them? Or did your brother just tell you they'd gone?'

No. No. No. 'This is ridiculous,' she said automatically. 'What are you suggesting, that Lional — ' The words died in her throat. 'No. You're wrong. He wouldn't — '