“Right, Mister Dalby,” he said, his tone as cool and conversational as ever. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”
Frank nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“After you, Sir Ralph,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m sure you remember the way to my office.”
Ralph remembered. The door hadn’t even closed behind them before he spun about, fists clenched and chest heaving.
“What the devil, Alec! What the damned bloody devil! You’re involving my niece in your janitor shenanigans? Where the hell do you find the nerve, involving my niece? Without so much as a word to me first? I think I deserve a damned sight better than that!”
Sir Alec hesitated, then chose to stand by his office’s cold fireplace. “How did you find out?”
“What does that signify?” Ralph demanded, his eyes bloodshot with outrage. “The point is, I did. And now you’ll kindly put a stop to it.”
“It signifies,” he said, priding himself on the fact that not even Ralph would know how tightly he was controlling his temper, “because the Splotze-Borovnik mission is already on shaky ground, and if-”
“It was my bloody nephew, all right?” said Ralph, close to spitting. “Monk told me. He’s supposed to be working on a new thingamajig for Bailey’s crew but instead I found him farting about with an obfuscation hex! Naturally I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, wasting his time with frippery when he knows he’s on a deadline, and he spilled the beans.”
Swallowing a sigh, Sir Alec rested an elbow on the fireplace’s mantel. I’d haul him and Dunwoody over the coals, if I thought there was any point. “Of course he did.”
“I’m serious about this, Alec,” Ralph said, taking a thunderous step toward him. “I won’t have you dragging little Emmerabiblia down your dirty, dangerous alleyways! It’s bad enough Monk’s caught in your orbit. You can’t have his sister too.”
“I’m afraid I must, Ralph,” he said, gently. “This business in Splotze might be nothing, or it might be a powder keg getting ready to blow. Which means I don’t have the luxury of playing favourites with who can and can’t help me keep a lid on things before they go up. Like it or not, your niece is in the right place, at the right time, with the right friends, to be of use. So I am going to use her, Ralph. Because that’s what I do.”
Stricken silent, Ralph stared at him. Then, with a stifled curse, he collapsed into the visitor’s chair, pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket and pressed it to his sweaty forehead.
“I always knew you were a ruthless bastard, Alec, but you’ve surpassed yourself today.”
He was a fool to let the words wound him, but Ralph had always been more friend than foe. Mask perfectly in place, Sir Alec moved from the fireplace to his desk and sat behind it.
“Your niece is a Markham through and through, Ralph. What’s more, if she’d been born a boy we both know she’d likely be giving your reprobate nephew orders by now. But just because she’s a girl is no reason to waste her… or underestimate her. Besides, she’s not going to Splotze as a janitor.”
“She’s going as a lady’s maid, I know,” Ralph said gruffly. “But she’s still going, isn’t she? And so’s Dunwoody. Dunwoody? Alec, how can you ask me to trust my only niece to his care? Dammit, man, he’s tainted with grimoire magic. What if he runs amok?”
“If I thought that were a possibility then he’d be under lock and key,” Sir Alec retorted. “Ralph, because I asked for his assistance, the King of New Ottosland is sending his sister to the damned wedding. Would I ask such a thing, would I risk a diplomatic disaster, if I thought Princess Melissande’s life would be at risk?”
Ralph glowered. “Of course you bloody would. New Ottosland could drown in quicksand tomorrow and it’d be a year before anyone noticed it was gone.”
“Ralph…” He shook his head. “Not a week passes when you and I don’t ask someone’s son or nephew to put country before self. How can we do that, how can we ask them to ask their families to bear that burden, if you and I are unwilling to bear it ourselves?”
“The devil with that, Alec!” said Ralph, his voice catching. “I’m the one with the burden, not you. You’re an only child with no family. Emmerabiblia’s my flesh and blood!”
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. But I can’t let that count.”
A long silence. Then Ralph tucked his handkerchief back into his vest, and stood. “No. You can’t. And though it pains me to say it, neither can I. But if anything happens to her, Alec… if anything happens…”
Leaving the threat unfinished, he walked out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
To avoid even the remotest possibility of a raised suspicion, Sir Alec decreed that his agent and his agent’s camouflage should enter Splotze by way of New Ottosland. That entailed a midnight portal trip from the bowels of Nettleworth to King Rupert’s palace, where they would wait until it was a polite time to turn up on Crown Prince Hartwig’s doorstep.
“There you are!” Rupert greeted them, grinning with unroyal enthusiasm as, leaving their luggage behind, they stepped out of the portal and into the opulent reception chamber that Lional had built. “All in one piece, I take it?”
Clutching her expensive beaded reticule, feeling smothered in her suitably royal pale pink silk ensemble, complete with whalebone corset and far too much of her late mother’s jewellery, and with residual etheretic spots dancing before her eyes, Melissande shuffled to make room for Gerald and Bibbie.
“More like three pieces,” she said. “Rupert, what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like, Melly? I’m your Official Portal Conductor for the evening. Sir Alec wants this kept hush hush, remember?”
She looked her brother up and down, noting the patched hole in the elbow of his cream shirt sleeve and the distressing bagginess about the knees of his faded moss-green velvet trousers. “So you thought you’d turn up in disguise? Honestly, Rupert, if Lord Billingsley could see you now, he’d faint. You look like a-a gardener!”
“Like Father, you mean?” Rupert said lightly. “If that’s the case, Lord Billingsley should feel right at home. Except, you know, I’m very careful not to dress like a gardener when that old fogey’s about. I suppose I could’ve greeted you in my dressing gown, but I thought that might not be quite the thing.”
“Yes, well, you playing Portal Conductor isn’t quite the thing, either,” she said. “I mean, honestly, Rupes. Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“Actually, you dreadful scold, I do. And as far as tonight’s little jaunt is concerned, Sir Alec assures me his boffins say we’ll have a clear window. But I double-checked their long-range etheretic readings, just to be sure.” He chuckled. “Turns out I’m rather a dab hand at portal conducting. So if this whole being king business ends up not working out, at least I can be sure of some gainful employment! Hello, Gerald. Good to see you again.”
Sighing, because clearly Rupes was in one of his butterfly moods, Melissande stepped aside so her brother and Gerald could clasp cordial hands. Feeling Bibbie staring at New Ottosland’s casual king, all a-bubble with repressed excitement, she was very careful not to look at the wretched girl.
“Your Majesty,” said Gerald, offering a slight bow. Wizard to king. Equal to equal. “It’s been too long.”
“Hasn’t it, though?” Rupert agreed warmly. “But no doubt that Sir Alec of yours is keeping you on the hop. Doesn’t strike me as a lazy layabout kind of chap.”
Gerald almost smiled. “Ah… no. When it comes to Sir Alec, those aren’t the first words that spring to mind.”
“And how have you been? Mel doesn’t tell me much. Well. Really, she doesn’t tell me anything. Very good at keeping secrets, my sister. Though I do understand you’ve joined her at the agency?”
“That’s right, sir,” said Gerald. “When I’m not acting under orders from Sir Alec, I’m giving the girls a hand with their clients.”
“Excellent,” said Rupert, approving. “It’s good to know they’ve a sound chap like you to lean on.” With a pat on Gerald’s shoulder, he turned. “And speaking of the girls… Melissande, I don’t believe your charming friend and I have been introduced.”