She let herself slump against him.'Only if I can come back and haunt you. Lional…'
Another rallying squeeze. 'You can do this, Mel. I know you can. I meant what I said about having a vision. We could be a great country, you know. Influential. Powerful. A major player on the world stage.'
'I know you think that,' she said carefully, after a moment. 'And it's a nice idea, Lional, really, but please be serious for a moment. You said it yourself: the treasury's practically empty. What's more, we're hogtied and shackled by outdated traditions that'll get us laughed right off the world stage. Face it. We're a backwater colonial collection ot rustics living in the middle of a bloody great desert and nobody cares what we do, or think, or say. Even the old mother country's almost forgotten we exist!' She pulled a face. 'If you really want me to be your prime minister then fine. I'll be your prime minister. But as for the rest…'
Lional dropped a kiss on the top of her head and stood. 'You let me worry about the rest, Mel. I'll make it happen, you'll see. And a lot sooner than you think. Tradition?' He snapped his fingers. 'That for tradition! Right now, though, we need to concern ourselves with an important new development.'
Groaning, Melissande got up and shoved her hands into her trousers' capacious pockets. 'I'm almost afraid to ask.' Lional grinned. 'The Kallarapi are coming.'
She looked out of the nearest window, alarmed. 'Now?'
Tavistock had curled up on the throne with his tail wrapped round his nose. Lional pushed him off and sat again, right leg slung negligently over its padded arm. The cat jumped back up to his lap, disgruntled.
'Not quite. According to the message I received this morning they should be here in a day or two.' 'Which Kallarapi, do you know?'
'The holy man and the useless younger brother,' he said, examining his manicured fingernails.
'And are they coming with or without accessories?' Lional's eyebrows lifted.'I beg your pardon?'
She folded her arms again, glaring. 'Are they bringing their army?' He snorted. 'Oh, come along now, Mel. We don't owe them that much. Strictly speaking we don't owe them anything at all.' 'That's not how they see it.'
'I don't particularly care how they see it,' he said, admiring the way his ruby rings caught the sunlight.
She gave him a look. 'I know. I expect that's why they're coming.'
Typically, he ignored the look and the comment. 'As my prime minister, Melissande, it'll be your job to entertain them while they're here. Naturally it won't do for me to see them. An audience with me will give them entirely the wrong idea. You'll show them the sights of a civilised society. Remind them of our blood ties to the oldest nation in the world. And after that you can show them the relevant records proving that when it comes to trade tariffs we're the ones who've been robbed, not them. In short, I expect you to make our culturally challenged neighbours lift their ridiculous camel-train embargo. It's not helping our financial position at all!
'That would be the point of it, Lional,' she said, and heaved a sigh. 'The thing is… I know you're convinced we're in the right but I wish you'd reconsider. Our trading treaty with the Kallarapi has been in place for nearly four centuries and there's never been any dispute over who owes what to whom until now.'
'Meaning what, pray?' demanded Lional. 'That somehow I'm to blame for their rapacious greed? Why? Because I'm newly come to the throne? Must I remind you, Melissande, that the Kallarapi have also recently acquired a new ruler? And that all this trouble just happens to coincide with Zazoor's ascension to the throne, or the stuffed camel-hump, or whatever it is he sits on?'
She pressed her fingertips to her temples. 'I know. And that's the problem, isn't it? You and Zazoor have hated one another from your first day at boarding school. Now, instead of behaving like sober, responsible potentates, you're treating this disagreement like just one more of your playground scuffles! And it's not! People's livelihoods are at stake here, Lional. Our very kingdom is at stake! Don't you understand? Now when you punch Zazoor everybody gets a nosebleed!'
Tavistock yowled, lashing his tail. Lional patted his head. 'My sentiments exactly, Tav. Have a care, Melissande. There are ways and ways one may talk to a king. Some of them lead to unfortunate consequences.'
'Like being fired, you mean?' she retorted. 'Oh, please. You'd be doing me a favour. All I'm saying, Lional, is that like it or not they've got the advantage over us. The terms of the treaty are specific and binding and there's nothing we can do to change them!'
Lional's immaculate fingernails drummed the arm of his throne. 'I suppose you have a point,' he admitted at last, grudgingly.
'Yes. I have a point. I have lots of points, but not as many as the Kallarapi army. They've got thousands, each one at the end of a sword!' Feeling pressured, Melissande shoved her hairpins back in her bun again. 'I'll take a good long look at the tariff books myself, Lional, and I'll talk to the Kallarapi delegation when it gets here. But you have to be prepared to give some ground. Forget it's Zazoor you're dealing with. Remember you have a responsibility to your subjects.That's all I ask.'
Lional smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth. 'There. Didn't I say you'd make a splendid prime minister?' Scooping Tavistock into his arms, he stood. 'Very well. I'll do as you suggest — this time. But be warned, Mel. There's giving ground and then there's surrender… and I'll see this verdant oasis of ours a charred and stinking ruin before I surrender it to anybody… least of all Zazoor.'
Melissande felt her heart sink. He meant it. When it came to Sultan Zazoor, Lional wasn't entirely rational. He never had been, even as a child. What a shame the old sultan's heir had fallen into quicksand, leaving his second son to rule. She could foresee nothing but tantrums and fisticuffs for the next five decades or so. It was a depressing vista.
'AH right, Lional,' she said, and dredged up a smile. 'I'll consider myself duly warned. Now is there anything else? Only it seems I've suddenly got a lot of reading to do.'
'In fact there is,' said Lional. 'I'm in need of a new court wizard.'
She stared. 'Another one? Why? What happened to Bondaningo?'
'Wizard Greenfeather resigned in a huff late last night and returned home via the portal just before dawn,' said Lional, shrugging. 'I did my best to dissuade him but he was a most recalcitrant fellow. Refused point-blank to reconsider. I don't mind telling you, Meclass="underline" my feelings are hurt.'
'I don't believe it,' she said. 'He didn't even say goodbye. And I liked Bondaningo. Much more than any of the others. He wasn't as ancient as most of them and didn't talk to me as though I were six. Why did he resign?'
Lional waved a hand. 'I don't recall and it doesn't matter. He's gone. Find me another one, will you? Same specifications as before.'
She shoved her fists in her pockets. 'I've already found you five, Lional. At the rate you're going every wizard in the world is going to have "Former advisor to the King of New Ottosland" on his credentials.' Then, as Lional's face collapsed into displeasure, she added, 'All right, all right] I'll find you another one!' 'And quickly. It's very important.'
'Yes, quickly, I promise. But for the love of Saint Snodgrass, please don't fire or offend him until I've finished dealing with the Kallarapi!'
Lional smiled. It was like watching the sun break free of lowering storm clouds. 'For you, sister dear, whom I love as life itself? Of course. Anything for you.'
She'd never been able to resist Lional's smile, not even after he'd decapitated one of her dolls or torn the ears off her favourite stuffed donkey. 'Thank you. Now can I go?'