She glanced at him sidelong, her expression gently malicious. 'In about five minutes, as it happens.'
He slammed on the brakes. Reg sank her claws into his shoulder, swearing and flapping. 'You mean we're off to see the king now?
'Of course now,' she said, spinning about to walk backwards just as quickly. Her cat leapt clear, spitting. 'He's waiting for you in the Small Audience Chamber. Why? Where did you think we were going?'
'But — but — Your Highness — I can't see the king now. I need to freshen up — change into my best attire! I can't appear before a king looking like — '
The princess stopped. 'You can and you will. I've got strict instructions to escort you to His Majesty's presence the moment you arrive so let's just get it over with, shall we? You've got the rest of the day to stand in front of mirrors primping. Provided, of course, His Majesty doesn't send you packing back to Ottosland.'
'Send me packing?' he said faintly. 'I don't understand — I thought — '
'Ha,' said Reg, under her breath. 'Didn't I tell you? Not that I'm one to gloat, of course, or say "I told you so", but if you'd just listened to me and — ' He twitched his shoulder, hard. 'Shut up, Reg.'
Hands shoved into her pockets, Princess Melissande had the grace to look uncomfortable. 'All right. Look. Here's the thing. You're not the first court wizard Lional's hired, all right? But the others didn't work out, so — '
'How many others?' he interrupted, and to hell with protocol. 'And why didn't they work out?' She sighed, shoulders slumping. 'It's complicated.'
Complicated. The story of his bloody life. He took a deep breath, subduing angry panic. The woman standing in front of him might look like a badly dressed shop assistant but she was in fact royalty and had to be treated as such. Let appearances lull him into a false sense of security and he'd be portalling back to Ottosland faster than Reg could find something to complain about.
'I see,' he said, with extreme care. 'And if I may be so bold as to ask, Your Highness, complicated how, exactly?'
She let out a short, sharp breath. 'My brother — His Majesty — is a young and energetic man, Mister Dunwoody. He has views. Plans. A vision for the future. Our kingdom isn't the most progressive country in the world. In fact some might say — and perhaps not without cause — New Ottosland has become moribund. His Majesty intends to… stir things up a bit.' 'Well, that seems reasonable. Only I don't see — '
The princess held up a finger. 'The thing is, not all of the king's plans are what you might call practical. Daring, yes. Ambitious, absolutely. But practical? Not so much.' Her gaze lost focus, as though she were staring into the past. 'Practicality's never been Lional's strong suit, bless him. And there are other considerations as well. Matters geographical and political about which His Majesty is… sensitive. That's where I, as prime minister, come in.'
'I'm sure you do,' he said. 'But I still don't understand why my predecessors — '
'Mister Dunwoody, have you ever worked for royalty before?'
'Worked for?' He resisted the urge to look at Reg.'No, Your Highness. I haven't.'
'Then allow me to give you a little advice. His Majesty doesn't care for being contradicted. Or being told his requests are silly, frivolous and beneath the dignity of any self-respecting wizard. To be honest I would've thought that'd be obvious, he is a king, after all, but your predecessors had different ideas. To be blunt, Mister Dunwoody, your predecessors made it clear they thought Lional should defer to them and not the other way around. Well, obviously, he couldn't put up with that! 'Well, no, of course not, Your Highness. But — '
'Excellent! she said, smiling fiercely. 'So, really it's very simple. Just remember that even though you're the wizard, it's Lional who wears the crown. Do what he asks with a song and a smile and the two of you will get along splendidly'
He didn't have to look at Reg to know she wasn't impressed. He cleared his throat cautiously. 'Yes. Well. Only I should warn you that I'm bound by certain sacred oaths, Your Highness. Oaths that transcend national borders and the loyalty one owes an employer, that must take precedence over — '
She flapped a hand at him. 'Yes, yes, I know all about that. And you needn't worry. Of course you won't be asked to violate your wizard's code. Lional — His Majesty — can get a trifle overexcited at times but he's a king, not a criminal!
Right. A king who'd already sacked who knew how many royal wizards. Who had plans and visions and was inclined to be overexcitable. All of a sudden his hasty decision to take the job was looking very suspect… What was it Monk had said?
'History is littered with the corpses of fools who got tangled up with kings who have plans!'
His sudden attack of doubt must have shown, because the princess's irritated expression collapsed into something close to entreaty. 'Look, Professor, I know it sounds impossible but truly, it's not so bad as that. Lional's just… highly strung. Massively intelligent people often are, you know. And he's sensitive, too, that he's accorded the respect due to his position. As a wizard, I'm sure you can understand that.' 'Well, yes, of course, but — '
'Please.' She said the word stiffly, as though it was completely unfamiliar. And probably it was; royalty wasn't in the habit of begging. Her clear green eyes — rather nice eyes, actually, now that he came to look more closely — were suspiciously shiny. And her hands were caught together in a gesture that used by anyone else would surely be called wringing. In short, she looked desperate. Dangling on the end of a very short tether. 'The thing is, you see, I could really use your help.' 'Oh, lord,' Reg muttered. 'That's torn it.'
The princess blushed, making all her freckles disappear, and shoved her hands back in her pockets. 'The king's getting a bit impatient with me, you see, taking so long to find him the right wizard. If you change your mind and leave before even meeting him, well, it's bound to make him tetchy. And I've got so much on my plate as it is, I am the prime minister, you know, I don't just sit around painting my nails, Mister Dunwoody; I work very hard around here and, to be perfectly frank, the last thing I need is to have to go scouring the globe for another wizard, really, it's a most prestigious appointment, I would've thought you'd jump at the chance to serve as a royal court wizard and — '
'All rightY he said, before she dropped dead at his feet from asphyxiation.'I'll stay!'
'You will?'The words came out in a disbelieving squeak. 'Oh. Well — good.' She cleared her throat, and with a visible effort banished all signs of vulnerability.'Then let's go. Boris, heel!'
And off she marched again, the long thin cat undulating in her wake.
Gerald, with Reg muttering on his shoulder and his carpet-bag banging against his leg, hurried after them. Endless corridors and staircases later — blimey, the palace was worse than a rabbit warren, he'd get lost five times a day — they arrived at an antechamber occupied by a single attendant, standing at attention before a pair of open double doors. Over the man's uniformed shoulder Gerald caught a glimpse of a larger room beyond, full of windows, plush gold carpet and a great deal of gilt.
'The prime minister and Professor Dunwoody to see His Majesty,' announced the princess. 'Professor Dunwoody is His Majesty's new wizard.'
The attendant bowed; only the extreme rigidity of his spine betrayed his surprise. 'Certainly, Your Highness.' His gaze flickered to the black cat at her heels.'Er…'
'I know, I know!' She plopped the cat on the nearest velvet-covered chair.'Wait out here, Boris.'
The cat crossed its eyes in displeasure but condescended to stay put. After another flickering glance the attendant rapped his pikestaff smartly onto the scuffed parquetry floor. 'Her Royal Highness the Princess Melissande, Prime Minister of New Ottosland, and Professor Dunwoody,Wizard!'