Gerald's first thought, as he and Reg followed the princess into the king's presence, was that if this was the Small Audience Chamber he didn't want to see the Large one.
The room was huge and opulent in the extreme. Chandeliers like exploded diamonds dripped light onto every surface. Stained glass windows framed with silk curtains admitted shafts of stained glass sunshine. The walls were striped blue and gold and crammed with oil paintings of well-fed, self-satisfied aristocrats astride unlikely horses, or patting blockish cattle, or presiding over flocks of sulky children.
Apparently oblivious to the surrounding magnificence and his choked amazement at it, Princess Melissande led Gerald and Reg along a narrow strip of crimson carpet towards a dais at the far end of the chamber. Upon it loomed an extraordinary confection of wrought gold and rubies: the throne. And on the throne, with a fat orange cat puddled in his lap, sat a man.
Gerald swallowed. No. Not a man. A king. And if he was going to survive here, let alone thrive here, he musn't ever forget it.
'Cor,' said Reg in an undertone. 'This is all gone a bit upmarket compared to last time. Last time the throne was wood with a bit of gold paint slapped on and even then it was peeling. That one's got to be giving him piles.' She let loose an admiring whistle.'And he's an improvement on last time, too! Phwoar! What a looker! If he'd been king then instead of the old fat one, history'd have a different story to tell and no mistake!'
Three paces ahead of them, the princess's fingers curled into fists and her head jerked sideways, just a fraction. Anguished, Gerald joggled his shoulder as hard as he could.'Reg! Shut upV Reg subsided, complaining under her breath.
She was right, though. Lional the Forty-third possessed the kind of astonishing male beauty generally found only on the cover of a romance novel. He even made Errol Haythwaite look plain, and that was an achievement. Gerald, more or less resigned to the face that looked back at him from his mirror every morning, suppressed a stab of envy. He had a lot more to worry about here than coming a distant last in an unlikely beauty contest.
Aside from himself and Reg, the princess, the king and his cat, the chamber was empty. Was that usual? According to Reg, kings and queens habitually surrounded themselves with advisors, fawners, toadies and any number of extraneous personnel designed to remind the monarch of his or her importance, wit, intelligence and general indispensability to the welfare of the kingdom. So… where was everyone?
They reached the dais, eventually, and the narrow crimson pathway widened into a square. Princess Melissande stopped and cracked her knees in a brief, trouser-legged curtsey. 'Here's the new wizard, Your Majesty. Professor Gerald Dunwoody, lately of Ottosland.' She stepped aside. 'Professor, you have the honour of addressing my brother, His Sovereign Majesty King Lional the Forty-third.'
Nakedly revealed to royalty's stringent perusal Gerald dropped his carpet-bag and bowed, but not too deeply He didn't want Reg to fall off his shoulder. 'Your Majesty. It is indeed an honour.'
From atop his lofty perch, Princess Melissande's brother stared down his architecturally perfect nose. In his lap, the fat orange cat favoured Reg with a slit-eyed glare and rumbled deep in its throat.
'Now, now,Tavistock,' the king reproved.'You've already had lunch.' He glanced at his sister. 'Where's your horrible beast, by the way?' The princess sighed. 'Outside.'
'Good. See that it stays there.' One kingly finger, graced with an eyeball-sized emerald, tickled the orange cat under its chin. 'So. This is my new wizard. He looks a bit young, Melissande.'
The princess's expression became a trifle fixed. 'Does he?'
'Yes,' said King Lional, frowning. 'Very young, in fact, when you consider the others. They were old enough to be this one's father — or possibly an uncle.'
Gerald looked from king to princess, not certain whether to be annoyed, amused or apprehensive. Was royalty generally in the habit of discussing people as though they were in another room when in fact they were standing right next to them?
'Oh, I don't know,' said the princess valiantly. 'He's not that young. And anyway, lots of people don't look their age.' Apparently royalty was. At least around here.
The king's elegant fingers were drumming the arm of his throne. 'That may be so, but unless this one's discovered an incant to knock twenty years off his face, I think I may be right in suspecting he lacks the requisite minimum fifteen years' wizarding experience. Well?'
It took Gerald a moment to realise the comment was aimed at him. 'What? Fifteen years experience? But the Positions Vacant piece said "no experience necessary", Your Majesty.'
'I can explain, Lional,' the princess said as her brother's expression frosted over.
'I certainly hope so, Melissande,' said the king. 'For your sake.'
Princess Melissande flinched, but she stood her ground.'I thought we needed a different approach. All the other wizards met your specifications to the last full stop but none of them worked out, did they? So I thought perhaps we'd have more success if I found you a wizard who was slightly less… set in his ways. One who could more easily adapt to the way we do things here in New Ottosland. A wizard who'd be grateful for the opportunity to serve a king instead of always banging on about how much better old Emperor Whosiewhatsit from Somewhere Else ran his country back in the day. You see? I was just thinking of you, Lional.'
The king was not amused. 'And I'm sure that's very touching, Melissande, but if you'd just gone on thinking for a moment or two longer perhaps you might've realised that there is such a thing as appearancesl What will other realms and sovereignties think of me, Melissande, when they see I am being counselled by a beardless escapee from the nursery?'
Princess Melissande snorted. 'Well, Lional, seeing as how you refuse to meet with any other realms and sovereignties, I don't see how they're going to think anything at all!'
The king leaned forward, which made the orange cat hiss.'And what is that supposed to mean?'
'You know perfectly well what it means! It means when are you going to give an audience to the Kallarapi delegation? This tariff business is serious, Lional! It's only a matter of time before they widen the camel-train ban to include essential imports! You can't ignore — '
'I've already told you, Melissande, it is beneath my dignity to treat with a mere younger brother. If Sultan Zazoor is serious about resolving this situation he can come and talk to me himself.'
'And what am I supposed to do with his delegation?' 'I told you before! Show them the sights!'
'I have, Lional,' said his sister, sounding pressed to her limit. 'I've shown them the Royal Capital, the Royal Art Gallery, the Royal Gardens, the Royal Zoo and the Royal Duck Pond. I have taken them riding in the Glen and boating on the Zigzag and I'm afraid there's nothing left to do with them short of putting them in the post and sending them home. Wliich — ' and she held up a finger as he opened his mouth '- goes without saying is out of the question.'
'But you're the prime minister!' said the king, affronted.'I told you to deal with this!'
'And I've tried, Lional, but the delegation doesn't want to be dealt with. Not by me, at any rate,' Princess Melissande pointed out. 'Apparently they don't treat with mere younger sisters. Prince Nerim seems to think he should be speaking with you, seeing as how you're the king and he's the sultan's brother. And the holy man agrees. It's an odd notion, I know, but there you are. They're foreigners, so what can you expect? Of course, since they've got us surrounded and our economic survival depends on keeping their goodwill, I've always found it prudent to humour them but then that's just me. I suppose as you're the king you can do what you like, but on the whole I'd rather not push them any further than we have already because you and I both know that — '