The Accidental sorcerer

Monk shrugged. 'Sorry. Duty calls. Regil fill you in, she's dying to do it. Anyway, it's your own fault, Gerald, snoring in bed instead of entertaining your guests.'

He knew his friend very well; beneath the disrespectful humour lurked trepidation. 'What duty? Monk, what's going on?'

Another shrug and a sheepish smile. 'Seems I've got an interview with the Department's Thaumaturgical Ethics Committee. I suspect they want to rap my knuckles over the portable portal… and a few other things.'

Gerald threw his blankets aside. 'Then I'm coming with you. Blimey, are they stupid? Don't they realise — '

Monk and Rupert bundled him back into bed. Humiliatingly, he couldn't stop them. His body was weak, his muscles petulant and protesting. 'Back off. Let me up! I'm — '

'Staying put,' Rupert said sharply, but with a smile. 'Aside from sore knuckles, Mister Markham will be fine.'

'Fine? Rupert, you're clueless! You don't know what that damned Department's like! They'll skin him alive and charge him for the labour! They'll — '

'Gerald, it's all right,' Monk said. 'Honest. My Department bosses do have a point.' He glanced at Rupert. 'His Majesty's put in a good word for me. I'll survive.'

He had to lie down again. Falling against his pillows he said, his voice unsteady, 'But your career's cactus because you helped me.'

'Not cactus,' said Monk. 'Compost, maybe.' Another sharkish grin. 'You can grow good stuff with compost, I'm told.'

He had to smile. Typical Markham: lemonade from lemons, every bloody time. 'Even so…'

Melissande patted his shoulder. 'Don't worry, Gerald. I'm going with him.' She flicked a gaze at her brother, i'm still the prime minister around here, for a few more days anyway, and I'll make sure those Department idiots remember what Rupert said. Or else.'

Rupert considered her. 'Melissande… it's a lovely gesture and I'm sure Markham appreciates it immensely, but as much as I love you I couldn't in all conscience call you diplo-'

'Oh, please]' she retorted. 'You're calling my judgement into question? The man who let himself get bitten by vampire butterflies when it said quite clearly on the box Do Not Open In The Presence Of Light? Spare me, I beg you!'

As the king and his sister bickered, Gerald looked at Monk. 'Are you sure you want her defending you? She can be a bit… overwhelming.'

Monk pulled a face. 'Right now I'll take all the help I can get. Besides. You should've seen her talking to Attaby and my Uncle Ralph. She nearly threw their teacups at them. She was magnificent.'

And you're in love with her. He knew the signs. Maybe this time Monk's lightning-strike passion would last longer than a month… and maybe it wouldn't. But either way it'd be an interesting ride.

For himself he didn't mind. He liked the princess; perhaps even cared for her. But she wasn't for him. Not like that.

'Ha,' said Reg, finally joining in. 'Teacups. I was all set to poke them in the unmentionables, that would've made them sit up and squawk!'

Monk shook his head. 'I dunno, Gerald. How do you stand it?'

He stroked Reg's wing with one finger. 'Well, you know. She kind of grows on you…'

'Yes, yes, I remember. Like fungus,' said Reg, and sniffed. 'I suppose,' she added, grudgingly, 'the girl didn't handle herself too shabbily. I suppose I could stand it if I saw her again.' Then she shuddered. 'But only if she swears to burn her wardrobe!'

Melissande, finished with putting Rupert in his place, turned.'I heard that, bird.' Reg smirked. 'You were meant to, ducky'

'I really have to go,' said Monk, forestalling bloodshed. 'If you're coming, Melissande, then come. Your Majesty — ' He bowed. 'Thank you.'

Rupert rested his hand on Monk's shoulder. 'No, my friend. The debt is mine and New Ottosland's. Visit us whenever you can.'

'I certainly will, sir, provided I'm not chained to my desk. Or a damp wall somewhere deep underground.' He turned. 'Look. Gerald. Don't do it, mate, all right? Not unless you really want to.' Gerald stared.'Do what?' 'I'll see you later. Back in Ottosland.'

'Markham! Don't do what? What are you talking about?' But Monk was gone.

Melissande glared, hands on hips. 'I'd better go too. Now you rest, do you hear me, Gerald? Or when I come back I'll — I'll be snippy! Reg rolled her eyes.'Tliat'll make a change.'

'Melissande!' Monk bellowed from beyond the bedroom.

'You've been warned!' said Melissande, and fled. As Gerald stared after her Rupert sat in the armchair by the bed.

'Well,' he said, and crossed his legs. It was incredible. He actually looked elegant. 'You'd like an explanation, I imagine.'

A headache was brewing behind his eyes. In a strange way he felt almost betrayed, though he and Rupert weren't actual real friends, i think I'm owed one. Don't you… Rupert?' Rupert nodded. 'You and many others, Gerald.' 'So. Exactly how long did you know?'

'That Lional was… unstable?' Rupert steepled his fingers. It was profoundly disconcerting, such an un-Rupert-like pose.'Since I was six.' 'What happened when you were six?'

A flicker of pain twisted Rupert's face. 'Lional killed someone I cared for. Our nanny. He was ten.' Ten? 'How?'

'A toy left carelessly on top of a staircase,' said Rupert. His gaze was unfocussed, lost in memory. 'Of course everyone said it was an accident. Lional wept. But as she lay dying Nanny asked to see me. Held me close to her poor broken body and whispered, 7t was murder. Never turn your back on your brother, lovey. Never let him see your true face. This poor kingdom will need you one day! Rupert shrugged. 'Nanny never lied to me. I believed her.'

Gerald felt a cold shiver run through him. 'And so you invented… the other Rupert.'

'Not all at once,' said Rupert, nodding. 'I didn't wish to arouse suspicions. Just day by day… one mannerism, one eccentricity at a time… until my true face was hidden, not just from Lional but from Melissande too. From the whole world.' He grimaced. 'From myself, in the end.'

He tried to imagine it and couldn't. 'But you were only six. You were a child!

'A child?' Rupert laughed; a dreadful sound. 'With Lional as my older brother? Oh, Gerald. I was never a child.' 'But what about your parents?'

'What about them? They doted on their kingdom's heir. Lional was… a beautiful boy. It was only later, as his nature refined itself, that they began to worry. I think, perhaps, to suspect. But by then it was far too late.' Reg cleared her throat. 'Silly buggers.'

Rupert did a double take then smiled. 'I'm sorry. I confess I still find you a trifle hard to believe…'

'Ha,' said Reg. 'This from the man with a pet butterfly named Esmerelda.' She sniffed. 'How's the little Dumb Cluck doing, anyway?'

'You mean she's not dead?' said Gerald. And why that would sting him with tears he couldn't begin to say…

Rupert smiled sadly. 'No. She's the only survivor, though. I found her hiding under a rose bush. With Boris.'

It was ridiculous but he felt comforted by the news.'I'm glad.'

'Believe it or not, so am I,' said Rupert. 'She really is very sweet.' His expression darkened. 'And after seeing the carnage at the stables… and elsewhere in the kingdom… I needed cheering up.'

'I'm sorry,' Gerald said at last. His throat was hot and tight; it was hard to get the words out.

'Not your fault,' said Rupert heavily. He looked ill. Years older.

Did he believe that or just say it because it was expected? Because the wizard was half-blind now and needed careful handling? Gerald couldn't tell. But in staring at Rupert, trying to decide, he discovered a rising resentment.

'You should've told me what you knew' The criticism came out more sharply than he intended, than perhaps was wise. But he was tired and newly aching and blind in one eye. 'Maybe if you'd told me — '

'I couldn't!' said Rupert just as sharply. Then he sighed. 'It was too risky. I couldn't trust you'd not give me away. Not on purpose, perhaps, but even so. Lional was very… astute.'