The Accidental sorcerer

Astute. That was one word. 'He was mad, Rupert.'

'Oh yes,' said Rupert softly. 'Above all else, he was mad.' He hesitated, then added, 'And of course it seemed for a while there you were in his pocket.'

'Except I wasn't! I was only pretending so I could find out what the hell was going on! Melissande asked me to — ' i know,' said Rupert, placating, it seems all of us were wearing masks, Gerald. Trying to protect each other or ourselves. I did the best I could, you know. I tried to put you on your guard. Steer you in the right direction. I just couldn't afford to be explicit. If I had been, you can be sure I'd have met with an accident too.'

Although resentment lingered he had to smile. 'You should've been an actor, Rupert. I never dreamed there was a brain inside that ninny head of yours.' Rupert grinned.'Thank you. I think.' He winced. 'Sorry'

'Don't be,' said Rupert, amusement fading, i'm the one who should be apologising. I've hardly slept since…' He cleared his throat. 'Hindsight is an unkind thing. Could I have stopped him? One minute I'm convinced I couldn't, the next I'm sure if I'd just confided in you or Greenfeather, if I'd gone for help, persuaded Melissande to leave, raised the alarm, fled to Zazoor — ' it seems to me,' said Reg, hopping onto the bedrail and fixing them with a stern dark gaze, 'there's not one of us not wishing right now we'd done something different. That's called second-guessing yourself, that is, and if you ask me it's a load of mouldy old bollocks. If only — / wish — what if — ' She snorted, i'm telling you, Rupert, and you too, Gerald, and you can pass it along to Princess Pushy when she gets back: you'll drive yourselves as mad as that mad bugger Lional if you start down that road. We can't undo what's happened. The dead are buried and we can't unbury them. All we can do is live what's left of our lives in a way that won't shame their memories. And make sure nothing like this ever happens again.' 'Indeed,' said Rupert after a prickly silence.

Gerald nodded. 'I suppose.' He just had no idea how.'So. What happens now?'

'Now?' Rupert frowned, considering. 'Now I appoint a new privy council and get on with the business of governing the kingdom. New Ottosland is hurt, and as her king it's my job to heal her wounds.'

'And what about the Kallarapi? Are they still hanging around, or have you sent them packing?'

Rupert's face was lit by a sudden smile. Achingly, fleetingly it held an echo of Lional. 'No, they've gone home. But their visit proved most agreeable. The army, you know, pitched in and helped all over the place, picking up the pieces that dragon left behind. Wonderful chaps. Not very talkative but good God, their stamina! And I had a wonderful meeting with Sultan Zazoor. Everything I remembered about him from boarding school was right. He was an excellent cricket captain and I'm sure he'll do an equally fine job as sultan. We've worked out a schedule for repayments of the outstanding debt and there are some ideas for a possible renegotiation of the original treaty, as well as future collaborative enterprises. It's very exciting.'

Certainly Rupert looked excited; the shadows were chased from his eyes and he looked young again. 'That sounds great, Rupert. But… what about Shugat?'

'Ah. Yes,' said Rupert thoughtfully.'Well of course he saved your life, so I'm bound to look on him favourably. But you know, Gerald, just between you and me and the window… I wasn't sorry to wave him goodbye. A most… uncomfortable… fellow'

Uncomfortable was one word. 'You're sure there are no hard feelings after everything Lional tried to do?'

Rupert shrugged. 'Apparently not. So it's full steam ahead. Tradition with a capital T is about to make way for Progress with a capital P. And not before time.'

'And what about Melissande? Is she going to remain your prime minister?'

'Dear Melly' Rupert smiled. 'No. It's time my sister had a life of her own. I've had a good long talk with your Department of Thaumaturgy, and with Markham, and since she appears to have some thaumaturgical aptitude she's to be enrolled in Madam Olliphant's Witches' Academic I understand Markham's sister Emmerabiblia was very happy there.'

Good for Melissande. At last she had the brother she deserved. 'Oh, yes, Monk's sister had a great time at the academic Really enjoyed it. Well. Except for the uniform.' When Rupert looked at him, puzzled, he added: 'Bibbie's very call and thin and the academic uniform is green and silver. She says it made her look like a frostbitten asparagus.'

Reg chortled. 'Saint Snodgrass alone knows what Miss Ex-Prime Minister's going to look like. Frozen squashed cabbage probably' 'Reg…'

'And as for the poor bloody staff, they're going to go bonkers trying to unteach her everything she's learned from that charlatan Madam Rinky Tinky! Poor buggers.'

Rupert eyed Reg askance. 'I'm sure it'll all work out fine. I mean, I know Mel doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve but I'm her brother and I can telclass="underline" inside, she's very excited.'

'That's nothing to what the academies going to be when it finds out madam can't tell the difference between an etheretic transductor and her own right foot!'

Gerald gave up and shoved her under the blankets. 'Well, Rupert,' he said.'Is that it? We just… go on?'

Rupert ignored the strangled squawking emanating from under the bedclothes and nodded gently. 'Yes. We do. After all, my friend… what other choice is there?'

He stared at the foot of the bed, feeling… suspended. As though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.'So,' he said, almost to himself.'It's over.'

Rupert stood. 'Ah… well… I wouldn't precisely say over, Gerald. Not quite yet.'

He crossed to the bedroom door and opened it. On the other side stood a man. Average height. Average build. Average hair of an unremarkable brown. His nose was neither thin nor fat, straight nor aquiline. It merely occupied the centre of his face. His eyes were a nondescript shade of grey. His suit was plain. His shirt was cotton. He was bland. Ordinary. Average. He looked like a shopkeeper.

'Good morning, Mr Dunwoody' he said in a clipped, precise voice. 'My name is Sir Alec… and we need to talk.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

As the mysterious Sir Alec entered and Rupert left, closing the bedroom door behind him, Reg erupted shrieking from under the blankets.

'Gerald Dunwoody! Just what do you think you're — ' She saw the stranger and stopped. 'Oh for the love of Saint Snodgrass. Not you again. I thought we'd ditched you back at the Department.'

Gerald could've wrung her neck. 'Would Polly like a cracker, then?' he said, teeth gritted. it's all right, Mr Dunwoody,' Sir Alec said calmly. 'Reg and I have met.'

'Yes we have, mores the pity,' said Reg, glowering. 'Gerald, pay no attention to him. He's nothing but a stooge.'

Ignoring Reg, he looked at Sir Alec. 'You work for the Ottosland Department ofThaumaturgy?' Sir Alec nodded, i do.'

Something about the man's beige blandness was getting on his nerves. Thinking of Monk and his undeserved disgrace; of himself, and how Scunthorpe's cowardice had started all this; and no longer caring about his career, he sneered. 'As a stooge?'

Sir Alec's expression underwent a slow alchemy. Grew older. Colder. The nondescript blandness melted like wax, revealing the true face beneath. Hard, with lines suggesting experiences beyond those found in an ordinary life.

Staring at the man with his one good eye Gerald felt an answering chill. Felt his own face remould and reveal, starkly, the fingerprints left behind by the last few weeks.

So long as he lived, he would never be bullied again.

Sir Alec nodded, a salute like the one fencing opponents gave each other before crossing swords, and the air around him crackled with a ferocious leashed power.

So. The man was a First Grade wizard. And a sneaky one to boot.