K. Mills - The Accidental sorcerer

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 tell: 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.'

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.

Well, 1 can be sneaky too, Sir Alec from the Department. I can do a lot of things. I think I might surprise you.

With a blink, Sir Alec calmed his thaumic aura. 'As I said, Mr Dunwoody, we need to talk. It won't take long, I do realise you're convalescent… and in any case I am needed elsewhere. You've kicked up some dust both at home and abroad; ruffled feathers require tactful soothing.'

Gerald considered him. 'Maybe they wouldn't if you lot had been doing your jobs. Five minutes after I made Lional his dragon you and your counterparts from the UMN should've been crawling all over New Ottosland. Why weren't you?'

Sir Alec's pale eyes were cold and calculating, the brain behind them summing him up…i'm sorry if you felt… abandoned, but I'm afraid politics both domestic and international raised their ugly heads at precisely the wrong moment. Valuable resources were… diverted. May I sit down?' if you must,' said Reg, before he could answer, and relocated to the bedrail behind the pillows. 'But don't get too comfy. Gerald's been through a terrible ordeal so talk fast and leave faster, sunshine, because — '

One hand raised, Sir Alec moved towards the bed, a thin smile curving his lips. 'Yes, yes, Reg. Or should I say: Your Majesty? Seeing as you are, beneath that quaint disguise, Queen Duketta of Lalapmda, born in the year 1216, only daughter of King Treve and Queen Amyrl, who ascended the Lalapindian throne in 1234, foolishly married the warlock Vertain in 1235 and apparently drowned soon thereafter. In reality Vertain ensorcelled you, trapping your soul in the body of a bird and dooming you to wander the world ever after… provided the enchantment placed upon you is not touched.' He cleared his throat. 'Did I leave anything out?'

Reg closed her gaping beak with a click. 'You nosey bugger! How did you find out?'

Another sardonic smile, it's part of my job description.'

'And what job is that?' said Gerald. He wasn't at all sure he liked where this was heading…

Sir Alec seated himself in the armchair by the bed. 'All in good time, Mister Dunwoody.'

So. Here was the other shoe dropping with a vengeance. Gerald scowled. 'That's Professor Dunwoody to you.'

Sir Alec nodded. 'Certainly. At least for the moment.'