The Accidental sorcerer ra-1 Page 18

  Gerald felt his heart rate treble. Blimey, now what? He risked a glance at Lional. The king was perfectly relaxed, faintly smiling, as insolent as Tavistock as he sprawled on this throne.

  Shugat's nostrils flared and his wild eyebrows shot up, then slammed down over his eyes in a ferocious scowl. He took three slow steps forward then halted again, lifted his staff and struck it onto the crimson carpet with all his might. The ensuing thunderclap shivered the chandeliers and rattled the lead-lined window panes. Tavistock leapt to his feet, roaring.

  'Blasphemy!' the holy man roared back. The crystal in his forehead burst into burning life, pulsing like the sun. Prince Nerim was cowering. 'This is bad, Gerald, this is had' Reg muttered.

  'I know, I know, shut up!' he muttered back, then sidled closer to the throne. 'Your Majesty?'

  Lional was smiling, one hand stroking Tavistock's head, the other dangling idly over the side of the throne. 'Now, now, Professor. Blasphemy is in the eye of the beholder. The trick is to appear profoundly unimpressed. I encourage you to follow my example.'

  Mad, mad, and with a crazy death wish. With an effort he smoothed his face to match Lional's bored, sleepy expression.'Yes, Your Majesty.'

  Now the Kallarapi delegation was huddled in conference. There was more staff-thumping, some fist waving and hissed ranting from Shugat and a lot of anguished whispering from Nerim.

  'Perhaps, gentlemen,' said Lional, poisonously polite, 'you'd like to step outside until you're quite ready to meet with us? I'm sure we have nothing better to do than twiddle our thumbs while you rehearse your presentation.'

  Nerim and Shugat broke apart. They exchanged looks: Nerim's pleading, Shugat's grim. After a fraught pause Nerim wilted and the tatty old holy man advanced towards the throne. His eyes still blazed but the burning crystal in his forehead was quiescent again.

  'You king of New Ottosland!' Shugat's voice was gravelly, his Kallarapi accent pronounced; he made no attempt to shorten vowels or soften consonants.'You mock us with your blasphemy!'

  'Mock you, sir?' said Lional, vastly innocent. 'I think not. Incidentally, do feel free to make your obeisances at your earliest convenience.'

  Gerald stopped breathing. What was Lional doing? Putting on a good face was one thing, playing with fire another. Surely even he could feel the power pouring out of the Kallarapi holy man? Did he think a trinket crown would save him? If so he was sadly mistaken.

  Before Shugat could incinerate everyone within a mile of the audience chamber, Prince Nerim leapt forward and clutched at his arm. There were more exchanged looks: this time Nerim's mute appeal was so desperate his eyes almost popped out of his head. Another fraught pause, then Shugat nodded grudgingly and stepped back. Gerald started breathing again.

  Nerim cleared his throat and bowed. Not deeply, but sufficiently enough that Lional's faint smile remained undiminished. 'O King,' he said, his voice quavering slightly, 'mine brother, His Glorious Magnificence Sultan Zazoor, may he live forever, of the Holy, Great and Immortal Empire of Kallarap, bids me greet you in his name.' Unlike Shugat, his accent was barely discernable. Boarding school polish, Gerald decided. Like his brother.

  Lional inspected his manicured fingernails. 'That's nice.'

  The prince's eyes flashed. 'Mine brother the sultan, may he live forever, also commends to you his holy man Shugat.'

  With obvious and severe reluctance Shugat offered Lional a parsimonious bow. Lional inclined his head in return, teeth glittering in a smile. 'Welcome to my court, gentlemen. And allow me to present to you Professor Gerald Dunwoody. My royal wizard.'

  Shugat thudded his staff again: the chandeliers overhead tinkled to the faint echo of thunder, rolling on some distant horizon.

  'Not wizard! Blasphemer!' he retorted. 'As are you, little king! It is not for outsiders to know the faces of our gods: the Dragon, the Lion, the Bird!'

  Gerald felt his heart stutter. That's who the Kallarapi worshipped? Animal spirits? Spirits like Reg and Tavistock, who were here now because of him? Oh no. Is this a coincidence or does the king know something? On his shoulder, Reg was moaning.

  Lional held up his hand and admired one opulent diamond ring. 'I know more than their faces, Shugat. I know their names.'

  Nerim gasped. For long moments there was silence as Shugat's seamed features reflected some bitter inner battle. 'No outsider knows names of our secret, sacred gods.'

  Lional sighed. 'Grimthak, Vorsluk and Lalchak,' he said, counting on his fingers.'Sound familiar?'

  Not a coincidence. This is more than knowing, this is a plan. And I'm a part of it… Oh no. He really should have listened to Reg.

  Shugat staggered as though he'd received a mortal wound. 'Not possible! Not possiblel' he hissed.

  'And even more than their names, Shugat,' continued Lional, inexorable, 'I know them. And I welcome them. With open arms and a loving heart do I welcome the gods of Kallarap to New Ottosland.'

  With a slash of his staff Shugat indicated Tavistock and Reg.'These? You say these mimicking beasts are our gods?' Letting out a harsh cry like the lamenting of crows he plucked free the crystal from his forehead, leaving a bloodless crater in his flesh, and held it aloft. Incandescent light flooded into every cranny and corner. ' Woe to the blasphemer, for he shall burn in the fires of the Dragon. The Bird shall tear out his wicked tongue and the Lion devour his heart. So says Shugat, Holy Man of Kallarapi'

  With a shriek Prince Nerim fell to his knees, arms cradling his head. He began sobbing.

  Lional laughed. Ignoring the stricken prince, ignoring Shugat and the light from his terrible crystal, he leaned over the side of his throne and said conversationally, 'Did you know, Professor, there are so many holy men in Kallarap I'm sure you can't cross a single sand dune without falling over one.'

  Gerald unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Melissande was going to explode when she heard about this.'Really, Your Majesty?' he croaked.

  'Really. But the sultan's holy man is accounted something special. According to Kallarapi folklore, the sultan's holy man speaks to their gods on a daily basis. Imagine!'

  And when the gods spoke back after today's little debacle three guesses what they were going to say… 'That sounds very… religious, Your Majesty.'

  'It certainly does,' agreed Lional.'Of course now that I come to think of it, as far as I'm aware nobody has actually witnessed this miraculous event. As far as I'm aware, the sultan's holy man just totters out of his little temple or cave or whatever claiming to have received a list of instructions from the gods and, for some reason I don't altogether understand, my old school chum Zazoor believes him.' He shrugged. 'Mind you, Zazoor always was the gullible sort.'

  The incandescent light faded, leaving Shugat's crystal dull and unreflecting. Still holding it the holy man rammed his staff into the carpet yet again. 'More blasphemy!' he shouted over the echoing thunder.

  Lional frowned. 'Shugat, old chap, I feel compelled to point out you're getting tedious.'

  With a nervous glance at Shugat, Prince Nerim swallowed his sobs and clambered to his feet. 'Hasty words, O gracious king. Holy Shugat was merely… taken aback.'

  Shugat glared and thumped his staff; the chandelier overhead danced and tinkled as the rolling thunder died away. 'Do not speak for me, Blood of the Sultan! These beasts are blasphemy and so is doubting my speech with the gods! Now you tell me, King, how our sacred secret ways are open to you.'

  'Ah,' said Lional. 'You suspect some foul magic, perhaps? Sorry, but no. As it happens a little sultan told me.' Shugat's head snapped back.'Zazoor?'

  'While we were at school. We were both a little drunk, you see, and had a bet regarding… well. Never mind. The point is, I won. Oh dear,' he added, eyes alight with malicious amusement at the identical looks on Shugat and Nerim s faces. 'Was he not supposed to say anything? Perhaps you should ask the gods to smite him, you know, just a little bit, the next time you're chatting.'

  Nerim said hoarsely, 'Your Majesty, surely these matter
s are for the holy men of our nations to discuss at another time and place. The sultan, may he live forever, did not send us here to talk of gods, but of — of — ' He swallowed convulsively. '- debts unpaid.'

  'Ah… yes…' said Lional. 'Well, I think you'll find the two matters are more closely connected than you thought.'

  Nerim threw Shugat a desperate look. Leathery face creased with displeasure, Shugat nodded. 'We will hear your words on this. King. And then — ' He smiled ominously. 'You will hear ours.'

  'By all means,' said Lional.'If there's time. Now. As I was saying, Gerald,' he continued, shifting a little on his throne so that one shoulder was presented to the Kallarapi delegation, 'the sultan's holy man claims to be the sole recipient of his gods' wisdom. And certainly I can see why he would. Any man with the exclusive ear of the gods is in a remarkable position of power, as I'm sure you'd agree.'

  Gerald couldn't trust himself to speak. If he spoke he'd unleash a torrent of abuse that would get him thrown into a dungeon or worse. If he spoke he'd likely do even more damage to New Ottosland-Kallarap relations than the king was managing all by himself.

  / have to see this through, I have to wait till we're alone. Then I'll tell Lional what I think of him. Then I'll let him know that I quit. And if Melissande has the brains of an ant she'll quit too and come back to Ottosland with me.

  'Mmm,' he said, and somehow managed to hide his rage.

  'Yes, indeed,' Lional continued, as though the inarticulate comment was a ringing endorsement. 'A man with exclusive access to the gods is a man in a unique position. But what if the gods have been telling him something he doesn't want to hear? What if they want to change a few things and this holy man prefers things to stay the same? Prefers it so strongly that he ignores the gods' wishes? Might the gods then not choose another way of communicating their desires?' Prince Nerim goggled.'I am confused…'

  Lional sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Of course you are. You know, I must introduce you to mine brother Rupert. The two of you would get along splendidly'

  With a withering look Shugat shouldered Nerim aside. 'You say you now speak for Kallarap's gods?'

  The king spread his elegant hands wide. 'I'm not saying anything, old chap. I just draw your attention to this lion and this bird, the very embodiments of Lalchak and Vorsluk, newly come to my court as you arrive to press your dubious claims upon me.'

  'And what of Grimthak the Dragon?' Shugat rasped. 'First among the gods. Where is he?'

  'I'm sure I've no idea,' said Lional. 'I don't presume to tell a god where and when he should present himself for inspection. Perhaps you do. If so I must say you're a braver man than I.'

  Shugat rammed his staff into the floor so hard that smoke puffed out of the carpet. When the ringing echoes of the latest thunder clap had finally died he shouted, 'The Holy Ones do not dwell in New Ottosland! They are the gods of Kallarap!'

  Lional picked some lint from his knee. 'I see. So what you're saying, and do correct me if I'm wrong, is that you are in a position to dictate to three gods where and upon whom they bestow their favour? Is that what you're saying, Shugat old chap?'

  Shugat's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, spittle flecking his lips. Then he raised his staff overhead and shouted, 'The gods strike you dead, King! The gods smoke your bones and boil your eyeballs in their sockets!'

  Silence. After a moment, Lional raised his eyebrows. 'Oh dear. It appears the gods aren't listening, Shugat. At least not to you.'

  Reg leaned close. 'Now do you agree we should've got while the going was good, sunshine?'

  Gerald nodded, feeling sick. For once I don't care if she does say 'I told you so'. I deserve it. Oh lord, what a mess.

  Prince Nerim was staring at his brother's holy man, the first cracks of doubt showing in his armour of belief. Shugat brandished his staff some more. A short sharp wind swirled around the audience chamber, rattling the chandeliers. 'Blood of the Sultan, you will not heed him. He is a trickster!' he shouted at Nerim. 'A defaulter of debts! Oath-breaker1'. I am the holy man! I speak to the gods!'

  'Well, Nerim, as / understand it,' said Lional into the fraught silence, 'what Shugat actually does is converse with a lump of carved wood that's supposed to represent the gods, more or less, in a rough, pre-modern impressionistic kind of way' His hand drifted to Tavistock's head and rested there, suggestively. 'I have to say / prefer a more — direct — method of communication.'

  Shugat's face suffused with blood. 'These beasts are not our gods!'

  'I never said they were!' Lional protested, wounded innocence incarnate. 'What they are, I believe, are the gods' emissaries. Sent here by the gods themselves to make their wishes known.'

  Gerald bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. His shoulder stung where Reg's claws had pierced his robe, clutching him in shock. She was burbling hysterically under her breath. 'He's mad, lie's mad, he's totally bonkers.. '.

  Shugat scowled, squinting at Reg. 'This bird looks not like Vorsluk. It looks not like any bird I have ever seen.'

  'I'm sure I wouldn't know,' said Lional. 'Not being an expert on birds. But I must say it seems very comfortable, doesn't it, sitting on my wizard's shoulder? You'd think they were old friends.'

  Shugat surged forward and pointed his staff. 'You there. Wizard. You claim friendship of Kallarap's gods?'

  Oh shit. He stared at Lional. Lional stared back. He was smiling with his lips but his eyes were terrible. 'Now, now, Professor. There's no need to be shy,' he said, so eminently reasonable, so deceptively sane. 'Answer the holy man, there's a good fellow. Truthfully, of course. Gods are very particular about truth, I believe. And certainly / don't want you to lie. So. Are you and the bird friends?'

  He had no choice. No choice unless he wanted to start a war right here, right now. Damn damn damn… 'Yes,' he croaked. 'We're friends.'

  Lional jumped to his feet, arms wide. 'And there you have it! Now, Nerim, Shugat, I expect you're wondering what this means. Well, what it means is this. The gods desire New Ottosland and Kallarap to forgive all debts and grievances and henceforth live together as loving brothers!'

  Stony faced, Shugat looked from Lional to Tavistock to Gerald to Reg. 'This is what you say the gods mean. / say they mean for you to pay us all the money you owe and cease your unholy oath-breaking on pain of death!'

  'Oh,' said Lional, disappointed. 'Well. In that case it would seem we've reached what's known as an impasse.' He clapped his hands. 7 know. How about this?' He gazed at the frescoed ceiling. 'Gods of Kallarap hear my plea! If I have wronged you and sinned in your sight, show me your displeasure! Strike dead this bird and this lion in a demonstration of your holy wrath!' Nothing happened.

  Very slowly Nerim turned to the silent holy man. 'Shugat? He has spoken to our gods and our gods have answered him. Yet they did not answer you. How can this be?'

  'It is a trick,' said Shugat. His voice trembled. 'This man is an unbeliever, O Prince. He is not of the Blood or the faith. He cannot have the favour of the Three.'

  'I do not understand,' Nerim whispered. Shatteringly close to tears he retreated, leaving Shugat stranded on the crimson carpet with only his staff for support. Then he looked up at Lional. 'Mine brother the sultan, may he live forever, will want — I must explain — ' He turned again to Shugat. 'Give me your wisdom, holy man! Tell me what to do!'

  Still and silent as stone, Shugat leaned upon his staff like one entranced, blindly staring at the floor.

  With a light-hearted leap, Lional bounded from the dais to rest a hand on Nerim's sagging shoulder. 'I have an idea. Why don't you ask the gods what you should do? I mean, no offence to Shugat, old chap, but everybody knows what happens when you rely on middlemen and start passing messages along. Bits get misheard, or left out or… reinterpreted… and before you know it, what started as "Let's all be friends" becomes "Cut off the infidels' heads" and I don't know about you, Nerim, but / think that's taking paraphrasing just a little too far.'

  Frightened, Nerim stared at
him. 'But the gods never speak to us directly. Only through Shugat, our most revered holy man.'

  'Things change, Nerim,' said Lional, shrugging. 'And we can change with them or we can be left in the dust. I'll bet there are simply dozens of things you've always wanted to ask the great Vorsluk. Now here's your chance. Ask away'.'

  As Nerim dithered, Reg again pressed her beak to Gerald's ear. 'Do something. Stop him before this gets right out of hand!'

  HouP. he wanted to shout. How do you stop a runaway tram? He'd halt time if he could, turn it backwards, undo the damage he'd unwittingly caused, but magic didn't work like that. Or if it did, he didn't know how. Where's Monk Markham when I need him?

  Unmasking Lional was out of the question. Shugat would likely slaughter the king on the spot… a scandal that would make Stuttley's look like a rained-out garden party. But he had to do something. Put on the brakes…?

  'Ah… Your Majesty?' he said. 'Are you quite sure we're worthy of speaking directly to the gods? Perhaps we should all spend a night in prayer and fasting first. The last thing we want to do is offend them with — with — uncleanliness.'

  The look Lional gave him was lethal. 'I hope you're not suggesting the Blood of the Sultan is unworthy, Professor. Or unclean. That might be construed as a grave insult. Prince Nerim might feel compelled to return to Zazoor with a poor report of our meeting. He might even go so far as to beseech the gods to strike us down in retribution!' He turned to Nerim. 'Pay no attention, old chap. My wizard is merely concerned — needlessly, I might add — for your safety. Please.Vorsluk's emissary is waiting.' ' Silence, oath-breaker]'

  Nerim took one look at Shugat and his upraised staff and shrieked, then flung himself face-down on the carpet, hands clapped to his ears. A split second later the audience chamber shuddered as crack after crack of thunder exploded beneath the frescoed ceiling. Two window panes shattered and one of the chandeliers plummetted to the carpet in an explosion of blue diamond splinters. From the crystal in Shugat's upraised hand writhed a white-hot whiplash of light.