...
...which turned into a door, which opened onto an enormous, well-lit, unfurnished chamber decorated in various shades of gold. Head whirling, he stepped over his various bits of luggage and out of the portal.
'Hell's bells,' said Reg, hauling herself back into place on his shoulder.'I
hate
that bloody contraption.'
'My sentiments exactly,' said a coolly familiar voice. 'Good morning, Mister Dunwoody. Or should that be Professor? I confess the niceties of your profession leave me somewhat perplexed.'
Still giddy and somewhat disoriented - he'd never portalled so far in his life - he staggered in a circle until he found the woman attached to the voice.
She was young. Well, youngish. His own age or thereabouts. Vertically challenged, horizontally overcompensated, clad in baggy brown tweed trousers and a plain blue cotton shirt and crowned with a thick braid of rust-red hair that sagged on top of her head like an uncooked doughnut. Her face was round and splattered with freckles, her chin determined, her eyes green and calculating behind wire-rimmed glasses. At her feet languished a long black exclamation mark of a cat, whose eyes were equally green and calculating.
'Bugger,' said Reg.
The cat smiled and licked its lips.
'Now, now, Boris,' said the woman.'Manners.'
'Ah,' Gerald said, standing straighter. 'Princess Melissande?'
She smiled, revealing a hint of teeth.'Correct.'
Really?
This was a
princess?
Granted he'd never been this close to one before, but all the same ... 'I'm sorry,' he said.'I wasn't expecting you to meet me yourself, Your Highness. I thought you'd send a - a - minion.'
'They were all busy,' said the princess. 'Minioning.'Then she sighed. 'Don't tell me, let me guess. You were expecting someone taller, blonder and thinner, yes? Well, it breaks my heart to disappoint you, Mister Professor Dunwoody, but we ran out of that model around here about four generations ago. When it comes to New Ottosland royal princesses, what you see is what you get.' She smiled again, sweetly. 'Deal with it.'
Appalled, he stumbled forward and bowed. 'No - Your Highness - you misunderstand -'
'I expect I don't, you know. But it doesn't matter. I'm more than used to it.' She tipped her head to one side and considered Reg with narrowed eyes. 'That's a most unusual bird you have there, Professor. I don't think I've ever seen one quite like it before. And it talks?'
He spat a silent curse in Reg's direction. 'Ah - yes. She's - she's - a parrot. Very rare. One of a kind, actually. And you know what parrots are for meaningless chatter, Your Highness. 1 strongly suggest you don't take any notice of her. At all. Ever.'
'A parrot?' said the princess thoughtfully. 'Interesting. I was under the impression that parrots are generally noted for the curviness of their beaks and the brightness of their plumage ... but there you are. If you say it's a parrot then by all means. It's a parrot. Does Polly want a cracker, by any chance?'
'Thank you, no,' he said, fingers clamping tight about Reg's uncurved beak. 'And her name's Reg, actually. Not Polly. I'm afraid she's a bit sensitive about -'
'How quaint,' said Princess Melissande. She turned on her heel and headed at a determined rate towards a closed door at the far end of the golden chamber. The long black cat yawned and followed. He stared after her.
'Ah,Your Highness - my luggage -' 'Don't worry, Mister Professor Dunwoody,' said the princess over her shoulder. 'A spare minion will be along presently to see to it. I'd bring my personal effects, though, if I were you. Qualifications and what not. His Majesty might well ask to see them. And if he doesn't I certainly will.'
He turned back, snatched his carpet-bag and hurried to catch up with her.'Actually, just Mister will do, Your Highness. Or Gerald. I'm not really one to stand on ceremony'
'Really?' she said, and spared him another glance.'I am.'
They reached the golden chamber's vast double doors. The princess halted in
...which turned into a door, which opened onto an enormous, well-lit, unfurnished chamber decorated in various shades of gold. Head whirling, he stepped over his various bits of luggage and out of the portal.
'Hell's bells,' said Reg, hauling herself back into place on his shoulder.'I
hate
that bloody contraption.'
'My sentiments exactly,' said a coolly familiar voice. 'Good morning, Mister Dunwoody. Or should that be Professor? I confess the niceties of your profession leave me somewhat perplexed.'
Still giddy and somewhat disoriented - he'd never portalled so far in his life - he staggered in a circle until he found the woman attached to the voice.
She was young. Well, youngish. His own age or thereabouts. Vertically challenged, horizontally overcompensated, clad in baggy brown tweed trousers and a plain blue cotton shirt and crowned with a thick braid of rust-red hair that sagged on top of her head like an uncooked doughnut. Her face was round and splattered with freckles, her chin determined, her eyes green and calculating behind wire-rimmed glasses. At her feet languished a long black exclamation mark of a cat, whose eyes were equally green and calculating.
'Bugger,' said Reg.
The cat smiled and licked its lips.
'Now, now, Boris,' said the woman.'Manners.'
'Ah,' Gerald said, standing straighter. 'Princess Melissande?'
She smiled, revealing a hint of teeth.'Correct.'
Really?
This was a
princess?
Granted he'd never been this close to one before, but all the same ... 'I'm sorry,' he said.'I wasn't expecting you to meet me yourself, Your Highness. I thought you'd send a - a - minion.'
'They were all busy,' said the princess. 'Minioning.'Then she sighed. 'Don't tell me, let me guess. You were expecting someone taller, blonder and thinner, yes? Well, it breaks my heart to disappoint you, Mister Professor Dunwoody, but we ran out of that model around here about four generations ago. When it comes to New Ottosland royal princesses, what you see is what you get.' She smiled again, sweetly. 'Deal with it.'
Appalled, he stumbled forward and bowed. 'No - Your Highness - you misunderstand -'
'I expect I don't, you know. But it doesn't matter. I'm more than used to it.' She tipped her head to one side and considered Reg with narrowed eyes. 'That's a most unusual bird you have there, Professor. I don't think I've ever seen one quite like it before. And it talks?'
He spat a silent curse in Reg's direction. 'Ah - yes. She's - she's - a parrot. Very rare. One of a kind, actually. And you know what parrots are for meaningless chatter, Your Highness. 1 strongly suggest you don't take any notice of her. At all. Ever.'
'A parrot?' said the princess thoughtfully. 'Interesting. I was under the impression that parrots are generally noted for the curviness of their beaks and the brightness of their plumage ... but there you are. If you say it's a parrot then by all means. It's a parrot. Does Polly want a cracker, by any chance?'
'Thank you, no,' he said, fingers clamping tight about Reg's uncurved beak. 'And her name's Reg, actually. Not Polly. I'm afraid she's a bit sensitive about -'
'How quaint,' said Princess Melissande. She turned on her heel and headed at a determined rate towards a closed door at the far end of the golden chamber. The long black cat yawned and followed. He stared after her.
'Ah,Your Highness - my luggage -' 'Don't worry, Mister Professor Dunwoody,' said the princess over her shoulder. 'A spare minion will be along presently to see to it. I'd bring my personal effects, though, if I were you. Qualifications and what not. His Majesty might well ask to see them. And if he doesn't I certainly will.'
He turned back, snatched his carpet-bag and hurried to catch up with her.'Actually, just Mister will do, Your Highness. Or Gerald. I'm not really one to stand on ceremony'
'Really?' she said, and spared him another glance.'I am.'
They reached the golden chamber's vast double doors. The princess halted in
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