queen, is shortly to be returned to us, safe and well, on this most special of days . . . her birthday. We will meet them in the courtyard with all due pomp and ceremony. Now I must away to my chambers to, er . . . umm . . . dress for the occasion!'
He strode back, stepping on the messenger's other hand as he passed. He swept up the marble staircase and was aware of Malthus trailing along in his wake. He turned and glared at the man. 'What do you want?' he snapped.
'Umm . . . I come to attend your royal highness,' said Malthus. 'To prepare you for—'
'I'm a big boy now, Malthus. I'll see to myself.' He started away, but then paused as a thought occurred to him. 'The soldier who just brought the message . . ,'
'Yes, sire?'
'I think he should be rewarded for bearing such good tidings, don't you? See that he's promoted to the rank of Captain. With immediate effect.'
'Very well, sire.'
'And send him to join our expeditionary forces in the swamps of Dysenterium.'
'Er . . . but, your majesty, that's hardly . . .'
'Hmm?'
Malthus swallowed hard. He knew well enough that King Septimus was not a person who tolerated having his decisions questioned.
'That's actually very convenient,' said Malthus brightly. 'I understand that the last captain just died of some festering infection in his guts.' He turned away and went back down the stairs to break the good news to the messenger, who was kneeling below, whimpering in pain as he inspected the crushed and broken fingers of his hands.
Septimus meanwhile had a pressing engagement. He reached the top landing, and instead of turning right for his chambers, he headed left into a rarely used part of the palace. He strode along a dimly lit corridor looking for Magda.
He found her in her chamber, leaning over a table, pouring some foul mixture into a receptacle made from an upturned human skull. She was intent on her work and Septimus was in no mood for niceties, so by way of greeting he launched a kick at her skinny backside, sending her tumbling across the table and scattering her latest experiment all over the floor.
She turned like a beast at bay, an expression of anger on her wizened old face, her one good eye glittering with malice as she bared the few brown stumps of teeth left in her mouth. She lifted a gnarled, liver-spotted hand to make a hex sign at her assailant. Then she recognized who had just kicked her and all the malice went out of her in an instant. She attempted an unconvincing smile. 'Your majesty,' she croaked. 'This is an . . . unexpected pleasure.'
'The pleasure is all yours,' he assured her, leaning across the table and fixing her with a look of profound anger. 'You stupid malodorous old hag! I've just spoken with a messenger. Princess Kerin lives!'
'Ah.' Magda could not conceal a look of dismay. 'He is sure?'
'Positive. It seems she survived the attack by Brigands and a later one by a pack of lupers, all thanks to the intervention of two travellers.'
'Travellers?' Magda sniffed suspiciously. 'What travellers?'
'How should I know? Two super-warriors, by the sound of it. Two interfering nit-wits.' He paced around for a moment in silent agitation. T take it you had no hand in the business with the lupers?'
'No. Not a bad idea, though. Wish I'd thought of it.'
'Well, it would have been to no avail, thanks to these two meddling do-gooders, who no doubt I will now have to welcome with open arms. Oh, it makes me want to vomit! All that time in preparation! Trust me, you said. It can't fail, your majesty! Well, it did fail, and I'm no closer to getting rid of my one rival for the throne! I should have followed my instincts and had her killed here in the palace.'
'But, my lord, that would have been a terrible mistake. Never forget that she is the people's princess. They love her. The slightest indication of anything nefarious and they would rise against you!'
Septimus sighed. She was right, of
He strode back, stepping on the messenger's other hand as he passed. He swept up the marble staircase and was aware of Malthus trailing along in his wake. He turned and glared at the man. 'What do you want?' he snapped.
'Umm . . . I come to attend your royal highness,' said Malthus. 'To prepare you for—'
'I'm a big boy now, Malthus. I'll see to myself.' He started away, but then paused as a thought occurred to him. 'The soldier who just brought the message . . ,'
'Yes, sire?'
'I think he should be rewarded for bearing such good tidings, don't you? See that he's promoted to the rank of Captain. With immediate effect.'
'Very well, sire.'
'And send him to join our expeditionary forces in the swamps of Dysenterium.'
'Er . . . but, your majesty, that's hardly . . .'
'Hmm?'
Malthus swallowed hard. He knew well enough that King Septimus was not a person who tolerated having his decisions questioned.
'That's actually very convenient,' said Malthus brightly. 'I understand that the last captain just died of some festering infection in his guts.' He turned away and went back down the stairs to break the good news to the messenger, who was kneeling below, whimpering in pain as he inspected the crushed and broken fingers of his hands.
Septimus meanwhile had a pressing engagement. He reached the top landing, and instead of turning right for his chambers, he headed left into a rarely used part of the palace. He strode along a dimly lit corridor looking for Magda.
He found her in her chamber, leaning over a table, pouring some foul mixture into a receptacle made from an upturned human skull. She was intent on her work and Septimus was in no mood for niceties, so by way of greeting he launched a kick at her skinny backside, sending her tumbling across the table and scattering her latest experiment all over the floor.
She turned like a beast at bay, an expression of anger on her wizened old face, her one good eye glittering with malice as she bared the few brown stumps of teeth left in her mouth. She lifted a gnarled, liver-spotted hand to make a hex sign at her assailant. Then she recognized who had just kicked her and all the malice went out of her in an instant. She attempted an unconvincing smile. 'Your majesty,' she croaked. 'This is an . . . unexpected pleasure.'
'The pleasure is all yours,' he assured her, leaning across the table and fixing her with a look of profound anger. 'You stupid malodorous old hag! I've just spoken with a messenger. Princess Kerin lives!'
'Ah.' Magda could not conceal a look of dismay. 'He is sure?'
'Positive. It seems she survived the attack by Brigands and a later one by a pack of lupers, all thanks to the intervention of two travellers.'
'Travellers?' Magda sniffed suspiciously. 'What travellers?'
'How should I know? Two super-warriors, by the sound of it. Two interfering nit-wits.' He paced around for a moment in silent agitation. T take it you had no hand in the business with the lupers?'
'No. Not a bad idea, though. Wish I'd thought of it.'
'Well, it would have been to no avail, thanks to these two meddling do-gooders, who no doubt I will now have to welcome with open arms. Oh, it makes me want to vomit! All that time in preparation! Trust me, you said. It can't fail, your majesty! Well, it did fail, and I'm no closer to getting rid of my one rival for the throne! I should have followed my instincts and had her killed here in the palace.'
'But, my lord, that would have been a terrible mistake. Never forget that she is the people's princess. They love her. The slightest indication of anything nefarious and they would rise against you!'
Septimus sighed. She was right, of
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