"-Lional dead, Gerald, you'd be the danger. And whoever tried to stop you, well, they'd need to read the Lexicon too. And it wouldn't end there, I promise you that. Say this hypothetical wizard succeeded and managed to kill you. All it means is there'd be another rotten wizard who'd have to die... and so the Lexicon would be used again... and again... and again. Is that what you want, sunshine? Every last good wizard in the world dead because of you?"

His altered face still chalky-white, fired up with an awful, unfamiliar desperation, Gerald turned on her. "What else can I do? The magic I know doesn't have teeth, it doesn't have talons, it can't kill Lional or his damned dragon! I have to use the Lexicon, Reg!"

"No!" Wings wildly flapping she launched herself into the air to hover furiously above him. "I'd rather see you dead-I'd rather kill you myself than see you-"

Now what? With a chill of foreboding, Monk followed interrupted Reg's outraged stare. What the hell? Camels? Were those camels? And those glinting things-were they swords?

"Oh blimey!" Reg groaned. "That's all we need!" Dropping back to the balustrade she glared at Melissande. "Oy! You! Madam-Queen-in-Waiting! Front and center, ducky, New Ottosland's got visitors!"

CHAPTER TWO.

Monk stared at the mighty army of Kallarap, gathered in the grounds of Melissande's palace. Then he glanced at Gerald, unnervingly calm and silent beside him.

"You know-that's a lot of camels."

Perched on Gerald's shoulder, Reg snorted. "And warriors. And swords. And spears."

True. But that wasn't the most disturbing thing. The Kallarapi holy man was making his skin crawl. Power roiled off him like heat from the sun. The sultan was powerful too. An absolute ruler, comfortable with his authority and not afraid to use it. Growing up a Markham meant he could spot the genuine article with both eyes closed.

Be careful, Melissande. If you let them, these men will swallow you alive.

"Don't worry," said Gerald. "She'll be fine."

Melissande-his Melissande-was giving Zazoor a piece of her mind. Small and vulnerable and so very badly dressed, she was staring down Shugat and Zazoor like a warrior queen from the mythic past.

Of course she'll be fine. I'm an idiot to doubt her.

He glanced again at Gerald. "I know. But what about you?"

Pale and tired, Gerald pulled a face. "What about me?"

How could he answer that? What could he say? They needed a bathtub full of brandy and two straws for that conversation. "Gerald..."

"Never mind," said Gerald, so remote. So changed. "It doesn't matter. Now shut up, would you? I want to hear what they're saying."

Yes, well, what they were saying was good old diplomatic double-speak as Melissande, Zazoor and Shugat quickstepped around the mess Melissande's mad brother had made. Like fencers testing for a likely opening, they parried words and dodged lunges and sought for a face-saving way to retreat from the brink.

When they got to the bit about Melissande marrying Zazoor he came damned close to swallowing his tongue.

"Settle down, sunshine," said Reg, leaning close. "Zazoor's safe. Not even the Kallarapi are that desperate."

"Reg!" he said. "How can you-"

And then he forgot what he was going to say, because Zazoor was smiling.

It wasn't a good smile.

"Highness," the sultan said, silky with polite menace. "The payment of debt is a good thing, but Kallarap will not starve without your pennies. I am sent to you by my gods, who would have me speak with you of sacrilege. And treachery. And yes, indeed: of honesty."

Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn.

But before he could leap to the rescue Gerald shoved Reg at him and marched into the fray. "Sultan Zazoor, your quarrel is with me."

"What? What?" Reg thrashed in his grasp, trying to get free. "What is that idiot boy doing now?"

Monk felt an unfamiliar sting in his eyes. Had to clear his throat before he could speak. "What does it look like, Reg? He's being Gerald."

Abruptly still, Reg moaned softly, the smallest sound of distress. "I want to bloody kill that Lional."

"You and me both, ducky," he said, close to snarling. "You and me both."

Heartsick, they watched Gerald throw himself on the mercy of the merciless Kallarapi. Confess his sins and take all the blame, not a word in his own defense, no attempt to explain. "I made the dragon because I'm weak."

"All right, that's it!" Reg shrieked, and in a wild flurry of wings and tail feathers flailed her furious way to Gerald's shoulder. "Weak my granny's bunions! Now you listen to me, Zazoor! If you knew what that bastard Lional did to my Gerald to get that dragon you'd-"

"The bird?" Zazoor said to Shugat.

Shugat nodded. "The bird."

Zazoor considered her. "Not, I think, trained."

"Trained?" screeched Reg. "What do you think I am, a bloody circus act?"

Monk kept out of it. Not even he could defend Gerald the way Reg could. And she was defending him, fearlessly tongue-lashing Zazoor and the holy man. Interestingly they let her, indulging her tirade without interruption. Melissande glanced at him once, eyebrows raised. Should I chime in, do you think? He shook his head. Reg was doing just fine on her own.

But then Shugat climbed down off his camel and pressed his gnarled hand over Gerald's heart. His own heart stopped beating. If this was retribution there was nothing he could do...

It wasn't. With a great burst of light from the crystal in his forehead the Kallarapi holy man stepped back. "The bird does not lie, my sultan. The wizard has suffered. His blood still stinks of foul enchantments."

His heart started beating again and he was able to breathe-until Zazoor's dark gaze stabbed him, one hand beckoning.

Bloody hell. This'll teach me to poke my nose outside R&D.

Zazoor wasn't smiling now. "And who are you? Another wizard?"

"Yes, Magnificence. I'm-"

"A friend," said Gerald, and burned him silent with a look. "Innocent of these doings. He's not to be harmed."

Zazoor almost laughed. "You would stop me?"

"I'd try."

The sultan's flickering glance indicated his army, and Shugat. "You would fail."

Monk held his breath. Was he the only one who could tell just how shaken Gerald really was? How close he'd been pushed to losing his mind?

Back down, mate. Back down. I can take care of myself.

Gerald's attention was focused solely on Zazoor. "Yes. I might fail. But not before I'd tried."

Zazoor laughed. "Holy Shugat. This wizard asks us to help him destroy the dragon. What is our answer?"

As it turned out, not the one they were hoping for. Outright rejection. A refusal of aid. To be honest he wasn't surprised-but Melissande was. She raged, she argued, she threw herself against Kallarap's indifference. Gerald threw himself after her, but it was no use.

"He who made the dragon must now unmake it," Shugat pronounced, eyes rolled to slivered white crescents. "So say The Three, whose words are holy and cannot be denied."

And then Gerald, the mad bastard, the crazy fool, the damned hero, shrugged Reg off his shoulder and dropped to his knees. Offered himself to the Kallarapi in exchange for Melissande's kingdom kept safe.

Holding Reg again, standing with Melissande, the world shifted and smeared as his eyes filled with proud grief.

Bloody hell, Gerald. Oh, bloody bloody hell.

Then two things happened and everything changed. Melissande's loopy brother Rupert burst among them, covered in dead butterflies, making her cry...

... and one of Zazoor's warriors pointed a finger and shouted.

"Draconi! Draconi!"

Lional's dragon was coming, its emerald and crimson savagery blazing in the sun. For a moment, just a moment, Monk found himself transfixed. Damn. That thing's beautiful. And then sanity returned.

Over the Kallarapi hubbub: "Monk-Monk-"

Gerald, tugging on his arm. Tugging him to privacy. Still holding Reg, he wrenched himself away from the glory of the dragon. "What?"

"You've got to get out of here," said Gerald, his voice low and his face worryingly intent. "Take Melissande and Rupert with you. Monk-"

He yanked his arm free. "Forget it. I'm not leaving you here to face that thing on your own!"

Something dreadful shifted behind Gerald's eyes. "Why? Because you don't trust me? Because you think Melissande's right? I broke, so I'm broken?"

The sharp shift in Gerald's expression told him he'd answered before he could speak a word.

Damn. "Gerald-"

With a terrible smile, Gerald shook his head. "Don't. You're probably right. What Lional did to me... what I did..." His lips pressed to a thin line. "It's my mess, Monk. I have to clean it up."

"Yeah, okay, but you don't have to clean it up alone."

"If you prod the Department off its ass I won't be alone, will I?" Then Gerald sighed. "Please, Monk?" He glanced at the royal siblings, who were clutching each other like children. "I can't do this if I'm scared something might happen to them. Or to you."

God. How was he supposed to argue with that? He couldn't. And when Melissande and Rupert tried to argue Gerald froze them with an impedimentia. Then he looked at Reg.

"I want you to go, too."

"What?" the bird squawked. "Don't be ridiculous, Gerald. I'm staying."

But Gerald wouldn't hear of it... and nothing Reg said could change his stubborn mind.

Dry-mouthed, defeated, Monk dragged the portable portal from his pocket, flicked it on and set the destination coordinates. "For the record, mate, I think this is a bad idea."

"Probably." Gerald smiled again. It was still ghastly. "Thanks, Monk."

"Yeah, well, you want to thank me?" he retorted, scowling. "Don't do anything stupid."

Like die. D'you hear me, Gerald? Don't you dare bloody die.

Gerald kissed Reg, handed her over, then stepped back. With a soft whoosh the portal opened. On a deep breath Monk grabbed Melissande's arm, then Rupert's. Reg's claws were sunk deep in his shoulder. For once the bird had nothing to say.

"All right. I'm ready."

The dragon was much closer. They could hear its lazy wings beating the air. The Kallarapi had fallen silent. He couldn't bring himself to look.

"Monk, Reg," said Gerald, so calmly. "Take care of each other-and our royal friends. Don't let them boss you. And Monk?"

Oh God, oh God. Gerald didn't think he was going to survive. The world smeared again. "Yes?"

Another smile, a proper smile. For a moment, a heartbeat, he looked like himself. "Good luck with the princess. You're going to need it."

Then Gerald released the impedimentia... and the portal swallowed them in one gulp.

Zazoor said, "Wizard, that was honorably done."

Light-headed with relief, Gerald stared at the point where the portal had opened, swallowed his friends, then vanished. Whatever life was left to him now, be it hours or minutes or scant swift seconds, at least he could face it with some kind of peace. They were safe.

I failed them in the cave. I let Lional break me. But now I've got a second chance-I won't fail them again.

He turned and looked at Kallarap's sultan. "You think I'm the kind of man who'd let one more innocent life be lost if he could prevent it?"

Shugat fingered his staff. "The kind of man you are is yet to be revealed," he said before Zazoor could reply.

The dragon was almost on top of them now, flames and smoke billowing in its wake. The clear air trembled.

He sneered. "What's that, Shugat? More of your gods' wisdom?"

"Yes."

Damn the holy man and his cryptic utterances. He took a step towards Zazoor. "Magnificence, don't listen to him. That dragon's dangerous, you-"

"Oh look!" cried a lilting voice. "It's a party and we weren't invited. Do you know, we think our feelings are hurt."