Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (21 page)

Suddenly the old woman snapped her bony fingers, as though she'd just had a great idea. 'Princess Kerin!' she croaked. 'What a wonderful idea – and what a marvellous birthday treat for her! Leave it me, young master. I'll have a quiet word with her and explain that you need her help. I'm sure that after everything you've done for her, she wouldn't leave you in a fix.'

Sebastian frowned. 'Oh no, but really – the princess? I don't think the king would approve of her being involved.'

'He'll be thrilled. Trust me.' She leaned towards him and fluttered her one good eyelash like a young servant girl, a truly unnerving sight. 'I'll go and speak to her right away. It will be a wonderful illusion. Imagine, Princess Kerin –
dear
Princess Kerin, disappearing in front of everyone!'

'And reappearing,' Sebastian reminded her.

'Yes, yes. His majesty will be delighted!' She hobbled towards the exit, nearly tripping over a scattering of props in her haste to depart. 'I'll arrange to have the cabinet brought to the banqueting hall,' she screeched. 'Till tonight!' And then she was gone. He heard the sounds of her hurrying away through the stables.

He got up off the chest, opened it and started rummaging through the layers of colourful costumes within, looking for the cleanest, smartest outfit he had. When next he looked up, he saw Max's face peering apprehensively in through the doorway.

'Well, thank goodness
she's
gone,' he said. 'Did you ever see a more frightful creature?'

Sebastian gave the buffalope a stern look. 'How many times have I told you not to judge people by the way they look?' he said. 'She was actually rather helpful.'

Max snorted disdainfully. 'A hag like that doesn't go out of her way for anyone unless there's some kind of a trick involved,' he muttered.

'There you go again!' cried Sebastian. 'Hasn't anyone ever told you that beauty is only skin deep?'

'That one has thicker skin than I have,' said Max. 'Oh, come on, I wouldn't trust her any further than I could butt her. It's obvious to anyone that she's a
witch.'

Sebastian was starting to get angry. His nerves were already badly frayed and Max wasn't helping the situation. 'She's not a witch!' he yelled. 'She's just an elderly lady who's trying to be nice. Now, please, if you have nothing good to say, kindly clear off and let me prepare for my act in peace.'

'Whatever happened to your famous elf intuition? Surely one look at her should tell you she—'

But Max didn't finish the sentence. Sebastian had picked up a juggling ball and flung it at his head. It bounced off one of his ears, startling rather than hurting him. But it might as well have been a knife, judging by the wounded look he gave Sebastian.

'Oh well then,' he murmured. 'If that's how you feel about it . . .' He turned and walked slowly away with his nose in the air.

'Max, I didn't mean that,' shouted Sebastian; but the buffalope was gone, and though Sebastian waited for a few moments, expecting him to return, he didn't come back. Sebastian shook his head and went on with the task of selecting a suitable costume. He had enough on his mind, without worrying about a sulky buffalope.

Later, when he passed the stall, he saw that Max was lying on his pile of straw with his head turned resolutely away. Sebastian stood there for a moment, hoping Max would look round and see him. But he appeared to be staring straight ahead with a fierce concentration. Finally Sebastian was moved to speak.

'Aren't you going to wish me luck?' he asked.

There was a long cold silence before Max answered.

'I'm sure you won't need any help from me,' he said. 'After all, what would I know? I'm just a stupid buffalope who thinks the worst of everyone.'

Sebastian stood there for a long, silent moment, wishing that he had hung onto his temper. But time was passing too swiftly and he still had to prepare himself. 'I'm sorry you feel like that,' he said.

He turned and walked quickly away towards the palace.

Walking briskly along with his clean costume draped over one shoulder, Sebastian was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of the figure that was strolling towards him.

It was Cornelius, dressed in the bronze breastplate and magnificent crimson cloak that befitted his new post. Under one chain-mail-clad arm he carried a plumed helmet. He was leading a tiny, dapple grey pony along by its halter. The pony was fitted out with a handsome leather saddle and bridle and was a perfect miniature of a Keladonian warrior's mount.

As he moved closer, Cornelius glanced up and saw Sebastian approaching him. He grinned with evident pride and performed a quick turn so that his friend could better appreciate his new uniform.

'You look magnificent!' said Sebastian. 'That outfit could have been made for you.'

Cornelius chuckled delightedly. 'It was actually made for the seven-year-old nephew of one of the officers,' he said. 'The boy's grown out of it now but the officer thought it should fit me and it does! It's a perfect replica, right down to the last detail.'

'And who's your new friend?'

Cornelius turned back and ruffled the pony's shaggy mane with affection. 'This is Phantom,' he said. 'She was the child's mount, a dwarf species from the plains of Neruvia. She's been languishing in a stall at the royal stables for quite some time and she's positively bursting for a bit of adventure. I've ridden her around the paddock a few times and I think she'll suit me very well. She's sturdy, clever and obedient. Everything a warrior could ask for.'

Sebastian grinned down at his friend. 'It looks as though we've both landed on our feet,' he said.

But Cornelius frowned. 'Perhaps . . . but . . .'

'What?' Sebastian was puzzled. 'You're not happy with the way things have turned out?'

Cornelius sighed. 'Perhaps I have a suspicious nature,' he said, 'but I can't help feeling it's all been a bit too easy.'

'I know what you mean. I keep wanting to pinch myself, make sure that I'm not dreaming. King Septimus has been very welcoming . . .'

'Almost
too
welcoming?' ventured Cornelius.

Sebastian nodded. 'The thought has occurred to me that . . . well, it seems churlish after all he's done, but I can't bring myself to trust him entirely.'

Cornelius nodded. 'He's a man who smiles only with his mouth. The good humour never reaches his eyes.' He waved a hand as though exasperated by his own thoughts. 'As I said, I may be too suspicious. It could be that our apparent good fortune is exactly what it seems.' He nodded at the costume that was slung over Sebastian's shoulder. 'For your debut tonight?'

'Yes. I can't say I'm looking forward to it. I'm counting on you to laugh very loudly at every one of my jokes.'

Cornelius shook his head. 'I'm afraid I won't be there to hear them.'

Sebastian was disappointed at this news, but tried not to let it show in his expression. 'You have . . . other plans?'

'I have my first mission to undertake. I am to journey into Brigandia to deliver a very important package.' He patted a large bulge in one of the saddlebags draped over Phantom's back.

'Brigandia? That's a dangerous place to venture.'

Cornelius shrugged. 'As a member of the Crimson Cloak, I must expect my duties to be hazardous. I didn't join up to sit around twiddling my thumbs.'

'Yes, but, Cornelius, it's your first day! Couldn't they ease you into it a bit more gently?'

Cornelius laughed out loud at that. 'A bodyguard follows his orders without question,' he said. 'It's as simple as that.'

'And what's in this mysterious package?'

'I do not know. I am not permitted to look.'

'But you must wonder.'

'Too much curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Sebastian. And sometimes ignorance can be a blessing.' Cornelius paused and glanced up at the sky, where the sun was already declining towards the horizon. 'I can't stand around here talking,' he said. T have many miles to cover before nightfall.' He reached up, grasped the pommel of the saddle and vaulted nimbly astride Phantom. The little pony reared up, shaking her head, eager to be off. 'Good luck tonight,' he added. 'But I'm sure you won't need it.'

And with that, he squeezed Phantom's flanks with his knees and the pony galloped away across the palace grounds, heading for the main gates. Sebastian stood and watched as the man and his mount disappeared from view round the side of a building.

He felt more nervous than ever. He had somehow imagined that Cornelius would be there to take care of him if it all went wrong. But no, he could expect no help whatsoever from anyone else. It was up to him now.

He turned and hurried on towards the palace.

Back in his chamber, he washed and put on his clean costume, a rather fetching harlequin outfit with striking multi-coloured diamonds all over it, and a brand-new, three-pronged hat. He regarded himself dismally in a full-length mirror, noting that this costume was even baggier on him than the previous one. He struck a few foolish poses in the mirror and pulled several idiotic faces. He had never felt more nervous in his entire life and he wished that Cornelius – and yes, even Max – could be there to watch his performance. But Cornelius would be well on his way to Brigandia by now and there wasn't the faintest chance that a buffalope would be allowed into the palace's grand banqueting hall.

He went over to the window and peered out anxiously. Darkness had already fallen and in the cloud-tumbled sky he could discern no trace of stars. He walked back to the mirror and studied his reflection again. He tried telling himself a joke, but even without an audience he couldn't seem to get the words to come out right.

'There are two merchants working to market . . . I mean, two merchants walking to market. No, that's ecological! Merchants would never walk when they can run – I mean, ride. So they were riding to market. And one of them shed – one of them said, "How far have we troubled? Er . . . travelled!" And the other one fled . . . er . . . sped . . . er – oh, botheration!'

He wondered what his chances were of getting out of the city unseen and heading back to Jerabim. But he was sure that Max would take a very dim view of that idea. What, leave the luxury of the royal stables after just one day of taking it easy? No, there was no way out of this. He would simply have to go down there and face his fears . . .

There was a sudden knock on the door that nearly made him jump clear out of his skin. 'Yes?' he gasped.

The door creaked open and there was the hideous face of Magda peering in at him.

'The young master is ready?' she asked, in that wheedling croak that he was already beginning to dislike.

'As ready as I'll ever be,' he muttered.