A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked - By Magnus Mills Page 0,1

truth,’ I said, ‘I wasn’t really bothered.’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Garganey. ‘Smew is Librarian-in-Chief: he holds no other title. Simply because he’s been here the longest doesn’t authorise him to lord it over the rest of us. We’re all officers of the empire and we’re all equal in the hierarchy. It’s not up to him to conduct cabinet meetings.’

‘Well, hopefully His Majesty will be back next week,’ I ventured. ‘By the way, do we know where he is, exactly?’

‘No,’ said Garganey. ‘The formal explanation is “temporarily absent”, which could of course mean anything.’

While we were talking I spotted Whimbrel go wandering towards the observatory. He’d asked me earlier if I’d like to go up and have a look around the place, so after making my excuses to Garganey I set off in pursuit.

The observatory stood in some parkland at the top of a grassy hill, slightly isolated from the rest of the royal court. The approach was via a long, curving path followed by a steep flight of steps. When I arrived at the door I found Whimbrel fumbling with his keys.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said, as I joined him. ‘Glad you could come. I saw you talking to Garganey but I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘Did you know he was a recent arrival as well?’ I enquired.

‘No, I didn’t,’ answered Whimbrel. ‘That makes three of us then.’

He found the correct key and unlocked the door. Once inside, we climbed an iron staircase until we came at last to a large octagonal room with tall, narrow windows.

‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Welcome to my domain.’

On a table were some huge charts, all lying on top of one another in complete disarray. Closer inspection revealed that they were maps of the stars.

‘These should be useful,’ I remarked.

‘Indeed,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Frankly, I’ve no idea how I’d manage without them. All the stars look identical to me.’

‘I’m sure you’ll learn them after a while,’ I said. ‘Fortunately, they’re all fixed in their constellations, so once you know them you probably won’t forget.’

I went to a window and gazed out.

‘They’re all fixed, are they?’ said Whimbrel. ‘Well, that’s definitely a fact worth knowing. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ I replied. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I come back this evening and we can have a proper look?’

‘If you really don’t mind.’

‘Of course not.’

‘That would be most helpful.’

‘Mind you,’ I said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got a telescope.’

‘Oh, there is a telescope,’ said Whimbrel. ‘It’s up on the roof.’

‘Ah.’

‘Doesn’t work though.’

‘It must do,’ I said. ‘You’re the Astronomer Royal.’

‘I assure you it doesn’t.’

‘Show me.’

‘Very well,’ said Whimbrel, ‘if you insist.’

At the top of the staircase was a ladder that went up through an aperture in the ceiling. Whimbrel led the way and a minute later we opened a tiny door to emerge on to the flat roof of the building. There, perched on a stone pillar, was a telescope. It appeared to be a substantial piece of equipment, housed in a thick metal casing and painted bright blue. When I looked into the eyepiece, however, I could see nothing; nor would the telescope move when I tried to alter its angle. Instead, it remained locked in the same position, aimed at a point somewhere below the horizon. As such, it was entirely unsuitable for the purposes of astronomy.

‘See what I mean?’ said Whimbrel.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Can’t you get anything done about it?’

‘I don’t really know who to ask.’

‘Why don’t you try Dotterel? He’s in charge of all the artisans: he told me that himself. Surely he’ll know what to do.’

‘Good idea. Yes, I’ll have to ask him next time I see him.’

I laid my hand flat on the telescope.

‘This must have had at least ten coats of paint,’ I said.

‘Not recently,’ said Whimbrel.

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘Not recently.’

‘It must be to protect it from the weather.’

We both looked up at the sky, which was pale and colourless. Autumn was clearly drawing near.

‘I wonder what I’m supposed to do on cloudy evenings,’ said Whimbrel. ‘I won’t be able to perform my duties properly if I can’t see anything.’

‘What are your duties,’ I enquired, ‘in a nutshell?’

‘Not sure really,’ he answered. ‘As far as I know there aren’t any definitive rules.’

‘Maybe you’re expected simply to contemplate the firmament,’ I suggested. ‘A sort of celestial night watchman.’

‘You make it sound like a holiday job,’ said Whimbrel.

‘No, no,’ I said, ‘I’m fully aware that we all enjoy highly exalted posts. Some might even call us privileged to be as close as we are