A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In

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As the clock struck ten, Smew opened the register.

‘Let us begin,’ he said. ‘Chancellor of the Exchequer?’

‘Present,’ said Brambling.

‘Postmaster General?’

‘Present,’ said Garganey.

‘Astronomer Royal?’

‘Here,’ said Whimbrel.

‘Present,’ said Smew.

‘Present,’ said Whimbrel.

‘Comptroller for the Admiralty?’

‘Present,’ said Sanderling.

‘Surveyor of the Imperial Works?’

‘Present,’ said Dotterel.

‘Pellitory-of-the-Wall?’

‘Present,’ said Wryneck.

‘Principal Composer to the Imperial Court?’

‘Present,’ I said.

‘His Exalted Highness, the Majestic Emperor of the Realms, Dominions, Colonies and Commonwealth of Greater Fallowfields?’

Smew waited but there was no response. We were seated at a round table, with nine chairs spaced evenly apart. One of the chairs was larger and better-upholstered than the others. It was empty. Smew peered at the unoccupied place for a few moments. ‘Absent,’ he said, putting a cross in the register.

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