Faerie Lord fw-4

by Herbie Brennan

  ‘Can you do it?’ he asked. The question was, of course, rhetorical. Cloud dancers could track down anybody anywhere. And their unique access to the faerie brain made them more efficient at extracting information than a torture chamber. Brimstone’s secrets wouldn’t stand a chance against this thing.

  ‘For the standard fee,’ the cloud dancer told him. The voice was as bizarre as everything else about the creature. It reverberated through the air and through your mind, but not quite synchronised so everything produced a weird mental echo.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Hairstreak said impatiently. Of course for the standard fee. Everybody knew about cloud dancers and their standard fees. It was the one aspect of this transaction he had not been looking forward to. But at least the thing wouldn’t ask for money. Money was in short supply.

  ‘I can do it,’ the cloud dancer confirmed.

  And that seemed to be that. After a moment, Hairstreak said, ‘Well, get on with it.’

  ‘The fee is payable in advance,’ the cloud dancer said.

  There was silence in the little room. The thing remained not quite sitting on the chair, gazing patiently at Hairstreak.

  ‘Oh, very well!’ snapped Hairstreak. He rolled up the left sleeve of his jerkin.

  The cloud dancer floated towards him, curling itself sensuously into a foetal ball.

  Thirty-Six

  ‘What is it?’ Chalkhill gasped.

  ‘You know what it is,’ Brimstone told him shortly.

  That was true enough. Although he’d never seen one before – or imagined he ever would – there was no possibility of a mistake. Chalkhill swallowed painfully. ‘How did you get it?’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ Brimstone said. He walked through the doorway.

  The chamber was lined with lead and the floor sparkled with inlaid quartz. Bowls of rotting offal had been set at the cardinal points. All the same Chalkhill hesitated, ‘Is it safe?’ he called in after Brimstone.

  The man is an idiot. Brimstone thought. But a necessary idiot. ‘Safe as houses,’ he called back. Which was hopefully the truth, otherwise they were both dead and half the country with them.

  Chalkhill approached cautiously, sidling through the doorway like a crab. Not once did he take his eyes off the cage. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘The bars are reinforced titanium,’ Brimstone said. ‘Nothing could break through them.’

  ‘But what about… you know… its powers?’

  ‘The lead should take care of any of that nonsense,’ Brimstone said. ‘Besides, it’s crippled.’

  ‘I thought it looked a bit funny,’ Chalkhill said. He seemed to be getting his nerve back, for he took a step closer to the cage. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘Get it out of here, for one thing,’ Brimstone said. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Hairstreak comes after me.’ He glanced at Chalkhill, who was poking his umbrella through the bars. ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘I thought you and Hairstreak were buddies? Brothers of the Brotherhood and all that?’

  Brimstone snorted. ‘His Lordship only joined the Brotherhood to set up a new power base. What does Hairstreak care about the arcane knowledge? Six months after his initiation he was running the show. That’s what a title does for you.’

  Chalkhill’s nervousness was evaporating quickly. He walked round the cage, examining it from different angles. ‘Where are you going to take it? Somewhere else in the city?’

  Brimstone shook his head. ‘The city’s not safe. I’m not sure anywhere in the Realm is safe. I’m going to move it out of the country.’

  Chalkhill was sinking back into his familiar camp act, for he opened his eyes wide, pursed his lips and said, ‘Wooooo!’ Then he smiled. ‘That’s going to be a very dangerous undertaking. I mean, it would be tricky even if Hairstreak wasn’t after you, but if he is… well, woooo… I can’t think how you’ll manage it.’

  ‘By getting you to help me,’ Brimstone said. It wiped the smile off Chalkhill’s face.

  Thirty-Seven

  ‘You can’t come with me,’ Pyrgus hissed. ‘You can’t! You can’t!’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Blue hissed back fiercely.

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ Pyrgus wailed.

  ‘ Why can’t you tell me?’ Blue demanded.

  ‘Because it mightn’t work out right if I do,’ said Pyrgus desperately.

  Blue was on it like a mosquito. She stared at Pyrgus soberly. ‘What mightn’t work out right?’ she asked. Then, before he could answer, she said, ‘Look, Pyrgus, don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s going on? I don’t care if you don’t want to. I don’t care if you think you shouldn’t for some stupid reason. Because let me tell you this: if you don’t tell me now – tell me everything – about Henry and where he is and why Madame Cardui did what she did and what you’re up to and how it is that I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on – ’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘If you don’t tell me all of it, right now, Pyrgus, you aren’t going anywhere!’

  She was only his little sister. ‘Like you’re going to stop me!’ he snapped back. The minute he spoke, he realised it was a mistake.

  Blue smiled. ‘Oh, I can stop you all right,’ she said sweetly. ‘You always forget you made me Queen because you were too chicken to be Emperor -’

  ‘I wasn’t too – ’ Pyrgus shouted, outraged.

  But Blue was in full swing. ‘And as Queen,’ she said firmly, ‘I can call the guards and have you put in jail. Or I can trigger the Palace securities so any flyer that takes off is blown out of the sky.’

  ‘That won’t do you any good,’ Pyrgus told her furiously, ‘I can take off before the guards get here and the Palace securities won’t blow this flyer out of the sky because you’ll be on board – ’ he made a sarcastic mimic of a high-pitched voice ’ – and you’re Queen.’

  Blue tilted her head upwards and continued calmly. ‘But the real reason I can stop you, the real reason this flyer will not take off until you tell me… is this!’ She opened one slim hand. An obsidian disc the size of a seven-groat piece was nestling in her palm. It writhed and sparkled with spell charges.

  Pyrgus’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s the flyer’s power-pack! How did you get it out?’

  Blue glared at him fiercely, ‘I came here with a wrench!’

  ‘Give it here!’ Pyrgus shouted.

  Blue’s jaw jutted. ‘No!’ she shouted back.

  He hurled himself at her and they wrestled on the floor. He tried to pin her down, but couldn’t. Despite his greater strength, it was like trying to hold an eel. Then she got a hand free and tickled him so he had to hug her arms to make her stop. And after that they rolled about a little more, giggling.

  ‘We haven’t done that since we were children,’ Blue said as he relaxed his grip.

  ‘No, we haven’t,’ Pyrgus said a little breathlessly. He smiled down at her.

  ‘It was like wrestling with Daddy,’ Blue said. ‘You look just like him now.’

  For some reason, it sobered them both and they climbed back to their feet. Blue said, ‘I’m worried about your time fever thing.’

  ‘I know,’ Pyrgus said. He dusted himself down, it’s not fair. I know it’s not fair. Look, I’ll tell you as much as I can – as much as I know. If I do that, will you give me back the power-pack?’

  ‘Yes,’ Blue said.

  ‘And will you let me get on with things without interfering anymore?’

  ‘It depends what you tell me,’ Blue said in the sort of tone that promised nothing.

  ‘All right,’ Pyrgus said. ‘That’s fair enough. When you know what’s going on, you’ll know how important it is that we do things my way.’

  Then he told her.

  Thirty-Eight

  ‘Mr Fogarty saw the future,’ Pyrgus said.

  Blue looked at him blankly.

  ‘Well, remembered it,’ Pyrgus corrected himself.

  Frowning, Blue said slowly, ‘Are we tal
king about his fever?’

  Pyrgus nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what we’re talking about.’ Now he’d decided to tell her – at least tell her some of it – he was feeling an enormous sense of relief. He’d never liked the idea of cutting Blue out of their plans, not least because of the trouble he’d be in when she found out. Besides, she might have some sensible ideas. Light knew they were going to need all the help they could get, even with everything Mr Fogarty told them.

  ‘You can’t remember the future, can you?’ Blue asked.

  ‘No, I -’

  ‘And you’ve had the fever.’

  ‘Yes, but -’

  ‘Then how come the Gatekeeper could?’

  ‘If you’d let me get a word in edgeways, I’d tell you,’ Pyrgus said crossly. He wondered what life would have been like if he’d had a brother. Then he remembered he did have a brother, or a half-brother at least, but that was Comma, who didn’t count. He realised Blue was standing silent for once and went on, it’s different for humans. With me – with us – with faeries – it’s just a blur mostly and even then only snatches of your own future. But Mr Fogarty could see other stuff, things that would happen elsewhere in the Realm. Like a prophet. And when he came out of the fever, he remembered.’

  There was a long silence in the cabin of the flyer. Then Blue said, ‘Oh.’

  ‘What he remembered was Henry finding a cure for the disease.’

  ‘Henry?’

  Pyrgus nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Finding a cure?’

  Pyrgus nodded harder. ‘Yes. Yes!’

  Blue still looked bewildered. ‘Well… that’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Pyrgus said. ‘The trouble is, Mr Fogarty also remembered Henry not finding a cure.’

  ‘This is silly,’ Blue said sharply. ‘You’re making it all up so I -’

  ‘No, I’m not – I swear.’ Pyrgus came across quickly and sat down beside her on the flyer bench. ‘During the first bout of fever he had the first memory – Henry finding a cure. Then he had a second bout very quickly after and this time he came back with a different memory. Henry didn’t find a cure and the disease spread and it killed thousands, Blue – hundreds of thousands. It just about wiped out the Realm.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘He didn’t tell anybody but Madame Cardui and she thought the illness was giving him hallucinations: what he saw wasn’t the future at all. But Mr Fogarty thought the future wasn’t set yet and what he saw were two different possibilities. In one possible future, Henry saved the Realm, in the other one he didn’t.’

  ‘Why didn’t Mr Fogarty -?’ Blue began, then stopped, as the answer to her own question occurred to her.

  Pyrgus said, ‘Mr Fogarty thought that if he risked a few more bouts of fever, he might remember enough details to make sure we reached the right future. That’s why he wouldn’t go back to the Analogue World. He knew that would stop the fever attacks and the rest of us might drift into the future where the Realm was wiped out.’

  Blue was staring at him intently. ‘You mean he sacrificed himself to save the Realm?’

  ‘I don’t think he meant to,’ Pyrgus said. ‘He probably thought he could survive more fever bouts than he did. But – yes. Yes, he did sacrifice himself for the Realm.’

  There was a tiny clock built into the dashboard of the flyer. Blue suddenly realised she could hear it ticking. She licked her lips. ‘Did he…?’

  ‘Remember enough to make sure a cure is found? Sort of…’ Pyrgus said. ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Yes and no – what?’ Blue asked irritably. ‘Are we in the future that has the cure or aren’t we?’

  ‘It depends.’

  Blue closed her eyes the way their mother used to do when she was exasperated beyond measure. ‘On what?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘On whether we do it right,’ Pyrgus said. ‘Mr Fogarty couldn’t see everything all at once. He got a detail here, a detail there. He didn’t find out how to bring about the future with the cure, but he did notice certain things happened in the good future that didn’t happen in the other one. So he had the idea that if we all did the things he’d seen us do in the good future, then that might help bring it about, even if what we were doing had nothing to do with the cure or Henry or anything obvious.’

  ‘That’s why Madame Cynthia used the transport,’ Blue said in an instant of revelation.

  ‘Yes,’ Pyrgus said. ‘We didn’t know how that would make a difference, or even if it definitely would make a difference, but Mr Fogarty saw it happen in the good future, so we thought it best for her to do it.’

  ‘Even though it put Henry’s life at risk,’ Blue said flatly.

  ‘Blue, we had to -’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Blue cut in quickly, ‘I’m not blaming you. It’s just – ’ She shrugged. ‘You know.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Pyrgus said kindly. ‘There was an awful lot of discussion. We all love Henry too, you know.’

  ‘Yes,’ Blue said. She stared at him thoughtfully, her face set. ‘So Madame Cynthia transported him because that’s what Mr Fogarty remembered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re going after him because that’s what Mr Fogarty remembered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So while everybody’s racing round doing what Mr Fogarty remembered, what am I supposed to be doing?’

  Pyrgus licked his lips warily. ‘Actually, Mr Fogarty couldn’t remember you doing anything. I mean, he didn’t say you were just sitting there doing nothing, he didn’t think that. But as I said, he couldn’t remember everything, otherwise we’d all be certain what was going on. And I expect you were doing a whole lot, I mean really contributing, but he just didn’t remember that. For some reason…’ He trailed off lamely.

  Blue opened her mouth to say something, but Pyrgus suddenly got a second wind and said, ‘We talked for ages, all of us, about whether to tell you. I mean, that was really, really important, you being Queen and everything. But eventually we decided it would be better if you didn’t know.’ He saw her expression and his enthusiasm disappeared again, ‘In case you did something you… shouldn’t… do…’

  Blue flipped the obsidian disc into his hand. ‘Start the flyer,’ she said crossly.

  Thirty-Nine

  Henry thought he might be dreaming. His eyes were open, but what he was seeing wasn’t making any sense. The face staring down at him was blue, for cripe’s sake. Blue skin, blue hair, blue eyes. Behind the blue face was a blue-white sky, bleached by the relentless sun.

  Henry closed his eyes and discovered there was water on his lips. It was a marvellous discovery, a truly marvellous, cheer-you-up discovery. He smiled and was still smiling as he sank into the dreamless darkness.

  He woke with a start. He was still lying on the sand, but he seemed a little better. Much of the pain had gone from his arm, although his leg ached through that scary numbness. But the main thing was he felt stronger in himself, as if he’d had an energy shot. And it was night, which meant it was cooler. In fact it was so cool he shivered. He moved his head and discovered someone had lit a fire.

  His energy shot ran out abruptly. (Just moving his head seemed to have done it.) He lay there, breathing heavily and staring out towards the flames.

  He was lying propped against a massive boulder, which wasn’t where he fell. That meant somebody had moved him or moved the boulder and he didn’t think the boulder was so likely. Somebody moved him, then lit a fire, but left him a little way from the fire, underneath the boulder.

  Henry groaned. He wasn’t sure if the groan reached his lips.

  In the firelight he could see he was in a large natural hollow, protected on three sides by rocks. There was no sign of vegetation, nothing to explain where the firewood came from.

  A silhouetted figure passed between him and the fire.

  ‘Nnnnyyyhhh,’ said Henry.

  The figure returned to his field of vision as it trotted towards him. Henry
blinked and the figure resolved itself into a naked boy. His skin looked jet black in the firelight.

  ‘Are you awake?’ the boy asked anxiously. He squatted by Henry’s side.

  Who are you? Henry thought, then discovered his mouth wasn’t working properly as he asked, ‘Oooo or ooo?’

  But the boy understood him somehow. ‘Lorquinianus – Lorquin. Tribe Luchti.’ He held a bulging little leather pouch under Henry’s nose. ‘Do not talk and for Charaxes’ sake do not move. Just drink.’ He placed the pouch to Henry’s lips.

  Henry was expecting water, but the liquid was tart and slightly viscous. It cooled his mouth like menthol, then trickled in a cold stream down his throat. It had to be a stimulant, and a powerful one at that, for he felt his strength beginning to return at once. His breathing eased and his eyes began to focus properly. Lorquin, the boy, looked hardly more than twelve years old, small for his age and very lightly built. There was no way this youngster could have carried Henry on his own.

  Despite the warning not to talk, Henry made a massive effort and said, ‘Hello, Lorquin. I’m Henry.’ Then he drank a little more of the liquid. Lorquin smelled funny, not exactly unpleasant, but a body odour that was… smoky.

  ‘Are you too hot?’ Lorquin asked.

  Henry started to shake his head, thought better of it and simply said, ‘No.’

  ‘Too cold?’

  ‘A little.’ He smiled at the boy. Regardless of who had actually moved him, he felt grateful to this youngster.

  ‘I’ll find something to cover you,’ Lorquin said, ‘I don’t want to move you closer to the fire. I don’t want to move you anywhere more than I can help.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Henry whispered. Even though he was feeling better, he didn’t much want to be moved yet either.