‘Oh no you don’t!’ an angry voice growled.
Kicking and struggling, Pyrgus was dragged back down from the window. The last thing he saw was the cage arcing out over the edge of the roof to drop down towards the ground below.
Pyrgus relaxed. At least the kittens were safe now and the guards would hardly kill him for rescuing a cat. ‘All right, all right!’ he said. ‘I’ll come quietly.’
‘Let’s kill him,’ muttered one of the guards. There were more than a dozen of them milling round. Two had Pyrgus by the arms. A burly man with a sergeant’s insignia on his uniform stepped forward. ‘Yus, let’s kill him!’ he muttered as he punched Pyrgus in the stomach. Pyrgus doubled up and fought to catch his breath.
‘Great idea,’ said one of the men holding him. ‘We could beat him to death and say he was resisting arrest.’ He grabbed a handful of Pyrgus’s hair and jerked him upright. The burly sergeant hit him again.
Pyrgus groaned and the whole hideous scene faded briefly to black. He shook his head fiercely, more aware of a drumming noise than anything else. Then consciousness returned and he realised three guards were now raining punches on his chest and stomach. With his arms still pinned, there was nothing he could do to defend himself. He tried to kick his attackers, but his legs wouldn’t work – he felt they were moving through treacle. His body slumped and the thought occurred that he might really be beaten to death. The guards had the goblin look of Faeries of the Night, like most of Chalkhill and Brimstone’s people. You could never tell how far they’d go.
Pain was flaring through his body and a blood-mist crawled across his eyes before a dark-eyed man in a green captain’s uniform pushed his way through. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded angrily. ‘What do you think you’re doing to that child?’
The guards punching Pyrgus stepped back quickly and the two holding him snapped to attention, dragging him upright as they did so. ‘Nothing, sir. Sorry, sir.’
‘Who is he – one of our workers?’
‘Trespasser and thief, sir – that’s not his coat,’ one guard said smartly. ‘Broke into our factory and stole our cat.’
‘And five glue kittens,’ the second guard put in.
The captain frowned. ‘And you were beating him for that?’
‘No, sir. Not necessarily, sir. He threw them through the window. Poor little things are probably dead by now.’
Poor little things? Even through the haze of pain, it was almost funny. Pyrgus tried to speak, but all that came out was a groan.
‘Shut it, you!’ the guard hissed in his ear.
‘Let go of him!’ the captain ordered coldly.
‘Sir?’
‘You heard me. Let go of him at once!’
The guards released their grip on Pyrgus’s arms and he felt himself slide gratefully down into velvet darkness.
He came to with the captain bending over him, a look of deep concern on his face. ‘Are you all right? For a minute there I thought they’d killed you.’
Pyrgus moved cautiously. The whole of his body ached and burned, but nothing seemed to be broken. He expected he’d be a mass of bruises by the morning. ‘I’m OK,’ he croaked, his voice little more than a whisper.
‘Take your time,’ the captain said. ‘Those idiots beat you badly.’
Pyrgus struggled to sit up. ‘I’m OK,’ he said again and his voice was stronger now. He seemed to be in some sort of poky office, probably the captain’s. The furnishings consisted of a desk, a filing cabinet and a couple of chairs. The woodwork was encrusted with grime, like everywhere else in the factory.
The captain stepped back to give him room and Pyrgus climbed shakily to his feet. But he knew he wasn’t going to stay there. He grabbed one of the chairs and sat down. A wave of nausea swept through him and he ignored the pain in his body to push his head between his legs. When he sat up again, the captain said gently, ‘OK? Better now?’
Pyrgus nodded.
‘I’m Captain Pratellus,’ the captain told him. ‘And the first thing I want to do is apologise for those imbeciles. What they did to you was inexcusable.’
Pyrgus stared at him wearily and said nothing. Captain Pratellus was nearly a head smaller than the guards who’d beaten him and would have been almost handsome if he hadn’t had such really rotten skin.
The look of distress on Pratellus’s face increased. ‘The thing is, you did trespass, so I have to ask you some questions. You understand that, don’t you?’
Pyrgus nodded.
‘Are you OK for that now, or would you like me to wait a little while?’
Pyrgus swallowed. ‘No, it’s OK.’ The sooner this was done with, the sooner he could get out of this lunatic asylum. And see how quickly you can close it down, a voice hissed fiercely in his mind. Now he knew what they did to cats, there was no way he was going to let the factory stand. He’d take his story to the Emperor himself if need be. Chalkhill and Brimstone might have one or two decent employees like the captain, but that still didn’t justify what they were doing. He was astonished they’d been able to keep their treatment of the kittens secret, even if the factory had only been open for a short time. You’d have thought some thing like that was bound to leak out.
‘Well, I suppose I’d better start with your name?’
‘Pyrgus,’ Pyrgus told him. ‘Pyrgus Malvae.’
‘A royal name!’ Pratellus exclaimed. Pyrgus smiled weakly. ‘Well, Pyrgus, I’ll try not to detain you a minute longer than absolutely necessary. Would you like to tell me what you were doing in the factory?’
Pyrgus stared at him for a moment, then decided on the truth. ‘Somebody was chasing me, so I climbed over the gate.’
The look of concern was back on Pratellus’s face. ‘Who was chasing you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Pyrgus said. ‘I think it might have been Black Hairstreak’s men.’
Pratellus sucked breath through his teeth. ‘That degenerate! Yes, well, I could see you’d be advised to keep out of his clutches. So you climbed over the gate?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Crambus, Pyrgus – call me Crambus. I’ve a feeling we might be friends when all this is over.’ Pyrgus nodded. Crambus Pratellus said, ‘You know that was a dangerous thing to do?’
Pyrgus nodded again.‘I do now.’
‘I argued with Mr Brimstone about the extreme security precautions.’ Pratellus threw his eyes briefly upwards. ‘But would he listen? Some day somebody’s going to get killed and then where will we be? But you didn’t get killed?’
‘No, sir – no, I didn’t, Crambus.’
‘And, of course, it might have been far more dangerous to let yourself get caught by Black Hairstreak.’
Pyrgus nodded. That was probably true. Especially when you’d stolen his phoenix. He decided he wouldn’t mention the phoenix to Captain Pratellus.
‘So you weren’t breaking into the factory for anything? It just happened to be your ... escape route.’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the kittens? The guards said you stole kittens.’
Pyrgus hesitated, then said, ‘I didn’t steal them – I rescued them.’
Pratellus sighed. ‘You’re an animal lover. So am I. I hate what they do to cats here.’
‘Then why don’t you stop it?’ Pyrgus asked with sudden passion.
Pratellus spread his hands helplessly. ‘It’s not illegal,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I’ve looked into it and there’s absolutely nothing I can do.’
‘You could tell people!’ Pyrgus said. ‘Once people knew what was going on, they’d put a stop to it!’
Captain Pratellus smiled sadly. ‘I’m afraid people just don’t care. I know this is difficult to accept at your age, but it’s true. Let’s not quarrel – there may be something we can do about the kittens later. I have to make a report, you see. Just for now, would you like me to say you’re a little soft-hearted about cats – lots of young people are – and that was all there was to it really? Boys will be boys s
ort of thing?’
It was probably the best way. Pyrgus nodded gratefully.
Suddenly Captain Pratellus was no longer smiling. ‘You must imagine I’m a total cretin!’ he hissed furiously.
Jasper Chalkhill’s office smelled of perfume. Lush carpet covered the floor and heavy velvet curtains hung from every wall. There were two rare white tiger skins in front of the enormous desk and several works of oriental statuary on display in elaborate crystal cases. But the most exotic thing in the place was Chalkhill himself. He wore a feathered hat and peacock robe with cloth-of-gold slippers. Folds of fat hung from his face and arms.
‘Why, Pratellus, dear Pratellus, what have you brought for me?’ He tripped across the room with remarkable grace for so bulky a man and examined Pyrgus minutely. ‘A boy! How thoughtful, Pratellus, how thoughtful.’ Close up, Pyrgus could see he was wearing rouge.
‘Caught breaking in, Mr Chalkhill,’ Pratellus said ingratiatingly. ‘Stole one of our cats and all her kittens. I suspect he was after – ’ he dropped his voice and glanced behind him before completing the sentence ‘ – the formula.’
Chalkhill looked positively delighted. ‘A thief! A dear little thief! Well, he must be punished, mustn’t he? What shall we do, Pratellus? Shall we beat him? Shall we teach him a stern lesson? Oh, what fun we might have!’ He leaned forward in a perfumed cloud and, for the first time in his life, Pyrgus realised here was a man he would cheerfully use a Halek knife on.
Pyrgus briefly wondered if he should spit in Chalkhill’s eye, but satisfied himself with hissing fiercely, ‘Keep away from me, you smelly tub of lard!’
‘Ooooh,’ said Chalkhill, smiling at Pratellus. ‘What spirit! What ferocity!’
‘He’s bad-tempered all right, Mr Chalkhill. He was beating up my guards when I found him. Heaven knows what damage he might have done if I hadn’t come along.’
Pyrgus gave the captain a filthy look, but said nothing. He was coming to realise the whole of Chalkhill and Brimstone was full of liars.
‘Then you are to be commended, Captain Pratellus,’ Chalkhill said. He smiled at Pyrgus and rainbow sparkles danced across his teeth. ‘Well, now, my little terrier, what are we going to do with you?’
‘You’re going to let me go at once!’ Pyrgus told him. ‘Otherwise my father –’
‘Ah, a father’s boy, is it? I was always much more fond of my mother, but no accounting for taste. I’m afraid I’m not terribly impressed by your father, boy. Big, is he? Bulging muscles? Wooo, I’m so afraid.’ He turned to Pratellus. ‘Now, captain, I assume you questioned him?’
‘Yes, sir, Mr Chalkhill. Sly one, sir – gave nothing away. That’s why I brought him to you. I thought you might like to torture him.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Chalkhill said enthusiastically. ‘I’d like to torture him, all right. But before we go to ... extremes, perhaps I shall ask him some questions myself. I find quite a few people are prepared to chat with me when they refuse to talk to anybody else.’ He turned back to Pyrgus. ‘What makes a dear boy like yourself break into a respectable business premises?’
‘Respectable?’ gasped Pyrgus, sudden anger overcoming a determination to keep silent. ‘What sort of factory drowns kittens in glue?’
Chalkhill’s eyes widened sympathetically. ‘Worried about little kittens, are we? But don’t you realise, my poor child, there are far too many stray cats around the city? Most of them lead dreadfully unhappy lives. Illness ... starvation ... it’s a kindness to kill off a few of them.’
‘And profitable,’ snarled Pyrgus.
‘Nothing wrong with profit,’ Chalkhill told him cheerfully. ‘Young people don’t appreciate these things, but I expect your saintly father would agree with me. Earns a crust, does he? Works for some profitable company?’ He held up a hand. ‘No, spare me the lectures, boy. The captain is quite right. If you won’t tell us why you’re here, we must wring it out of you.’
‘I did tell him why I was here!’ Pyrgus shouted. He wondered if he should make a break for the door. Chalkhill looked too fat to outrun a tortoise, but there was still Pratellus and two guards were stationed outside. ‘I was being chased by some men Lord Hairstreak sent after me!’
‘I can see why you didn’t believe him,’ Chalkhill said to Pratellus. He turned back to Pyrgus. ‘Lord Hairstreak is a friend of mine – a bosom friend. He has much bettter things to do than send his men chasing after young boys. It was Paphia, wasn’t it?’
Pyrgus blinked. ‘Paphia?’
‘Argynnis Paphia,’ Chalkhill spat. ‘He’s had it in for us for years, poor Mr Brimstone and myself. Don’t bother to deny it – I can see the truth in your eyes and I shall have it from your lips, mark my words.’ He placed the back of one hand on his forehead. ‘But I had a broken night. I am much too enervated to torture you myself. Captain Pratellus’
‘Yes, sir?’ said Pratellus eagerly.
‘We will take him to Mr Brimstone, captain. Mr Brimstone’s demons will get it out of him.’
Six
The second person you see ...
Chalkhill was the first – a pity that, in some ways but, as Brimstone swung the door back, an unfamiliar face came into view. It belonged to a boy with red hair wearing the sort of green battle fatigues that were the ridiculous fashion among young people these days. He wasn’t handsome, whatever Chalkhill claimed, but his features were pleasant enough in a disorganised sort of way. Although Brimstone was useless at guessing ages, he couldn’t imagine this lad was much more than fourteen years old.
An interesting sacrifice for Beleth.
That sycophantic idiot Pratellus was standing just behind the boy. Behind them both were two wooden-top guards. Everyone was po-faced except for Chalkhill, who liked showing off his fancy magic teeth.
‘Ah, Silas, my dear fellow, we have need of your little friends.’ Chalkhill bobbed his head, trying to see over Brimstone’s shoulder. Inside the attic room, trapped lightning spat and crackled. ‘Any of them in there? Or have you sent them all back home with your stinky grass?’
‘What’s happening here?’ asked Brimstone. You had to be careful with Chalkhill.
‘What’s happening, Silas, is that Argynnis Paphia has sent this boy to disrupt our latest enterprise. Fortunately Pratellus caught him in the act.’
‘What act?’ Brimstone snapped.
Chalkhill looked taken aback and waved his hands feebly. ‘In the act of ... of ... of disrupting our latest enterprise.’
‘He told you that, did he?’
‘Told me what?’
Brimstone sighed. ‘Told you Argynnis sent him.’
‘No, of course he didn’t, Silas – what a silly-billy boy you are! He denied everything. Of course he denied everything. But that’s where you come in, isn’t it? You and your little friends.’
‘You want me to get the truth from him?’
‘Yes,’ said Chalkhill.
‘Very well,’ Brimstone said. The turn of events suited him down to the ground. This child was the second person he’d seen since he stepped from the circle, so this child must be sacrificed to Beleth. Once Brimstone made the sacrifice, he could always claim the boy died during questioning. Chalkhill would accept that. He was always killing people himself. It was one of the reasons they’d gone into glue – the factory was perfect for disposing with bodies.
Chalkhill blinked. ‘You’ll do it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll turn him over to your little demons?’
Brimstone nodded. Not so little, but ... ‘Yes.’
‘You’ll get them to torture him?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’ll ...’ he licked his lips ‘... they’ll do medical experiments, won’t they?’
Brimstone shrugged. ‘Probably.’ Demons usually did.
‘When do we start? I want to help,’ said Chalkhill.
Damn! He should have seen it coming. The fat fool wanted to get involved. He was always trying to interfere with Brimstone’s demon work. W
ell, Brimstone couldn’t have that, couldn’t have that at all. ‘Won’t do,’ Brimstone said shortly.
Chalkhill looked stricken. ‘Won’t do? Won’t do? Why won’t it do? I must help. Tell him I must help, Pratellus. You shan’t have the boy unless I can help, Silas.’
‘My dear Jasper,’ Brimstone said, trying to put a little warmth into his voice. ‘I wasn’t trying to spoil your fun – surely you know me better than that? No, no, I merely wanted to say we couldn’t begin right away. There are preparations to make. I have to be sure I call up the right demons. What I would suggest,’ he went on easily, ‘is that you leave the boy here with me – Captain Pratellus can stay to see he comes to no harm. You go and have a rest, perhaps have a little drink. Then, when everything’s ready, I’ll send Pratellus to fetch you so you can join the fun. How would that be?’
He held his breath, not altogether sure Chalkhill would go for it. The man might look like a beached whale with the IQ of a lettuce, but he had a certain animal cunning when it came to his pleasures.
Chalkhill was frowning. ‘Pratellus can stay with him?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Of course!’ Brimstone exclaimed.
Chalkhill’s teeth flared and dazzled. ‘Capital!’ he said. ‘Capital! A rest, a drink. And you will send Pratellus to fetch me the minute it’s all ready?’
‘Of course,’ said Brimstone kindly.
‘Then I shall leave my little man in your capable hands!’ Chalkhill exclaimed grandly and swept off down the stairs.
Brimstone dismissed Pratellus and both guards the minute they had the boy tied up securely and deposited inside the circle. None of the three made the slightest protest and Brimstone knew exactly why. Pratellus in particular realised which side his bread was buttered.
He might suck up to Chalkhill for the little favours of his job, but Brimstone was the one with power, even if Chalkhill was the one with money. Brimstone was the one you kept sweet at all costs. He was the one who could fire you, throw you on the rubbish heap. He was the one who could send a demon hunting through your dreams if you irritated him too much.
Faerie Wars Page 5
