Madame Cardui opened her eyes. ‘The Forest Faerie are our friends,’ she said gently. ‘I’m certain they might be persuaded to help us again.’
Blue admired Madame Cardui hugely, but she fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘The Forest Faerie are your friends,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s not the same thing. When they helped us before, their own interests were involved. We can’t be sure they’ll help us again.’
Madame Cardui nodded mildly and closed her eyes again. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Majesty.’
Blue turned back to the others. ‘Now look at what’s happened the way a Faerie of the Night would. The Purple Emperor was killed. The new Purple Emperor abdicated. Now there’s a child on the throne. And a girl-child at that!’
Suddenly everybody was talking at once. Even Madame Cardui opened her eyes again.
Blue held up a hand for silence. ‘Look at it!’ she said fiercely. ‘I’m only just sixteen years old. I have no experience of politics or fighting wars or anything like that. And I’m a girl. It’s only because my brother didn’t want the throne that I’m here now. I’d never have become Queen. I was supposed to grow up quietly and marry some foreign prince and give him lots of stupid babies. I wasn’t supposed to know about affairs of State. I was supposed to look pretty and get on with it. That’s how my father saw me. That’s how my uncle sees me. That’s how I’m seen by the Faeries of the Night.’
Gatekeeper Fogarty spoke for the first time since the meeting began. ‘She’s right,’ he said.
Blue glanced at him gratefully. ‘Put yourself in their place. Your enemy has already been weakened and is now being led by a child who knows nothing about anything. Can you think of a better time to attack?’
Fogarty said stonily, ‘So what’s your solution?’
This was it. Despite his question, Mr Fogarty knew where she was heading. It was time the others did the same.
‘I told you my solution before we started this meeting, Gatekeeper. We attack first.’
General Ovard choked, then rounded on her apoplectically. ‘That will start a civil war!’
Blue took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she said.
There was a long silence, which General Vanelke eventually broke. He was the oldest of the three Generals, a veteran of several campaigns and usually the first to voice an opinion. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this meeting, but now he cleared his throat.
‘You are a child, Majesty,’ he said bluntly. ‘If we’re honest, we all have to acknowledge that, and it’s the job of older heads to guide you where we can. But far more important is the fact you’ve never seen a war. The first Nighter action was halted before it really got under way. The second was an act of treachery that produced one small battle. Neither time came to war. But it’s war you’re proposing now, Majesty.’
Watching him, Blue nodded. ‘Yes. Your point being, General Vanelke?’
‘My point,’ said the old General soberly, ‘is that those who have never experienced war are often fastest to go to war. They simply don’t appreciate the enormity of the step.’ He leaned forward. ‘Let me explain to you, Majesty, what war – and especially civil war – will mean to the Realm. First and foremost, it will mean death. Not hundreds, but thousands, perhaps even millions would lose their lives. And not the old and the useless, but the youngest and finest, the very flower of our Realm, with the greatest potential and the very best of their lives ahead of them. The loss of just one such would be a tragedy. War multiplies that tragedy beyond calculation.’
Blue made to comment, but he held her with his eyes and pressed on. ‘Secondly, there will be pain. To you, Majesty, war is a decision, a stroke of the pen. To others, it may be the loss of their arms or legs, blindness, disability. And not just your soldiers, Majesty. They’re arguably paid to accept such risks. But civilians will suffer too. In any civil war, civilian casualties are always enormous.
‘Then there will be destruction. Even a short, decisive war – which civil wars seldom are – causes widespread destruction. Weapon spells have reached formidable proportions nowadays. Our enemy is well-equipped. Are you ready to inflict such spells on your people? Are you ready to count the cost that will be paid by future generations?’ He squared his shoulders. ‘And finally,’ he said, ‘although you may consider this treasonable, there is the possibility that we will not win.’
Blue said quietly, ‘Our cause is just, General.’ She knew what he said was true, every word of it, but what if the choice wasn’t between war and peace? What if it was a choice between war and a greater war, a longer war, an even more bloody war? Although she fought hard to show nothing of her feelings, Blue was terrified. She’d thought long and hard about what she was going to do. She was certain – fairly certain – it was the right thing. But she was terrified it might not be. General Vanelke, if he only knew it, was voicing every doubt she had.
‘Justice has nothing to do with it,’ he went on relentlessly. ‘God sides with the strong and the victor writes the history books. You talked a moment ago about the Feral Faerie as possible allies – or at least the Painted Lady did. The Faeries of the Night have their own powerful allies – the demon hordes of Hael. The portals may be closed now, but war would produce an enormous incentive to get them open again. And when they open, we may find we have bitten off far more than we can chew.’
Which was true as well. The fact that the Hael portals were closed had been a big factor in her decision. But like Vanelke she knew they might not stay closed for ever. Everything depended on how fast they moved, how fast they won. Blue suddenly felt very old. Before she became Empress, it had all seemed so very simple. You had the Realm and you ruled it – what could be simpler? But once the crown was on her head, it all became so complicated.
‘The problem, General Vanelke,’ she said patiently, ‘is that you talk as if it’s a choice between war and peace. But I don’t believe that’s the choice we face. I believe my uncle will very soon decide to begin a war himself and we shall face all the horrors you describe and worse, with two added disadvantages: we won’t be prepared and we’ll have lost the element of surprise. At least if we strike first, we may get a quick victory and reduce the horrors to a minimum.’
‘Perhaps we can avoid the horrors altogether,’ a new voice interrupted.
Fifteen
‘Where were you?’ Blue asked crossly. They’d left the others in the little conservatory and were crouched together in one of the security cubicles behind the main throne.
Pyrgus said accusingly, ‘You set your guards on me!’
‘What else was I supposed to do?’ Blue hissed furiously. ‘I sent you two messages and you ignored them.’
‘Yes, well, your little army got itself hijacked, didn’t it?’
Blue stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Your guards. They got themselves hijacked. Where do you think I’ve been all this time?’
‘That’s what I just asked you,’ Blue pointed out, exasperated.
‘I’ve been with Uncle Hairstreak,’ Pyrgus said. And that shut her up, he noted with satisfaction.
But after a moment she said, ‘Hairstreak kidnapped you?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘You’re infuriating in this mood, Pyrgus. What do you mean “in a manner of speaking”?’
Pyrgus decided he’d had enough fun. ‘He put a lien on your Guard Captain. Poor fellow took me directly to him instead of you.’
‘What about the other guards?’
‘They followed orders.’
Blue stared at him thoughtfully. A lien was a very costly spell, even for somebody with Hairstreak’s wealth. He’d clearly wanted to get his hands on Pyrgus very badly.
‘Tell me the worst,’ she said.
‘Actually …’ Pyrgus said, ‘it may not be the worst. That’s why I wanted to talk to you away from the others. He’s sent you a message.’
‘About what?”
Pyrgus, who was really getting a bit too tall for
the security cubicle, slid down until he was squatting comfortably on the floor. After a tiny hesitation, Blue joined him. It was the sort of huddle they used to get into as children, when life was far less complicated.
‘I don’t know whether I believe it,’ Pyrgus said quietly, ‘but this is what happened …’
Pyrgus still had his halek blade and was wondering about the political repercussions of using it on his uncle. But the very fact he still had his halek blade was peculiar. The manor was crawling with Hairstreak’s men, yet he hadn’t been searched once. That was not at all like Hairstreak, who was only alive today because he took security seriously.
For the moment, Pyrgus decided to keep his hands by his sides and wait. Hairstreak said shortly, ‘Refreshment? Ordle, or something of that sort? Or would you prefer a drink? I suppose you’re old enough for ale now, are you?’
Pyrgus thought he was, but you needed a clear head. Food held no appeal either. It was almost traditional to poison ordle when you wanted to get rid of an enemy. Four Purple Emperors had died that way in the past five hundred years. Pyrgus had been poisoned once already and had no wish to repeat the experience.
‘No, thank you,’ he said coolly.
They were standing together in what looked like a smallish dining room. There were logs burning in the grate and the smell reminded Pyrgus of the forest. Hairstreak had his back to the fire, an old trick to throw himself into silhouette and make him look threatening. But he made no attempt to sound threatening as he said, ‘I suppose I should say I’m sorry to bring you here like this.’
It was the first time Pyrgus had heard Lord Hairstreak apologise for anything. He waited.
Hairstreak said, ‘I should be talking to your sister, but she won’t see me and, quite frankly, she’s not as easy to get hold of as you are.’ He contorted his face into what he probably thought was an avuncular smile. ‘You really should pay more attention to your safety, Pyrgus.’
Pyrgus watched him, idly wondering if his uncle shouldn’t take his own advice. Three steps, four at the most, and he could have the halek buried in his stomach. If it didn’t shatter, that was that. Lord Hairstreak would be dead and the Realm would have one less problem. But it was only a very idle speculation at this stage. He waited.
Hairstreak said, ‘In any case, I want you to deliver a message to your sister.’
It occurred to Pyrgus that his sister might be wondering where he’d got to. The longer he stayed with Lord Hairstreak the more worried she was likely to get. Worried and irritated. He could live with worried, which was fun when it came to your sister. But she could get very stroppy when she was irritated.
‘What’s the message?’ he asked brusquely.
‘That the Faeries of the Nightside wish to negotiate,’ Hairstreak said.
‘Negotiate what?’ Blue asked.
‘A new relationship,’ Pyrgus said.
Sixteen
Henry opened his eyes to find he was back on the road.
It wasn’t dark any longer, it was full daylight. He looked around, wondering how that had happened. The last thing he remembered, he’d been walking home late at night after spending time with Charlie. He’d stepped on to the verge to let a car go past and suddenly the car headlights blended into daylight. Which didn’t seem possible, yet here he was.
But where was here?
He looked around again. The road he was on seemed way out in the country. It meandered through a patchwork of small fields that didn’t look at all familiar.
The sun was shining.
How did he get here? Clearly he’d walked all the way past the turning to his home and out into the country. The spooky thing – the frightening thing if he was honest – was that he’d forgotten everything between the car approaching and now. That couldn’t be good. That had to be brain damage or something. Maybe the car hit him.
Henry stopped and cautiously felt himself all over. Nothing seemed to be broken and there was no sign of blood. All the same, a really bad jolt could affect your memory. He was fairly sure he’d heard about boxers going a bit funny after they’d been battered around the head. They got punchy and talked to themselves and probably couldn’t remember things.
The problem was he didn’t hurt. Not about the head and not anywhere. The side of his nose was a bit itchy, but that wasn’t something you’d get from a car knocking you down and mangling your head.
Where was he anyway? There was a wall coming up and a sign that said Stud Farm. There were stud farms in the district, but none of them particularly close to where he lived. When he walked past his turning, he’d obviously kept walking. And walking. And walking …
It was peculiar his legs didn’t hurt. He’d been walking all night.
The fear Henry felt sank to the level of a background ache. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how he’d got here. Without very much emotion he realised he was going batty. He had to be going batty. First he saw fairies, then he got lost.
He turned round and started to walk back in what he hoped was the direction of home.
Seventeen
‘What sort of new relationship?’ asked Mr Fogarty suspiciously.
Blue looked at Pyrgus who said, ‘Lord Hairstreak thinks it would be in everybody’s interests if the Faeries of the Night and the Faeries of the Light signed a non-aggression treaty.’
Everyone in the room looked at each other. Most showed shock, with a liberal sprinkling of disbelief. After a moment …
‘On what terms?’ asked General Vanelke.
Pyrgus still wasn’t sure how he felt about any of this. He mistrusted his uncle almost as much as Blue did, and the ease with which Hairstreak had snatched him left him more shaken than he was admitting. He shrugged.
‘Basically each side agrees not to go to war with the other. If there are disputes, we settle them by negotiation or arbitration. He says the details can be worked out later, but if we agree the principle now it could open up a whole new era of cooperation that would benefit both sides and put our historic disagreements behind us. His words. More or less exactly.’
Fogarty said, ‘Do you believe him?’
Tricky question. Nobody in their right mind would trust Lord Hairstreak further than a perin’s spit. But at the same time he’d seemed genuine. Pyrgus shrugged again.
‘I tell the tale as told to me.’
‘What’s your opinion, Gatekeeper?’ Blue asked.
‘I’d want to think about it,’ Fogarty sniffed. Then added, ‘But as a general principle, I wouldn’t trust Lord Hairstreak as far as I could throw a sack of dog crap.’
Pyrgus glanced at him in admiration. Analogue World similes always seemed a lot more colourful than the ones used in the Realm.
‘I think we should talk to Lord Hairstreak,’ General Vanelke said, unasked. He glared at Fogarty. ‘As a general principle, I believe talking is preferable to war.’
‘General Creerful?’ Blue asked.
‘On balance, I agree with Vanelke. What harm would talking do? Both sides could take endolgs as a token of good faith.’
The idea appealed to Pyrgus, who liked animals. ‘Henry’s endolg’s still in the palace, isn’t he?’ he asked Blue. ‘The one you made a chevalier?’
‘I’m not convinced I should meet with my uncle,’ Blue said, ignoring him.
General Ovard said, ‘The details would be worked out by civil servants on both sides. You wouldn’t have to be involved until the formal signing.’
‘Assuming there is a signing,’ Madame Cardui murmured lazily.
‘So you’re also in favour of talks?’ Blue asked, looking at General Ovard.
Ovard nodded. ‘Yes.’
Blue took in the sober faces. They were all so mature, so experienced. Even Pyrgus was older than she was. Talks seemed reasonable. But suppose it was a trick? Hairstreak was capable of any deception. Her whole instinct told her not to trust him. Yet all three of her military leaders were agreed there should be talks.
In that
instant, Blue suddenly saw her life as it might have been. If her father had lived, or Pyrgus accepted the throne, she’d have none of these worries now. She’d have time for the things she really enjoyed. She was a girl, for Light’s sake. She should be thinking about clothes and music and seeing the world. She should be thinking about romance. She should be thinking about … Henry. It was brutal that she should be facing life and death decisions about the future of the Realm.
Brutal or not, the life she was leading now was the life she’d chosen.
After a moment, she said, ‘Thank you, Generals. I should like to discuss the matter further with my political advisors. I’ll speak to you again when a decision has been made.’ There was not a flicker of expression on her face as she added, ‘In the meantime, I want you to make preparations for a military strike against Yammeth Cretch.’
Eighteen
Once the three old soldiers had left, Fogarty said, ‘So you don’t buy the idea of a treaty?’ He gave a steely little smile. ‘Obviously.’
Blue sighed. When the Generals were present, the meeting had to be formal. Now she was among friends, she could relax a bit. She looked at Gatekeeper Fogarty and shook her head.
‘I think it’s a trick. Or at least it might be.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Pyrgus examining an orchid. He looked just like their father when he’d tended the plants.
‘What do you think he’s up to?’ Fogarty asked her.
Blue didn’t know what Hairstreak was up to. Didn’t know for sure he was up to anything. What she did know was that she was afraid of making a mistake. That sick fear had been with her since the day she accepted the crown.
‘Buying time,’ Blue said with more conviction than she felt. ‘I still think he’s likely to attack before I’ve any real experience of ruling the Realm. But he may not be ready yet. Either that, or he just wants to keep us off our guard. If we’re in the middle of peace negotiations, the last thing we’d expect would be war.’
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