It was too. She should have thought of asking Hairstreak that anyway. How much backing did he have? It was one thing for Hairstreak to say he was ready to negotiate, but even if he was genuine, what good was that if the Nighter Great Houses didn’t back him? Of course she’d have to ask him that. And it was sensitive enough for her to want to ask personally. Good old Flapwazzle!
An alarm sounded in the confines of the flyer’s cabin and a red light began to pulse on the display in front of her.
‘What is it now?’ Blue asked tiredly. Probably another complaint that they were flying too slow or too low or too high.
‘We have been targeted by ground-based missiles,’ said the spell-driven voice of the flyer.
Thirty-two
It must be love, Pyrgus thought. That was the only thing could have changed Henry from the quiet, reserved boy Pyrgus knew to this take-charge character who snapped out crisp orders and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was Henry who organised the mission, Henry who drew up the plan, Henry who commandeered transport, Henry who led the three of them – Madame Cardui had insisted Kitterick go too – out of the Purple Palace.
‘What do we do now?’ Pyrgus asked.
They were hidden in some bushes, staring at the gateway to Lord Hairstreak’s estate, which, surprisingly, was standing open and unguarded. Their transport, an unmarked delivery cart souped up with a turbo-charged spell drive, was parked around the corner looking innocent. A far cry from a personal flyer, Pyrgus thought sourly.
‘May I suggest, gentlemen,’ Kitterick put in, ‘that it might be prudent to spend a moment reviewing the situation.’
Pyrgus glanced at the Trinian. It was probably good advice. ‘All right by me,’ he said, then glanced warily at Henry.
Henry seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. His face had taken on that granite cast you saw in Mr Fogarty. ‘We know Blue was headed towards Lord Hairstreak’s mansion,’ he said quietly, ‘but we don’t know whether she’s got there.’
‘Although it would seem very likely,’ Pyrgus said, then added, ‘Especially since she’s travelling in a personal flyer.’
‘If I might express an opinion, Crown Prince, Iron Prominent,’ Kitterick said, ‘I think we may take it that Her Majesty has arrived, for good or ill, at Lord Hairstreak’s residence.’
‘Our job is to save her,’ Henry said.
‘Our job’s nothing of the sort,’ Pyrgus said. ‘At least not yet.’ What was wrong with Henry? Blue – or anything to do with Blue – seemed to unhinge him completely. ‘Our job’s to make sure she’s all right, hopefully without causing a diplomatic incident. And if she’s all right, we leave her to it.’
‘Our job is to save her,’ Henry repeated as if Pyrgus hadn’t spoken.
‘Well, possibly,’ Pyrgus said irritably. He was all for saving his sister, but since his father died he was beginning to appreciate that life wasn’t all black and white. In the old days, he would have stormed in, just like the new, improved Henry. Now he could see that it wouldn’t do anybody any good if they stormed in and Hairstreak killed them. Or, maybe even worse for the Realm, captured them. But it wasn’t just a question of calling in the troops either – that would probably result in the civil war everybody was trying to avoid. On balance he favoured caution, combined with a sneaky approach.
‘I note, sirs, that the gate is wide open and the estate appears to be unguarded,’ Kitterick said.
Pyrgus turned to him frowning. ‘What would you deduce from that, Kitterick?’
‘From our knowledge of Lord Hairstreak, I would say that appearances may be deceptive.’
‘There’ll be guards,’ Henry predicted grimly. ‘Just maybe not at the gate.’
‘So do we go in or what?’ asked Pyrgus.
‘We go in,’ said Henry firmly. ‘Cautiously and stealthily, hiding in the bushes. We creep up to the house and peer through the windows until we find Blue. If there’s the slightest hint of danger, we attack. We will succeed due to the element of surprise. Once we have her safe, you can flatten the whole place the way you flattened that glue factory. Spell bombs or whatever it was.’
‘Alternatively, sir, we could simply walk down the avenue.’
They both turned to look at him.
Kitterick said, ‘It might be argued that we are all here in a precautionary capacity. On the face of things, Her Majesty seems to have embarked on a diplomatic mission. We have – as yet – no reason to believe she is in any degree of personal peril. Should we approach covertly, and be discovered, Lord Hairstreak might appear justified in claiming we were engaged in espionage. On the other hand, an open approach has the benefit of complete transparency. If we are halted by guards – as I assume we will be at some point – we simply say we are a part of Her Majesty’s retinue. We will then be escorted to the mansion where we can easily determine Lord Hairstreak’s attitude towards the whole business. If we are not – halted by guards, that is – then we present ourselves at the front door and request audience with His Lordship and Her Majesty. Either way, we avoid all possibility of a diplomatic incident, show solidarity with Her Majesty, remain on hand to protect her physically, should that need arise, and simultaneously send a clear message to Lord Hairstreak that Her Majesty’s whereabouts are known and any action he might be tempted to take against her would have … consequences. Thus it would seem that walking down the avenue appears to be the most fruitful course of action.’
After a moment, Pyrgus shook his head. ‘Oh, no, that’s rubbish.’
Henry said, ‘Complete nonsense. Wouldn’t entertain it.’
They were creeping through the bushes when the first of Hairstreak’s trackers took out Pyrgus.
Thirty-three
Hairstreak eased his thumb back off the red button. ‘That flyer is showing the royal crest,’ he murmured, as much to himself as Pelidne.
‘Are we expecting an emissary from the palace?’ Pelidne asked.
‘No, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t sent one.’
‘What are your orders, sir?’
Hairstreak pulled off his goggles. There was a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘Standard procedure, Pelidne. Have our visitor escorted to the landing pad and treated with every courtesy. Alert me once his identity is established. If he has legitimate palace credentials, try to find out the purpose of the visit.’
‘Then stall him?’
‘Yes, exactly,’ Hairstreak said. ‘Offer him refreshment, get him drunk – whatever. Report back to me at once with any information. I shall be in my office.’
‘And the flyer, sir?’
‘Search it thoroughly once the pilot is clear.’
Pelidne hesitated. ‘A royal flyer will have security spells in place. There would be no way of concealing the fact we’d searched it.’
Hairstreak shrugged. ‘They’ll expect us to search it – we’d be fools not to.’
‘Yes, sir.’ As Hairstreak pushed past him, Pelidne asked, ‘The security system, sir?’
‘What about it?’
‘Shall I leave it armed?’
‘Of course. Our visitor isn’t likely to wander. And if he does, he deserves anything he gets,’ Lord Hairstreak told him. He stood up. ‘Contact my office once the craft is down.’
But he never reached his office. Halfway down the stairs to the main hall an excited servant caught up with him.
‘Sir,’ she said breathlessly, ‘Lord Hairstreak, sir. It’s Her Majesty!’ Hairstreak turned to stare at her, his face expressionless. The girl waved her arms in something approaching panic. ‘It’s the Queen, sir. Outside, sir. Come in a flyer, sir, fastest landing I ever seen. Queen Blue, sir. What’ll we do, sir?’
Hairstreak stared at her for a long moment. ‘Queen Blue?’ he said. ‘That flyer was piloted by Queen Blue?’
‘Yes, sir. The Queen, sir. She’s standing outside now, sir. What’ll we do?’
Hairstreak smiled chillingly. ‘Get out of my way, girl. I shall welcome Her Majesty personally
.’
Thirty-four
‘That was the worst flyer landing ever,’ Flapwazzle whispered.
‘Were you frightened?’ Blue asked.
‘Petrified. You’re the scariest queen since Quercusia.’
‘I had to get out from under the missiles,’ Blue said, grinning.
‘Might have been more difficult if he’d fired them.’ Flapwazzle made a peculiar movement and it took her a moment to work out that he was scratching himself. ‘I’d like to know why he didn’t.’
‘Maybe I’ll get the chance to ask him.’ Blue said. ‘Now hush – there’s somebody coming.’
She was expecting the servant girl again, but the door swung back to reveal Hairstreak himself. He was a small man, dressed, as usual, in black. He made an elaborate bow and contorted his features into a smile.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said fulsomely, ‘if you had let me know you were coming I would have made proper preparations.’
‘Like shutting down your ground-to-air missiles?’ Blue asked innocently.
Hairstreak smiled slightly. ‘Standard security precautions, I’m afraid. Regrettable, of course, but in these troubled times …’ Something flashed in his eyes as he added, ‘So fortunate they weren’t actually launched.’
‘For me or for you, Uncle?’
‘For us both, my dear.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘But what am I thinking of, leaving you standing on the doorstep? Please come in. You grace my humble home with your presence.’ As he stepped to one side, Blue suddenly noticed a slim young man standing in the shadows behind him. There was nothing untoward about his appearance, but for some reason she shuddered. Hairstreak may have caught the direction of her glance, for he said softly over his shoulder, ‘Pelidne, have the servants prepare a meal for Her Majesty. In the main banquet hall.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Blue said quickly. Now they were here, she was very aware she’d set a Countdown in motion. Three days was a good safety margin, but even so there was no sense taking any more time than she needed. ‘This is a just a brief visit. But I would appreciate a few minutes in a secure room.’
‘Of course,’ Hairstreak said smoothly.
He led her down a corridor beside the main staircase and opened a heavy door. The chamber beyond was tiny and furnished only with two chairs and a small table, but it smelled strongly of privacy spells.
‘The matter is confidential,’ Blue said firmly when the Pelidne person tried to follow.
Hairstreak shrugged slightly and gestured with his head. Pelidne left at once. Throughout it all he had not spoken a single word.
As Hairstreak closed the door he said, ‘I take it this concerns the offer I sent by way of your brother?’
‘Yes,’ Blue said.
‘Then let us sit and discuss it.’ He hesitated momentarily. ‘Perhaps your endolg would be more comfortable on the floor than squashed up against the chair back.’
Blue froze. For a second she considered trying to bluff it out – Endolg? What endolg? – but Flapwazzle said audibly, ‘He knows I’m here, Blue,’ and slid out from under her shirt.
Hairstreak smiled a little grimly. ‘Ah, it’s Flapwoggle, isn’t it? The endolg who famously infiltrated my obsidian maze?’
‘Flapwazzle,’ Flapwazzle corrected him sourly.
‘Of course,’ Hairstreak said.
Flushing a little, Blue said, ‘I thought it might be a good idea to have an endolg present.’ Despite the embarrassment, she held her uncle’s eye. ‘For both our sakes.’
But Hairstreak only said, ‘Yes, of course,’ and gestured her towards the nearest chair.
She waited until he’d taken the other seat before she said, ‘Pyrgus told me the Faeries of the Night want peace – is that so?’
‘It’s all most of them have ever wanted, Blue,’ Hairstreak said piously.
‘And you’re now offering to negotiate to that end?’
‘To negotiate a treaty, yes.’
Blue took a deep breath. ‘Is the offer genuine?’ she asked bluntly.
She expected an angry response, but Hairstreak only shrugged. ‘The offer’s perfectly genuine. But ask the endolg. That’s what it’s here for, I presume.’
Blue flushed, hesitated, then said quietly, ‘Flapwazzle?’
‘He’s telling the truth,’ Flapwazzle said.
She suddenly realised the news had thrown her. Deep down she must have believed the whole thing was a ploy. But now, with a welling sense of excitement, the implications began to dawn on her. There was a genuine offer on the table. That meant the possibility of real peace in the Realm for the first time in centuries. The treaty negotiations were sure to be tough, compromises would have to be made, but the goodwill was there. Something absolutely unexpected had happened. She was Queen at a turning point in history. If nothing went wrong, her name would be remembered for a thousand years. It was a sobering thought.
If nothing went wrong …
She suddenly remembered Flapwazzle’s question. ‘Uncle, what backing do you have to make this offer?’
‘Enough,’ said Hairstreak shortly. ‘Every major House of the Faeries of the Night is behind it.’
‘But there are dissenters? Some Houses don’t agree?’
‘As you say, some Houses disagree, but not enough to make a difference to the outcome. If a treaty is signed under the present circumstances, it will be implemented.’
She glanced at Flapwazzle, who said, ‘It’s true, but he’s holding something back.’
‘What are you holding back, Uncle?’
Hairstreak gave a hearty chuckle that sounded entirely genuine. ‘Oh, come now, Blue, you don’t expect me to reveal my negotiating position in advance of the talks, do you? You haven’t even agreed to the basic proposal yet.’
It was reasonable enough. And he was right: she hadn’t even agreed to negotiations yet. At least not formally. In her head, she no longer had any doubt.
She opened her mouth to tell him so when there was a thunderous knocking on the door.
Thirty-five
For no reason, Blue felt suddenly afraid. Her heart begin to thump wildly as Hairstreak strode across the room.
‘What is it?’ she whispered to Flapwazzle, who was now wrapped protectively around her feet.
‘I don’t know,’ Flapwazzle whispered back nervously. ‘It’s Hairstreak’s vampire – I can get that from the smell. And he’s worried about something: I can get that from the smell too. But I don’t know what. I can only sense truth, not read minds.’
Blue almost choked. ‘Vampire? Uncle Hairstreak has a vampire?’
‘The droopy young man lurking by the door – the one who tried to come in here. I forget what your uncle called him.’
‘Pelidne,’ Blue said. ‘Pelidne is a vampire?’
‘Didn’t you notice how pale he was?’
Blue’s voice had been rising. Now she modified it with an effort. ‘Yes, but I never thought he might be a vampire.’ Vampire servants were illegal, but it was stupid to think that would make much difference to her uncle. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t think it was important,’ Flapwazzle said.
‘Not important?’ Blue hissed. ‘He might have drunk our blood!’
‘Wouldn’t have drunk mine,’ Flapwazzle sniffed. ‘They’re allergic to it.’
Lord Hairstreak had the door open now and it was indeed Pelidne outside. He leaned across to whisper something in Hairstreak’s ear and Blue only just stifled the urge to shout a warning about the danger to her uncle’s neck.
Hairstreak jerked away as if he’d been bitten. ‘Three?’ he hissed. He glanced back at Blue through the open doorway.
The man Pelidne – the vampire Pelidne – moved forward to whisper something else.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Flapwazzle muttered. ‘I think we should get out of here.’ He began to climb up her leg.
Blue stood without waiting for him to anchor on her back again. ‘Our business is
done here, Uncle,’ she exclaimed in her most imperious voice. ‘I accept your offer to negotiate.’ She tried to sweep from the room, an effect marred by Flapwazzle, who was clinging to her knee.
Lord Hairstreak moved quickly to block the doorway. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said formally. ‘There has been a development you should know about.’ He blinked slowly, like a lizard. ‘If you don’t know about it already,’ he added softly.
Blue didn’t, so the expression on her face was genuine. As was the panic building in her. She’d caught a hint of what Flapwazzle was sensing – he was on her thigh now, trembling slightly – and it was very frightening indeed. All she could think of was getting out of the mansion and into her flyer.
‘I’m due back at the Purple Palace,’ she said desperately, still trying to bluff it out. (Bluff what out?) ‘They’re expecting me and it’s long past Flapwazzle’s bedtime –’
Flapwazzle managed a little jump and wrapped himself around her stomach. ‘Make a run for it!’ he hissed.
She might even have tried, but Lord Hairstreak caught her arm. ‘This way, Your Majesty,’ he said angrily. He half dragged her out of the room and ten paces along the corridor. He stopped. ‘Would Your Majesty care to comment?’ he asked.
There were three bodies lying near the staircase.
Thirty-six
At first she didn’t see anything except the limp, huddled corpses with their hideous wounds, then her eyes travelled upwards to the familiar shock of red hair.
‘God of Light,’ she whispered. ‘Pyrgus!’
She tore away from Hairstreak and dropped on one knee. Pyrgus had been thrown almost casually across a body with orange skin – Madame Cardui’s Trinian servant Kitterick. Blue felt a tightness in her chest that almost stopped her heart. Then her eyes moved to the third body.
Henry! It was Henry! She didn’t even know he was back in the Realm. She twisted to look up at Hairstreak.
‘You’ve killed them!’ she gasped. ‘You’ve killed all three of them!’
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