The Purple Emperor

by Herbie Brennan

  Amazingly, his chest had stopped hurting. Even the tightness was easing now, so he could breathe properly. He remembered the Silk Mistresses and how they’d tried to help him, but now Blue was here as well, and Pyrgus. He wondered what was going on.

  He smiled at Blue who’d just kissed him. (She’d just kissed him!!) ‘Hello, Blue.’

  ‘Hello, Henry,’ Blue said,

  ‘Hello, Henry,’ Pyrgus said.

  There was a pretty girl in a black uniform standing to Pyrgus’s right and two others in black behind her. Both Pyrgus and Blue seemed to be wearing black as well, for some reason. They were all carrying weapons and had that nervous, alert look you used to see in television reports of occupying soldiers.

  Henry took a deep breath. He no longer felt he might fall down at any minute. He no longer felt shaky at all. There was a pleasant warmth in his chest and it seemed to be giving him energy.

  ‘Hello, Pyrgus,’ he said. ‘What’s happening?’

  The girl beside Pyrgus said, ‘Prince Pyrgus, time is short. We need to be moving on.’

  ‘Henry comes with us!’ Blue said fiercely.

  ‘This is Nymphalis,’ Pyrgus said, gesturing towards the girl in black.

  Nymphalis said, ‘If he’s able. Of course he —’

  Blue said, ‘Henry’s coming, whether he’s able or not.’

  Henry felt pretty able. His whole body was warm now and he was experiencing a remarkable surge of energy. He reached out his hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Nymphalis.’

  ‘We have to find my father,’ Pyrgus said. ‘I’ll explain as we go along.’ He glanced at Nymphalis. ‘Of course Henry’s coming.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Nymphalis asked Henry, frowning.

  But Henry was frozen, staring in astonishment. He had multicoloured hands.

  Sixty-Seven

  Cossus Cossus met Chalkhill at the steps to the main doorway. ‘Nice to see you again, Jasper,’ he said tightly.

  ‘He wants you to behave normally,’ said the wangaramas Cyril. ‘No mention of wyrms. Hairstreak has listening devices throughout the mansion.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Chalkhill asked mentally.

  ‘Had it from Bernadette, of course.’

  ‘Who’s Bernadette?’

  ‘The wangaramas in Cossus Cossus’s bottom.’

  ‘And you,’ Chalkhill said to Cossus, following the instruction to behave normally.

  ‘You’ve come to report to Lord Hairstreak,’ Cyril prompted.

  ‘I’ve come to report to Lord Hairstreak, Cossus,’ Chalkhill said.

  ‘His Lordship is not currently in residence,’ said Cossus woodenly. ‘I would suggest you come inside and wait.’

  He followed Hairstreak’s Gatekeeper up the steps and into the mansion. Cossus strode off down a corridor, setting such a brisk pace that Chalkhill found himself struggling to keep up. He was relieved when a suspensor tube finally carried them into a comfortable open-plan suite furnished in the old-fashioned Nighter style, complete with closed shutters and low-level lighting.

  ‘My private quarters,’ Cossus said. ‘You can speak freely here. I have programmed a golem to feed random conversations into the listening devices, otherwise they broadcast as if in an empty room.’

  Chalkhill blinked. ‘A golem? Isn’t that illegal?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cossus shortly.

  ‘And hideously dangerous?’ He looked around, half hoping to see the creature, half fearing he actually might.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ Cossus asked.

  ‘I think I would,’ said Chalkhill.

  He was admiring an admirable picture when Cossus approached him with a silver tray and two glasses. Behind each glass was a hypodermic needle.

  ‘What are those for?’ Chalkhill asked, frowning.

  ‘Hold out your arm,’ Cossus ordered.

  Suddenly Cyril was thrashing about inside his bottom and his mind. ‘Don’t let him do it!’ the wyrm screamed.

  But Cossus already had one of the hypodermics in his hand. He moved with extraordinary speed and Chalkhill felt a painful prick as the needle entered his arm, followed by a sudden surge of warmth as the plunger was pressed.

  The room began to revolve slowly around him and his eyes lost focus. ‘What have you done to me?’ he yelled.

  Cossus smiled grimly and picked up the second hypodermic.

  Cossus plunged the needle into his own arm.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Chalkhill shrieked. He watched, fascinated, as the liquid emptied into Cossus’s veins. Cyril, the wangaramas, had stopped thrashing about, thank heavens, so Chalkhill no longer desperately needed a loo. The momentary dizziness was gone as well, but it was replaced by a weird sort of … emptiness, as if there was a hole in his head.

  Cossus withdrew the needle and dabbed at a tiny, welling drop of blood at the site of the puncture. ‘I’m ensuring we can talk privately. How’s your bottom?’

  Chalkhill bristled. ‘I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my bottom.’

  Cossus closed his eyes momentarily and sighed. ‘I merely meant to ascertain whether your wyrm has ceased to function.’

  ‘It has, as a matter of fact,’ Chalkhill said, frowning. ‘But I’m answering no more personal questions until you tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Cossus sighed, ‘so I’ve put our worms to sleep. They’ll be out cold for an hour or more, which should be ample. I’ve put a little lethe in the mix, so they won’t even remember anything untoward has happened to them.’

  Chalkhill stared at him suspiciously. ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Perhaps I should answer that,’ said a familiar voice behind him.

  Chalkhill’s heart rocketed into his throat, his scrotum tightened alarmingly and a wave of icy chills passed through his body. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to see who was standing behind him, but his feet moved anyway, turning him slowly of their own accord. He gave a sickly little smile.

  ‘How nice to see you again, Lord Hairstreak,’ he said.

  Sixty-Eight

  ‘Where are we going?’ Henry asked. He was stunned by what Pyrgus and Blue had just told him—particularly the fact that you could bring people back from the dead.

  ‘We have to get my father out of Hairstreak’s clutches,’ Blue said soberly.

  ‘He’s here in the palace? Your father? With Hairstreak?’

  ‘They were both here when Comma sent us away.’

  Henry had only met Comma once, briefly, and disliked him on sight. Now Hairstreak had put him in charge of the whole Realm. Or at least had made him a figurehead.

  ‘There may be fighting,’ Blue said. ‘It would be safest if you stayed at the back.’

  Henry blinked. He’d never been one for fighting with anybody very much, except possibly his sister, but he realised things were different in the Realm. There was no way he was going to skulk like a wimp at the back of any party that had Blue in it. ‘I’d prefer to stay at the front,’ he said. Then risked adding, ‘With you.’ He gave a small, shy smile.

  Nymphalis said, ‘You have no weapon.’

  Both Henry and Blue glared at her, but Pyrgus put in mildly, ‘Better give him one.’

  Nymphalis shrugged and handed Henry her sword. It was a lot heavier than it looked and his arm dipped suddenly. To cover his embarrassment, he said quickly, ‘Won’t you need it?’

  Nymphalis looked at him without expression. ‘I am trained in open-hand combat. Besides, I have my elf-darts.’ Her eyes dropped to the dangling sword. ‘Do you know how to use it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Henry promptly. ‘I’m an expert.’

  They were moving fast through the palace corridors without, as yet, any opposition. Several Sisters of the Silk Guild had joined with Pyrgus’s small party. None of them was carrying any obvious weapons, but Henry had learned not to underestimate the Mistresses.

  Blue said, ‘Henry, I think—’ Then stopped. They had turned a cor
ner. Walking towards them, flanked by an escort of seven tall guards, was Comma.

  Both parties stopped abruptly. Pyrgus moved his hand in a subtle hold-back signal to Nymph. Apart from the Silk Mistresses, who were supposed to be in the palace anyway, they were all in Hairstreak uniforms. There was a faint chance they might not be recognised, at least not right away, which could be to their advantage.

  Comma looked right at him without a flicker of recognition. Pyrgus felt, rather than saw, Nymph move defensively closer. He had a slight advantage in numbers, but he didn’t want Comma hurt. For all his faults, the boy was still his half-brother.

  One of Comma’s guards leaned down to whisper in his ear. Something in the man’s expression told Pyrgus this was it—they’d been recognised and any decision that might avoid a fight was about to be taken from him. The guard straightened and snapped an order to his colleagues: ‘To arms!’ Blue stepped in front of Henry. The Forest Faeries reached for their weapons.

  Comma shouted firmly, ‘No!’

  The guard beside him looked astonished. ‘Sire?’

  Comma said, ‘At ease, men!’

  ‘Sire, this is Prince ’

  ‘Shut up!’ Comma said petulantly. ‘Shut up! Shut up! You men, you take your orders from me, and I say stand at ease!’ He looked across, still with the same half-frozen expression on his face. ‘Pyrgus, tell your people not to attack us.’

  Pyrgus looked at Blue, who shrugged, watching Comma intently. ‘Hold fast,’ Pyrgus said quietly.

  ‘Are those really Lord Hairstreak’s soldiers with you?’ Comma asked, frowning.

  ‘Of course they are,’ Pyrgus said, his eyes on his half-brother.

  Comma turned to his guards. ‘You see?’ he said. He turned back to Pyrgus, who caught a pleading look of desperation in his eyes. ‘I want you and your people to come with me.’ He licked his lips. ‘To our father’s quarters.’

  Blue said, ‘We’re not going any—’

  Pyrgus interrupted her. There was something about Comma’s look, his whole stance. ‘We’ll come,’ Pyrgus said.

  Blue shot him a sharp glance. ‘Pyrgus —’

  ‘Trust me, Blue,’ Pyrgus whispered. But he made the old superstitious Sign of the Light behind his back. He wasn’t at all sure he trusted himself.

  The Emperor’s quarters were only minutes away. Black-uniformed guards stood on either side of the door. Comma walked up to them without hesitation. ‘Open the doors for us!’ he ordered shrilly. ‘You know who I am.’ He turned to his personal escort. ‘You stay here and guard the doors. All of you. No slacking, mind. Make sure nobody comes in or goes out. Nobody. Without my orders, of course. You understand that?’

  It occurred to Pyrgus they might all be a lot safer with Hairstreak’s men out of the way completely. ‘Dismiss them, Comma.’

  Comma rounded on him. ‘You be quiet, Pyrgus. My men must guard the door!’

  It was back down or fight. Pyrgus said, ‘Whatever.’ He gave Comma an intense stare. ‘But my people come inside with me.’

  To his surprise, Comma said, ‘Yes, Pyrgus. Yes, they must.’

  The Emperor’s main living quarters were surprisingly modest in size, so that it felt almost crowded when the whole party moved inside. Pyrgus noted the sudden stiffness in Blue’s body. This was where she’d seen their father’s body less than an hour after he’d been murdered. Pyrgus wanted to slip his arm around her shoulder to comfort her, but the beastly Comma was actually tugging at his sleeve.

  ‘Pyrgus, I daren’t send them away. The Captain knew who you were—you and Blue. If I send them away, they’ll get word to Lord Flairstreak. But they aren’t allowed to disobey a direct order.’ He caught Pyrgus’s expression. ‘My guards,’ he said. ‘If they all stay at the door we know where they are.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Pyrgus said vaguely. ‘Listen, Comma —’

  But Comma, still clinging to his arm, began to burble. ‘Besides, I’ve told them to let nobody in. They’ll keep my mother out.’

  It hit Pyrgus like a douse of iced water. ‘Your mother?’

  ‘Your mother?’ Blue echoed.

  ‘They let her out,’ Comma said. ‘Just after you left. She’s—you know, she’s free.’ He blinked. ‘In the palace … somewhere.’

  ‘Who let her out?’ Blue demanded.

  Comma looked at her, then looked at Pyrgus, then looked down at his feet. ‘I did.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ Blue exploded.

  ‘I didn’t know … I didn’t know she’d be —’

  ‘Of course you knew!’ Blue snapped. ‘We all knew!’

  Henry, who was always uncomfortable in the middle of a family row, asked, ‘Is this Quercusia?’ He thought the question might somehow calm them down.

  Blue rounded on him, surprised. ‘How do you know about Quercusia?’

  ‘I met her,’ Henry said. ‘I … you know … talked to her.’

  Blue closed her eyes. ‘My God, and you survived!?’

  ‘Well, sort of,’ Henry said. ‘She had me thrown into a dungeon.’ He remembered Flapwazzle suddenly with a huge pang of guilty sorrow.

  But Comma ignored them both. He was still clinging to Pyrgus’s sleeve. ‘I’m so sorry, Pyrgus. I never thought it would turn out like this. Uncle Hairstreak said I should be Emperor, but he promised he wouldn’t hurt you. He said he would give you a new house and you didn’t want to be Emperor anyway and we all knew that and he said I could do anything I wanted and give orders and people would have to do what I said. But then when I sent you and Blue away, it was all different. He —’

  Pyrgus cut him short. ‘Comma, you know our father is alive again.’

  Comma blinked. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is he still here? Can you take us to him?’

  Comma shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Blue put in.

  ‘Uncle Hairstreak took him away.’

  Blue looked exasperated, so Pyrgus said quickly, ‘Where did he take him, Comma?’

  ‘To Uncle Hairstreak’s new mansion in the forest.’

  Pyrgus looked at Nymph, then Blue. ‘Back where we came from!’ He turned to Comma. ‘You’ll have to call your guards off the door.’

  But Comma shook his head. ‘If I send them away they’ll know you’ve gone and they’ll probably guess where you’ve gone and then they’ll send word to Lord Hairstreak.’

  ‘But if you don’t send them away, we’re stuck here,’ Blue said patiently.

  ‘No you’re not!’ said Comma quickly. ‘You can leave by the secret passage.’

  Pyrgus blinked. ‘Secret passage? There’s no secret passage here.’ He’d been using the Emperor’s quarters for weeks now and thought he knew every inch of it.

  ‘Oh yes there is!’ Comma told him smugly. ‘Look —’ He ran over to the mantle and twisted an inlaid decoration. The whole fireplace moved to one side with a slight grinding sound. Behind it was a small chamber with stone steps leading downwards. ‘There’s a passage at the end of the stairs. It comes out on the edge of the woods at the far end of the island. There’s even an old rowboat if you want it.’

  Pyrgus looked at Comma with new eyes. The obnoxious little toad had come up trumps for once. ‘This is brilliant, Comma,’ he said sincerely. ‘If you close the entrance after us and keep quiet, we can be off the island before the guards know we’re even missing.’

  ‘We’ll close the entrance from the inside,’ Comma said. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Sixty-Nine

  Somebody had snapped the hinges of the door to Brimstone’s old lodgings in Seething Lane. Brimstone kicked aside the charred remains as he mounted the stairs, making a mental note to have the door repaired as soon as possible. His magical securities would keep out intruders, of course, but a damaged door was an open invitation.

  He checked his living quarters off the first landing and found his illusion spells intact. The place looked like a doss-house: nothing to attract a would-be thief. He went up another flight a
nd his goblin guard met him, gibbering and prancing, in the library. Brimstone silenced them with a gesture, then set out on a full inspection of every room.

  It was not until he was certain all traps and triggers were intact, nothing was missing, all as it should be, that he walked into the wardrobe of his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  A glowglobe sensed his presence and cast a soft illumination on the controls for the hidden stairway. Brimstone pressed a button, pulled a lever and the false back of the wardrobe slid away. He climbed the stairway to his secret attic.

  The remains of his last operation were still strewn about—the dried-up circle of guts and goat skin, the broken trapped-lightning machinery, the cold charcoal, the toppled brazier.

  He picked his way across the debris and opened the wall cupboard that held his magical equipment.

  The phial was there, exactly as Beleth had promised. He could see the glowing green slime roiling within. There was history trapped inside that glass, Brimstone thought. A near-unique substance, more precious than gold. No use to a demon, but most effective when used by a faerie. And the side effects were quite delightful.

  He could hardly keep his hands off it, but he knew he needed to prepare. Beleth had let him off the hook once, but a second failure would mean his life and soul for sure. It took him no more than minutes to find the other items Beleth had left for him. He felt oddly excited, like a child about to go on holiday.

  He flicked the cork out of the phial with his thumb and drank down the writhing slime.

  For a moment he glowed green, then Brimstone disappeared.

  Seventy

  They were seated around an oval table in a corner of the living quarters. Chalkhill was keeping a wary eye on Cossus Cossus’s golem, which was clumping around serving drinks. He’d never seen anything so frightening in his life. The creature stood nearly seven feet tall and its skin was as grey as the clay Cossus had used to make it. Chalkhill didn’t like its teeth—God alone knew what Cossus had used to make them: they glinted like obsidian spires.