The Purple Emperor fw-2

by Herbie Brennan

  The trouble was – she was. Mr Fogarty would want to know what was happening and she had no intention of talking in front of servants. Best to find him, brief him, bring him back, tell no one else anything they didn't need to know.

  'Yes, I am.'

  Peacock said uncertainly, 'This is your first time, isn't it, Ma'am? Your first translation to the Analogue World?'

  'Yes.'

  'Would you like me to go with you?'

  'No, thank you,' Blue said firmly. She moved towards the security fence and one of the guards hurried to unlock the gate and let her through. 'I take it I simply step between the pillars, Mr Peacock?'

  Peacock had entered the enclosure immediately behind her. Now he walked quickly towards the controls. 'Once I've made the settings, Serenity,' he said. 'I'll tell you when.'

  Blue waited, a step away from the pillars. Her heart was thumping wildly, but she held her face impassive. It would never do to let anyone see how a princess of House Iris felt about something as simple as translating. It was perfectly safe – everyone knew that. She couldn't feel so much as a hint of heat, which was what it said in all the reference books: cold flame.

  'The portal's ready now, Serenity,' Chief Engineer Peacock told her.

  Sweating with fear, Blue stepped between the pillars without a moment's hesitation.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Brimstone hoped Graminis would get him to the church in time. 'Can't we go any faster?' he asked testily.

  They were travelling in a clapped-out ouklo that looked older than God. It was an open carriage in funereal black with upholstery that smelled of grave mould, probably because Graminis was too mean to hire a proper wedding carriage. The spell charge was almost gone, so that instead of floating at a respectable height, the ouklo kept sinking lower and lower until it scraped on the road; at which point it shot up again like a startled rabbit to begin the sinking process all over again. The movement was making Brimstone positively seasick.

  But at least the traditional wedding notice was displayed prominently across the back:

  This Man Is Getting Married.

  Pray for Him.

  Graminis giggled. 'Don't you go upsetting yourself, Silas – Maura will wait. Waited for the last five, didn't she?' Brimstone blinked. His bride-to-be had gone through five previous husbands? He knew she was a widow woman, but five was ridiculous. Perhaps she ate them after mating, like a spider. Or murdered them for the insurance money. He'd have to watch that. Watch what he ate or drank in particular. Chances were she'd poisoned them.

  The ouklo scraped and bobbed its way through narrow streets until the church spire hove into sight. The vehicle reached the graveyard and stopped. 'Have to walk the rest of the way,' Graminis said. 'Sorry about that – it's set for funerals.'

  The church was as small as he'd expected – wedding hire was costed by the square foot – and built to the traditional squaring-the-circle design. Tiers of pews looked down on the altar. The carpeting was moth-eaten and threadbare.

  There was a scattering of down-and-outs in the pews, doubtless hoping for a witness hand-out, and the central fire was already lit. As he and Graminis entered, half a dozen skinny nymphs began to dance listlessly around it.

  The priest emerged from a trapdoor in the floor, which suggested things might get underway before too long. He was a squat, toad-like Faerie of the Night wearing the elemental yellow robes called for by the occasion. He favoured Brimstone with a bleak smile and Brimstone favoured him with a bleak smile back.

  'The bride's here!' Graminis hissed.

  Brimstone looked up towards the entrance arch that now framed the scrawny figure of his bride-to-be. She was wearing a tight black mini-dress split up one side and carrying a cactus.

  Her legs looked like second-hand pipe cleaners.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bright sunlight caught Blue unawares, so that it took moments for her eyes to adjust. She seemed to be in an enclosed space, a cramped little garden of some sort. Quickly she reached around and felt between her shoulder-blades. No wings! At least the filter had worked properly. She gave a sigh of relief. All the safety texts told you to check for wings. If you shrank, you grew wings – that always happened. It's what happened to Pyrgus when the House Iris portal was sabotaged. And while it was sometimes difficult to decide on your size in a strange environment – the question of scale was always relative, the texts insisted – you either had wings or you hadn't. She hadn't, therefore she hadn't shrunk either. One hurdle crossed.

  The next hurdle was whether or not the portal had remained open. She glanced behind her and there it was, a smaller area of flame at this side and no sign of the pillars, but definitely there. She didn't want to think about going back through that blue inferno, but at least the way was open.

  Now, was she in the right place? Everybody said the portals never varied. You set the Analogue coordinates and that's where they took you. But there was always the possibility of sabotage or human error. She didn't think there was much chance of sabotage now, not with all the security in place, but human error could happen any time. So was she at Gatekeeper Fogarty's Analogue World home?

  The shrivelled little lawn was a far cry from the lush gardens that surrounded his lodge at the Purple Palace, and the house beyond looked mean and gloomy -somebody had actually stuck brown paper to the lower windows. But she remembered both her father and Pyrgus remarking on the peculiarities of Mr Fogarty's Analogue lifestyle.

  Blue gave a strangled squawk. Something warm and hairy had just rubbed against her leg. She looked down and saw an overweight tomcat polishing her ankles. He stared at her with luminous eyes and gave a little whirr.

  Blue relaxed at once. Of course it was Mr Fogarty's home – this had to be the famous Hodge. 'Hello, Hodge,' she said quietly, and he whirred again. 'Are you going to show me where Gatekeeper Fogarty is hiding?' As if he understood, Hodge trotted off in the direction of the back door. Blue followed him with a little smile on her face.

  'Mr Fogarty!' she called as she pushed the door open.

  There was somebody inside, but it wasn't Mr Fogarty.

  'Henry!' Blue exclaimed.

  Henry jumped visibly. He'd been staring at something in his hand, a funny little black device with rows of numbered buttons on it. Now he glanced at her in surprise and what might have been delight.

  'Blue,' he said breathlessly. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

  'Looking for Gatekeeper Fogarty,' Blue told him simply.

  Henry's eyes went back to the device in his hand. 'They've put him in jail,' he said in a small, astonished voice. 'He's just called me.'

  Blue blinked. 'Who's put him in jail?'

  Henry looked at her blankly. 'The police. He went out to make some arrangements about his house and now they've put him in jail.'

  'They can't put him in jail,' Blue said imperiously. 'He's a Gatekeeper of the Realm.'

  'Over here he's just an old-age pensioner who used to rob banks. They can put him in jail all right. He's in a cell at Nutgrove Police Station.'

  'I don't have time for this,' Blue snapped. 'We'll have to get him out.'

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Henry stared around him miserably.

  'Well, where is it?' Blue demanded.

  'It must be round here somewhere,' Henry said. They were in Nutgrove Street, for heaven's sake. Nutgrove Police Station had to be in Nutgrove Street.

  'Henry,' Blue hissed. 'I have to find Mr Fogarty. I have to get him back to the Realm.'

  'Yes, I know,' Henry said.

  What he didn't know was what they were going to do when they found Nutgrove Station. Blue seemed to have the idea they would just march in and demand Mr Fogarty's release.

  'Let's try down there,' he suggested.

  'We've already been down there,' Blue said. But she followed him as he moved off.

  'Blue,' Henry said, 'what's happened?'

  Blue's tone softened. 'I don't really know yet. But something's going on
. My father's body has disappeared and I think there's a plot to kill Pyrgus. Pyrgus sent me to find Mr Fogarty – we need him.' She hesitated, then added, 'It would be nice to have you as well.'

  Henry felt a flush begin to crawl along the back of his neck. 'Do what I can,' he mumbled, wondering just what he might mean by that. He looked about him in a moment of confusion and saw the police station down a side street. 'Oh, there it is!' he said brightly; and the words were swiftly followed by the thought, What are we going to do now?

  'Henry,' Blue said, 'what exactly is a police station?'

  Henry looked at her, then realised there was no way she could know. 'It's… it's sort of, like police headquarters. I mean, not the overall police headquarters -that's in Scotland Yard or somewhere. It's sort of headquarters for a district..'

  'And all the police live there?'

  'I don't think they actually live there. It's more like an office they come into.'

  'And your police are like our police in the Realm?' Blue said. 'They flog you if you do something wrong and cut off your hand if you're caught stealing? Unless you're a noble, of course.'

  'No, I don't think they do that,' Henry said uncertainly.

  'Why not? It's pretty silly not to, isn't it?' Blue said. She set off down the side street.

  Henry realised he was standing on his own and ran down the side street after her. He caught Blue by the elbow. 'What are you going to do?' he asked urgently. 'You can't just swan in and order them to let Mr Fogarty go.' He caught the expression on her face and stopped himself adding, You're not Princess Royal here, you know.

  'I wasn't planning to swan anywhere,' Blue said coldly. She looked into his face and relented, giving a little smile. 'It's all right, Henry – I have some cones with me.'

  'Cones?' All he could think of was ice cream, but somehow he didn't believe that was what she meant.

  'Spell cones,' Blue said.

  Henry felt his jaw drop. 'You're not going to… you're not going to…?'

  'Use magic?' Blue prompted. 'Yes, I am.'

  'You can't!'

  'Why not?'

  Why not? Why not? Henry cast around for a reason and couldn't think of one, except that using magic in a police station was probably illegal. Or would be if the police believed in it. Magic was all very well in the Realm where everybody used it, but using magic here -on anybody, let alone a policeman – was just something you didn't -

  'What sort of magic?' he asked in a small voice.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Henry felt peculiar. In fact he thought he might be going to be sick. Everything around him looked swimmy and when he moved it was like trying to push against treacle.

  'I don't feel so good,' he said. His voice echoed in his head like a hollow gong.

  'You'll get used to it,' Blue told him briskly. 'Just follow me.' She moved to the front door of the police station and pushed it firmly. When nothing happened, she turned to look accusingly at Henry. 'This door's locked.'

  Henry was trying to remember the last thing he'd eaten. He had an idea he might be about to see it again quite soon. 'They do that now,' he said, 'because of terrorists or something. You can't just walk in. You have to ring the bell and speak into that grille thing when they answer.'

  'But if I speak into the grille thing won't they know somebody's here?'

  Henry looked at her, wondering if he was going to be able to stand upright much longer. 'That's the whole point,' he said. 'So they can let you in.'

  'But I don't want them to know I'm here,' Blue said.

  It was all getting too much. Henry's brain described a slow, liquid circle inside his skull. 'Then how are we going to get in?' he managed.

  The door opened and a man walked through without glancing at either Blue or Henry. Blue stuck out her foot to stop the door. 'Come on!' she hissed and slipped inside. Henry stared after her stupidly for a moment, then followed as the door began to close.

  They were in a waiting area with lino on the floor, chairs at one end and a counter at the other. A uniformed sergeant was standing behind the counter. Behind him a young woman with very short black hair was typing at a desk. Three of the chairs were occupied – two by an elderly couple, the third by a middle-aged man trying unsuccessfully to look like Elvis Presley. Nobody paid the slightest attention to Blue or Henry.

  'Right,' Blue said briskly. 'We'd better try to find Mr Fogarty.'

  'We can ask the Desk Sergeant,' Henry suggested. All he really wanted was to get out, go home and – hopefully – die.

  Blue looked at him strangely through the fog that was swirling round him. 'Are you trying to be funny?'

  Henry shook his head. 'No. Why?' He reached out and gripped the back of a chair. The head shake had been a big mistake.

  'What's the point of being invisible if we just walk up to the desk and ask?'

  The fog cleared a little. Henry stared at her, open-mouthed. 'Invisible?' he echoed.

  'What do you think that cone was for?'

  'We can't be invisible,' Henry said. 'I can see you perfectly.' The perfectly bit wasn't quite true since his vision was still swimming, but he could certainly see her.

  'Well, of course you can see me. I can see you and you can see your hands and I can see my feet because we're both invisible,' Blue said in the tone of one talking to an idiot child, 'and try to keep your voice down – the spell dampens sound, but if you make too much noise they'll hear you. You might try not to break wind again either – people will wonder where the smell is coming from.'

  'I didn't break wind!' said Henry hotly. He realised he was speaking loudly and dropped his voice. 'I didn't,' he whispered.

  'Well, someone did,' Blue said dismissively. She lost interest in breaking wind and asked, 'Where will they be holding Mr Fogarty?'

  'I don't know,' Henry said a little crossly. The only other time he'd ever been inside a police station was because of a missing tail-light on his bike.

  'Well, would it be in the back, or through that door? Or do they have a separate building?' Blue asked.

  'I don't know!' Henry said.

  Behind them the door opened and two constables came in gripping the arms of a surly youth in a cracked leather jacket. The sergeant opened up the counter-top without a word and the constables escorted the boy through a door in the back.

  'That was a prisoner,' Blue said. 'I'm sure that was a prisoner. They must have cells through that door.'

  She might be right, but Henry couldn't see what good it would do them. The sergeant had closed the counter back down, and even if he hadn't done, the two constables had shut the door behind them. Invisibility sounded great, but you couldn't actually go anywhere without making it look as if doors kept opening of their own accord. He started to say something, then stopped as his stomach churned.

  Blue said, 'Come on!'

  To his utter horror, she skipped forward and vaulted over the counter, landing nimbly – and silently – to one side of the sergeant. He didn't so much as cast a glance in her direction. 'Come on,' she said again, waving encouragingly to Henry.

  Henry's heart sank. He'd never been much of an athletic type, even when he was feeling well. If he tried to do what Blue'd just done, he was sure to trip up and fall in a heap.

  'Henry -' Blue called impatiently.

  Henry trudged shamefully over to the counter. Nothing ever seemed to go smoothly. He couldn't vault, but it was unthinkable to let Blue rescue Mr Fogarty on her own. He looked away so he wouldn't have to meet her eye and cautiously climbed up on to the counter, holding his breath so as to make as little noise as possible. There wasn't much room and he knew he was going to knock the mug of tea over and he knew Blue must think he was a complete wimp compared to all the athletic boys she fancied, but he didn't know of any other way to do it safely.

  He was straddling the counter when the sergeant reached out for his tea. Henry flattened himself against the surface and prayed. The phone rang and the sergeant set his mug down to pick it up. The flex tr
ailed over Henry's invisible bottom, forming a delicate curve, but for the moment the sergeant didn't seem to notice.

  'No, that's Rosewood Street, isn't it?' he said into the phone.

  Henry started to wriggle out from under the flex, but before he could complete the manoeuvre, the sergeant cradled the phone again. Henry slid gratefully over the counter to stand beside Blue, who was looking at him curiously. The woman typing was only a few feet away, the sergeant closer still. Was it really safe to say anything? He decided he'd have to risk it and whispered, 'What do we do now?'

  'Wait and watch,' Blue said. 'We'll slip through the door when everybody's distracted.'

  It sounded a straightforward game plan, except that the two constables emerged from the back (closing the door firmly behind them). A three-way conversation started about somebody called Jackie Knox. Then the typist said, 'You boys want a coffee? I'm making one for myself.' She got up from her desk and suddenly everybody was milling about behind the counter.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see Blue moving gracefully in what looked like a sinuous dance as she skilfully avoided body contact: she was obviously well used to being invisible. But Henry wasn't. He dodged and ducked like a rhino and every movement increased the sickness in his stomach.

  The woman finished handing out coffee, thank God, and went back to her desk. A door opened in the waiting area and Mr Fogarty came in with a young uniformed policeman by his side. They walked together to the front door.

  'Thank you for your cooperation, sir,' the young policeman said. 'Sorry to have troubled you.'

  Mr Fogarty grunted and walked out into the street.

  'Did you see that?' Blue hissed delightedly. 'They've let him go.'

  The phone rang on the counter and the sergeant reached for it again. 'Nutgrove Station,' he said pleasantly. Another phone rang, this time beside the woman who was typing. She picked it up while moving the mouse of her computer with her other hand. 'That'll be Tom,' remarked one of the constables behind the counter. The girl covered the mouthpiece and called across to the man who didn't look like Elvis, 'Can you come over to the counter a minute, Mr Robson?' The female half of the old couple said sharply, 'What about us? Haven't got all day, you know.' One of the constables said, 'It really shouldn't be much longer, love.' Blue said urgently, 'Come on, Henry.' She swarmed over the counter like a rhesus monkey. The sergeant suddenly exploded, 'Yuuuck!' and dropped the phone. He stared down towards the floor, his eyes wide with astonishment. 'Where did that come from?' he demanded. The two constables turned to look with a mixture of revulsion and amazement. Henry had thrown up on the sergeant's trousers. The results were all too visible. They steamed a little.