Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor

by Brennan, Herbie

  'No, Lordship, of course not!' Chalkhill protested. 'Nothing could have been further - I wouldn't -Lordship, it never occurred -'

  Hairstreak's smile broadened. 'You're a trained operative,' he said. 'My master spy and soon to be my most effective assassin. Would I waste such a valuable resource?' He strolled casually back to the window. There was no sign of the haniel and a small team of servants was clearing up the mess of the footman. One of them dropped his head into a large brown paper bag. 'Do you want to know how I propose to get you out alive, Jasper?'

  Despite a deep mistrust of Hairstreak, Chalkhill felt just the barest tingle of relief. 'Yes sir, I do. Yes, definitely. That's something I would like to know!'

  'Here's the plan,' said Hairstreak briskly. 'First, the blowpipe. It's not a wand. It's not a magical implement of any sort, Faerie or Analogue. It's a simple weapon. So simple I guarantee no one in the Faerie Realm will recognise it for what it is. The thing's actually quite harmless in itself. But with these -' He took a small box from his pocket and handed it across to Chalkhill, who glanced questioningly at Hairstreak, then opened it. Inside were six tiny feathered darts on a bed of velvet. 'Don't touch the tips,' Hairstreak cautioned. 'They're soaked in spider venom. The smallest prick will kill you.'

  Chalkhill snapped the lid shut hurriedly.

  'It's an interesting end as well,' Hairstreak went on thoughtfully. 'Agonising, but interesting. First, paralysis. Then the skin turns blue. Then the pain starts. You scream yourself to death within four minutes. I tried it on one of the servants. Astonishing to watch -his face peeled off.' The pensive look left his eyes. 'You bring the blowpipe into the Cathedral quite openly as a bubble wand. You bring the darts in as part of the ornamentation of your hat. Now this is the clever part. When you want to kill the Emperor Elect, you simply take a dart from your hat - you'll be surrounded by my men, so no one will notice what you're doing - you take a dart from your hat, slip it into the pipe, then blow down it sharply.'

  'Blow down it, Your Lordship?' Chalkhill echoed.

  'Blow down it, Jasper,' Hairstreak repeated. 'It's the force of your breath that propels the dart towards anything you're aiming at!' He paused to look at Chalkhill with glittering eyes.

  Chalkhill looked at the pipe, then at the box of darts. He looked back up at Hairstreak and gave an involuntary shiver. 'How delightfully ... primitive,' he said.

  'Primitive but effective,' Hairstreak nodded. 'Our young friend Pyrgus will scarcely notice the wound. At most he might take it for an insect bite. There are three minutes before the paralysis sets in, a further four before he's dead - ample time, would you not say, for a getaway?'

  Chalkhill examined the plan. If one ever dared to admit it, Hairstreak was an appalling little creep, but there certainly didn't seem to be any hidden agenda. Or flaws for that matter. Except possibly one ...

  'Your Lordship -' He hesitated. 'There does seem to be one small problem ... '

  Hairstreak scowled at him. 'Which is?'

  'Sir,' Chalkhill said, 'you must appreciate that I am no longer what one might call an undercover agent. I mean, I thought it an absolutely splendid idea to try to kidnap the Princess Royal, but it did mean my secret identity as your, ah, master spy, was and is for ever exposed.' And I was thrown into that dreadful, smelly jail, he thought, but it was probably not the time to bring it up. He leaned forward earnestly. 'By which I mean, sir, that my face is known now. I have a certain ... notoriety. I'm afraid the Emperor's security people will never allow me to so much as set foot inside the Cathedral.'

  'Ah,' said Hairstreak. A malicious little half-grin crawled up one side of his mouth. 'Ah-ha. You think I haven't thought of that? You think I haven't thought of something so glaringly obvious?'

  'No, sir. No indeed. I didn't mean at all to suggest -'

  But Hairstreak ignored him. 'That's the best part of the whole plan! You see, my dear Jasper, I shall not attend the Coronation.'

  'You won't?' Chalkhill asked, wondering what that had to do with anything. 'But won't it be ... expected of you?'

  'Of course it'll be expected of me, you cretin! Expected and politically expedient. Which is why I'm having a special illusion spell crafted.'

  'Illusion spell?' Chalkhill repeated. He seemed to be repeating a lot of what Lord Hairstreak said in this conversation.

  'You're going in my place,' said Hairstreak. 'As me.' He smiled openly again. 'I told you you'd be surrounded by my men. They'll be your bodyguards.'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  When a Purple Emperor died, tradition decreed that his body be dressed in the formal robes of his office, then placed under a stasis spell for display in the Cathedral until the day of his successor's Coronation. Four uniformed members of the Imperial Guard stood like statues at the corners of the bier while loyal subjects filed past tearfully to pay their final respects.

  But the last Purple Emperor, Apatura Iris, lost most of his face when he was murdered and no amount of reconstruction spells seemed capable of putting it together again. There was no question of public display. Thus the body lay in stasis in the palace crypt, ministered to with hourly prayers by the mortuary priests.

  'It was like this when I arrived,' Thorn said miserably.

  They stood staring at the empty bier. There was no sign of vandalism, no sign of damage, but the body was no longer there. Blue said, 'Who conducted the last prayers? Before you?'

  'Brother Sinapis.' Thorn hesitated. 'Serenity, I spoke with him. All was in order when he withdrew.'

  'The guards?' There were guards at the entrance to the crypt, ceremonially dressed to be sure, but they would still have noticed anyone trying to enter.

  'They saw nothing, Serenity.'

  Blue said crisply, 'I want to talk to Brother Sinapis myself. And each of the guards. Please arrange to have them brought to my quarters, starting with Sinapis. They are to be isolated from each other before I speak to them - I don't want any discussion between them until I hear each individual story. I want you to -'

  Pyrgus, who'd said nothing at all since Thorn had appeared before the Gatekeeper's lodge, now said sharply, 'Just a minute, Blue.' She looked at him in surprise. There was a note of command in his tone she'd never heard before. And a stern, strained expression on his face. 'We need to discuss this -' he gave her a warning look, '- and other matters with Gatekeeper Fogarty.'

  'Mr Fogarty's not back,' Blue said unnecessarily.

  Pyrgus lowered his voice, as if this would somehow prevent his being heard by Thorn, who was standing beside him. 'I don't want to trust any of this to servants. Blue, I want you to translate to the Analogue World and bring Mr Fogarty back at once - his personal business will have to wait. I'll speak to Sinapis and the guards myself.' He turned and his voice sharpened. 'You, Thorn, will personally organise a security search of the crypt. Tell the Captain of the Watch you have my full authority. I want the area swept for any clues, however small, to what has happened. Spare no expense - and that includes the cost of extracting impressions from the stonework, although I imagine whoever did this would have been cloaked.'

  Blue stared at him in astonishment. This was a Pyrgus she'd never seen before - decisive, in charge ... imperial. He glanced round at her. 'Are you still here, Blue? You really must make arrangements to translate at once - the situation is both serious and urgent.' 'Yes, Pyrgus,' Blue said meekly.

  Blue found Chief Portal Engineer Peacock bent over a basin in an anteroom of the chapel, scrubbing his hands with a stiff brush. 'Something I can do for you, Serenity?' he asked.

  Blue nodded, her lips suddenly dry. 'Is the portal functioning?'

  'Yes, of course, Serenity.'

  'No, I mean is it functioning properly? You fixed it after the sabotage attempt -' the successful sabotage attempt, carried out on Lord Hairstreak's orders, although they'd never prove it,'- the, ah, business with my brother?' She didn't really want to spell it out, didn't really want to remember. Pyrgus had almost died when he went through it then.

>   Peacock looked bewildered. 'Ages ago, Serenity.'

  'And it's working ... ? It's working ... well, properly ... no problems now, are there?'

  'No, Serenity.'

  'How long does setting it take?' Blue asked.

  'Setting the directional indicator? For where you want to go?'

  'Yes.'

  'Not long.' He was staring at her now. 'You just feed in the coordinates. Ten, fifteen seconds, say. Less. Less, probably. Do you want to use the portal, Serenity?'

  There it was, all laid out in a single question. Blue said tightly, 'Yes.'

  They walked together into the main chapel. The place was full of uniformed guards armed with stun wands and there was a charged security fence surrounding the House Iris portal, both grim reminders of the sabotage that had nearly cost her brother his life. The portal itself had been reinforced - there were heavy metal casings on the pillars, while the nearby controls had been rehoused in impermeable obsidian. The whole chapel had a sombre, military-camp appearance. The blue flames between the pillars seemed like an inferno.

  Blue frowned. 'It's in use?'

  Peacock shook his head. 'We keep it running permanently now.' His face softened. 'Orders of your poor father after ... after the business with Prince Pyrgus. Makes it easier to detect any interference. Not that there could be any now,' he added hurriedly.

  'I see,' Blue said. She licked her lips again. 'How long will it take to set it to translate me to the Analogue home of Gatekeeper Fogarty?'

  'Known coordinates,' Peacock said. 'Can have it ready for you any time you want to go, Serenity.'

  Blue said, 'I'd like to go now, Mr Peacock.'

  He looked around, clearly searching for her entourage. When he didn't find one, he said, 'You're not going alone, are you, Serenity?'

  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.'