Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor

by Brennan, Herbie

  'But you didn't take him home.'

  'Gnoma said the process wasn't complete - the resurrection process. He said it would be dangerous to release ... ' Pyrgus took a long, shuddering breath, '... Daddy before everything stabilised. So I left him with Gnoma.'

  'And Gnoma took him to Hairstreak.'

  Pyrgus nodded miserably. 'Yes.'

  After a while Blue said, 'I wonder how they made him look like his old self.'

  Pyrgus shrugged. 'Illusion spells. I think there was some healing too. But it wasn't holding. That's why Hairstreak arranged the operation. They were going to transplant a wangaramas.'

  Blue stared at him with dawning realisation. The wyrm would have allowed her father's body to function far more effectively, would have created the illusion of health and life, would have allowed Hairstreak to maintain the fiction that the Purple Emperor had never died. 'Chalkhill was carrying the wyrm?'

  'Yes.'

  'It was Chalkhill who told you what Lord Hairstreak planned to do?'

  'Yes.'

  'So you cut off Daddy's head.'

  'Yes. Yes, yes, yes!'

  'What are we going to do?' Blue asked.

  Pyrgus looked at her. 'Nothing. It's done now. I should never have brought him back - I know that now. It was horrible for Daddy and a disaster for the Realm. But I've put it right now. Daddy's dead, properly dead. Hairstreak can't bring him back again. Nobody can.' He suddenly moved across to take her hands. 'Blue, I have it all worked out,' he said earnestly. 'We'll use Hairstreak's story against him. He's put it about that Daddy never died, just went into a coma then revived. We'll say Daddy never fully recovered, that he hung on for a little then died from his original injuries. Hairstreak won't dare to contradict us - he can't without admitting his involvement. I'll go ahead with the Coronation. When I'm Purple Emperor, I'll tear up the stupid pact Hairstreak made Daddy sign.'

  Blue shook her head. 'You can't. The treaty is binding on Daddy's heir as well as himself. Hairstreak was taking no chances - you're mentioned in the wording by name.'

  Pyrgus waved her objection aside. 'I'll think of something. I'll put things back the way they were. Outside of you and I, nobody need know anything illegal happened.'

  'Comma knows,' Blue said.

  They called a Conference of Friends. Pyrgus didn't want to, but Blue insisted. Mr Fogarty was there. Madame Cardui was there. Henry was there. Pyrgus wanted Nymphalis there too, but Blue vetoed that promptly.

  'We don't know her well enough,' she said. 'Besides, she owes her loyalties to the forest, not to House Iris. I'm sure she's wonderful, but this is too delicate to take the slightest risk.'

  When they were all in the Orchid Room and the door securely locked and spelled, Blue outlined the problem, holding nothing back. They listened attentively, sober-faced, saying little, nodding occasionally. When she'd finished, Blue said, 'I'd like to know what you think.'

  No one spoke until, eventually, Henry said, 'But Hairstreak already knows what you did, Pyrgus -wouldn't Gnoma have told him?'

  'Yes. Yes, he did,' Pyrgus said. 'Gnoma definitely told him. But Hairstreak can't admit to that, otherwise everyone will know he was lying about Father never having died and the new agreement and everything.'

  Mr Fogarty glanced across at Pyrgus. 'It would nearly be worth owning up to everything. To drop Hairstreak in it.'

  Pyrgus started to say something, but Blue cut in quickly. 'There's no question of Pyrgus owning up.'

  'Why not?'

  'I told you - resurrection is forbidden.'

  'So what are they going to do to him?' Fogarty asked impatiently. 'Have him say five Hail Marys?'

  'Hang him,' Blue said starkly.

  There was a long moment's silence in the room. Then Fogarty said, 'Are you serious?'

  'That's the penalty.'

  'Even for an Emperor Elect?'

  'Only the Emperor is above the law - a properly crowned Emperor. The Emperor Elect can be tried like anybody else.'

  Mr Fogarty sniffed. 'Should have waited, shouldn't you?' he said to Pyrgus. He turned back to Blue. 'But would it actually happen - a trial? Who would bring the charges?'

  'The priesthood,' Blue told him. 'It's a spiritual issue.'

  Henry said, 'What happens if it gets out that Pyrgus, you know, cut his - ah, killed -'

  'A resurrected body is an abomination,' Blue said. 'There's no penalty for sending the soul back to its proper home.'

  'Except your father's body isn't supposed to have been resurrected,' Henry said gently. 'Hairstreak's story is that the Emperor never died and you've decided to support that, haven't you? If you don't, then Pyrgus will be hung for resurrecting him.'

  Blue and Pyrgus looked at one another.

  Madame Cardui said, 'He's right, Crown Prince, deeah. But if we stick to Hairstreak's story and Comma tells what he saw, you could be facing a charge of murder in place of a charge of resurrection. I'm afraid that's hanging again.'

  'Simple answer,' Fogarty said. 'We bung Comma in solitary until you're made Emperor.'

  Madame Cardui raised an eyebrow. 'A little rough on the boy, wouldn't you say, Alan?'

  Fogarty shrugged. 'Could have Pyrgus crowned in a week. A week's not too rough in solitary: I've done it my--' He stopped himself and coughed, then added lamely, 'Solves the problem, doesn't it? They're not going to hang their Emperor for murder.'

  'Ah,' Blue said.

  'Why are you saying Ah?' Mr Fogarty asked sourly. 'What's Ah?'

  Blue looked strained. 'When I said the Emperor is above the law, there's one exception ...'

  'Murder?'

  'Not exactly,' Pyrgus said. 'Just murdering the previous Emperor.'

  'That's right,' Blue confirmed. 'Realm Law holds that the Purple Emperor owns his subjects and thus can dispose of them as he wills - he can execute someone, which is just another name for murder, or have somebody carry out a murder, or pardon somebody who's committed murder. But the one exception to all of that is the previous Emperor, who is not defined as a - I forget the term, but it means he's not defined as being owned.'

  'You can see why,' said Madame Cardui cheerfully. 'It stops the royal family murdering their way to the throne.' She hesitated, smiled, then leaned forward to say quietly to Blue, 'The word is chattel, deeah.'

  Fogarty said, 'So if Comma talks, Pyrgus hangs -threats may keep him quiet for a while, but if we don't sort out something permanent, we all know Comma will talk, sooner or later.'

  'I'm not having you kill him,' Blue said sternly. 'He may be a pain in the neck, but he's still our baby brother.'

  Fogarty looked at her in mild surprise. 'Actually, I was thinking more of bribery. Offer him something he wants - few toys, money, a fancy title, seat on the Government... whatever it takes, just so long as he has no real power. Make sure he knows it all disappears if Pyrgus isn't Emperor.'

  'Trouble is Pyrgus doesn't want to be Emperor,' Blue remarked quietly.

  'I think I may have an idea about that,' said Henry.

  After he'd told them, Henry looked from one face to the other, waiting for a reaction.

  Pyrgus shook his head. 'It's not possible, Henry.' His expression might have been one of regret.

  'It's not legal,' Blue echoed.

  'Actually it is,' said Madame Cardui. 'The legislation has been in place for a very long time, although you seldom hear about it.' She smiled a little. 'The real problem, Henry, is that it couldn't possibly work.'

  'It works in my world,' Henry said. 'All the time.'

  'Is that true, Alan?' Madame Cardui asked.

  Mr Fogarty shrugged. 'I'm not sure works isn't a bit of an exaggeration.'

  Henry looked at him in disgust.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

  The State Barge pulled away from Palace Island with the pink light of dawn glinting on the golden filaments that were strewn across its surface. The initial movement was matched by the first rumblings of a 101-impact thunder spell salute, the traditional signal to the
population of an impending Coronation. It seemed, however, that the population had little need of it: crowds had already begun to line the processional route by midnight.

  The barge turned north-west at once to avoid interfering with traffic across the Official Ford (which had been particularly heavy for days) and hugged the northern bank of the Wirmark below East gate. At the first cheer of the dockland crowds, wizards on the barge combined their efforts to float up two gigantic illusions, one depicting the Peacock Crown, the other the butterfly emblem of House Iris.

  As the illusions flowered, the cheering increased and the spectators were rewarded with an interactive display - the illusions changed colour in response to the pitch and volume of the cheers. Even at this early stage, the people were calling for sight of their new sovereign, but the only figures on deck were barge crew in their neat purple uniforms and the wizards who maintained the spells.

  Once clear of the island, the barge began a ponderous, slow zigzag course that ensured no riverside segment of the city was favoured above any other. First south to Merkinstal, a suburb so underdeveloped that it still showed farmland right up to the river's edge. Yet even here the people had turned out in droves to watch the pageantry. Poor but loyal, Pyrgus thought fondly as he watched them through a darkly-tinted porthole. The predominant cloth here was the dun-coloured homespun of the countryfolk. Further in, the silks and satins of the more sophisticated inner-city dwellers would begin to appear.

  The state barge turned south-west so that it would enter the central river channel before it reached Lohman Bridge.

  Henry was having problems with his britches.

  He was no longer Male Companion - his idea about what should happen at the Coronation meant the position was no longer relevant - but he was still Iron Prominent, Knight Commander of the Grey Dagger, and that meant he had to dress up. The blouse and jacket had been bad enough - they were spell-woven to flash a different colour with every change of light - but the cloth-of-gold britches were sheer murder.

  The real problem was that they were just too small. Henry had been measured for his Knight Commander gear the day Pyrgus had presented him with his dagger, but the costume had been tailored while he was at home in the Analogue World. Today was the first time he'd tried it on and there was definitely a mistake in the britches. They were too tight across his bottom, too tight around his waist and when he pulled them on eventually by sucking in his gut, they were a good six inches short on both his legs.

  Slowly, he forced one button after the other - the Faerie Realm had never taken to zips - his fingers trembling with the effort. With every one he closed, the wedgie pressure at the crotch increased. He suspected walking was going to do him a serious injury and sitting down would likely lead to something worse.

  'Better get a move on, Henry,' said Mr Fogarty. 'The Royal Barge has already left.'

  'These breeches are too small.'

  'Yes,' said Mr Fogarty. 'You look a bit of a prat.'

  Although Henry would have amputated his ankles rather than admit it, Mr Fogarty himself looked magnificent. He'd exchanged his Gatekeeper robes for the dress uniform that went with one of his lesser titles -Lamed Wufnik of God and Realm. It was cut from blue velvet and worn with white, knee-length socks and buckled shoes. When he tried on his tricorn hat, Henry thought he was the image of Lord Nelson.

  'I'm worried about sitting down,' Henry said.

  'Do you have to sit down?'

  I don't know. Nobody told me what happens in the ceremony. Do you know?'

  'Like I'd ask you if I knew. How do I look?'

  'All right,' said Henry grudgingly.

  The Silk Mistresses had made Blue a new gown which they insisted was more appropriate for the occasion -an elaborate creation with an ultra-violet sheen that gave the illusion of folded wings. She stared at her reflection and decided it made her look taller, probably no bad thing in the circumstances, but that it didn't suit her quite as well as the other one. She was about to pull it off when Comma burst in, looking like a moonbeam.

  'Don't you ever knock?' Blue hissed. 'I could have been naked!'

  'Well, you weren't,' Comma muttered, scowling. Then he brightened. 'Can I go on deck, Blue, and wave to the people?'

  'Yes,' Blue said.

  'Do you think Pyrgus would mind?'

  'Why don't you ask him?'

  'I don't want to,' Comma said. He caught sight of himself in the mirror behind Blue and preened. He was dressed in white from head to toe - white shoes, white socks, white britches, white shirt, white cap. 'I'm going to wear this all the time,' he said. 'Not just at the ceremony.' He turned to his left, then turned to his right. 'I think it suits me.'

  'You'll never keep it clean,' Blue muttered.

  'I'll use spells,' Comma said. 'You can give me the money.'

  Blue glared at him. 'Why don't you just go and prance about on deck. I'm not ready yet and we'll be docking in a minute.'

  'We won't be docking for hours,' Comma said. 'They haven't even opened the bridge for us yet.'

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

  As the barge approached, the Keeper and his Team marched along the centre of Lohman Bridge in fine order, their way cleared by an escort of purple-liveried Guardsmen. Safety regulations insisted the bridge was out of bounds to the public until the barge passed through, but the public had piled on anyway.

  The Keeper stopped before the massive mechanism. At his signal, one of his Team hoisted a plain cyan flag. On the water below, the State Barge stopped dead and hovered like some great, wonderful waiting beast.

  'Places,' snapped the Keeper.

  His men moved with mechanical precision to the accompaniment of a few ironic cheers. Three went directly to the Great Wheel. All the others manned the network of ropes and cables attached to it.

  'Action,' called the Keeper. Like his Team, he was dressed in a style that had gone out of fashion a thousand years ago.

  The men on the ropes began to pull while the others strained at the Great Wheel. The watching crowd fell suddenly silent. Tradition was king on the day of a Coronation: ancient machinery, part of the original bridge, had to be used.

  The trouble was, despite constant care and attention, there was no guarantee the ancient machinery would actually work. The Coronation of Good King Glaucopsyche had been delayed for two weeks while mechanics toiled around the clock to get the Great Wheel functioning again.

  For a moment it looked as if history might repeat itself, then, with a deep, ominous creaking sound, the Wheel began to turn. The crowd cheered and shouted encouragement to the straining men. The bridge trembled underfoot, then moved.

  A momentous cheer erupted.

  On the barge below, a white figure emerged on deck and waved. The cheering redoubled. The bridge began to split in two. There was a minor panic as spectators scrabbled to get to one side or the other before the chasm widened, but for once nobody fell into the water. To howls of delight and roars of approval, Lohman Bridge opened.

  The Royal Barge resumed its stately pace and passed slowly through.

  'Did you see that?' Comma exclaimed excitedly. 'They loved me! They all cheered and waved! This was the best idea I ever had!'

  'For heaven's sake!' Blue hissed through gritted teeth. 'Have you no idea, no idea at all, about privacy? And it wasn't your idea, not even slightly.'

  Comma said thoughtfully, 'You look nice in that thing.'

  'Do I?' Blue asked. 'You don't think it makes me look too old?'

  'What are you going to do with that thing during the ceremony?' Mr Fogarty frowned.

  'Are you talking about me?' Flapwazzle asked aggressively.

  'Are you talking about Flapwazzle?' Henry asked aggressively. 'He's not a thing.'

  Mr Fogarty shrugged. 'The endolg. What are you going to do with him during the ceremony?'

  'He's not staying behind,' Henry said.

  'I'm not staying behind,' .Flapwazzle confirmed.

  'Did I say you should? It's just
-' Mr Fogarty shrugged again, '- he's a bit smelly and you're leaving it a bit late to give him a bath.'