Ruler of the Realm fw-3

by Herbie Brennan

  Blue said quietly, ‘Our cause is just, General.’ She knew what he said was true, every word of it, but what if the choice wasn’t between war and peace? What if it was a choice between war and a greater war, a longer war, an even more bloody war? Although she fought hard to show nothing of her feelings, Blue was terrified. She’d thought long and hard about what she was going to do. She was certain – fairly certain – it was the right thing. But she was terrified it might not be. General Vanelke, if he only knew it, was voicing every doubt she had.

  ‘Justice has nothing to do with it,’ he went on relentlessly. ‘God sides with the strong and the victor writes the history books. You talked a moment ago about the Feral Faerie as possible allies – or at least the Painted Lady did. The Faeries of the Night have their own powerful allies – the demon hordes of Hael. The portals may be closed now, but war would produce an enormous incentive to get them open again. And when they open, we may find we have bitten off far more than we can chew.’

  Which was true as well. The fact that the Hael portals were closed had been a big factor in her decision. But like Vanelke she knew they might not stay closed for ever. Everything depended on how fast they moved, how fast they won. Blue suddenly felt very old. Before she became Empress, it had all seemed so very simple. You had the Realm and you ruled it – what could be simpler? But once the crown was on her head, it all became so complicated.

  ‘The problem, General Vanelke,’ she said patiently, ‘is that you talk as if it’s a choice between war and peace. But I don’t believe that’s the choice we face. I believe my uncle will very soon decide to begin a war himself and we shall face all the horrors you describe and worse, with two added disadvantages: we won’t be prepared and we’ll have lost the element of surprise. At least if we strike first, we may get a quick victory and reduce the horrors to a minimum.’

  ‘Perhaps we can avoid the horrors altogether,’ a new voice interrupted.

  Fifteen

  ‘Where were you?’ Blue asked crossly. They’d left the others in the little conservatory and were crouched together in one of the security cubicles behind the main throne.

  Pyrgus said accusingly, ‘You set your guards on me!’

  ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ Blue hissed furiously. ‘I sent you two messages and you ignored them.’

  ‘Yes, well, your little army got itself hijacked, didn’t it?’

  Blue stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Your guards. They got themselves hijacked. Where do you think I’ve been all this time?’

  ‘That’s what I just asked you,’ Blue pointed out, exasperated.

  ‘I’ve been with Uncle Hairstreak,’ Pyrgus said. And that shut her up, he noted with satisfaction.

  But after a moment she said, ‘Hairstreak kidnapped you?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘You’re infuriating in this mood, Pyrgus. What do you mean “in a manner of speaking”?’

  Pyrgus decided he’d had enough fun. ‘He put a lien on your Guard Captain. Poor fellow took me directly to him instead of you.’

  ‘What about the other guards?’

  ‘They followed orders.’

  Blue stared at him thoughtfully. A lien was a very costly spell, even for somebody with Hairstreak’s wealth. He’d clearly wanted to get his hands on Pyrgus very badly.

  ‘Tell me the worst,’ she said.

  ‘Actually…’ Pyrgus said, ‘it may not be the worst. That’s why I wanted to talk to you away from the others. He’s sent you a message.’

  ‘About what?”

  Pyrgus, who was really getting a bit too tall for the security cubicle, slid down until he was squatting comfortably on the floor. After a tiny hesitation, Blue joined him. It was the sort of huddle they used to get into as children, when life was far less complicated.

  ‘I don’t know whether I believe it,’ Pyrgus said quietly, ‘but this is what happened…’

  Pyrgus still had his halek blade and was wondering about the political repercussions of using it on his uncle. But the very fact he still had his halek blade was peculiar. The manor was crawling with Hairstreak’s men, yet he hadn’t been searched once. That was not at all like Hairstreak, who was only alive today because he took security seriously.

  For the moment, Pyrgus decided to keep his hands by his sides and wait. Hairstreak said shortly, ‘Refreshment? Ordle, or something of that sort? Or would you prefer a drink? I suppose you’re old enough for ale now, are you?’

  Pyrgus thought he was, but you needed a clear head. Food held no appeal either. It was almost traditional to poison ordle when you wanted to get rid of an enemy. Four Purple Emperors had died that way in the past five hundred years. Pyrgus had been poisoned once already and had no wish to repeat the experience.

  ‘No, thank you,’ he said coolly.

  They were standing together in what looked like a smallish dining room. There were logs burning in the grate and the smell reminded Pyrgus of the forest. Hairstreak had his back to the fire, an old trick to throw himself into silhouette and make him look threatening. But he made no attempt to sound threatening as he said, ‘I suppose I should say I’m sorry to bring you here like this.’

  It was the first time Pyrgus had heard Lord Hairstreak apologise for anything. He waited.

  Hairstreak said, ‘I should be talking to your sister, but she won’t see me and, quite frankly, she’s not as easy to get hold of as you are.’ He contorted his face into what he probably thought was an avuncular smile. ‘You really should pay more attention to your safety, Pyrgus.’

  Pyrgus watched him, idly wondering if his uncle shouldn’t take his own advice. Three steps, four at the most, and he could have the halek buried in his stomach. If it didn’t shatter, that was that. Lord Hairstreak would be dead and the Realm would have one less problem. But it was only a very idle speculation at this stage. He waited.

  Hairstreak said, ‘In any case, I want you to deliver a message to your sister.’

  It occurred to Pyrgus that his sister might be wondering where he’d got to. The longer he stayed with Lord Hairstreak the more worried she was likely to get. Worried and irritated. He could live with worried, which was fun when it came to your sister. But she could get very stroppy when she was irritated.

  ‘What’s the message?’ he asked brusquely.

  ‘That the Faeries of the Nightside wish to negotiate,’ Hairstreak said.

  ‘Negotiate what?’ Blue asked.

  ‘A new relationship,’ Pyrgus said.

  Sixteen

  Henry opened his eyes to find he was back on the road.

  It wasn’t dark any longer, it was full daylight. He looked around, wondering how that had happened. The last thing he remembered, he’d been walking home late at night after spending time with Charlie. He’d stepped on to the verge to let a car go past and suddenly the car headlights blended into daylight. Which didn’t seem possible, yet here he was.

  But where was here?

  He looked around again. The road he was on seemed way out in the country. It meandered through a patchwork of small fields that didn’t look at all familiar.

  The sun was shining.

  How did he get here? Clearly he’d walked all the way past the turning to his home and out into the country. The spooky thing – the frightening thing if he was honest – was that he’d forgotten everything between the car approaching and now. That couldn’t be good. That had to be brain damage or something. Maybe the car hit him.

  Henry stopped and cautiously felt himself all over. Nothing seemed to be broken and there was no sign of blood. All the same, a really bad jolt could affect your memory. He was fairly sure he’d heard about boxers going a bit funny after they’d been battered around the head. They got punchy and talked to themselves and probably couldn’t remember things.

  The problem was he didn’t hurt. Not about the head and not anywhere. The side of his nose was a bit itchy, but that wasn’t something you’d get from a car knocking
you down and mangling your head.

  Where was he anyway? There was a wall coming up and a sign that said Stud Farm. There were stud farms in the district, but none of them particularly close to where he lived. When he walked past his turning, he’d obviously kept walking. And walking. And walking…

  It was peculiar his legs didn’t hurt. He’d been walking all night.

  The fear Henry felt sank to the level of a background ache. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how he’d got here. Without very much emotion he realised he was going batty. He had to be going batty. First he saw fairies, then he got lost.

  He turned round and started to walk back in what he hoped was the direction of home.

  Seventeen

  ‘What sort of new relationship?’ asked Mr Fogarty suspiciously.

  Blue looked at Pyrgus who said, ‘Lord Hairstreak thinks it would be in everybody’s interests if the Faeries of the Night and the Faeries of the Light signed a non-aggression treaty.’

  Everyone in the room looked at each other. Most showed shock, with a liberal sprinkling of disbelief. After a moment…

  ‘On what terms?’ asked General Vanelke.

  Pyrgus still wasn’t sure how he felt about any of this. He mistrusted his uncle almost as much as Blue did, and the ease with which Hairstreak had snatched him left him more shaken than he was admitting. He shrugged.

  ‘Basically each side agrees not to go to war with the other. If there are disputes, we settle them by negotiation or arbitration. He says the details can be worked out later, but if we agree the principle now it could open up a whole new era of cooperation that would benefit both sides and put our historic disagreements behind us. His words. More or less exactly.’

  Fogarty said, ‘Do you believe him?’

  Tricky question. Nobody in their right mind would trust Lord Hairstreak further than a perin’s spit. But at the same time he’d seemed genuine. Pyrgus shrugged again.

  ‘I tell the tale as told to me.’

  ‘What’s your opinion, Gatekeeper?’ Blue asked.

  ‘I’d want to think about it,’ Fogarty sniffed. Then added, ‘But as a general principle, I wouldn’t trust Lord Hairstreak as far as I could throw a sack of dog crap.’

  Pyrgus glanced at him in admiration. Analogue World similes always seemed a lot more colourful than the ones used in the Realm.

  ‘I think we should talk to Lord Hairstreak,’ General Vanelke said, unasked. He glared at Fogarty. ‘As a general principle, I believe talking is preferable to war.’

  ‘General Creerful?’ Blue asked.

  ‘On balance, I agree with Vanelke. What harm would talking do? Both sides could take endolgs as a token of good faith.’

  The idea appealed to Pyrgus, who liked animals. ‘Henry’s endolg’s still in the palace, isn’t he?’ he asked Blue. ‘The one you made a chevalier?’

  ‘I’m not convinced I should meet with my uncle,’ Blue said, ignoring him.

  General Ovard said, ‘The details would be worked out by civil servants on both sides. You wouldn’t have to be involved until the formal signing.’

  ‘Assuming there is a signing,’ Madame Cardui murmured lazily.

  ‘So you’re also in favour of talks?’ Blue asked, looking at General Ovard.

  Ovard nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Blue took in the sober faces. They were all so mature, so experienced. Even Pyrgus was older than she was. Talks seemed reasonable. But suppose it was a trick? Hairstreak was capable of any deception. Her whole instinct told her not to trust him. Yet all three of her military leaders were agreed there should be talks.

  In that instant, Blue suddenly saw her life as it might have been. If her father had lived, or Pyrgus accepted the throne, she’d have none of these worries now. She’d have time for the things she really enjoyed. She was a girl, for Light’s sake. She should be thinking about clothes and music and seeing the world. She should be thinking about romance. She should be thinking about… Henry. It was brutal that she should be facing life and death decisions about the future of the Realm.

  Brutal or not, the life she was leading now was the life she’d chosen.

  After a moment, she said, ‘Thank you, Generals. I should like to discuss the matter further with my political advisors. I’ll speak to you again when a decision has been made.’ There was not a flicker of expression on her face as she added, ‘In the meantime, I want you to make preparations for a military strike against Yammeth Cretch.’

  Eighteen

  Once the three old soldiers had left, Fogarty said, ‘So you don’t buy the idea of a treaty?’ He gave a steely little smile. ‘Obviously.’

  Blue sighed. When the Generals were present, the meeting had to be formal. Now she was among friends, she could relax a bit. She looked at Gatekeeper Fogarty and shook her head.

  ‘I think it’s a trick. Or at least it might be.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Pyrgus examining an orchid. He looked just like their father when he’d tended the plants.

  ‘What do you think he’s up to?’ Fogarty asked her.

  Blue didn’t know what Hairstreak was up to. Didn’t know for sure he was up to anything. What she did know was that she was afraid of making a mistake. That sick fear had been with her since the day she accepted the crown.

  ‘Buying time,’ Blue said with more conviction than she felt. ‘I still think he’s likely to attack before I’ve any real experience of ruling the Realm. But he may not be ready yet. Either that, or he just wants to keep us off our guard. If we’re in the middle of peace negotiations, the last thing we’d expect would be war.’

  Fogarty said. ‘Our endolg would sense that right away.’

  ‘He may not agree to endolgs,’ Blue said.

  ‘Wouldn’t that be suspicious?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s happened in the past.’ The one thing she had done was study politics. The history of the Realm was a long, miserable litany of treachery and deception. She looked at Mr Fogarty soberly. ‘In fact, most treaties have been brokered without endolgs.’

  ‘Actually,’ Pyrgus said, ‘I’ve been thinking about it and an endolg wouldn’t guarantee good faith. General Ovard said the details would be worked out by civil servants. That’s certainly what would happen. If Hairstreak’s people think he’s genuine, an endolg wouldn’t pick up anything amiss.’

  ‘There’s still the formal signing,’ Fogarty said.

  ‘By then it might be too late.’ Pyrgus looked from one face to the other. ‘Honestly, endolgs aren’t the answer.’

  Madame Cardui suddenly said, ‘That’s not all, is it deeah?’ Pyrgus glanced at her, but she was looking at Blue.

  It was probably time to tell them. Blue was used to doing things on her own, had been since she was a little girl. But things were different now. Now she was responsible for the entire Realm. She had to start sharing. She smiled, a little shamefacedly.

  ‘No, it’s not. I went to the oracle.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Madame Cardui.

  There was a long silence, then Pyrgus said, ‘What oracle?’

  ‘Blue saw the Spicemaster,’ Madame Cardui said.

  ‘Who’s the Spicemaster?’ Fogarty asked.

  ‘Which god did you get?’ Pyrgus asked in sudden excitement. As an aside to Fogarty he added, ‘He’s an oracle.’

  ‘Great,’ Fogarty muttered.

  Blue said, ‘I asked him -’ She hesitated. ‘I got the Yidam. Is that good?’ She looked from Pyrgus to Madame Cardui.

  ‘Good, but dangerous,’ Madame Cardui said.

  ‘And tricky,’ Pyrgus added. ‘At least that’s what everybody says. I’d never have the nerve to go to the Spicemaster.’ He looked at his sister admiringly.

  ‘I don’t suppose anybody’s going to tell me what this is all about?’ Fogarty remarked sourly.

  Madame Cardui reached out and took his hand. ‘The Spicemaster is trained to call the Old Gods who ruled before the Light. They can sometimes tell you the future, if you’re prepared
to take the risk.’ She reached over and patted Fogarty’s knee. ‘I’ll explain it all later, deeah.’ She turned to look expectantly at Blue. ‘Did you ask about Hairstreak’s intentions?’

  Blue shook her head. ‘No. I asked what would happen if we attacked the Nighters.’ She found herself looking from one to the other for approval and stopped immediately. She had to be decisive. ‘He said we’d win. And quickly.’ When nobody spoke, she added, ‘He also said I was in danger of betrayal from someone close.’ She blinked. ‘Actually I got on very well with him. The Yidam. I think he liked me.’

  ‘In danger of betrayal?’ Pyrgus echoed.

  ‘That has to be Lord Hairstreak,’ Blue said soberly. ‘Nobody’s much closer than an uncle. You can see why I don’t trust his treaty.’ She was looking for approval again. She couldn’t help it. ‘I still think we should attack.’ Somehow she just managed to keep from turning it into a question.

  Mr Fogarty’s rasping voice broke the silence. ‘Did this oracle thing actually say we would win? In those words: you will win the war ?’

  Blue said a little impatiently, ‘No, not in those exact words, Gatekeeper. He said something like… “ An enemy will be swiftly routed .” Something like that. But it’s what he meant.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Fogarty. He sniffed. ‘Bloody oracles.’

  They looked at him. Eventually Madame Cardui asked, ‘What’s that mean, deeah?’

  Fogarty said, ‘We used to have an oracle at home – well, at home centuries ago. Called the Delphic Oracle. Something similar to your Spicemaster, by the sound of it, except it was a woman. Got taken over by the god and predicted the future? That’s what happened, was it?’

  Blue nodded.

  Fogarty said, ‘The whole set-up was famous in the ancient world.’ He drew in a deep breath and sighed. ‘There was a king called Croesus who wanted to attack the Persians. The oracle told him if he attacked, a mighty empire would be destroyed.’ He looked across from under his eyebrows at Blue.