Ruler of the Realm fw-3

by Herbie Brennan

  After a moment, Pyrgus shook his head. ‘Oh, no, that’s rubbish.’

  Henry said, ‘Complete nonsense. Wouldn’t entertain it.’

  They were creeping through the bushes when the first of Hairstreak’s trackers took out Pyrgus.

  Thirty-three

  Hairstreak eased his thumb back off the red button. ‘That flyer is showing the royal crest,’ he murmured, as much to himself as Pelidne.

  ‘Are we expecting an emissary from the palace?’ Pelidne asked.

  ‘No, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t sent one.’

  ‘What are your orders, sir?’

  Hairstreak pulled off his goggles. There was a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘Standard procedure, Pelidne. Have our visitor escorted to the landing pad and treated with every courtesy. Alert me once his identity is established. If he has legitimate palace credentials, try to find out the purpose of the visit.’

  ‘Then stall him?’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ Hairstreak said. ‘Offer him refreshment, get him drunk – whatever. Report back to me at once with any information. I shall be in my office.’

  ‘And the flyer, sir?’

  ‘Search it thoroughly once the pilot is clear.’

  Pelidne hesitated. ‘A royal flyer will have security spells in place. There would be no way of concealing the fact we’d searched it.’

  Hairstreak shrugged. ‘They’ll expect us to search it – we’d be fools not to.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ As Hairstreak pushed past him, Pelidne asked, ‘The security system, sir?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Shall I leave it armed?’

  ‘Of course. Our visitor isn’t likely to wander. And if he does, he deserves anything he gets,’ Lord Hairstreak told him. He stood up. ‘Contact my office once the craft is down.’

  But he never reached his office. Halfway down the stairs to the main hall an excited servant caught up with him.

  ‘Sir,’ she said breathlessly, ‘Lord Hairstreak, sir. It’s Her Majesty!’ Hairstreak turned to stare at her, his face expressionless. The girl waved her arms in something approaching panic. ‘It’s the Queen, sir. Outside, sir. Come in a flyer, sir, fastest landing I ever seen. Queen Blue, sir. What’ll we do, sir?’

  Hairstreak stared at her for a long moment. ‘Queen Blue?’ he said. ‘That flyer was piloted by Queen Blue?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The Queen, sir. She’s standing outside now, sir. What’ll we do?’

  Hairstreak smiled chillingly. ‘Get out of my way, girl. I shall welcome Her Majesty personally.’

  Thirty-four

  ‘That was the worst flyer landing ever,’ Flapwazzle whispered.

  ‘Were you frightened?’ Blue asked.

  ‘Petrified. You’re the scariest queen since Quercusia.’

  ‘I had to get out from under the missiles,’ Blue said, grinning.

  ‘Might have been more difficult if he’d fired them.’ Flapwazzle made a peculiar movement and it took her a moment to work out that he was scratching himself. ‘I’d like to know why he didn’t.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll get the chance to ask him.’ Blue said. ‘Now hush – there’s somebody coming.’

  She was expecting the servant girl again, but the door swung back to reveal Hairstreak himself. He was a small man, dressed, as usual, in black. He made an elaborate bow and contorted his features into a smile.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ he said fulsomely, ‘if you had let me know you were coming I would have made proper preparations.’

  ‘Like shutting down your ground-to-air missiles?’ Blue asked innocently.

  Hairstreak smiled slightly. ‘Standard security precautions, I’m afraid. Regrettable, of course, but in these troubled times…’ Something flashed in his eyes as he added, ‘So fortunate they weren’t actually launched.’

  ‘For me or for you, Uncle?’

  ‘For us both, my dear.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘But what am I thinking of, leaving you standing on the doorstep? Please come in. You grace my humble home with your presence.’ As he stepped to one side, Blue suddenly noticed a slim young man standing in the shadows behind him. There was nothing untoward about his appearance, but for some reason she shuddered. Hairstreak may have caught the direction of her glance, for he said softly over his shoulder, ‘Pelidne, have the servants prepare a meal for Her Majesty. In the main banquet hall.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Blue said quickly. Now they were here, she was very aware she’d set a Countdown in motion. Three days was a good safety margin, but even so there was no sense taking any more time than she needed. ‘This is a just a brief visit. But I would appreciate a few minutes in a secure room.’

  ‘Of course,’ Hairstreak said smoothly.

  He led her down a corridor beside the main staircase and opened a heavy door. The chamber beyond was tiny and furnished only with two chairs and a small table, but it smelled strongly of privacy spells.

  ‘The matter is confidential,’ Blue said firmly when the Pelidne person tried to follow.

  Hairstreak shrugged slightly and gestured with his head. Pelidne left at once. Throughout it all he had not spoken a single word.

  As Hairstreak closed the door he said, ‘I take it this concerns the offer I sent by way of your brother?’

  ‘Yes,’ Blue said.

  ‘Then let us sit and discuss it.’ He hesitated momentarily. ‘Perhaps your endolg would be more comfortable on the floor than squashed up against the chair back.’

  Blue froze. For a second she considered trying to bluff it out – Endolg? What endolg? – but Flapwazzle said audibly, ‘He knows I’m here, Blue,’ and slid out from under her shirt.

  Hairstreak smiled a little grimly. ‘Ah, it’s Flapwoggle, isn’t it? The endolg who famously infiltrated my obsidian maze?’

  ‘Flapwazzle,’ Flapwazzle corrected him sourly.

  ‘Of course,’ Hairstreak said.

  Flushing a little, Blue said, ‘I thought it might be a good idea to have an endolg present.’ Despite the embarrassment, she held her uncle’s eye. ‘For both our sakes.’

  But Hairstreak only said, ‘Yes, of course,’ and gestured her towards the nearest chair.

  She waited until he’d taken the other seat before she said, ‘Pyrgus told me the Faeries of the Night want peace – is that so?’

  ‘It’s all most of them have ever wanted, Blue,’ Hairstreak said piously.

  ‘And you’re now offering to negotiate to that end?’

  ‘To negotiate a treaty, yes.’

  Blue took a deep breath. ‘Is the offer genuine?’ she asked bluntly.

  She expected an angry response, but Hairstreak only shrugged. ‘The offer’s perfectly genuine. But ask the endolg. That’s what it’s here for, I presume.’

  Blue flushed, hesitated, then said quietly, ‘Flapwazzle?’

  ‘He’s telling the truth,’ Flapwazzle said.

  She suddenly realised the news had thrown her. Deep down she must have believed the whole thing was a ploy. But now, with a welling sense of excitement, the implications began to dawn on her. There was a genuine offer on the table. That meant the possibility of real peace in the Realm for the first time in centuries. The treaty negotiations were sure to be tough, compromises would have to be made, but the goodwill was there. Something absolutely unexpected had happened. She was Queen at a turning point in history. If nothing went wrong, her name would be remembered for a thousand years. It was a sobering thought.

  If nothing went wrong…

  She suddenly remembered Flapwazzle’s question. ‘Uncle, what backing do you have to make this offer?’

  ‘Enough,’ said Hairstreak shortly. ‘Every major House of the Faeries of the Night is behind it.’

  ‘But there are dissenters? Some Houses don’t agree?’

  ‘As you say, some Houses disagree, but not enough to make a difference to the outcome. If a treaty is signed under the present circumstances, it will be implemented.’

  She glanced at
Flapwazzle, who said, ‘It’s true, but he’s holding something back.’

  ‘What are you holding back, Uncle?’

  Hairstreak gave a hearty chuckle that sounded entirely genuine. ‘Oh, come now, Blue, you don’t expect me to reveal my negotiating position in advance of the talks, do you? You haven’t even agreed to the basic proposal yet.’

  It was reasonable enough. And he was right: she hadn’t even agreed to negotiations yet. At least not formally. In her head, she no longer had any doubt.

  She opened her mouth to tell him so when there was a thunderous knocking on the door.

  Thirty-five

  For no reason, Blue felt suddenly afraid. Her heart begin to thump wildly as Hairstreak strode across the room.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered to Flapwazzle, who was now wrapped protectively around her feet.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Flapwazzle whispered back nervously. ‘It’s Hairstreak’s vampire – I can get that from the smell. And he’s worried about something: I can get that from the smell too. But I don’t know what. I can only sense truth, not read minds.’

  Blue almost choked. ‘Vampire? Uncle Hairstreak has a vampire?’

  ‘The droopy young man lurking by the door – the one who tried to come in here. I forget what your uncle called him.’

  ‘Pelidne,’ Blue said. ‘Pelidne is a vampire?’

  ‘Didn’t you notice how pale he was?’

  Blue’s voice had been rising. Now she modified it with an effort. ‘Yes, but I never thought he might be a vampire.’ Vampire servants were illegal, but it was stupid to think that would make much difference to her uncle. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important,’ Flapwazzle said.

  ‘Not important?’ Blue hissed. ‘He might have drunk our blood!’

  ‘Wouldn’t have drunk mine,’ Flapwazzle sniffed. ‘They’re allergic to it.’

  Lord Hairstreak had the door open now and it was indeed Pelidne outside. He leaned across to whisper something in Hairstreak’s ear and Blue only just stifled the urge to shout a warning about the danger to her uncle’s neck.

  Hairstreak jerked away as if he’d been bitten. ‘Three?’ he hissed. He glanced back at Blue through the open doorway.

  The man Pelidne – the vampire Pelidne – moved forward to whisper something else.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Flapwazzle muttered. ‘I think we should get out of here.’ He began to climb up her leg.

  Blue stood without waiting for him to anchor on her back again. ‘Our business is done here, Uncle,’ she exclaimed in her most imperious voice. ‘I accept your offer to negotiate.’ She tried to sweep from the room, an effect marred by Flapwazzle, who was clinging to her knee.

  Lord Hairstreak moved quickly to block the doorway. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said formally. ‘There has been a development you should know about.’ He blinked slowly, like a lizard. ‘If you don’t know about it already,’ he added softly.

  Blue didn’t, so the expression on her face was genuine. As was the panic building in her. She’d caught a hint of what Flapwazzle was sensing – he was on her thigh now, trembling slightly – and it was very frightening indeed. All she could think of was getting out of the mansion and into her flyer.

  ‘I’m due back at the Purple Palace,’ she said desperately, still trying to bluff it out. (Bluff what out?) ‘They’re expecting me and it’s long past Flapwazzle’s bedtime -’

  Flapwazzle managed a little jump and wrapped himself around her stomach. ‘Make a run for it!’ he hissed.

  She might even have tried, but Lord Hairstreak caught her arm. ‘This way, Your Majesty,’ he said angrily. He half dragged her out of the room and ten paces along the corridor. He stopped. ‘Would Your Majesty care to comment?’ he asked.

  There were three bodies lying near the staircase.

  Thirty-six

  At first she didn’t see anything except the limp, huddled corpses with their hideous wounds, then her eyes travelled upwards to the familiar shock of red hair.

  ‘God of Light,’ she whispered. ‘Pyrgus!’

  She tore away from Hairstreak and dropped on one knee. Pyrgus had been thrown almost casually across a body with orange skin – Madame Cardui’s Trinian servant Kitterick. Blue felt a tightness in her chest that almost stopped her heart. Then her eyes moved to the third body.

  Henry! It was Henry! She didn’t even know he was back in the Realm. She twisted to look up at Hairstreak.

  ‘You’ve killed them!’ she gasped. ‘You’ve killed all three of them!’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ Hairstreak snapped. ‘None of them is dead. The question is, what did your people think they were trying to do?’

  Blue ignored him. Now she looked more closely, Pyrgus was breathing. So was Henry. But Pyrgus had a massive red stain oozing from his side and Henry’s hair was matted with blood. She couldn’t see the extent of Kitterick’s injuries because of the way Pyrgus had been thrown on top of him, but from what she knew of the dwarf he was probably worse off than the other two. He always fought like a demon to avoid capture.

  She forced herself to her feet and turned to face Lord Hairstreak, her eyes blazing. ‘What have you done to them?’ she demanded. If Pyrgus died or Henry died she would have Hairstreak hanged and to Hael with the political consequences.

  ‘I have done nothing to them,’ Hairstreak said impatiently. ‘Your brother and his friends were sneaking about in my grounds, clearly intent on espionage or sabotage. They were detected and neutralised by my automatic security system.’ His lip curled into a sneer. ‘I cannot imagine they took action without your knowledge, Majesty.’

  He doesn’t know Pyrgus, Blue thought. But she was too concerned to let herself be bullied. ‘Security system?’ she snapped. ‘Your security system may have killed them!’

  ‘Oh, nonsense!’ Hairstreak shook his head shortly. ‘They’re merely in a coma. The system uses a derivative of Trinian toxin.’ He looked down at Kitterick with distaste. ‘Ironically.’

  ‘Trinian toxin is lethal,’ Blue gasped, suddenly frightened again.

  ‘A derivative, I said,’ Hairstreak shouted, no longer even attempting politeness. ‘The worst it does is send them asleep for a while.’

  ‘He’s telling the truth,’ Flapwazzle murmured from the level of her belly.

  Even after the endolg’s reassurance, Blue felt murderous. ‘They’re injured!’ she shouted at Hairstreak.

  ‘Pelidne, fetch the staff physician,’ Hairstreak ordered over his shoulder. To Blue he said hotly, ‘That damn dwarf broke four of my trackers, if we’re starting to apportion blame.’

  Blue didn’t know what a tracker was, but assumed it must be a part of the security system. Hairstreak had a real cheek bringing that up. Like blaming somebody for making your sword bloody after you stuck it in him. All the same, now her initial panic was dying down, she could see he had a point. What was Pyrgus doing here? And where had Henry come from? Chances were they’d some romantic idea about rescuing her. Now, as usual, she was going to have to rescue them.

  A fat, balding little man with a mandrake embroidered on his tunic came bustling from the bowels of the house. He looked like someone wakened from a nap.

  ‘Fix them,’ Hairstreak said shortly, nodding towards the bodies on the floor. ‘Report to me when you’ve finished.’ Without further preamble, he gripped Blue’s arm again. ‘Come with me, Niece – you have some explaining to – yipes!’ He jerked his hand away as Flapwazzle bit him.

  ‘Touching the royal person is forbidden,’ Flapwazzle said from his position wrapped around the royal stomach.

  Pelidne moved towards them and the way he moved was frightening in its speed and grace. But Hairstreak waved him away.

  ‘The creature is quite right – I forgot myself.’ He glared soberly at Blue. ‘Nonetheless, Your Majesty, it is clear we need to talk, if Your Majesty will condescend to accompany me…?’

  ‘Of course, Uncle,’ Blue said li
ghtly. Despite his new-found manners, she knew she had no option.

  He led her back to the room they’d occupied before and closed the door carefully. Then he turned towards her. ‘Well?’

  It was exactly the tone her father had used when she’d irritated him, usually accompanied by the words ‘young lady’. Now it was her uncle who was angry and, while she was furious herself, she knew very well her situation was delicate. Pyrgus, Henry and Kitterick had no right to trespass on the Hairstreak Estate, let alone go creeping around in the bushes, looking for God knew what. (She had no doubt that what Hairstreak had told her was true – it was exactly the sort of thing Pyrgus would do… and drag poor Henry along with him.)

  Blue didn’t think for a moment they were up to anything sinister, and all three had paid heavily for their silliness – their wounds looked horrible – but none of that changed the fact they were basically in the wrong… or that Realm politics had hit a critical time. Would this stop the treaty? Probably not, but it would certainly give Hairstreak an advantage in the negotiations she’d much rather he didn’t have. What she needed now was damage limitation.