‘Yes, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘Where did they go to?’
Black John said, ‘I don’t know, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
Fogarty frowned. ‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’
‘They left the mansion and walked north along the main driveway,’ Black John said. A curiously mechanical tone entered his voice. ‘Then turned north-east on the subsidiary driveway and disappeared in the vicinity of the Haleklind folly.’
Fogarty glanced at Pyrgus, who said quietly, ‘There are follies all over the estate, Mr Fogarty. The last owner…’ He kept his eyes on the imp. It made him nervous.
Fogarty said to Black John, ‘What do you mean by disappeared?’
‘I mean disappeared, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘You mean disappeared without a trace? One minute they were there and the next they were gone?’
‘Yes, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘Did they use an invisibility spell?’
‘No, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘You couldn’t follow them any more?’
‘No, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘Did Queen Blue go with Henry of her own free will?’
‘Yes, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘And you have no idea where either of them are now?’
‘No, Gatekeeper Fogarty.’
‘Is he telling the truth?’ Fogarty asked Flapwazzle.
‘Lying through his teeth,’ Flapwazzle said.
Forty-four
Hairstreak watched the military preparations with a certain satisfaction.
He’d embarked on a risky course. But not, he thought, too risky. With the Queen missing, the Realm would be in chaos, at least for a while. Given any luck at all, his allies wouldn’t discover he was lying until it was too late. There was even a slim chance that Blue hadn’t told her advisors of her real decision – she was notoriously secretive – so even her people might not be able to contradict him until she turned up again. If she turned up again. Even then, he could probably bluff it out. It was her word against his, after all, and his word would carry more weight with the Faeries of the Night. Besides, by that stage, preparations for war would be at an advanced stage. Such events tended to take on a momentum of their own.
The only thing that really concerned him was the fact he didn’t know yet who had kidnapped her – clearly the boy wasn’t acting alone. It was a weakness in his position. But hopefully that might change soon. His entire espionage service was working to find out who was involved.
Meanwhile the combined armies of the Great Houses had begun stockpiling munitions and supplies in the vast caverns beneath Yammeth Cretch. Duke Electo, who knew about such things, estimated just days before the entire Nighter community was on a war footing.
Not that the timing mattered greatly. The Lighters had no idea at all what was happening. They were far too involved with looking for their Queen. Unless the rumours of a Countdown were true. But he very much doubted that. Not even his niece was mad enough to revive that old custom.
A soldier stacking crates – one of Burgundy’s men, from his insignia – missed his footing, thrashed wildly for a moment, then succeeded in pulling the entire stack down on top of him. He made a thin mewling sound as the heavy equipment began to crush his chest. Hairstreak considered briefly sounding an alarm, then decided against it. Much more interesting to watch the man die.
There would be many more deaths in the coming weeks.
Forty-five
Mr Fogarty hitched the imperial robes above his knee and sat scratching a blemish on one skinny shank. ‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ he said.
Pyrgus watched him warily. You could never tell what Mr Fogarty would do next, and now he was Acting Purple Emperor, that was a nerve-wracking situation.
‘Couldn’t you have forced it out of him?’ he asked cautiously.
Mr Fogarty looked up from under steel-grey eyebrows. ‘That was the old idea,’ he said. ‘Threaten them with torments. You heard Cynthia hitting him with the traditional formula. But know what, Pyrgus? I’ve been reading up on demons and I think they’ve had us all fooled – human and faerie – for an awfully long time.’ He stopped scratching and flipped the robe back over his knee. ‘You know the deal with demons, don’t you? They’re organised like insects.’ He waved Pyrgus towards a nearby chair. ‘Sit down a minute, will you?’
Pyrgus perched on the edge of a chair and waited. They were in the Gatekeeper’s official office, having left Madame Cardui and Flapwazzle to clear up after dismissing the demon. Mr Fogarty said, ‘You can’t deal with insects. Not as individuals. You deal with the hive. It’s the hive that’s the individual. Same with demons. You think you’re talking to this one or that one – Black John or whoever – but you’re really talking to them all. They’re linked inside their heads. They’re all linked. And all the links join up in their king. So really you’re always talking to Beleth.’
‘Beleth?’ Pyrgus wasn’t sure he was following this.
‘You’re not following this, are you?’ Mr Fogarty said. He sighed. ‘Doesn’t matter. Except you’ll never get anywhere tormenting an individual demon. What does Beleth care about Black John? Poor little sod got sold into service, had to do what he was told while Beleth collected his pay. Torment Black John as much as you like, he’s not going to tell you anything Beleth doesn’t want him to. Beleth has his own plans.’
‘But people – Faeries of the Night – do torment demons,’ Pyrgus said. ‘It’s one of the ways of controlling them.’
Mr Fogarty gave a small shrug. ‘Just a game, as far as I can make out. Just a way to make people think they’re in control. But you’re never in control with a demon. It’s always got a hidden agenda. It’s always following Beleth ’s orders.’
Pyrgus said, ‘What are we going to do, Mr Fogarty? About finding Blue?’ He hesitated a beat, then added, ‘And Henry?’
‘Well,’ Mr Fogarty said, ‘Black John sure as hell isn’t going to tell us.’ He glanced sideways at Pyrgus. ‘But you might.’
Pyrgus had one of those sinking feelings he got sometimes. ‘What?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘What did Henry have in his hand?’ Mr Fogarty asked. He waited a second, then said, ‘Oh, come on, Pyrgus – I saw your face when Kitterick was on replay. We were wondering if it was a crystal goblet or a Halek knife, but you knew what it was, didn’t you?’
Pyrgus looked down at his feet, then glanced briefly behind him, then looked down at his feet again. ‘Yes,’ he said eventually.
Fogarty waited. ‘Well, are you going to tell me or are you just going to sit there looking miserable?’
‘It was a crystal flower,’ Pyrgus said.
‘And what was the fairy dust?’
Pyrgus blinked. ‘Faerie dust…?’
‘That sparkling stuff. You could just about see it in the replay.’
‘I don’t know what that was,’ Pyrgus said. ‘I’ve never seen that sparkling stuff before. Maybe it’s what you get when you crush something crystal into powder.’
‘You ever tried to crush crystal into powder with one hand?’ Fogarty asked.
Pyrgus shook his head dumbly.
‘Thought not,’ said Fogarty. ‘What’s going on, Pyrgus?’
Somehow Pyrgus couldn’t drag his gaze away from Mr Fogarty’s grey eyes. He swallowed. ‘Maybe it was some sort of new magic or something. Maybe Henry -’
‘Let’s cut the crap,’ Mr Fogarty said sharply. ‘Henry doesn’t do magic. He’s allergic to it. I don’t buy it, Pyrgus, and I don’t buy the way you’re acting. You know something you’re not telling and I’m going to get it out of you if I have to wring your neck. We’re on a Countdown here, for God’s sake. Apart from your sister’s safety, if we don’t find her in three days – less now – we start a war!’
Pyrgus said, ‘I’ve seen flowers like that before, Mr Fogarty.’
Fogarty released an explosive sigh. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘OK – where?’
Py
rgus licked his lips. ‘There’s a Faerie of the Night called Zosine Ogyris -’
‘The merchant? Rich as Croesus?’
‘I don’t know Croesus, but he’s rich.’
‘What’s he do?’ Fogarty asked. ‘Manufacture these things?’
Pyrgus shook his head. ‘No, he grows them.’
‘I thought you said they were crystal?’
‘Yes, they are. Rock crystal. But Gel- somebody told me he grows them.’ He hesitated, looking at Mr Fogarty. ‘I don’t know how that’s possible either.’
Mr Fogarty sat quietly for a moment, then obviously decided not to worry about impossibilities. ‘What’s he do with them? Sell them?’ He frowned. ‘I haven’t heard of crystal flowers.’
This was getting hideously embarrassing. Pyrgus wondered if he couldn’t fuzz the rest somehow. But he was a bit afraid of Mr Fogarty and he’d a feeling he was in enough trouble already without making it worse. He drew a deep breath.
‘I think he’s growing them for Lord Hairstreak.’
Mr Fogarty looked at him, stunned. ‘What’s Hairstreak want with them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Pyrgus said miserably.
Mr Fogarty got up and began to pace. Suddenly he turned on Pyrgus. ‘Why the hell didn’t you say anything about this before?’
Pyrgus couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Cor ahr as seng is door,’ he muttered.
‘You were what?
‘I was seeing his daughter,’ Pyrgus said.
Forty-six
At which point in waltzed Madame Cardui.
‘Seeing whose daughter, deeah?’ she asked cheerfully.
Pyrgus groaned inwardly.
‘Zosine Ogyris’s,’ Mr Fogarty answered for him.
Madame Cardui’s expression changed at once ‘A Faerie of the Night?’ She stared at Pyrgus in shock. ‘You’ve been seeing a Faerie of the Night?’
‘Yes,’ Pyrgus admitted.
‘And a Faerie of the Night in trade?’ She made it sound like scrofula.
‘Well, yes, her father’s a merchant,’ Pyrgus said, a little miffed by her tone. All the same, the Faerie of the Night bit was embarrassing.
‘But you’re a Prince of the Realm,’ Madame Cardui said.
‘Yes, I know,’ Pyrgus said. He didn’t know what else to say and so said nothing. For some reason he felt very young. He stood blinking in Madame Cardui’s direction.
‘Is this serious?’ asked Madame Cardui. ‘You’re not… you’re not …?’
‘Of course he is,’ Mr Fogarty sniffed. ‘He’s a teenager – it’s all they ever think about.’
‘I didn’t mean that, Alan. Perfectly proper for a young man of high birth to perk up the peasantry from time to time – the Royal Family’s been doing it for centuries.’ She turned back to Pyrgus. ‘I meant you aren’t thinking of marrying her?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Pyrgus promptly. Which was true enough, but not because Gela was a commoner or any rubbish like that. She was really, really gorgeous and he’d been a bit… well… bowled over when he first met her. But marriage never came into it. Which was just as well since he still hadn’t sorted out how he felt about Nymphalis. Nymph was really gorgeous too, in a different way. And about as bossy as his sister, but he was used to that. The thing was, he couldn’t imagine Nymph ever leaving her forest home.
‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that,’ Madame Cardui said, cutting through his thoughts. Her features softened. ‘All the same, deeah, I do hope you’ve been discreet. I’m sure she’s terribly pretty and quite accommodating, but a Faerie of the Night? And in these trying political times? Such an embarrassment for your poor, dear sister.’
‘She is very pretty,’ Pyrgus said. He could sense his chin begin to jut as a familiar feeling of rebellion rose up in his stomach. Who did Madame Cardui think she was anyway? She was starting to sound like his father. ‘But that’s -’
Mr Fogarty cut in before he could finish. ‘Leave the kid alone, Cynthia. This could be a blessing in disguise. Pyrgus says Henry crushed a peculiar crystal flower before he disappeared and that Ogyris has been growing them for Hairstreak.’
Madame Cardui frowned. ‘ Crystal flowers? You mean flowers that are transparent like crystal or flowers that are made from crystal?’
‘I don’t know,’ Fogarty said. ‘Do you, Pyrgus?’
‘I think they’re flowers made from crystal,’ Pyrgus said, relieved that the interrogation about Gela seemed to be over. ‘I know it doesn’t make much sense: I’d never heard of them before.’
‘Neither have I,’ Madame Cardui said thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what Hairstreak wants with them?’
‘Well,’ said Fogarty, ‘I think that’s what we’d better find out – these things are obviously connected with Blue’s disappearance. If Henry had one, he’s likely to have got it from Ogyris. I don’t understand Hairstreak’s involvement – he had her anyway – but I’m betting Ogyris knows something about it.’ He hesitated thoughtfully. ‘Besides, it’s the only clue we have.’
Madame Cardui looked across at him. ‘What are you planning to do, deeah?’
‘Bring Ogyris in for questioning.’
‘Do you think he’ll talk?’
‘He will when I’ve finished with him,’ Fogarty said.
Pyrgus coughed lightly. ‘How were you going to bring him in, Mr Fogarty?’
Fogarty raised an eyebrow. ‘Contingent of Palace Guards should do it.’
‘He has his own guards,’ Pyrgus said soberly. ‘Gel- somebody told me it’s more like a private army. And his estate is right in the middle of Yammeth City. If you send in armed Lighters there’s likely to be a fight, a big one. It might even start the war.’
‘Do you have a better idea?’ Fogarty asked.
Pyrgus hadn’t, but he was used to thinking on his feet. ‘Why don’t I go there alone – to Merchant Ogyris’s estate – and see what I can find out? One Faerie of the Light isn’t going to attract any attention. I know where the flowers are and I know my way around the estate…’ The last bit was a sort of a lie, but he’d found his instructions from Gela and the little gate might still be open. Besides, if anybody caught him, he could probably persuade them he’d come to see Gela. With luck they might even contact her before they killed him. He was fairly sure she’d vouch for him, despite what had happened. So long as he wasn’t caught in the act, of course. Merchant Ogyris clearly didn’t want anybody messing with his precious flowers.
‘Much too dangerous, deeah,’ said Madame Cardui firmly. ‘Your sister would never forgive me if I let you do it.’
‘No, just a minute, Cynthia,’ Fogarty said, frowning. ‘We need to know about those flowers, and he’s right about trying to arrest Ogyris – that really could start the war.’
‘We can send one of my operatives,’ Madame Cardui said. ‘Someone trained.’
‘But if he’s caught, they’ll know the Imperial Espionage Service is interested,’ Pyrgus said quickly. ‘They’ll get it out of him. Remember my uncle is involved, even if we don’t know how. But if they catch me…’ He hesitated, but had to say it: ‘I can just pretend I’ve come to see Gela.’
‘Gela is the trollop of a daughter?’ Madame Cardui asked sweetly.
‘She’s not a -’ Pyrgus flared.
But Mr Fogarty cut across him again. ‘He’s got a point, Cynthia. It’s perfect cover. We can’t afford to make mistakes. Blue’s been kidnapped and we’re teetering on the brink of civil war. Volatile situation. The last thing we need is to make it any worse. Only bit that really worries me is time. We’re caught in a Countdown. Even as Acting Emperor I can’t order the Generals to stand down – only Blue can do that. So we need results fast.’
‘I could go straight away,’ Pyrgus said. ‘Now, if you like.’
‘Yes,’ Fogarty nodded, ‘it would have to be now.’
‘Take Kitterick,’ Madame Cardui said. ‘He’s an excellent bodyguard. Just in case…’
‘Yes,’ Fogarty said. ‘Take Kitterick. You can
pass him off as your servant.’
‘Yes, OK,’ Pyrgus said. He headed for the door, then stopped. ‘Madame Cardui…’ He licked his lips. ‘The business about me seeing Gela…?’
Madame Cardui looked at him. ‘Yes?’
‘You won’t mention it to Nymph, will you?’ Pyrgus said.
Forty-seven
As the door closed, Fogarty said, ‘Will you come to my room, Cynthia?’
‘Of course, darling,’ Madame Cardui said fondly. ‘Have you taken over the Imperial Suite?’
Fogarty smiled faintly. ‘No, the robes are as far as it goes. But I decided it was best for me to sleep in the palace until the emergency’s over.’
‘The robes suit you,’ Madame Cardui said. Her smile was wide and warm. ‘Emperor Alan has a nice ring to it.’
Fogarty sniffed. ‘The robes make me look like a prat. But they get people to do what they’re told.’
The room he’d commandeered was spartan, the sort of chamber usually reserved for unimportant visitors. But at least it was warm. Fogarty pulled the robes over his head and stretched out on the bed. He patted the counterpane beside him.
Madame Cardui crossed the room slowly and he watched her all the way. Weird where he’d ended up: actually living in another dimension of reality – the sort of thing they used to speculate about when he worked in quantum physics. But no more weird than meeting this marvellous woman. At his age.
She lay down beside him and reached across to take his hand. For once the gesture didn’t hurt. The rejuvenation treatments had cleared his arthritis completely from all five of the fingers and were already making inroads into the other hand. Some of his liver spots seemed to be fading as well and just that morning when he was combing his few remaining wisps of greying hair, he thought he noticed new growth. Give the wizards long enough and he’d end up looking like Robert Redford.
‘You seem pensive,’ Cynthia remarked.
‘I was thinking of war,’ Fogarty said.
‘What were you thinking of war?’
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