Ruler of the Realm fw-3

by Herbie Brennan

  ‘Gela, sir?’

  Pyrgus hesitated. ‘My, ah, friend. My friend Gela. She’s Merchant Ogyris’s daughter.’ He felt a lot less confident than he sounded. Gela might not be prepared to help. In fact, on balance, he thought it was a bit unlikely, but he didn’t have a better idea and it was probably worth a try.

  ‘I see, sir.’

  ‘I thought Gela could get us in,’ Pyrgus pressed on. ‘Maybe ask us to the house for a cup of fume or something. I’d ask her not to mention the visit to her father. Then, while one of us engages her in conversation, the other could sneak out and take a look at the crystal flowers.’ He hesitated. ‘Probably you,’ he added lamely.

  ‘May I say, sir, that is possibly the worst plan I have ever heard?’

  ‘It’s the only one I’ve got,’ Pyrgus told him sourly. ‘We might as well try it.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Kitterick.

  The main gates of the Ogyris Estate were enormous ornamental bastions flanked by twin statues of grinning demons. The statues were in a garish pink-veined marble. The gates were wrought in lethal iron, hideously expensive, but impervious to faerie attack and with a thin, black spell coating to protect any legitimate visitor who might touch them accidentally. They were shut.

  Pyrgus blinked. For some reason it had never occurred to him that the estate might be closed off, although now he was here it seemed the most likely thing in the world.

  ‘What do we do now?’ he muttered aloud.

  ‘Allow me, sir,’ said Kitterick and placed his palm squarely on the brass attention plate sunk into the left hand wall.

  ‘Please state your name and business,’ said the nearest statue.

  ‘Please face the gate and speak clearly,’ said its twin on the other side.

  ‘Please refrain from touching the gates at any time,’ said the first statue.

  ‘The gates are made from iron,’ remarked the other statue conversationally. ‘Very dangerous to faeries.’

  ‘The master coated it with spells, but they’ve worn a bit thin.’

  ‘Need replacing, really.’

  ‘So keep clear, or let the dwarf touch them. Iron doesn’t work on Trinians.’

  ‘It’s Prince Pyrgus, isn’t it?’ the other statue said. ‘You’ve been here before with young Mistress Gela, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Pyrgus said nervously.

  ‘Thought I recognised you. Nice to see you again, sir. Careful of the gates.’

  ‘You’ll still have to state your name and business, I’m afraid, sir,’ said the other statue. ‘Just for the record. We have to log all visitors with Security Central.’

  ‘Troubled times.’

  ‘Purely a formality in your case, sir.’

  ‘But one we must adhere to. Full name with titles, sir. Please speak clearly. Oh, and you should name the dwarf as well. He has to be stamped, since it’s his first time.’

  So much for Gela sneaking them in without her father knowing. ‘Prince Pyrgus Malvae of House Iris,’ Pyrgus said quietly, in case the name was heard by some passer-by. You could never tell what might happen to a Faerie of the Light in Yammeth City. You heard stories of them being lynched.

  ‘Bit louder, sir,’ the statue said.

  ‘Prince Pyrgus Malvae of House Iris!’ Pyrgus shouted, throwing caution to the winds. ‘Knight Commander of the Grey Dagger, Honorary Arcond of the Church of Light, former Emperor Elect, former Crown Prince of the Realm, Chief Friend and Sponsor of the League of Decency to Animals, President of the Weirdling Congress, Honorary Grand Herald of the College of Heraldry, First Cooperdentoid of the Ancient and Honourable Order of the Immaculate Hand, plus various subsidiary honours.’ He drew a fresh breath and added, ‘And Kitterick.’ He leaned across and whispered, ‘You don’t have any titles, do you Kitterick?’

  ‘Afraid not, sir.’

  ‘And the Orange Trinian Kitterick,’ said Pyrgus loudly.

  ‘And your business, sir? Succinctly. It just needs to be something like “Visiting Merchant Ogyris” or “Delivering ornaments for the house” or something of that sort, sir.’

  ‘Visiting Mistress Gela Ogyris,’ Pyrgus said.

  ‘Passing on,’ murmured the first statue. It closed its eyes to process the information.

  ‘Would you like to step over beside me, Mr Kitterick?’ asked the second statue in a friendly tone. ‘Might as well get you stamped while we’re waiting.’

  When Kitterick moved beside it, the statue produced a large rubber stamp from the folds of its tunic and imprinted a luminous OG on his forehead.

  ‘Just show that if you’re stopped. It’s valid for twenty-four hours. Don’t wash until you want rid of it – rain won’t affect it, but it comes off with soap. Some of the younger generation keep them on for weeks – it’s a fashion accessory, apparently.’

  ‘Cleared,’ said the first statue.

  There was an ominous click and the massive gates swung open.

  Fifty-two

  Henry’s eyes opened and flashed red. ‘Won’t do you any good,’ he said.

  Blue swung round, her heart pounding. He was still slumped squatting against the wall. There was no way he could get to his feet, cross the room and reach her before she dived through the open door. All the same she hesitated.

  Henry said, ‘It leads back here.’ He closed his eyes again. There was something in his careless confidence that was absolutely terrifying.

  Blue twisted round again and plunged through the open door. There was a soft snick as it closed behind her.

  She was in another featureless white cube.

  This room looked exactly like the one she’d left. White walls, white floor, white ceiling, the same concealed lighting, the same curious softness underfoot.

  And Henry, slumped against one wall.

  Fifty-three

  At almost four miles long, the winding driveway of the Ogyris Estate was clearly not meant for foot traffic. By the time Pyrgus and Kitterick arrived at the house, it was growing dark.

  ‘You OK, Kitterick?’ Pyrgus asked. His feet were sore and there was a knot in the muscle of one calf.

  ‘Never better, sir,’ said Kitterick annoyingly.

  The Ogyris mansion was a relatively new building of curious construction. It combined the slim spires of a traditional Haleklind castle with a blocky underpinning – so fashionable across the Cretch these days – that seemed to have been inspired by a troll’s dungeon. The result was something that looked vaguely like a giant porcupine crouched to spring. In an ostentatious display of wealth, Zosine Ogyris had commissioned lavish spell coatings that transmuted the base material of the building into copper, into silver, into gold, into platinum, into orichalcum and back to copper again, endlessly, at seven-minute intervals. It was burnished copper at the moment and the reflected rays of the dying sun made it look as if it was on fire.

  ‘Well, here we go,’ said Pyrgus and stepped up to the massive door.

  The woman who answered his knock – Pyrgus assumed she was a maid – was short and plump with something about her eyes that reminded him of Gela. She had the greenish skin tone and nose wrinkles of a Halek peasant, which may have been exactly what she was, since Ogyris could have brought her with him from his native land. She wore a crisp blue-striped apron and there was a dusting of flour on her hands.

  ‘Sorry to keep you,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Making scones.’

  Pyrgus favoured her with an uncertain smile. ‘I’ve come to see Gela,’ he said. Time to find out whether Gela wanted to see him.

  ‘Not here,’ said the woman promptly. ‘Father sent her ’ome.’

  Pyrgus blinked. This was Gela’s home.

  ‘To Creen,’ the woman said, using the native term for Haleklind. ‘Thought it would be safer.’ When Pyrgus looked at her blankly, she added, ‘The war.’

  ‘The war?’

  ‘The war what’s coming.’ She said it so matter-of-factly that Pyrgus chilled. But before he could react, she began to tilt her body
at an alarming angle. It took him a moment to realise she was trying to look past him. ‘That you, Kitterick?’ she asked, her face suddenly beaming.

  ‘Yes, indeed, Genoveva,’ Kitterick said smiling, as he stepped from behind Pyrgus. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  ‘Well,’ said Genoveva, ‘this is a real bootiful surprise! Come in, come in and bring your ’andsome young friend. I’ll brew up some fume and you can try my scones, tell me if I’ve lost my touch.’ She smiled broadly at Pyrgus and added, ‘So Gela knows you – lucky girl!’

  As they followed her along a flagstoned corridor towards the smell of baking, Pyrgus whispered urgently to Kitterick, ‘I didn’t know you knew Ogyris’s servants.’

  ‘Not his servant, sir,’ Kitterick whispered back. ‘That’s his wife.’

  ‘His wife?’ Pyrgus exclaimed loudly, then repeated in a whisper, ‘His wife? This is Gela’s mother?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Genoveva, sir. Very pleasant woman. Wonderful touch with scones, as I suspect we’re about to discover. Married when she was sixteen and he was twenty-five. That was before he left Haleklind and got rich. Happy as two clams in gravy, I’m led to understand. Halek marriages are often like that. Something to do with the composition of the soil, I believe.’

  ‘Why’s she doing her own baking?’ Pyrgus asked curiously.

  He must have spoken too loudly, for Genoveva called over her shoulder, ‘Because there’s not a servant in the country can match my scones. So Zosine Typha says, anyway. I think it’s a plot to keep me in my place, myself.’ She chuckled.

  ‘How is it you know her?’ Pyrgus whispered to Kitterick.

  ‘I fear I’m not at liberty to say, sir.’

  Pyrgus blinked at him, then said, ‘Oh. Some mission for Madame Cardui?’

  ‘Something of that sort, sir.’

  ‘But you know her well?’

  Kitterick smiled a little, with his poison fangs retracted. ‘Very well, sir. Very well indeed.’

  Pyrgus opened his mouth to push further, then decided better of it. Instead he said, ‘You don’t think you could get her to tell you about the crystal flowers, do you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, sir,’ Kitterick said politely. ‘She’s extremely loyal to her husband. In certain matters. Besides, I doubt she’d know anything about them. Halek men are notoriously chauvinistic. They tell their wives nothing, nothing at all. I’ve often thought it a most admirable characteristic.’

  ‘You two can stop whispering about my bottom,’ Genoveva called cheerfully over her shoulder. ‘Can’t help it if I have a healthy appetite.’

  ‘I would suggest, sir,’ Kitterick said softly, ‘in relation to the crystal flowers, you tell Veva – Madame Ogyris – that you have an interest in Halek architecture and would like to see over the house. She will issue you with a pass that will permit you entry to any area you wish. If someone stops you, just produce it. I shall keep her chatting in the kitchen until you return.’

  ‘She won’t just let me wander through her home,’ Pyrgus protested. ‘She doesn’t know me from Firstman.’

  ‘Oh yes she will, sir,’ said Kitterick confidently. ‘It’s a tradition of Halek hospitality.’

  ‘What happens if she wants to go with me? Give me a guided tour?’

  ‘She won’t, sir. You can take my word on that.’ Kitterick smiled.

  ‘’Ere we are, boys,’ Genoveva said, opening the kitchen door. ‘Fume and scones, and if you’re very good I might find you a pot of my home-made squing preserve.’

  ‘Try not to take too long, sir,’ Kitterick whispered. ‘I don’t know how long I can distract her.’

  Pyrgus followed them into the kitchen. The plan seemed insane, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of a better one.

  Fifty-four

  ‘Hello, Blue,’ Henry said and smiled coldly. ‘I told you they were coming.’

  He was flanked by demons. All but one of them was manifested in its spindly, grey-skinned form. They turned their huge black eyes upon her. Blue tried to jerk her head away, but moved too late. She felt her will begin to drain.

  The exception was skinny and tailed and naked except for a covering of black fur. It had budded horns and pointed ears and sharpened teeth and glowing yellow eyes. It grinned at her and loped across to take her hand. Its fur felt soft and comforting, like a cat.

  ‘Go with John, Blue,’ Henry said.

  Go where? It was a stupid thought but the only one that occurred to her in that chill instant. How could you go anywhere when the only door from the room led right back in again?

  Then other thoughts were smashing down on her like a tidal wave. Henry wasn’t working for Lord Hairstreak. Henry was working for the hordes of Hael. Which meant Henry hadn’t betrayed her. Because nobody like Henry worked for Hael of his own free will. The demons were controlling him!

  It was crazy, but she actually felt relieved.

  The relief lasted less than a second. They were both in big trouble and Henry didn’t even know it. If they were going to get out of this, it was up to her. But she was already caught up in the same web as Henry. Could she claw back control of her mind now she’d looked a demon in the eye?

  Beside her, the foul little creature squeezed her hand encouragingly.

  Blue looked carefully at what was happening to her. She didn’t feel any different to the way she usually did, but that was an illusion – and a subtle trap. However she felt, she was standing quietly holding hands with a demon, in a room full of demons. She should be running or fighting or screaming – anything except standing quietly. So when the demons took control of your mind, they made you feel you wanted to do what they wanted you to do.

  Could she use that insight? Did she have any of her own will left?

  She tried moving her left arm a little. It moved easily. She pushed down the sudden surge of elation. What did that prove? The demons wouldn’t care about her left arm. And why muck about with a small movement anyway? Why not try to run and see what happened? That would be a real test. Except she didn’t want to try to run because she had to go with John, as Henry said.

  The thought seemed so natural that she chilled.

  There was a beam of blue light pooled on the floor. She couldn’t see where it was coming from. The thing beside her crawled into her mind and fondled the surface of her brain.

  ‘I’m Black John,’ it told her silently. ‘Let’s walk together to the light.’

  That was just what they should do, of course. She took a small step forward, then another. Henry was watching her. His eyes were closed to slits and he was smiling.

  Blue tried to remember what Pyrgus had told her about being possessed by the demons. When it happened to him he’d tried hard not to think of his name, because once they knew your name, they had total control. Fat lot of good that information was. They knew her name already. Queen Blue, Empress of the Faerie Realm. Now walking like a child into a pool of light.

  It occurred to her that this was not the time to resist them. They were actively controlling her, making her walk. Later, perhaps, when their attention was on something else, she might seize an opportunity to escape.

  Hand in hand with Black John, Blue walked forward.

  Fifty-five

  Blue was drawn elegantly along the beam. Such strange spell technology. There was nothing like it in the Realm. It made you so relaxed and dreamy, carried you so gently, up and up and up.

  She reached the wall of the cubical chamber and passed through it as if it were mist. All the while Black John’s little cat-claw hand held hers.

  The sudden glare blinded her and hurt her eyes. She gasped and jerked her hand away. At once Black John gripped her mind savagely and she stood stock-still, unable to move, unable even to close her eyes. Black John took her hand again and her paralysis broke.

  Blue stood blinking tears from her eyes. She felt icy calm. The incident had taken less than a second, but she’d learned something. While the demon creature held her hand, he could control her
actions gently. When she jerked her hand away, his response had been close to panic. Locking up her mind and body was an overreaction. He still had control, but it was a crude, brutal control.

  Blue forced herself to ignore the pain in her eyes and think. The problem was nobody really knew much about demonic possession. Faeries of the Night had techniques and spells to guard against it, but even they didn’t know exactly how it worked. Henry was under demon control, obviously had been for some time, and nobody was touching him. Mr Fogarty had been possessed by a demon when he killed her father, but none of the creatures had been with him – touching him – at the time. Why did this thing need to touch her now? Henry and Mr Fogarty were both human. Perhaps it was different for faeries.

  She wracked her memory to recall what exactly had happened to Pyrgus. He said the demons had jumped on him, so there’d been contact then. But had one held his hand after that? He hadn’t mentioned it, although that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Besides, Pyrgus had been possessed while he was in Hael – the demons’ own world. It might work differently in Hael too.

  No matter. She still thought she’d learned something. Here and now, the demons seemed to need contact to control her properly. That was knowledge she might use.

  Blue turned her head, blinking the tears from her eyes. Her surroundings swam slowly into focus. She was in a strange metal chamber, lit by a pervasive violet glow. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the light was coming from a bank of huge transparent tubes, filled with slowly bubbling liquid. Floating inside were scores of naked babies, mouths open, eyes tight shut. To her sudden horror, she realised they were breathing the liquid. There was no way she could tell whether the babies were faerie or human.

  ‘Neither,’ Henry said, reading her mind. He was floating through the wall on another beam of blue light. Two of the black-eyed grey demons were following behind him. All three landed like thistledown.

  When she looked at Henry, she was no longer looking at Henry. She knew that now. There was something else behind his eyes.