'Don't upset yourself, Pyrgus,' the demon said. 'It will be easier on you if you avoid aggressive actions. And more convenient for me.'
If he couldn't move, could he talk? There were things he needed to know if he was to have any chance of getting out of here. 'How do you know my name?' he asked. It came out slightly slurred, but otherwise just fine.
The scarlet demon stared at him with huge dark eyes, but made no attempt to control his mind again. 'We've met before.'
Pyrgus blinked. He had no memory of ever seeing this creature.
'Don't you remember?' the demon asked, picking up his thoughts. 'Well, perhaps that's understandable. I looked a little different then.'
To Pyrgus's astonishment the creature began to expand in all directions. It grew upwards to a height of six feet… seven feet… eight feet and more. Its body burst out of the scarlet robe and took on slabs of rippling muscle. Its skull distorted and its face changed. Ram's horns erupted from its forehead and curled powerfully to frame the side of its head. 'Does this refresh your memory?' Even the voice had changed. The smooth, well-modulated tones now rumbled like a thunderstorm.
Pyrgus's mouth opened and closed like a fish. It was the creature Brimstone had called up, the creature that had tried to kill him just before his father's guards arrived. 'You're – you're – '
'Prince Beleth at your service!' laughed the demon.
The transformation was astonishing. 'Is that the way you really look?' asked Pyrgus.
Beleth shook his head. 'Of course not. All this is just part of the show we put on for old fools like Brimstone. He believes he's a Master of Illusion, but he never thinks to question what he sees himself.' The huge form began to shrink until Pyrgus was again faced with the creature in the scarlet robe. Somehow it looked no less scary than the thing with horns. This Beleth was a formidable opponent however he looked.
'Why, thank you,' Beleth said, again demonstrating how easily he picked up Pyrgus's thoughts. He glanced down at the map, then back at Pyrgus. 'I expect you'll soon be wondering how you got into this mess.'
Pyrgus, who'd started to wonder how he'd got into this mess, felt a nasty little chill crawl up his spine. How could you get away from something that read the plans in your mind as you were making them?
'Not very easily,' Beleth told him. 'So why don't you stop worrying about getting away and in return I'll satisfy your curiosity about one or two things that have been troubling you. How about that, Prince Pyrgus? Do we have a bargain?'
Pyrgus found his headache was getting worse. He didn't like the thought of making bargains with a demon, but just at that moment he couldn't figure out what else he was supposed to do. Clearly he couldn't get away just now, whether he worried about it or not. Besides, he was curious about how he'd managed to end up here and a few other things besides. Starting with why Brimstone had been so anxious to sacrifice him to this creature.
'Well,' said Beleth, 'let's deal with how you got here first and I'll tell you about Brimstone in a moment -save the best for last, so to speak. You're here because we interfered with your portal – that's why you're here. Not many people know we can do that.'
Pyrgus certainly hadn't known. He'd never heard a hint of demons interfering with portals before. He wondered if -
Beleth said, 'We're the ones who sent you off course when you tried to translate to the Analogue World. We had help, naturally. We needed to know House Iris portal coordinate settings. Catching you this time was a lot easier – we already knew the coordinates for your return so it was only a question of watching for the signal and diverting you as you stepped through.'
'But why?' Pyrgus asked.
'Because Brimstone didn't manage to fulfil his contract,' Beleth explained patiently. He smiled, showing little demon teeth. 'So now I have to do the job myself.'
'Just seven groats a week,' the old woman cackled. 'Won't find anything this good for the money anywhere in the realm, young man.' She grinned toothlessly and a knowing look crossed her features. 'Or as private.'
Brimstone stared at his new lodgings with distaste. They consisted of one filthy room with a shuttered window. The bed was a heap of vermin-ridden straw in a corner. The only furniture was a rickety table and a single wooden chair. From now on he would sleep here and eat here – 'Meals is extra,' the old woman added, as if reading his mind.
– – and venture out only after dark. 'I'll take it,' he told the harridan. He tossed her a few coins. 'Here's a month in advance – now piss off.'
She tested two of the coins between her gums and presumably found them satisfactory. 'Thank you, sir,' she said. The knowing look returned. 'Rest assured no one will know you're here, sir. Not while there's breath left in my body. Guarantee my tenants privacy, I do. Guarantee it.' She hesitated at the door. 'Bone gruel for supper,' she said. 'Very nourishing.'
Brimstone turned away as she closed the door and opened the shutter a crack. His room looked out on to an open sewer. He closed the shutter again. At least no one was likely to break in through the window. He went to the table, sat on the chair – which was hideously uncomfortable – and carefully counted the gold coins he had left. He could stay here for quite a while at seven groats a week if the bone gruel didn't kill him off, but he'd have to come out of hiding eventually.
He just hoped Beleth wouldn't still be looking for him when he did.
Pyrgus felt like a balloon tethered to Beleth by an invisible cord. Demons prostrated themselves as their Prince strode through the city streets. Pyrgus followed no more than a pace or two behind, but seemed to be floating rather than walking. His mind was racing now, even though he knew Beleth could pick up every thought.
'Patience,' Beleth cautioned over his shoulder. 'All will soon be clear. And rest assured I shall tell you everything. It's such a delicious plan, I've been dying to tell somebody. Of course I couldn't until now in case word got out. But since you're captive here now, I can tell you all. It's quite, quite marvellous!'
They crossed the perimeter of the city and stepped on to a gloomy metal plain. Stretched across it for as far as the eye could see were rank upon rank of heavily armed and armoured demons. They carried fire lances, stun wands, rocket launchers. They wore bandoleers of laser grenades and biological spell cones. Servo-assisted boots meant they could leap for fifty yards or more. Helicopter backpacks would enable them to fly. They were the most fearsome fighting force Pyrgus had ever seen.
'Salute the troops,' said Beleth.
Pyrgus felt his arm move of its own accord until it snapped off an awkward salute. As it fell back to his side, Beleth said, 'This is what it's all about.'
Pyrgus stared out across the vast army and tried to make sense of it all. 'You're expecting trouble?' he ventured. He wondered if Hael might be threatened with invasion.
'You could say that,' Beleth told him. 'Although expecting isn't quite the right word. It's trouble we shall be starting soon. With a little help from our friends. That's what your song says, isn't it?' He caught the confusion in Pyrgus's mind. 'Well, perhaps it's an Analogue World song. I know I heard it somewhere. No matter. The point is any day now decades of careful planning will bear fruit. There are going to be… changes… in the Realm of Faerie.'
Pyrgus definitely was floating. When he looked down he could see his feet were nearly six inches off the ground. Beleth towed him like a child's toy through the ranks of stone-faced demons. The smell of brimstone was exceptionally strong here, intermingled with the heavy scent of cordite, as if wars and armies were particularly demonic things. Which they probably were, Pyrgus supposed.
'How do you get on with your father?' Beleth asked.
'Very well,' Pyrgus answered loyally, although it was far from the truth.
'I ate mine,' Beleth told him. 'He got old and feeble and useless, but he wanted to hold on to power. So I took steps. Tasted disgusting – stringy, tough, smelly… you know how fathers are – but it's the custom here. You're supposed to absorb the essence that way. Rank supers
tition, of course, but, well… tradition.' He shrugged.
'So you became King of Hael?' Pyrgus said. He had an idea that if he could keep Beleth talking, the demon might not take time to read his thoughts.
'Prince of Darkness,' Beleth told him. 'The title is Prince of Darkness. We've never had a king here, or an emperor – prince is the highest rank. I was a duke when I ate him. Anyway, the point is when I became Prince, there were a few changes round here, I can tell you. This place had stagnated for centuries. But I made plans, Crown Prince Pyrgus. Would you like to hear about the plans I made?'
'Yes, please,' Pyrgus said eagerly. Maybe it was his imagination, but the more Beleth talked the more his control over Pyrgus seemed to be easing. Pyrgus still couldn't do anything and he had to be hideously careful about everything he thought, but in time…
'I made plans to expand my sphere of influence. That's the way they put it, isn't it? Nobody talks about conquest, loot and pillage any more, although it's much the same thing and such fun. Perhaps since we're friends now, I should speak plainly. I made plans to conquer, loot and pillage the entire Realm of Faerie. And after that to march my legions into the Analogue World, although that's not really your concern. In short, Pyrgus, I made plans to become the greatest Prince of Darkness the universe has ever known.' He stopped, black eyes shining.
After a moment, Pyrgus said encouragingly, 'Wow, how were you going to do that?'
'We demons have had a long relationship with the Faeries of the Night – a little help here, a sacrifice there, the occasional blood contract. You know that, of course. What you may not know is that only months ago I personally negotiated a secret treaty with one of the more powerful Nightside leaders – '
'Lord Hairstreak!' Pyrgus exclaimed.
'Precisely!' Beleth nodded. 'What an intelligent young man you are – you would make an excellent demon. As you say, Lord Hairstreak. He has ambitions to conquer, loot and pillage the entire Realm of Faerie himself and I agreed to help him. Specifically, Pyrgus, I agreed to add my forces to his when he launched an attack on the ancient Administration of the Light. In short, your father's Government. That attack is now imminent.'
'Hairstreak is going to declare war on my father?'
'Perhaps not declare. One would prefer an element of surprise. But he is certainly going to wage war and these stout fellows all around you will help him win it.'
This was no longer a game to keep Beleth talking. Pyrgus was chill as an icicle. He knew there had been some trouble with the Faeries of the Night, but it had never occurred to him the situation was so serious that it threatened war. And with Beleth's legions allied to the Nightside, it was a war his father could not win. Furiously he fought the panic rising through his thoughts. 'Hairstreak plans to overthrow my father?'
'Yes.'
'And declare himself Purple Emperor?'
'Something like that.' Beleth smiled benignly.
After a stunned moment, Pyrgus said, 'Our people will never stand for it!'
'They may have to when they lose the war. But you are quite right to suggest they will not like it. Hairstreak knows that, of course, which is why he asked me to murder you.'
'Hairstreak asked you to murder me?' Pyrgus echoed.
'Nothing personal,' said Beleth. 'It's only politics.'
Beleth's control was definitely slipping. Pyrgus had both feet on the ground now and the sensation of floating had all but gone. None the less he followed the Demon Prince willingly as they left the military field and re-entered the great, gloomy, metal city. Escape was useless to him now, even if he managed it. Before he took any action at all, he had to find out everything that was going on.
Luckily Beleth seemed happy to talk. 'The point, of course, is that you are Crown Prince, the legitimate heir to the throne should anything… unfortunate befall your father.'
Frowning, Pyrgus asked, 'You mean like getting killed in the war?'
Beleth glanced back at him in surprise. 'Oh, no -your father won't be killed in battle. That would make him a martyr. He must be killed before hostilities break out. And so, I fear, must you.'
Twenty-seven
Blue felt like killing her father.
'I've been worried sick, young lady!'
'Honestly, Father, there was no need.'
'No need? Do you know what time it is?'
He had a point of sorts there. It was almost dawn. But even so, there was no need for him to speak to her like this in front of the servants. 'I'm sorry it's so late, Father, but I was on an important mission.'
'I don't care if you were visiting the High Priest of Coridon!' snapped the Purple Emperor. 'You don't think I have enough to worry me with your brother missing without you taking yourself off as well?'
Mt was actually about Pyrgus that I – '
'I don't care. I don't care what you thought you were doing. I'm sick of all this Secret Service business. I'm sick of you sneaking around pretending to be some sort of spy. You're a Princess of the Realm, not a grubby field operative in Imperial Espionage.'
'Father,' Holly Blue said patiently, 'I really don't want to go into this in front of other people, but the books I brought back contain important information. They may give us some clue to where Pyrgus has got to.'
She watched her father carefully. He had confiscated the books she'd brought back from Brimstone's lodgings almost as soon as she returned to the palace – the moment she'd admitted to stealing them, in fact. But she'd at least had time to glance at Brimstone's magical diary. It left no doubt that Brimstone had tried to kill Pyrgus as part of some ghastly demonic operation. It also showed that Brimstone's partner Chalkhill had captured Pyrgus in the first place. What had Chalkhill and Brimstone been up to? Were they behind the sabotage of the portal? Did they know where he was now? Since Brimstone seemed to be missing at the moment, Blue fully intended to pay a little call on Chalkhill and get the truth from him one way or another.
Her father's brow turned thunderous. 'Those books were stolen, young lady. Stolen by you. I never thought I would see the day when a daughter of mine turned into a common thief. Gatekeeper Tithonus will return them in the morning. In the interim, I suggest you go to your room, take off those ridiculous clothes and get straight to bed.'
How could your own father be so stupid? So maddening. So… so
… so… 'Father, you can't give them back. They could help us find Pyrgus – '
'I think you may safely leave the search for Pyrgus to those who know what they're doing,' her father told her coldly. His tone softened a little as he added, 'I know you're worried about your brother, Blue, but while you've been on your ridiculous escapade, Tithonus and I have ascertained that he is safely back in the realm. It will be only a matter of time before we find him.'
So they hadn't found him yet. She knew it! She knew it! 'Father, I – '
'Not another word,' her father said. 'Not one more word. I've had a long day and a long night and a great deal more worry than I needed – much of it, I might say, caused entirely by you. Go to your room.'
'But, Father, I – '
'No "buts",' her father snapped. He half turned so that his back was towards her as if firmly ending the conversation, then, because he could never resist, he turned back and said, 'What is that ludicrous fashion you're wearing? You realise it makes you look exactly like a boy?'
'Father – '
'Not another word!' her father said. This time he turned away without turning back. Had he done so, he might have noticed the mutinous set of Blue's lower lip as she headed for her room.
Chalkhill had to be very rich indeed – there was a fair-weather spell laid across his entire estate. You could see the break in the clouds for miles across the Wildmoor Broads and when Blue approached the main gates she noticed the temperature had risen so much it felt almost sub-tropical. To her surprise, the gates themselves were open.
Kitterick seemed surprised as well. 'Come into my parlour…' he murmured.
It was late morning
on the day after the row with her father. She'd borrowed Kitterick again from Madame Cardui and they were riding side by side in an unmarked palace ouklo, perfect for the Broads since it carried them above the spreading prickleweed. Now it floated serenely along Chalkhill's pristine driveway, allowing them time to admire the manicured lawns and jasmine-scented borders. As the mansion came into view, Blue's attention was drawn to a massive flower bed tightly planted with pink and white roses to spell out the word Jasper in flamboyant, flowing script.
'Must be his first name,' Blue muttered. Her expression showed distaste at the vulgarity.
'I believe it is, Serenity,' Kitterick confirmed.
'You must stop calling me "Serenity", Kitterick,' Blue told him. 'It's important Chalkhill doesn't realise my identity.'
'Of course, Serenity,' Kitterick nodded. 'What shall I call you?'
She was dressed in the clothes her father believed made her look exactly like a boy. After a moment's thought she said, 'Sluce. You should call me Sluce.'
'Sluce, Serenity?' Kitterick's nose wrinkled in distaste. 'A little… merchant class, surely?'
'We're supposed to be merchant class,' Blue said firmly. The cover story was they were here to offer Chalkhill a new wrinkle cream that actually reversed the ageing process to leave the skin soft as a child's. Madame Cardui claimed it was exactly the sort of nonsense to guarantee Chalkhill would see them. 'Are all the arrangements in place?' Blue asked Kitterick.
'Of course… Mr Sluce,' the orange dwarf confirmed with an audible sniff. 'We can move on a whistle.' He patted his briefcase and stared, mysteriously, up at the sky.
The ouklo reached the courtyard in front of the house and descended like thistledown to the gravelled surface. Blue and Kitterick both stepped off delicately. There were several gardeners at work within sight of the windows, but they ignored the visitors completely.
The mansion was a mixture of styles. The central portion had the look of a minor manor and would have been perfectly acceptable had it been left alone. But someone had extended it with two enormous baroque wings and added gothic towers inlaid with something crystalline that sparkled in the sun. An extra storey – clearly only built within the last few years -squatted on top like some monstrous cosy. All the external surfaces that did not sparkle had been painted a uniform pink. The windows were outlined in a delicate sky blue and their glass sprayed with a liquid spell that created the illusion of cherubs dancing.
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