Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (20 page)

Henry began to stumble from the room. As he reached the door he realised there was someone watching him.

It was pleasant to be free again. Not just free from prison, although that was a definite bonus, but free from responsibilities. With any amount of luck, Hairstreak would forget about him now - heaven knew the little turd would have enough on his plate just running the Realm. Chalkhill scratched his ear. It might be useful to change his name as a precautionary measure, perhaps adopt something heroic like Lime Hawk, but that apart he could go where he wished, do what he wanted. He'd sell the estate, of course, use the cash to make a new start, possibly look up his old partner Brimstone - dreadful creature, but one had to admit he had a talent for business. The world, as the old saying went, was his chrysalis.

But first he had to get rid of the worm.

The brass plaque said simply Dr Vapourer and was as discreet as everything else about the clinic. Chalkhill had used the place before to rid himself of that embarrassing little problem he'd picked up at the tattoo parlour. Expensive, but circumspect and extremely skilful in certain areas. He was fairly sure they could have the creature removed - and painlessly - in a fraction of the time mentioned by the Facemaster.

He reached out to ring the bell and the worm froze his arm.

'What do you think you're doing?' Chalkhill asked crossly. He was actually more than a little taken aback - he hadn't realised how much control the worm had over his body. But perhaps it was temporary, or perhaps with an effort he could overcome the vermicular influence. Cautiously he tried to move the arm again, but it remained frozen.

'You don't want to do that,' the worm said crisply inside his mind.

'Don't If

'No, you don't,' the worm insisted. 'Not until you've heard what I have to say.'

Chalkhill groaned silently. The creature was about to embark on one of its interminable philosophical debates, he was sure of it. 'Cyril,'' he said patiently, 'it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but the time has come for us to go our separate ways.' An elderly couple passing in the street glanced at him strangely, but Chalkhill ignored them. 'I'm sure you appreciate -'

'I've been instructed to recruit you,' Cyril interrupted him.

Chalkhill blinked. 'Recruit me?'

'You're an intelligent man,' the worm said smoothly. 'I'm sure it won't have escaped your notice that the Realm is in a mess. Faeries at each other's throats over nothing more substantial than the shape of their eyes or the nature of their beliefs. One Emperor assassinated, the next replaced before he can be even crowned. The constant threat of war. The failing economy. Greed and hedonism everywhere. Complete failure of old family values. The entire Empire would be going to hell in a handcart if the portals weren't closed.'

'Well, clearly things aren't perfect,' Chalkhill agreed, wishing the worm would release his arm. It was beginning to ache quite badly. 'But they're no worse than they've ever been and there's not a lot that anyone can do about it, so if you'd just let go of my ar--'

'There is something we can do about it,' Cyril said earnestly. 'Specifically, there's something you can do about it. I'm inviting you to join the Wangaramas Revolution.'

Chalkhill suddenly found his arm was free. He flexed the fingers to relieve the ache, then slowly withdrew it from the bell. 'What's the Wangaramas Revolution?"

Pyrgus climbed sluggishly out of a deep, black pit to find himself watched by the most beautiful pair of violet eyes he'd ever seen. The girl, he thought, was absolutely gorgeous. His heart was racing and his body trembled uncontrollably. He wondered in passing if he might be in love, but decided it was far more likely he was dying. His head felt as if there were bits missing inside, like a cheese with holes in it. His eyes kept slipping out of focus and recurring bouts of nausea threatened to make him throw up.

The girl must have noticed his eyes were open because she leaned forward and said quietly, 'I'm sorry, but I was worried you might use that dagger. It was only a stun wand.'

He allowed his eyes to roam around without moving his head and discovered he was surrounded by trees. He seemed to be lying on a bed of pine needles in some forest clearing. There were green-uniformed figures swimming out of focus beyond the beautiful girl. For a moment he was too fuzzy to figure out what had happened, then it hit him like an avalanche - he'd been captured by Hairstreak's forces!

Pyrgus closed his eyes again and concentrated on pulling himself together. He wondered if Blue and Mr. Fogarty were still alive, but there was nothing he could do about them for the moment. He was weak as a kitten, but he noticed his arms were free, which was a huge mistake on Hairstreak's part - the man must have thought he was dead. He gave a theatrical groan. If they believed him to be more badly hurt than he actually was, he might be able to take them by surprise when his strength returned.

Could he attack such a beautiful girl? Pyrgus thought about it for a moment, then decided he could. If it was to save Blue and Mr Fogarty he definitely could. What was the girl doing working for Hairstreak anyway? He opened his eyes a slit to find she was still bent over him, a look of concern on her sweet, delicious features. Pyrgus groaned again and this time it was more heartfelt. Of all the luck to meet the first girl he really fancied and find she was working for the most dangerous -

'I think he's coming round,' the girl said. She had a cool, clear voice, like temple bells.

Maybe he'd overdone the groaning - he didn't want to attract too much attention yet. Maybe he could pretend to faint. Maybe -

There was something wrong with the girl's violet eyes. He couldn't quite work out what it was, but something wasn't as it should be ...

He could see other figures gathering around him. One was cloaked and hooded all in black and he knew from the man's size it had to be Lord Hairstreak. The hooded man leaned over him and suddenly Pyrgus realised he was being presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. If he could just make his body obey his will, he could have Hairstreak by the throat in seconds. With any luck at all he could strangle him, or break his neck before his troops could intervene. It was perfect. It was better than perfect - Hairstreak had committed an unlawful act by attacking Pyrgus and his party when they'd been ordered into exile by the Emperor Elect. If Hairstreak died at Pyrgus's hand, there wouldn't even be serious political repercussions.

But would his body obey him?

Pyrgus gathered his reserves. A part of his mind was vaguely aware that this could well be a suicide action. Even if he managed to kill Hairstreak his chances of getting away were slim. Hairstreak's men would cut him down in an instant. At the same time, if he did get away - chance in a thousand though it might be - he would have changed the whole balance of power in the Realm.

The thought galvanised him. Pyrgus exploded into action. He jackknifed upwards, lips drawn back in an unconscious snarl. His hands caught Black Hairstreak by the throat. Hairstreak jerked and his hood fell back.

'My deeah, where are your manners!' a shocked voice gasped.

'Oh my God!' Pyrgus exclaimed. 'I'm so sorry, Madame Cardui.'

The woman was slim and very dark, and Henry could see she was quite good-looking, except for her eyes which had very funny pupils. She was seated in a chair to one side of the door and there was a patient stillness about her that was positively creepy. She must have been sitting there the whole time, watching him while he was unconscious, watching him as he came to, watching him as he stood up and swayed and tried to keep his balance. She was watching him now, her eyes like sloes, and he was irresistibly reminded of a snake watching a bird.

Then she smiled and the whole sinister quality disappeared. Her face lit up with a delight he could almost taste. 'You must be one of Blue's young friends,' she said.

'Is she all right?' Henry asked at once.

'She should be safe in Haleklind by now,' the woman told him dreamily. 'You must be a very close friend for me to find you in her room.'

Henry flushed crimson. 'I'm really a friend of Pyrgus,' he said quickly. Which was true. He wondered if he should try to explain about the portal and the missing filter and the spider, but decided against it. Better to keep things simple. 'I, ah, I wanted to go to his room and I got ... lost.' Which was nearly true and sort of true and not actually a lie.

'Why don't I take you to Pyrgus's room?' the woman said. 'It's just a little way away, not far. Not far at all.' She stood and waited, watching him.

'Yes. Thank you. Yes, that would be ... good.' He was trying to figure out who the woman was. She might be a maid or a Lady-in-Waiting - Blue had lots of servants, he knew - but the way she was dressed she didn't look much like a maid, or a Lady-in-Waiting for that matter. Her gown looked like silk, probably awfully expensive, and it was purple coloured. He wasn't absolutely sure, but he thought purple was reserved for members of the royal family. On inspiration he said, 'I don't think we've met. I'm Henry Atherton.' He stuck out his hand and waited.

'I am Quercusia,' the woman said. She took him by the hand and began to lead him gently from the room. 'Queen of the Faerie.'

Henry hadn't known there was a Queen of the Faerie. And even now he couldn't make her fit. Pyrgus and Blue's mother was dead, he knew that, so she couldn't be the wife of the old Emperor, and she certainly wasn't old enough to be his mother. So where did this woman fit in? Perhaps she was an aunt, who ruled over some part of the kingdom. Or perhaps it was some sort of honorary title that had nothing to do with anything very much.

He felt silly being led by the hand.

Quercusia's own hand was small and slim and very, very cool. In fact it was quite cold, as if she'd come in from a snowstorm. They passed beneath an archway where two glum guards snapped smartly to attention and saluted Quercusia. Wherever the title came from, she was familiar in the palace. Henry glanced back at the guards and caught a strange expression on their faces. If he hadn't known better, he'd have sworn it was fear.

Pyrgus now used the quarters that had been occupied by his father before the murder. They were guarded as well, but while the men on duty saluted just as smartly, their faces were expressionless. Quercusia pushed through the door and led him inside. Henry looked around for Pyrgus, but there was no sign of him.

Henry extracted his hand and walked over to the mantle where he pretended to examine the ornaments. There was a small, framed miniature of a bee, so cleverly done he could have sworn it was tattooed on human skin. He was glad to have moved away from Quercusia. For some reason she made him feel uneasy.

He looked around and found her smiling benignly at him.

'Do you think he'll be long?' Henry asked.

'Who?'

'Pyrgus.'

'Pyrgus isn't here.'

'He isn't?'

'Of course not.'

Henry blinked. 'Then why did you bring me here?'

Quercusia looked up and studied a corner of the chamber near the ceiling. 'You said you wanted to go to his room.'

Henry's unease increased. He frowned, then gave a small nervous smile. 'Actually, what I meant was I wanted to see Pyrgus. I'm sorry.'

The sloe-black eyes were back en him again. 'You can't do that. Pyrgus is in exile.' A look of pride crossed her features. 'My son is the Emperor now.' She blinked several times like someone waking from a deep sleep. Her face was suddenly very sober. 'I think I'll have you put in jail. You're such a horrid boy.'

Henry felt a sudden chill. He swallowed and began to edge towards the door. 'Your Majesty -' he said to humour her.

She rang no bell nor made no sign he was aware of, yet suddenly the room was full of burly men.

'Lock him in the dungeons!' Quercusia screamed. Her eyes were wide and flecks of spittle rimmed her lips. 'Lock him in the dungeons and throw away the key!