Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (3 page)

'Traditionally,' said Buff-Arches, 'the tattoos are done without anaesthetic or magical intervention of any sort, save for a small transfusion should royal blood loss exceed two pints in any single hour -'

'Blood loss?' Pyrgus squeaked. 'Two pints an hour?'

'Oh, it seldom reaches anything approaching that amount,' Buff-Arches said easily. 'Unless, of course, one happens to sever an artery when preparing the Royal Transposition.'

'The Royal Transposition?' Pyrgus echoed. Blue moved nonchalantly a little closer in case he fainted.

'A deep tissue sample used to gauge the effect of the dyes. A safety precaution in case of allergic response. I tattoo the sample first - with a picture of a bee - then, if there is no reaction, we proceed with the formal illustration of Your Majesty's body. The tissue sample is normally taken from the royal buttocks.'

Blue fully expected Pyrgus to protest. She certainly would have - a tissue sample of that sort meant you couldn't sit down for a week. But all Pyrgus said was, 'Why a bee? Why do you tattoo the sample with a bee?'

'I haven't the slightest idea,' Buff-Arches said. 'It's simply the specified picture - specified by tradition, you understand.' He watched Pyrgus for a moment, as if expecting further questions, then said abruptly, 'But I was explaining your options. As I say, the traditional way involves no anaesthetic or magical intervention, but one of your illustrious ancestors, Emperor Scolitandes the Weedy, decreed that henceforth all Purple Emperors might elect to have their official tattoos carried out under general or local anaesthetic -' he gestured towards some bottles on the trolley '- these herbal tinctures here. Or, alternatively, that the candidate might light a spell cone that would render him temporarily immune to pain.' He paused expectantly, then added, 'Perhaps your Imperial Majesty would care to tell me the option of his choice?'

Pyrgus was staring at the tray. 'What are those instruments for?' he asked. 'The tissue sample?'

'Oh no, sire. Your Majesty will recall that my secondary duty as Herticord is to shave Your Majesty's head in the Royal Tonsure. The tools look a little off-putting, but that part of the procedure is quite painless, I assure you. Unless Your Majesty has a twitch, of course.'

'Do we have to do the shaving thing?' Pyrgus asked. He was a bit vain about his hair.

Buff-Arches nodded briefly. 'Yes, we do. Your Majesty is titular head of the Church of Light, so the tonsure is wholly appropriate. But if Your Majesty wishes, I can retain the shaven hair and have it made into a little wig for Your Majesty to wear when he is not engaged in State occasions.'

'Yes,' Pyrgus said quickly. 'Yes, you do that.'

'And Your Majesty's options? The anaesthetics, the spell cone ... ?'

'What did my father do?' Pyrgus asked.

For the first time Buff-Arches's expression softened. 'Your father, sire, opted for the traditional approach -no spells, no anaesthetics. He didn't even require my assistants to hold him down.'

Blue felt herself tense. It was only weeks since their father was murdered - and murdered horribly with an Analogue World weapon that had destroyed most of his face. But Pyrgus and their father had seldom seen eye to eye. It had got so bad at one stage that Pyrgus had left home and lived in the city as a commoner. Would he follow his father's example now?

'Then I shall do the same,' said Pyrgus grandly. He began to unbutton his breeches.

Blue left discreetly. She was proud of her brother, delighted with his choice. But she had no desire to be there when they took the tissue sample from his bottom.

There were still a million things to do before the Coronation. Gold leaf for the Cathedral, spell candles for the nave, gifts for the congregation, musicians, the celebratory games, rabbits for the Official Distribution, the Honour Guard, the clerical bribes, the State Barge, the seven conjuration troupes, the Endolg Chorus, the Male Companion - Pyrgus wanted Henry for that and Blue wasn't even sure Gatekeeper Fogarty had contacted him yet - the Female Companion, which would be Blue herself, except she still hadn't had her fitting for the dress, the Grand Salute, the new statue in the Great Square, the reception menu ... the list went on and on.

And all of it was down to Blue since Pyrgus wouldn't take it seriously.

She was hurrying towards her own rooms and the dreaded To Do list when she decided on impulse to get the fitting over with. She turned down a steep flight of narrow stairs that led to the servants' quarters. It wasn't an area of the palace she normally visited -when the Princess Royal needed something, servants came to her - but tradition had it that the gown worn by the Female Companion should be woven from the finest spinner silk with no spell reinforcement.

Ridiculous, but that was tradition for you. Everybody knew spinner silk was the most fragile substance in the world until it set. Afterwards, of course, it was the strongest. The trouble was, to get the astonishing form-fitting folds that made spinner dresses so desirable, you had to try the garment on before the fabric set. You had to try it on carefully. At least, you had to try it on carefully when you weren't allowed to use a stasis spell. If you were lucky, the whole thing didn't fall apart and you had the most wonderful gown in the realm. If you weren't, the Silk Mistresses made up another one (at hideous expense) and the whole process began again.

Most clients, even nobles, visited the Mistresses in their trading lodges above the spinner pits. It was only by a very special concession to the Princess Royal that her Coronation gown was being constructed in the palace itself. Blue would have been happy to give the Mistresses a state apartment, but they insisted on setting up their workshop in the servants' quarters. Blue discovered the reason when she entered it.

'Why's it so cold in here?' she demanded, her breath frosting.

One of the Silk Mistresses glanced up from her bench. If she was impressed by the sudden appearance of the Princess Royal, she didn't show it. 'The fabric is unworkable at higher temperatures,' she said.

Blue shivered and hugged herself. 'I've come for the fitting,' she said shortly. 'Is everything ready?'

The Mistress stood up and walked towards her. She was a tall, elegant matron with waist-length hair and her own gown was divine. That was the great thing about spinner silk. It made any woman look wonderful; any woman who could afford it, that is.

'Of course, Serenity. Please follow me.'

Blue allowed herself to be led across the workshop. The Mistresses had moved their entire operation into the palace, to judge from the garments they were creating. Blue hoped they hadn't moved their spinners in as well. She liked arachnids - she even owned an illegal psychotronic - but silk spiders were the size of terriers, too large even for her.

The Mistress opened a door to a second room, smaller than the first and empty of workbenches. There was a stunning purple and gold gown draped over a wooden form and illuminated by a gentle glowglobe. The fabric shimmered as if enchanted.

Despite herself, Blue sucked in her breath. 'It's ... amazing.'

The Mistress smiled lightly. 'Indeed, Serenity.'

On impulse Blue said, 'What's your name, Silk Mistress?'

'Peach Blossom, Serenity.'

'It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Peach Blossom,' Blue said sincerely. She took a step closer to the garment. Although the temperature of this room was perhaps a degree or two higher than that in the workshop, her breath was still frosting. 'Do I have to undress to try it on?'

'Yes, Serenity. It will fit, of course, but your body heat will set the material to conform to your figure now and forever. Assuming you don't tear it as you put it on.'

'I'll be careful,' Blue promised.

The material felt ... elusive. Not quite slippery, yet somehow distant, as if it belonged in another dimension. Blue desperately wanted to put it on quickly - the room was so cold she was already shivering - but forced her numbing fingers to move with slow deliberation. The gown slid over her head and down her body like a slick of perfumed oil. She felt warmer at once and sensed the catalytic process as the spinner threads began to set.

'Well, done, Serenity!' Peach Blossom said. 'You may move now - it's quite safe.'

Blue moved and the gown moved with her. She was suddenly energised, as if someone had lit a euphoria cone.

'You look wonderful, Your Highness,' Peach Blossom said. 'Please come through and show the other Mistresses.'

Although Blue had never thought much about her appearance, she thought about it now. She felt graceful. She felt beautiful. She felt as elegant as the Silk Mistress herself. Her movements were a dance. No wonder the Mistresses could command such high prices for their designs: the effect of wearing one was quite extraordinary.

There was a burst of spontaneous applause as she walked back into the workroom. Several of the Silk Mistresses even stood up, smiling their delight. Blue smiled back in sincere appreciation, but at the moment of triumph an unexpected thought occurred: Just wait until Henry Atherton sees me in this !

The man who stepped out of the shadows was tall, thin and wearing an ankle-length indigo toga embroidered with electrical and planetary symbols. He fixed Henry with a gimlet eye. 'You know they put dope in that stuff, don't you? Cat dope. Little twits get addicted and won't touch anything else. That's what makes it so expensive.'

Henry glanced at the pouch of Whiskas in his hand, then back at the scowling figure. 'Mr. Fogarty! What are you doing here?'

'I live here,' Fogarty said sourly.

'No you don't,' Henry said. 'At least not this month.' There was a sudden excitement flowering in him. 'How's Pyrgus? How's the Realm?' He tried to sound nonchalant. 'How's, ah, Princess Blue?'

Fogarty bent down to open the cupboard underneath the sink. He extracted a tin and searched the kitchen drawer for an opener - the tin was so old it didn't even have a ring-pull. 'Pyrgus is a mess. Kid doesn't live in the real world, so how do you expect him to run an Empire? The Realm - well, that's what I want to talk to you about.' He caught Henry's expression and added, 'Your little girlfriend's fine.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' Henry said, flushing.

Fogarty ignored him. He took a small knife from the drawer and used it to transfer globules of grey slime from the tin into Hodge's metal dish. Hodge, now recovered from his fright, had returned to the kitchen and was watching with beady interest. Fogarty said, 'It's all fine on the surface. Nighters are generally behaving themselves. Hairstreak's gone quiet. There are rumours the Hael Realm's collapsed - don't believe it myself, but the portals are certainly closed, so the demons aren't giving any trouble. Lot of talk about hands of friendship, doves of peace, all that sort of crap. Trouble is, nothing's really changed.'

He set the dish on the floor and waited. Hodge trotted across, sniffed it once, then walked away and sat down with his back to them. 'What did I say?' Fogarty exclaimed triumphantly. 'That's an addiction! He won't touch normal food - he wants his fix.'

'Mr. Fogarty, he doesn't like that cat food,' Henry said. 'It smells awful and it looks like -'

'Always ate it for me,' Fogarty cut in airily. "Specially when he was hungry.' He stared intently at Henry and sniffed. 'Might as well give him the pouch now - you've turned him into a junkie.'

Henry decided he wasn't going to get into all this. He binned the puke food, rinsed the dish and squeezed pouch Whiskas into it. Hodge's tail went up and he began to eat at once.

Fogarty pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. 'Couple of things. Before I forget, Pyrgus wants you to translate for his Coronation.' Henry looked at him blankly, thinking of his last language exam, then remembered translate was the word Pyrgus used for travelling to the Faerie Realm. 'There's something called "Male Companion",' Fogarty went on. 'Sort of like best man at a wedding. He wants you to be it. Involves dressing up like a prat.'

Henry glanced at Mr. Fogarty's own attire, but said nothing. There was a grin spreading over his face. He wanted nothing more than an excuse to go back to the Faerie Realm. It was such a brilliant place to be. I mean, he was a sort of a hero in the Faerie Realm. He'd been on adventures, saved Pyrgus from Hell. Be nice to see Pyrgus again. And Blue. Especially Blue. Not in the bath, of course. Not like he'd come across her before. But it would only be polite to call on Blue. Male Companion, eh? Mr. Fogarty's idea of dressing like a prat probably meant something colourful and heroic, so Blue would see him really at his best, not wearing the sort of rubbish he'd had on the last time they met.