Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (6 page)

He seemed to snap out of it a little and looked at her directly. 'All right, Blue,' he said mildly. 'We can use our father's quarters.'

They were his quarters now, had been since he became Emperor Elect. What was wrong with him?

What was he doing mooning about in the throne room in the middle of the night? But at least his suggestion was sensible. The Emperor's quarters were permanently spell-protected.

They walked together in silence, scarcely acknowledging the saluting guards. Blue felt the familiar sense of dread as they approached the suite. Every time she entered, she remembered. It was as if she could still smell the sickly scent of her father's blood. But nothing showed on her face as she pushed the vivid images aside.

Pyrgus closed the door. 'What is it?' he asked.

'I can't find the Gatekeeper,' Blue said.

That dreamy look again. 'Is that all? Mr Fogarty's gone home to the Analogue World. He'll be back tomorrow morning.'

'No, that's not all!' Blue said angrily. Curiosity got the better of her and she added, 'What's he doing in the Analogue World?'

'I asked him to invite Henry to my Coronation,' Pyrgus said. 'I want him to be my Male Companion -I told you that.'

'Why's he away until tomorrow?'

'Henry?'

'No, Pyrgus - Mr Fogarty! What's wrong with you?'

Pyrgus shrugged. 'He had some personal business to attend to.'

'What sort of personal business?'

'I didn't ask him.'

Blue closed her eyes briefly, seething with frustration. Pyrgus never seemed to care what was going on around him, not even when it concerned as important an official as the Gatekeeper.

Pyrgus said, 'Look, Blue, I'm a bit tired, so if that's all you wanted me for I think I'd -'

'Of course it's not all. Somebody's trying to kill you.'

It still didn't jerk him out of it. All he said was, 'Who?'

'I don't know who. If I knew who I'd have said, Lord Hairstreak's trying to kill you or the Duke of Burgundy's trying to kill you, wouldn't I? Actually, I don't even know for sure it is you, but you're the most likely.'

Suddenly Pyrgus was his old self again. He frowned. 'Back up, Blue. I want to hear this properly. What exactly have you heard and who did you hear it from?'

Blue took his arm impulsively. 'Oh, Pyrgus, I thought all this would stop when we put down the Nighter rebellion. But it doesn't stop, does it? And now we don't have Daddy to look after it.'

An odd expression flickered across Pyrgus's features. He tugged his arm free gently and put it round her shoulders. 'No, Blue, it doesn't stop. I don't think it will ever stop. But it may get better. Tell me what you heard.'

'There's a plot to kill a member of the royal family. I suppose it must be you - I don't see who else it would be.'

'You,' Pyrgus said. 'Or Comma.'

'You're Emperor Elect,' Blue said.

Pyrgus nodded. He removed his arm and went over to sit down in the comfortable leather wing chair his father had loved so much. He yawned. 'Sorry, Blue, I've had a long day.' He nodded again, thoughtfully. 'You're right, I suppose - it's most likely to be me.' He looked up. 'And you have no information on who's behind it?'

Blue shook her head. 'No. Not yet.'

'It'll be Hairstreak's doing, I imagine.'

He didn't just sound tired, he sounded old. Sitting in the wing chair with his stocky build and curly red hair, he looked so like their father. Blue said quietly, 'I'd think so too.'

Pyrgus brought his head up, another gesture that was a painful reminder of their father. 'Is your source reliable?'

'Madame Cardui,' Blue said. She didn't often reveal her sources, but she had no secrets from Pyrgus.

'The Painted Lady? I trust her.'

'So do I.'

'She's trying to find out more, of course?'

Blue nodded. 'Yes.'

Pyrgus stood up stiffly. 'Not much more we can do at the moment. I'll order extra guards and a heightened security alert. Then I have to get some sleep. We'll discuss the situation with Gatekeeper Fogarty when he comes back in the morning.' He paused at the door. 'I love you, Blue.'

Despite their problems, Blue smiled. 'I love you too, Pyrgus,' she said.

Gatekeeper Fogarty didn't come back in the morning.

Blue found Pyrgus pacing angrily outside the Gatekeeper's lodge. 'Where is he?' he demanded the moment he saw her.

'How should I know?' Blue asked shortly. 'You're the one he talked to. When did he say he would be back?'

'Dawn,' Pyrgus grunted. 'That was hours ago.' There were dark rings under his eyes as if he'd been up all night. Blue wondered if he hadn't slept - he certainly hadn't gone to bed that late.

'Maybe his valet or his housekeeper might know something,' Blue suggested.

'He doesn't have a valet or a housekeeper,' Pyrgus said crossly. 'He doesn't have any servants at all. Won't trust anybody with him in his lodge. You know what he's like. I can't even get in with the Emperor's master key - he's done something to the locks.'

The Gatekeeper's lodge was a tight conglomeration of tiny towers and spires within sight of the Purple Palace, but quite separate from it. It was set in formal gardens against the backdrop of the island forest where their father Apatura Iris, the last Purple Emperor, had once enjoyed hunting boar. Pyrgus stared thoughtfully towards that forest now.

Blue said, 'Perhaps his personal business took him longer than he expected.'

Pyrgus said abruptly, 'Madame Cardui - what exactly did she say to you?'

Frowning, Blue said, 'That there was a plot to kill a member of the royal family.'

'Royal family or royal household?'

Blue hesitated. After a moment she said, 'Household.'

'Are you sure?'

Blue nodded. 'Yes. You're right - she said household. I'm certain.'

Pyrgus dragged his eyes away from the forest. 'You see, if it's royal family, that means you and me and Comma and - well, you know: limited options. But if it's royal household, that includes the noble families in service and dignitaries like Mr Fogarty.'

'I know,' Blue said soberly. She stared at Pyrgus. 'You don't really think -'

She stopped. There was a priest running towards them from the direction of the palace. Running priests spelled trouble, as she knew from long experience. From the corner of her eye she saw small movements in the bushes near the forest's edge - Pyrgus had remembered the heightened security alert all right - but the hidden guards must have recognised the priest since they did not emerge.

Blue recognised him herself now. His name was Thorn, a member of the Dentaria, the Realm's most ancient Funereal Order. He was in charge of the vigil on the body of her father and would pray daily for the late Emperor's soul until Pyrgus was crowned. To her astonishment, he flung himself to his knees before Pyrgus and herself.

Thorn was not a young man and it was a moment before he caught his breath. 'Majesty,' he gasped finally, 'Serene Highness, your father - your father - the Emperor, your father - Majesty, your father's body has disappeared.'

Brimstone rose early on his wedding day and pulled back the bedroom curtains with a flourish. Things were looking up already. The narrow street and open sewer outside his old lodgings had been replaced by flower beds and a well-manicured lawn. Widow Mormo was a superstitious woman. She believed it would be bad luck for bride and groom to sleep under the same roof the night before their marriage, so she'd arranged for Brimstone to stop over with her brother, who certainly kept a far more comfortable establishment than his smelly sister.

Brimstone stretched luxuriously. With a well-stocked cabin in the forest, he could hide from Beleth for months. He walked to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, then popped them into his mouth. The magical residue locked them in place with an audible squelch.

By the time he'd finished in the bathroom, some silent servant had slipped into his quarters and laid out his wedding suit. Brimstone put it on, admired himself in the mirror, then, humming a catchy little tune, went down to breakfast.

Widow Mormo's brother was already at the table.

'Morning, Graminis,' Brimstone said cheerfully.

'There's eggs,' Graminis grunted. 'Poached, fried or scrambled.' He had the same tattered look as his sister, but nicer eyes.

'Poached eggs would be just dandy,' Brimstone said. Hell of a lot better than bone gruel, anyway. 'Two please - one hard, one soft.'

Graminis signalled to some half-visible servant lurking in the gloom of an archway and she scuttled off to fill Brimstone's order. 'Public prints?' asked Graminis, pushing the newspapers towards Brimstone. 'Find out what else is happening in the world this morning?'

This was the life all right. Brimstone tilted his chair back and unfolded the paper. It was full of the forthcoming Coronation, just two weeks away now, give or take. Public holiday had been declared, processional route was being painted, invitations had gone out. There was a special feature on the dress chosen by the Female Companion, the Princess Royal. Little brat had splashed out on spinner silk, sort of thing you did when you were funded by the public purse. The Male Companion was somebody called Iron Prominent, a name new to Brimstone - probably some hideous Hooray Henry with a receding chin. Emperor Elect Pyrgus was described as Hooking forward to being of service to all the peoples of the Realm, irrespective of creed or race', a sentiment so sugary it made Brimstone want to puke.

He started to turn to the section that gave news of Faeries of the Night when another Coronation paragraph caught his eye. It was no more than a passing mention of security arrangements at the ceremony. 'Since the new Emperor wishes to maintain contact with the common people, security provisions are to be kept to a minimum, a situation made possible by the continuing closure of all Hael Realm portals.'

The continuing closure of all Hael Realm portals ... Brimstone frowned. 'Graminis, it says something here about Hael portals being closed.'

Graminis glanced up from his porridge. 'Didn't you know? Old news now. Hasn't been a functioning Hael portal for ... oh, must be ... must be weeks now.'

'You mean we can't evoke demons?' He could tell from Graminis's eyes that he was a Faerie of the Night like himself. Nighters had cat's eyes - very light-sensitive. That was why they kept their cities gloomy and most of them wore trendy shades. It also gave them an affinity with demons that the Lighters never had. Demons liked the dark as well.

'Not so much as an imp,' Graminis said. 'Plays hell with the servant problem.' He giggled suddenly. 'Get it, Silas? Portals closed plays hell with the servant problem.'

'Very droll, Graminis,' Brimstone acknowledged. 'How did the Lighters close them?'

'They didn't, not as far as I know. Just happened. Talk is Hael's collapsed.'

'What, all of it?'

'So they say. Seems their Prince of Darkness made a doomsday bomb and the damn thing went off in his face.'

Brimstone felt a rising excitement. If the Hael portals were down, he was free. Without the portals, there was no way Beleth could get to him, except by making the trip the hard way, in a vimana, and that would take years! And if Graminis was right, Beleth might actually be dead. It was incredible.