Faerie Wars 03 - Ruler of the Realm (12 page)

Irritatingly, it was Hamearis who seized the initiative. 'Ah, Blackie,' he said, as if he were in command of the entire meeting, 'did you do it?'

Idly Hairstreak wondered if a poisoned stiletto might penetrate the padded armour. But he kept his face impassive, even managed a benign look, as he turned his gaze back to Burgundy.

'Of course,' he said.

'Any answer yet?'

'Hardly,' said Hairstreak easily. He pulled out a chair from the head of the table. 'The message has only just been dispatched.'

'Why the delay?' asked Hecla Colias sharply, ever ready to make trouble.

Hairstreak fixed her with a warning glance. 'Because I did not deem the time right before now.' He noted with some satisfaction that she dropped her gaze at once. He tilted the chair backwards to convey easy relaxation and swept the gathering with his eyes. 'Crown Prince Pyrgus -' He stopped, smiled a little, then went on, 'Or rather I should say ex-Crown Prince Pyrgus, has received details of our offer and is now on his way to deliver it to the young Queen. What I -'

'Is it in writing?' someone interrupted. Hairstreak recognised the voice as Cardamines, who wasn't so much an enemy as a nuisance. He had a pedantic streak.

Hairstreak forced a smile. 'Difficult to see the need, Anthocharis. At this stage we've merely offered to negotiate.' Cardamines nodded and grunted. Then twitched. Hairstreak turned back to the others. 'The purpose of this meeting is to refine our position should Her Majesty agree ...'he paused a beat, '... and define our position should she refuse.'

The purpose of the meeting was nothing of the sort, but it sounded good. He closed his mouth and waited for the inevitable reaction.

It came without a moment's delay. 'Thought we'd agreed on our position,' growled Electo's gruff voice. 'Both ways.'

'So did I,' snapped Lesbia, who was just as poisonous as her sister, but slightly better in bed as Hairstreak recalled.

'Perhaps not quite
both
ways,' Cardamines twitched pedantically.

And they were off. Hairstreak closed his eyes and let the discussion wash over him. Of
course
it had already been decided. It was the most serious defeat he'd ever suffered in the Council of the Faeries of the Night. Made worse because it had been utterly unexpected. Negotiate a peaceful solution? He almost shuddered. But once the proposition had been put - by some minor noble, obviously acting under orders - they'd forced his hand. Even Hamearis had deserted him and he was at a loss to understand why.

The end result was plain enough. There'd been a change of heart among the Faeries of the Night. Somehow they'd lost their backbone, lost the will to fight. He'd even been pilloried for his last two attempts to seize the throne. And now they wanted peace. Worse, they wanted it at any price. The offer of negotiation hid complete capitulation. If Blue wanted peace, she could have it. If she accepted quickly, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He'd lost his backing and without backing he was nothing.

But Blue wouldn't accept quickly, not if he knew his niece. She'd always had a deeply suspicious streak and now she was being advised by a Gatekeeper who was batty as a Border Redcap. She'd suspect a trap. She'd stall for time. She'd postpone the negotiations while her old harridan of a spymaster tried to find out what was behind them. And all that would give Hairstreak the time to shift Council members back behind him. Starting now.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Pelidne had silently entered the chamber. 'Refreshment,' Hairstreak ordered shortly. He gave a small nod.

Pelidne nodded back, so subtly that no one else in the room could have noticed it. 'Of course, sir.'

He must have had a tray ready waiting, for he returned to the room at once. Croceus looked quickly - there were rumours he was a simbala addict - but selected a small tankard of ale when Pelidne reached him. Hamearis took one of the simbalas and tossed it down, then sat back, smiling as the music took hold. Both Colias twins drank wine, as did Fuscus.

When the guests had all been served, Pelidne offered the tray to Hairstreak. He was reaching for his tamarind juice when Fuscus began to cough. The discussion had already started up again, so most of them ignored him at first. But then he toppled his chair with a clatter, half stood and jack-knifed across the table. Lesbia Colias gave a little shriek and pulled away from him. Fuscus convulsed and vomited on the polished wood. The other twin, Hecla, stood up abruptly and watched him, her eyes huge. She gave a small moan that sounded suspiciously like pleasure.

'What's the matter with the fella?' demanded Duke Electo impatiently.

Something very unpleasant began to happen to Fuscus. Starting at the mouth, his head slowly split open. In a moment there was blood and brains all over the table.

The chamber exploded into uproar, although Hairstreak noticed Burgundy hadn't moved and was now staring at him intently. On cue, Zosine Ogyris climbed to his feet.

'Someone get a doctor,' he said in a curiously resonant voice. 'This man obviously has refinia.' Refinia was a disease of the tropics, but it was clear to anyone that Fuscus was far beyond the help of a doctor. All the same, the diagnosis had the required effect. Refinia was contagious. In seconds, the chamber was empty except for Hairstreak, Pelidne and the rapidly disintegrating corpse of Fuscus.

'Something in the drink?' Hairstreak asked quietly.

Pelidne shook his head and uncurled his left hand. A glistening needle point emerged from the band of his signet ring.

'Well done,' Hairstreak said. He felt a modest surge of satisfaction. Burgundy would not believe the refinia story for a moment. By now he must have realised his new friend had just been brutally and publicly murdered. Several of the others would soon reach the same conclusion.

It was an important message to send out. Before long, every Great House would realise Hairstreak was still a man to be reckoned with. Given time, the new policies would begin to be rethought. All he needed now was Blue to give him that time.

All he needed was Blue's refusal to negotiate.

'Do you think she's going to negotiate?' Pyrgus asked. There was a time when he'd have known the answer -he and Blue had always been close - but things had changed since she became Queen. She still
looked
like his little sister (most of the time) but there was something in her that had suddenly grown up. She'd become serious and a little hard. He wasn't sure he liked it. He certainly didn't understand it.

'I don't know,' said Gatekeeper Fogarty.

'Do you think she
should?'
Pyrgus pressed.

'Yes,' Fogarty said without hesitation.

'I thought you said you wanted to attack the Nighters, deeah,' Madame Cardui put it.

They were walking together in the grounds of the Purple Palace, along with Madame Cardui's orange dwarf Kitterick, who had long proved himself the soul of discretion; and was, in any case, their best security in troubled times.

'Not sure I do,' Fogarty said. 'I was just making a point about oracles.' He walked in silence for a moment, then said, 'I know you sent her to the Spicemaster, Cynthia, but Blue's impressionable. Hasn't learned to take things with a pinch of salt yet. And, of course, she hears what she wants to hear.

Things are tricky in the Realm just now. I don't want her making decisions on the advice of some spook.' He scowled. 'What are you grinning at?'

'Take things with a pinch of salt.
It's such a
colourful
expression, deeah.'

'Common enough in my world,' Fogarty said shortly, but his expression softened. Pyrgus watched the exchange with interest. Fogarty said, 'Even if your oracle told you plainly
You'll squash Hairstreak like a bug,
that
still
isn't a green light. You have to remember what Blue asked. "What will happen Telling you what will happen
if
doesn't mean you should do it. Maybe we
will
win if we attack the Nighters, but maybe we'll
still
win if we negotiate; and with a lot less loss of life.'

'You were impressed by General Vanelke,' said Madame Cardui, not unkindly.

'Yes, I was,' Fogarty admitted. 'I lived through one war in my own world. That's where I got the scar and lost the toe. Damn lucky to keep the leg at all. Knocks the nonsense out of you, that. War's not noble, not "an extension of diplomacy by other means".' His voice reeked with scorn. 'War's a mess. Usually started by some idiot who doesn't have to fight. It's the poor grunts on the ground who pay the price.'

'I didn't know you'd been a warrior,' said Madame Cardui.

'Warrior my arse!' Fogarty sniffed. 'I was just a miserable Tommy. Wouldn't have joined up if they hadn't made me.' He glanced away from them both and glared into the middle distance.

Pyrgus asked, 'Did you tell her she should negotiate?'

'Yes,' Fogarty said. 'I had a word just before we left.' He was still lost in his memories, for he added incomprehensibly, 'Churchill said jaw-jaw was better than war-war.'

'Do you think she will?'

Fogarty glared at him. 'You asked me that.'

'Yes, I know. But maybe we should be, you know, trying to
make
her.'

Fogarty gave him the benefit of a cynical look. 'Did you ever manage to
make
your sister do anything?'

In point of fact he hadn't, not even when she was little. He'd no doubt Blue loved him, but obedience wasn't in her vocabulary. All the same, he didn't like the way things were going.

In answer to Mr Fogarty's question he said, 'No, I didn't. But I think I know somebody who
could
persuade her.'

'Henry?' said Madame Cardui, and smiled. Pyrgus nodded. Madame Cardui said, 'Does he know she's in love with him?'

'I don't think so,' Pyrgus grinned. He'd been feeling good about Blue and Henry for a while now. He liked Henry.

Mr Fogarty stopped to stare at the distant horizon. 'Glands,' he muttered.

'Don't be so cynical, Alan,' Madame Cardui told him crossly. 'If you can't fall in love at their age, when can you?'

For some reason it warmed Mr Fogarty enough to make him grin a little. 'I suppose you're right.'

Pyrgus said quickly, 'Do you want to send for him, Mr Fogarty? Or should I translate and get him?' He quite fancied another trip to the Analogue World, even if he couldn't spend much time there.

But Mr Fogarty said, 'Mightn't need to.' He glanced from Pyrgus to Madame Cardui. 'You two got a minute?'

Since he'd translated permanently to the Faerie Realm, Mr Fogarty had moved into
Saram na Roinen,
the House of the Gatekeeper, an official residence that comprised a large lodge and some outbuildings on the edge of the Purple Palace gardens. As Fogarty opened the door, Pyrgus noted he'd wasted no time in turning it into a tip, but he led them straight through and out the back, then down a short path to one of the outbuildings.

The stone structure had once been an ornitherium, but the high latticed windows had been boarded up and all the external perches removed. Even the antique listening booth had been taken away. On the inside, only the vaulted ceiling remained of the original fittings. The rest had been gutted out and replaced by ... replaced by ...

Pyrgus blinked. They'd been replaced by Mr Fogarty's shed! Pyrgus remembered it from the time poor old Hodge mistook him for a mouse. But this was the original writ large. There was enough junk to fill a merchant's store and the workbench in the centre was enormous. Pieces of machinery were strewn all over it.

'It's something I've been working on,' Mr Fogarty said with enthusiasm. 'Any of you lot ever seen
Star Trek?'
He shook his head. 'No, of course you haven't