The Faeman Quest fw-5

by Herbie Brennan

  Despite the teeming crowds, he found the secret walkway without difficulty, although mounting it unseen was so problematical that he wasted almost half an hour pretending to examine a selection of copper vessels designed to capture djinn. But then the crowd thinned suddenly and he made the transition. The walkway swept him outwards, then downwards into the subterranean labyrinth beneath the suk. When it emerged, he was standing outside a derelict factory plastered with Unsafe Building notices.

  Pyrgus climbed on some disused spice drums to look through the dusty windows. He couldn’t afford to risk the possibility of a security breach, but the interior was a deserted ruin with the only things of interest some scraps of rusting machinery, and the only signs of life the remains of a camp fire that had once warmed squatters. He tossed a pebble through a broken pane and listened as it echoed on the stone-flagged floor. A small stream of dust cascaded from cracks in the ceiling.

  He climbed down, glanced around to make sure he was not being watched, then leaned on the broken pillar to one side of the boarded entrance. The spell coating recognised his DNA and sucked him inside.

  The receptionist was a dark-eyed female demon, one of the very few he’d ever seen permitted to work outside of Hael. She glanced into the crystal ball set on her desk, then smiled at him. ‘Crown Prince Pyrgus,’ she acknowledged. ‘What can the Society do for you today?’

  ‘Is Corin still alive?’ Pyrgus asked. There was considerable wastage in the Haleklind Society for the Preservation and Protection of Animals: the wizards hunted down its members without mercy.

  ‘Yes,’ the demon told him pleasantly. She looked at him expectantly. Literalism was a Hael characteristic. The demons never seemed able to interpret what you said, never got a jump ahead (without creeping into your mind, of course, which Blue had made illegal) so they reacted to every question a sentence at a time.

  ‘Is he still your Executive Secretary?’

  ‘Yes, Crown Prince Pyrgus.’

  ‘Is it possible for me to see him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  After a moment, Pyrgus added, ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, of course, sir,’ said the demon enthusiastically. Her long, graceful hand reached towards a symbol inlaid in her desk.

  ‘It’s just Pyrgus Malvae,’ Pyrgus told her. ‘I don’t use the title any more.’

  ‘Of course, Pyrgus Malvae.’ The smile was quite pleasant despite the sharpness of her teeth. The outstretched hand touched the symbol. ‘May your Gods walk with you.’

  The transition to Corin’s office was instantaneous. Corin himself was rising from behind his desk, smiling broadly, hand outstretched. ‘Pyrgus, dear boy, how good to see you! How is the lovely Nymphalis? Have you two had children yet? No, of course not: far too busy for that sort of thing. So little time and so many animals in need, eh? And I believe you’re making wine now – some excellent vintages, from what I understand.’

  Pyrgus took the hand and grinned at him. ‘I’ll send you a bottle or twelve. Meant to bring one with me, but I left home in a hurry. Bit of an emergency, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ Corin said, waving him into a seat. He was a small, balding, rotund middle-aged Haleklinder, who looked as far distant from hero material as you could possibly imagine. Yet he was probably the bravest man Pyrgus had ever known. ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

  ‘My manticore’s escaped,’ Pyrgus told him bluntly.

  Corin’s eyes widened. ‘The prototype? The one you liberated?’

  Pyrgus nodded. ‘I don’t know what happened. She was perfectly happy for more than eighteen months, then suddenly she broke out and took off.’

  ‘She’ll have come on heat,’ Corin said. ‘She wasn’t eating John’s wort, by any chance?’

  Pyrgus looked at him in surprise. ‘She was, actually. I don’t know who fed it to her.’

  ‘Nobody, would be my guess. A full-grown manticore is perfectly capable of manifesting a few choice leaves of anything she fancies – the wizards built in magical capabilities. There’s nothing they fancy more when coming into heat than John’s wort.’

  ‘I didn’t know that: about manifesting,’ Pyrgus said. ‘She never did it before.’

  ‘Probably didn’t have to. They only manifest when they need something. It’s a credit to you, Pyrgus. Shows she was happy with you. Shows you gave her everything she needed. Until she came on heat, of course. She’d be off like a rocket then, looking for a mate. And more John’s wort.’

  For the first time since Nymph told him the news of the break-out, Pyrgus felt something relax in his stomach. He’d come to his old friends in the Society hoping Corin might raise some manpower to help him track the manticore, but now it was beginning to look as if he might not have to. ‘I thought she might head for the lab. The place where they constructed her.’

  ‘What, try to get back at the wizards? Revenge for the pain they caused her?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Pyrgus said. ‘Vengeance is a manticore characteristic.’ He looked soberly at Corin. ‘Actually, I wasn’t so much worried about the wizards as the manticore. If she did attack the laboratory, they’d kill her. They’d have to and they wouldn’t hesitate. I thought the only chance would be to head her off – that’s why I came here. I was hoping you might loan me some men.’

  Corin gave a faint smile. ‘Let me show you something.’ He pressed an inlay on his desk and a viewscreen emerged out of the floor behind him. As it rose, Pyrgus noticed it was one of the newer models with three-dimensional immersive capabilities: the Society must have robbed a few banks lately. Corin made a small adjustment to the inlay and the screen flared into life.

  The immersive spells pulled Pyrgus in at once. He knew he was still seated in Corin’s office, of course, but he still experienced the sensation of standing outside, on a small, grassy hillside with a breeze ruffling his hair as he stared down on the ruin of a distant building, now reduced to a heap of rubble, still smoking slightly.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  Corin’s smile widened. ‘The laboratory. We blew it up.’

  Pyrgus snapped out of the illusion and gave him a startled, delighted look. ‘I heard nothing about that!’

  ‘The Seven kept it quiet: complete news black-out. It was their main research centre after all. Very bad for their image to admit they couldn’t protect it against a ragbag of misguided elements, which is how they like to portray us.’ He looked at Pyrgus benignly. ‘The one thing you need have no worries about is your manticore attacking the laboratory. The laboratory doesn’t exist any more.’ He pushed his chair back so he could look at the picture on the screen. ‘We used null-energy explosives so they can’t build again for years: magic won’t work there for the remainder of this century.’

  ‘Casualties?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Pyrgus, you know us better than that. The attack was at night, after the staff had gone home, and we moved all the animals out before we set the explosion. The only person hurt was one of our own operatives, and he cut his finger on one of their ghastly vivisection instruments.’

  Pyrgus was frowning. ‘I suppose she might still go there. I mean, she doesn’t know you’ve blown it up.’ He scratched the side of his nose. ‘I wouldn’t want her recaptured. Heaven knows what they might do to her, even without their precious lab.’

  ‘She won’t go there if she’s on heat,’ Corin said. ‘Believe me, revenge will be the last thing on her mind. And actually even if she isn’t on heat there’s not much chance of her getting near the place. It’s been a while since you visited Creen, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Nearly two years – why?’

  ‘A lot’s happened in two years,’ Corin said. ‘Let me show you something else.’ His fingers beat a sharp tattoo on the surface of his desk and the picture changed.

  For an instant, Pyrgus found himself hovering high above the ground. Below him was a sweep of plain and forest. Then suddenly he was dropping thousands of feet until he could see the details of the plain. I
t was teeming with game, a vast herd of… of…‘What are they?’ But before Corin could answer, the scene went into close-up. ‘Good Gods!’ Pyrgus exclaimed. ‘Those are manticores! Dozens of them!’

  ‘Several hundred in that herd, actually,’ Corin told him calmly. ‘It’s one of the biggest.’

  ‘How?’ Pyrgus asked. ‘When I stole mine, there were only four in the entire country.’

  ‘The wizards made two more prototypes, then switched from building to breeding. They’re fertile creatures, are manticores. Get yourself a breeding pair and it doesn’t take you long to knock up a herd. That lot are roaming the plains around where the laboratory used to be. If she’s headed in that direction, she’ll join them – it’s in her nature. And if she isn’t, she’ll join another herd: they’re dotted all over the country now, a score here, fifty there.’

  Pyrgus felt a wave of relief so profound he felt like curling up and going to sleep. ‘So I can stop worrying about her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can just…’ He made a helpless, delighted gesture with his hands, ‘… go home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A hint of the earlier frown crept back. ‘I want to make absolutely sure she’s all right, make sure she joins a herd and goes back to the wild.’

  ‘We’ll do that for you,’ Corin said. ‘We monitor the herds as a matter of course. Shouldn’t be too difficult to spot since she’s an early prototype. Soon as we catch sight of her, we’ll let you know.’

  Pyrgus felt like hugging him. ‘Thank you,’ he said gratefully. ‘That’s taken a huge weight off my mind. Thank you, Corin.’

  Twenty-Five

  Mella felt a presence behind her and glanced around to discover her Aunt Aisling had found enough of her courage to creep on to the balcony. She was staring over Mella’s shoulder down into the conference room below. ‘What’s going on?’ she whispered. ‘Who are these people? Can they help us?’

  Mella pushed her back through the doorway and carefully closed the door behind them. Even with the door closed, she kept her voice low. ‘Let’s not make too much noise. I think we’re in Haleklind,’ she said.

  Aisling looked at her blankly. ‘Aren’t we in Fairyland? The Faerie Realm, or whatever you call it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we are,’ Mella said impatiently. ‘Haleklind is a country in the Faerie Realm.’

  ‘I think,’ said Aisling severely, ‘it’s about time we had a little conversation, you and I, about everything’s that’s been going on. I knew Henry was up to something – I’ve known it for years. Is he really living permanently in the Faerie Realm now?’

  Mella nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he’s really married to the Faerie Queen?’

  Mella nodded again.

  Aisling’s face broke into a frosty smile. ‘I can’t believe Henry married a fairy! It’s insane, even for him!’ The smile disappeared and a thoughtful expression crossed her face. ‘If he’s married to the Queen, that makes him King, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Well, King Consort…’ Mella didn’t know where this was heading, but there was something about her aunt’s tone she really disliked.

  ‘But that still means he’s a very important man, doesn’t it? I mean he has subjects and servants and things like that? He rules people?’

  ‘Well, he helps Mummy rule,’ Mella said. ‘He gives her advice and stuff and sometimes she takes it.’

  ‘I expect he’s rich now? Gold, gems, lives in a palace?’

  This was really making Mella uncomfortable. ‘Aunt Aisling, we’re -’

  ‘Rich!’ snapped Aisling. ‘Is he rich?’

  ‘He gets an allowance from the State,’ Mella said reluctantly. ‘I expect it’s quite large. And half of Mummy’s family money automatically went to him when they got married, although I don’t think he actually took it, and they do live in a palace, the Purple Palace. Because Mummy’s Queen and Daddy’s King Consort.’

  A distant look crept into Aisling’s eyes. ‘My brother is King of the Faerie Realm!’ she breathed. ‘My brother is King of the Faerie Realm!’ She refocused on Mella abruptly. ‘I’m the King’s sister, you’re the King’s daughter. Why are we creeping round like criminals? We shall order those people out there to stop their silly little meeting and provide us with transport to this Purple Palace of yours. I want to have a word with your father. He’s behaved disgracefully. He’s behaved disgracefully for years. I think it’s time he tried to make amends, don’t you? And not just to me, but to Mummy as well. I don’t know what she’s going to think about all this when I tell her. But first, I want a word with Henry!’ She half turned to reopen the door.

  Mella caught her arm hurriedly. ‘You can’t just order those people to provide you with transport – this is Haleklind.’

  Aisling looked at her blankly. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘Daddy’s not King of Haleklind – it’s an independent country. Actually Mummy’s not really Queen of the Realm, not the whole Realm: that’s just one of her titles. She’s Queen Empress of the Faerie Empire. It’s rather big, but there are still some countries outside it. Including Haleklind.’

  ‘How do you know this is… where did you say? Haleklind? This building could be anywhere.’

  Mella licked her lips. ‘I’m not sure. But I think that might be a meeting of the Table of Seven, and the Table of Seven rules Haleklind.’

  ‘Is Haleklind an enemy of the Empire?’ Aisling asked quickly.

  Mella stared at her. Haleklind didn’t have an alliance with the Empire as far as she knew, but then again she didn’t pay much attention to politics. She’d never heard anybody describe Haleklind as an enemy. The wizards kept themselves to themselves, except when it came to trade, and they were really, really paranoid about people entering their country for anything else (which would make things doubly difficult if this actually was Haleklind) but that was about it. Except for what she’d just heard. Our invasion of the Empire may proceed as planned. Haleklind couldn’t be planning to invade the Empire, not her mother’s Empire: it was too big, too strong. No single country could possibly hope to win a war against it; and Haleklind was surely too suspicious of everybody to have formed any alliances. Mella racked her brains trying to remember if there was any other empire in the Faerie Realm, wishing she’d paid more attention to her geography tutor, wishing she’d paid more attention to her politics tutor, wishing she’d paid more attention to…

  Wait a minute! Hadn’t her history tutor once mentioned a Chlorostrymon Empire? It fell hundreds and hundreds of years ago, but didn’t the tutor say there was a remnant of that empire somewhere in the north? A little frozen alliance of Chlorostrymon states? Maybe that was what the Table of Seven was planning to invade, although for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why: the only thing the Chlorostrymons had now was seal blubber. What Mella needed to do was get home at once and tell her parents what she’d heard: let them sort it out. Although in her heart of hearts she’d already sorted it herself. Nobody invaded to get seal blubber. But for now she had her aunt breathing down her neck.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, you’re being ridiculous!’ Aisling snapped. She pulled the door open and nodded in the direction of the balcony. ‘You think that’s Haleklind’s ruling council?’

  ‘Yes.’ The more she thought about it, the more sure she became. She wished Aunt Aisling would leave her alone to figure out the situation. Actually, she wished Aunt Aisling would just go away!

  ‘Well,’ said Aisling firmly, ‘if Haleklind isn’t an enemy, it must be a friend, or at least neutral; and that’s the ruling council. If you knew anything about the way these things work, Mella, you’d realise that as the sister of the King and daughter of the King we are entitled to be treated as visiting dignitaries, will be treated as visiting dignitaries. I shall go down now and explain we are here as the result of an unfortunate portal accident and request – request politely, even though I represent a powerful empire they would do well
to respect – request that they arrange transport for us to our Purple Palace, where, I can tell you, I shall be speaking very frankly to King Consort Henry. Very frankly indeed.’

  ‘Aunt Aisling, I -’

  But it was too late. Aisling swept through the open door and, without any attempt at concealment, strode along the balcony towards the staircase leading to the council chamber below. Mella started to race after her, then stopped. If the Table hanged her aunt for breach of security or impertinence or stupidity, that was nobody’s fault but Aisling’s. It would do no good at all if she took Mella with her. Best to wait and watch and see what happened. Mella crept carefully to the edge of the balcony and looked over again.

  The Goblin Guard appeared before Aisling was halfway down the stairs. In the old days, Goblin Guards used real goblins, silver-suited demons conjured from Hael and bound to service by the occasional sacrifice. But around the time Mella’s mother was a teenager, the demon guards were replaced by cleverly crafted illusions with enough solidity to maim and murder with the same ferocity as an actual goblin. The illusion had originally been developed in Haleklind, but spread quickly when the wizards offered it for sale. Mella knew a Guard was coming, even before it actually appeared. She heard the distinctive insectile chittering underlaid with a click-clack sound like lobster claws.

  ‘Don’t move, Aunt Aisling!’ Mella screamed as the goblins began to materialise. So much for waiting to see what happened. So much for maybe sneaking off while Aisling made a fool of herself. Seven heads turned towards her. She was absolutely caught. But what could she do? Aisling was her aunt and Goblin Guards killed people.