As Pyrgus stepped through the gate, he allowed himself a backward glance. He wasn't certain, but he thought he saw his father standing at an upper window of the palace.
'I'm going to kill him!' Blue hissed the moment they were all alone.
'He's only a child,' Mr Fogarty said unexpectedly. 'He thinks being Emperor will make him something special.'
'I'm worried Lord Hairstreak may kill him when he comes of age,' Pyrgus said, echoing an earlier thought. 'Hairstreak will never give up power once he becomes Regent.'
'He's already become Regent,' Blue said sourly. 'He's already put everything in place ready for the official announcement.'
Pyrgus shrugged. 'You know what I mean.'
They were seated together in one of the palace ouklos, an enormous golden carriage with plush purple seating. It floated at a stately pace that ate up miles with a deceptive speed. Through the window they could see the uniformed outriders on their individual floater pods – fiercely helmeted and armed men whose duty it was to ensure they left the Realm.
'This Haleklind,' Fogarty said. 'Have either of you ever been there?'
Pyrgus was staring out the window. 'I have. I lived there for a bit.'
'What's it like?'
'Hilly. Rocky. Barren. Quite primitive, really. There are parts of it where people still live in caves. But our father had excellent relations with the ruling House, so we should be given somewhere comfortable to stay.'
'We're not staying,' Blue said.
'No,' Pyrgus said. 'No, of course not.' His mind seemed on other things.
'Who is the ruling House?' Fogarty asked.
'Of the Halek? House Halek. There is only one House, really.'
'Would they help us take back the Realm?'
'I doubt it,' Pyrgus said. 'But even if they did, they'd be no match for the Imperial Army.'
'It's a backwater,' Blue put in. 'That's why Daddy never bothered bringing it into the Realm – not worth the trouble.'
'Why did you live there, Pyrgus?' Mr Fogarty asked.
'I wanted to get a Halek blade,' Pyrgus said a little sheepishly.
'It's a knife that always kills,' Blue explained to Mr Fogarty, with an expression on her face that suggested she had no time for knives that always killed.
'Couldn't you just buy one?'
Pyrgus said, 'Didn't have enough money. Besides, a Halek blade takes time to make. And you're dealing with Halek wizards. They're the best in the world, but they're tricky and they won't hurry for anybody.'
Mr Fogarty glanced at Blue. 'Could they help with our predicament?'
'The wizards?' Blue said. 'They might. Pyrgus is right – they have extremely powerful magical techniques. But we'd have to come up with a plan.'
Fogarty nodded, then sank back in his seat and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
'Gone?' roared Lord Hairstreak. He was dressed head to toe in black velvet and looked like an apoplectic imp. Comma had insisted on their meeting in the throne room, apparently because he wanted to sit on the throne.
'Into exile,' Comma said, emphasising the second word slightly, as if to stress its importance, or possibly just to show he knew what it meant. He had changed into State robes, several sizes too large for him, in imperial purple. From his high vantage point on the Peacock Throne he chose to study the backs of his hands casually.
'I told you to have them imprisoned,' Hairstreak snapped. 'Actually I told you to have them executed!'
'I decided to send them into exile instead,' Comma said, then added petulantly, 'Nobody tells the Purple Emperor what to do.'
The child was a nightmare and always had been, just like his mother. Hairstreak said bluntly, 'You're not Purple Emperor yet. And until you are, you'll do well to remember that your Regent holds the reins.'
Comma glared at him sulkily. 'Well, it's done now.'
'Where have you sent them?'
For a second Comma looked as if he wasn't going to tell, then he muttered, 'Haleklind.'
Hairstreak swore under his breath. It was one of the few countries that had resisted infiltration by his agents. Particularly galling in such an ignorant backwater. Most of the inhabitants were scarcely down from the trees. But their wizards were something else. Would it be possible to mount a raid? The price was bound to be enormous – Halek magic was weapons magic and the wizards could decimate an army if they dug in… one reason why their country had been left so long alone. Better to try to stop Pyrgus and his sister before they reached the border. Or arrange an assassination if that didn't work.
'When did they leave?' he asked sharply.
'A little while before you came,' Comma told him vaguely.
'How are they travelling?'
'By ouklo. By imperial ouklo – they're still members of the royal family, you know,' Comma said.
It could have been worse. Ouklos were not exactly fast and it was probably a day's, two days' journey to Haleklind under the best conditions. There was still time to do something. 'Which route did they take?'
'I'm sure I don't know,' Comma said airily. 'I leave those sort of arrangements to my minions.''
Hairstreak fought hard to replace his fury with an icy calm. It would be simple enough to find out what route had been taken. Even Comma wasn't stupid enough to send them off without an escort. Once he knew the road, he could dispatch a party of his best men. The guards would not be expecting an attack – why should they? Pyrgus would be dead before they had time to react. So would anybody else travelling with him. Hairstreak narrowed his eyes. 'It is foolish for your future to allow your half-brother and half-sister to live,' he said firmly. 'But you may safely leave that to me. Meanwhile, Comma, let me tell you this. If you ever, ever, countermand an order of mine again, I shall see that you regret it deeply. You seem to forget I have the full authority of your sainted father.'
The change in Comma was astonishing, but not the change Hairstreak had expected. The boy swung round, eyes blazing. 'That thing you call my father is an empty shell that only walks because of your black magic! You think I'm a fool? Better think again, dear uncle!
Hairstreak turned and stamped out of the throne room. There was no time to lose in mounting the pursuit of Pyrgus and Blue.
He could deal with Comma later.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Henry found he was thinking two things at once. One was that he knew this room. He'd been here before – it was Blue's bedroom in the palace. The other was, Yeoooow! He was afraid of spiders even when they were smaller than his thumb. This spider stood taller than his head.
He recognised it as well. It was the thing Blue kept in her jewel box, some sort of pet. But pet or not, it was a monster that could eat him now he'd shrunk.
Except for one thing, of course. He could fly and the spider couldn't.
Henry turned to launch himself off the edge of the dressing table and found he couldn't move a muscle.
It was the most horrible sensation he'd experienced in his entire life. It was as if something had wrapped filaments around his mind, binding him so tightly he could scarcely think. His whole body felt chill and lifeless, like meat. Henry froze on the edge of the dressing table and watched with terror as the spider crawled towards him.
Its eyes were huge, featureless ovoids, black as the depths of Space, liquid and hideously wise. They stared at Henry without emotion.
The creature moved with great deliberation, legs lifting high, feet placed carefully, almost delicately, as if feeling out the high-grained wooden surface. There was a soft, gentle click with each contact and Henry noticed for the first time the spider had claws.
There was a jerk in time, like missing frames in an old movie reel, and suddenly the spider was no more than a yard away from him. The smell was overpowering now, alien and rank. He could hear a tiny hissing, crackling sound like bacon frying.
The spider reached out with one foreleg, as if gently probing. Henry fought his paralysis like a mad thing, but still failed to m
ove. The claw at the end of the leg was embedded in a tuft of yellow fur. It was curved as a sabre is curved, but little longer than a dagger and, like the eyes, completely black. The surface had the polish of horn. It moved with great deliberation towards his eye.
Suddenly the spider slashed him.
The claw missed his eye, but ripped a gash in his cheek, opening it to the bone beneath. Amazingly there was no pain, but blood spurted like a fountain, spattering both eyes and blinding him. At the same time his paralysis broke. Henry jerked backwards in a reflex action, stepped into space and found himself falling. Desperately he knuckled his eyes. Sight returned slowly through a red, stinging haze that cleared as he blinked. He was dropping like a stone. The floor beneath rushed up to meet him.
Henry found his wings again and flew.
His heart was pounding, his whole body trembling, his mind frozen in the shock of his experience. There was a sticky warmth across his cheek, which was beginning to hurt now – a deep, hot throb that spread to take over almost the whole of his face. Yet the wings took him and held him, as if of their own accord. He rose easily and safely until, high above the dressing table and its nightmare, he was able to hover far from danger while his breathing slowed and calm gradually returned.
The spider was drinking his blood.
Henry fluttered down a little closer to make sure, but there was no mistake. Blood from the wound on his cheek had pooled on the surface of the dressing table and the spider was bending to it now, extruding a fleshy tube with which to feed.
For a moment he simply watched, his thoughts tumbling in confusion. Something began scratching at the edges of his mind, like a dog at a door. The sensation was so sinister Henry froze again and it was only when he began to drop directly down towards the spider that he remembered to use his wings. In his anxiety to get away, he found himself fluttering in circles like a wounded moth. But he couldn't get away – the scratching thing was inside his head.
Henry almost lost it then. He wanted to scream and scream and flail about and curl up into a ball and hide and never, never come back out again so long as there were things like -
The spider stopped. It hung there, at the edge of his mind, alert but cautious. Below him, the spider suddenly looked up and watched him with its huge, black eyes. Two spiders, but the same spider. The creature below was just a thought away. The creature below… A stupid, stupid, stupid idea occurred to Henry. The creature below just wanted to make friends.
The thing had ripped his face apart and drunk his blood! It was about as friendly as a viper!
All the same, he turned his mind towards it and watched carefully. It stayed quite still, waiting. I have to be mad, Henry thought. I have to be nuts even thinking I should do this. The spider waited. Henry hovered and the spider waited. Henry couldn't stop thinking the spider only wanted to make friends.
The thing below him trilled with pleasure.
He could stroke it like a kitten. If he wanted to, he could just reach out and stroke it. It was crazy, but he could. The spider below was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen, but the spider as it hung at the edge of his mind was somehow… different. It looked the same to his mind's eye, but…
The spider moved deeper into his mind. He was reminded irresistibly of a puppy wriggling forward on its stomach, wanting to be stroked and petted, but still a little frightened.
This monster was no puppy. This was the most dangerous, terrible -
Henry reached out with his mind and stroked the spider.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Mr Fogarty opened his eyes. He had a premonition something was wrong seconds before it happened. But when it happened, he didn't realise just at first that it was happening.
Through the window of the ouklo he could see one of the outriders – a big, burly man with a habit of pulling close to the carriage and staring in, as if to make sure Prince Pyrgus and his little party were still inside. He was doing that now, and as he caught Mr Fogarty's eye, he gave a broad, unpleasant smile.
Then he disappeared. One second he was there astride his floater pod, the next he vas gone. Fogarty moved in his seat. The rider less pod was still there, pacing the ouklo perhaps four feet above the ground. Then, devoid of any hand at the controls, it veered away wildly, following an erratic course. There were shouts, barked orders and a single scream.
'We're under attack,' Fogarty said Quietly.
Pyrgus, who had been deep in conversation with Blue, broke off and stood up. He graphed the window of the ouklo as if to open it.
'Pyrgus!' Blue shouted in warning.
'Might be an idea to keep away fro 1 the window,' Fogarty said.
But the window was open now and Pyrgus had his head out. There was another scream and another pod overtook the carriage, tumbling fore over aft, with no sign of its rider. 'You're right,' Pyrgus said. He pulled his head back like a turtle. 'Any ideas?'
'You can start by closing the window,' Fogarty said drily. 'Are either of you armed?'
'Ceremonial dagger,' Pyrgus murmured, pushing the window back up.
I have a steen,' Blue said a little sheepishly.
Mr Fogarty glanced at her admiringly. 'That's what I call firepower. Surprised you didn't use it on Prince Comma.'
Blue grinned at him.
Mr Fogarty said, 'Any idea who might be behind the attack?'
'Hairstreak?' Pyrgus ventured.
'That would be my guess. You know him better than I do – what's his style?'
'Stealth. Surprise. Likes to outnumber the enemy, but will rely more on speed than weight of numbers.'
'It's him all right,' Fogarty said, looking past Pyrgus through the window. 'They're using unmarked foo discs. Think he wants to kill us?'
'Yes,' Blue said simply.
'Then we'd better try to disappoint him. Did you notice how many were flying this carriage?'
'Just a footman,' Pyrgus said. 'The spell's set to take us direct to Haleklind – it's a known route. Not much for the driver to do but admire the scenery. The outriders are there to make sure we don't jump out.'
'The outriders look pretty busy to me – those that are left,' Mr Fogarty said. 'Think you can tackle the footman? Do it myself except I'm getting a bit old to climb out of moving carriages.'
Pyrgus nodded.
'I think we'll hold back on the steen,' Mr Fogarty said to Blue, smiling a little. She grinned at him again. Used inside the carriage, a steen would have killed them all. Even used above on the coachman, it could have caused them considerable damage.
Pyrgus said, 'We won't outrun them even if we get control. Not in an ouklo.'
'Send it over open water,' Fogarty said shortly. 'Foo discs can't handle open water. Isn't there a lake around here somewhere?'
'Think so,' Pyrgus nodded. He glanced round at the sound of a loud crash outside.
'Use the window,' Fogarty said. Then, as Pyrgus moved, 'The other one – too much action that side.'
Pyrgus moved fast. He pulled down the window and swung out in a single movement.
'Good luck,' Blue whispered.
It was a war zone outside. A huge fight was going on between the ouklo escort and a band of green-uniformed attackers. The air was full of elf-bolts, humming like enraged bees. Pyrgus flattened himself against the side of the ouklo, then pulled himself up on to the roof, keeping his head low.
The driving cabin of the ouklo was an ornate affair set near the front of the carriage. It was high-backed with ceremonial wings so that the driver had no chance of spotting Pyrgus as he crawled along the roof behind him. But at the same time, both back and wings were reinforced with adamantine silver so the man was safe from any attack except a frontal assault. To reach him, Pyrgus would have to climb over the top of the cabin, then drop down. He didn't want to kill the man – he was a palace servant, after all, and only doing his duty – so he would have to wrestle him out of the control seat and, hopefully, push him off the carriage altogether. None of it was going to be easy.
An elf-bolt shaved skin off his earlobe.
Pyrgus moved. The less time he spent exposed like this, the safer he would be. Bent double, he ran along the roof of the carriage and scrambled on top of the cabin. To his right he could see a pod rider locked in a vicious, hacking swordfight with one of the green attackers on a foo disc. They swung close to the ouklo itself, which reacted by jerking away from the weapons as its security system cut in. Pyrgus was half thrown from the cabin, but managed to grip the roof felt with his fingernails. For a moment he was convinced he was going to fall, but somehow pulled himself back. In a moment more, he was dropping down at the front of the cabin, ready to grab the driver.
The driver was dead. He sat in the control seat, eyes wide and staring, a trickle of blood dribbling from the left side of his mouth. There was no obvious wound, but the expression on his face was one of intense surprise.
For a moment Pyrgus couldn't quite take it in, but the man was dead all right. There was nothing Pyrgus could do for him now and he had to get the ouklo away from the fight. He grabbed the man's arms and tried to pull the body from its seat. The head seemed to be stuck to the back of the chair.
It was an elf-bolt! It had penetrated the back of the cabin and skewered the driver from behind. But it was impossible for an elf-bolt – or anything else for that matter – to penetrate adamantine silver. The material was spell-woven to resist attack in any form. Pyrgus jerked the body and the head came away, tearing the elf-bolt with it. Pyrgus muttered an apology, then pushed the corpse off the ouklo and slammed himself into the driver's seat.
There were no controls. The ouklo responded to spoken commands from anyone in the driving seat so long as he first gave the password. Fortunately the password for all ceremonial ouklos was the same and Pyrgus knew it – it was the name of his paternal grandfather, a beloved Emperor now long dead. 'Dispar,' he murmured, then, 'Turn right!'
The ouklo maintained its course as if he hadn't spoken.
'Dispart' Pyrgus said again, then swore quietly. Comma had changed the password! Of course he had, the sneaky little twit. This ouklo was headed for Haleklind by the shortest route and nothing in the Realm was going to stop it. What now? What to do now?
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