Herbie Brennan: The Purple Emperor

There was a black coach outside, drawn by four black horses. A hunchbacked coachman in a black cloak and black three-cornered hat gripped the reins with claw-like hands. To Chalkhill's surprise, there were no bars on the windows. The Executioner bundled him inside and, to Chalkhill's even greater surprise, climbed in beside him. The coach lurched off violently the moment the door closed.

Chalkhill watched through the window, wondering if he could safely jump. But the Executioner pushed the hood back to reveal a moon-shaped face that was curiously familiar. 'Harold Dingy,' he said, grinning. 'Lord Hairstreak sent me to get you out.'

Chalkhill stared at him in astonishment. He'd spied for Lord Hairstreak for years, but he knew the drill well enough – any spy who got caught was on his own. Black Hairstreak would deny his existence and let him rot. Which was exactly what he had done since Chalkhill was jailed. 'What about the execution papers?' he asked suspiciously.

'Forged, of course.' Dingy caught his expression and smiled. 'Don't worry – he's got a job for you.'

A job? That would explain it. Chalkhill found himself beginning to relax. 'I don't suppose you know what this job is?' he asked.

'Course I do,' said Harold Dingy, still grinning broadly. 'He wants you to stop young Pyrgus Malvae becoming Purple Emperor.'

Blue found Pyrgus (at last!) in the throne room. 'Where on earth have you been?' she hissed. He was gawping at the Imperial Crown, an amethyst and gold headpiece that crackled with purple fire even in its protective case. In two weeks' time he would have to submit himself to the energies that coursed from it through his body, transforming him from Emperor Elect to Emperor. Before he had time to answer, she snapped impatiently, 'Doesn't matter – I need to talk to you.'

Pyrgus turned like a sleepwalker and stared at her blankly.

'In private,' Blue said.

Pyrgus blinked slowly. 'There's no one else here.' His mind was clearly miles away.

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Pyrgus!' The throne room was designed for public pronouncements, with acoustic galleries that carried every whisper into the winding corridors outside. It was the least private chamber in the entire palace.

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.'