Herbie Brennan - The Faeman Quest

‘Let’s just thank the Gods there aren’t any,’ Pyrgus said philosophically. ‘Makes life easier for us. Once we reach the Kremlin we’ll be fine: I’m known to Table members and I shall vouch for the rest of you. I’ll tell them we came through the forest to keep my mission secret: they’ll appreciate something like that.’

‘OK,’ Corin said, without much conviction, and Pyrgus noticed he continued to keep a cautious watch at every step they took. But Pyrgus knew something was wrong the moment they stepped from the forest into the Kremlin grounds.

The manicured lawns and carefully tended borders were a mess. Shrubs, bushes, even ornamental trees had been uprooted and the grass was shredded so badly he could see the brown soil beneath. Beyond, the sentry posts were all but flattened, and there was no sign of any guards. He stared across at the building itself and saw at once that the window to the right of the main entrance was broken. The entrance itself was unguarded and the double doors wide open – unheard of in the annals of revolutionary Haleklind.

Pyrgus and Corin turned to look at one another. ‘Something’s happened,’ Pyrgus said unnecessarily. They stared together back at the building, then, driven by some instinct, began to run towards it. Corin’s men hesitated, then ran with them. As they approached the main entrance, a small figure emerged.

Pyrgus stopped dead. ‘Mella!’ he exclaimed.

Mella looked at him. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

It was one of those conversations that was destined to be replayed in Henry’s mind until the day he died: bewildering, astounding, memorable… although it began mundanely enough:

Henry said, ‘How dare you threaten to pee on my foot. That’s absolutely disgraceful behaviour for a young lady. And I will not stand for it.’ Especially not on the foot you’ve just peed on, his mind told him irreverently. He tried to sound stern, but was having trouble keeping a straight face.

Mella said, ‘Lord Hairstreak’s behind it.’

‘Lord Hairstreak’s behind what?’

They were together in the Throne Room now, with the door to the ante-room firmly closed and spell securities protecting their privacy. Their sudden departure had earned him a glare from Blue and he couldn’t blame her: walking out like that wasn’t merely rude, but massively undiplomatic. Still, it was done now and Mella was looking up at him with that world’s-about-to-end expression teenaged girls adopt when they’re trying to convey something they think is important. She wasn’t much older than her mother had been on the day he first saw her. He tried very hard not to look at Mella fondly.

‘Lord Hairstreak is behind the Haleklinders’ invasion plan. You have to throw him into a deep, dark, smelly dungeon.’

‘Lord Hairstreak is behind the Haleklinders’ invasion plan?’ Henry echoed. The urge to smile at her had suddenly evaporated. How did Mella know about the Haleklinders’ invasion plan?

‘Daddy,’ Mella said severely, ‘Mother’s told you not to repeat things back to people in the form of a question. You have no idea how irritating it can be.’

‘You have no idea how irritating it can be to have a brat for a daughter,’ Henry told her. ‘How did you know about the invasion plan and what makes you think Lord Hairstreak has anything to do with it?’

‘My sister told me,’ Mella said.

‘Stop playing games, Mella. You don’t have a sister.’

That was when she told him everything.

Blue was in a foul mood when she joined them in the Throne Room. ‘Have you any idea how big a breach of protocol -’ she began.

Henry opened his mouth to interrupt her, but Mella beat him to it. ‘Mother,’ she said, ‘you have to lock up Uncle Hairstreak.’

‘I don’t want another word out of you,’ Blue said sharply. She shook her head grimly, lips tightly pursed. ‘You’ve caused so much trouble for your father and me -’ She stopped suddenly and stared at her daughter. ‘I have to what? ’

‘He tried to make the Haleklinders invade us and then he was going to kill you and Daddy and put the other Mella on the throne and -’

Blue picked up on it as quickly as Henry had. ‘How do you know about the Haleklinders’ invasion?’ she asked at once.

The trouble was, Henry thought, his wife and daughter were exactly alike: stubborn, opinionated, bossy, impatient. As a result, they fought all the time, even when Mella wasn’t behaving like a brat. He adopted his most calming voice, although he knew from experience it usually irritated them both, and said firmly, ‘Leave this to me, Mella. And you, Blue, please be quiet and listen.’ He almost added, for a change, but stopped himself in time.

Blue glared at him. From the corner of his eye he could see their daughter glaring at him as well. Henry ignored them both. He’d decided there was only one way to handle the new developments – heck, even to make sense of them – and that was to take one step at a time. The most urgent step, it seemed to him, was to tell Blue what Mella had just told him. The next most urgent was to decide what to do about it. Assuming Blue believed it. Henry wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He took a deep breath.

‘This is a bit complicated,’ he began, ‘but Mella’s just told me -’

The Throne Room doors burst open to a howl of protest from the magical securities, but Pyrgus was still a Crown Prince, so they could do nothing to stop him. He slammed the doors shut with his foot and hurried excitedly towards them. ‘You’ll never believe what’s happened in Halek-’ he began, then caught sight of Mella. ‘How did you get here ahead of me? That’s impossible!’

Mella smiled at him benignly. ‘Hello, Uncle Pyrgus.’

‘Has she told you?’ Pyrgus asked. He looked from Blue to Henry, suddenly smiling broadly. ‘Has she told you what she did to the Table of Seven?’

‘That wasn’t me, Uncle Pyrgus,’ Mella said. ‘That was the other Mella.’

‘You’re behaving like a child! ’ Blue snapped. ‘What have you done to the Table of -?’

‘Look,’ Henry said, ‘if the rest of you can be quiet for a moment, I think I should explain that Mella claims there are two -’ He stopped dead as the Throne Room doors opened again. He stared. It was one thing to have Mella tell him that utterly fantastic story about Lord Hairstreak and his clone. It was quite another to come face to face with the living proof of it.

‘Hello,’ said the young figure in the doorway. ‘I’m Mella II.’

It was so cool! First off, there was lots and lots of seriously good food, including her fave, candied mushrooms. Then there was sitting at the top table with the other Mella beside her. (She was wearing her official princess crown and they’d sweetly made a replica for Mella II, which just showed their parents could be quite decent really when they put their minds to it.) Then there was the fact that everybody, but everybody wanted to hear their story, even though it was the talk of the city and they’d heard it all before. Then, best of all, there was Victorinus – Papilio Victorinus – the Duke’s grandson, who was so fit he was positively radical. She could hardly wait to see him with his shirt off in the celebration games. But he wasn’t in the games yet: he was sitting beside her, staring into her eyes, and asking her to tell him (again!) how she’d saved the entire Realm. She could imagine that Victorinus might have caused just the teeniest, tiny bit of trouble between her new sister and herself if he hadn’t been a twin. His brother, Papilio Pharnaces, was distracting Mella II even as they spoke.

‘It confuses me, bella,’ Victorinus told her breathlessly, ‘this story I have heard, that you were eaten by the beast.’ He spread his hands helplessly and smiled. ‘Yet, here you are, so beautiful my poor heart aches.’ His eyes were huge and brown, his lashes long. He was two years older than she was – how fabulous was that?