Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

‘Tell me the worst,’ she said.

‘Actually…’ Pyrgus said, ‘it may not be the worst. That’s why I wanted to talk to you away from the others. He’s sent you a message.’

‘About what?”

Pyrgus, who was really getting a bit too tall for the security cubicle, slid down until he was squatting comfortably on the floor. After a tiny hesitation, Blue joined him. It was the sort of huddle they used to get into as children, when life was far less complicated.

‘I don’t know whether I believe it,’ Pyrgus said quietly, ‘but this is what happened…’

Pyrgus still had his halek blade and was wondering about the political repercussions of using it on his uncle. But the very fact he still had his halek blade was peculiar. The manor was crawling with Hairstreak’s men, yet he hadn’t been searched once. That was not at all like Hairstreak, who was only alive today because he took security seriously.

For the moment, Pyrgus decided to keep his hands by his sides and wait. Hairstreak said shortly, ‘Refreshment? Ordle, or something of that sort? Or would you prefer a drink? I suppose you’re old enough for ale now, are you?’

Pyrgus thought he was, but you needed a clear head. Food held no appeal either. It was almost traditional to poison ordle when you wanted to get rid of an enemy. Four Purple Emperors had died that way in the past five hundred years. Pyrgus had been poisoned once already and had no wish to repeat the experience.

‘No, thank you,’ he said coolly.

They were standing together in what looked like a smallish dining room. There were logs burning in the grate and the smell reminded Pyrgus of the forest. Hairstreak had his back to the fire, an old trick to throw himself into silhouette and make him look threatening. But he made no attempt to sound threatening as he said, ‘I suppose I should say I’m sorry to bring you here like this.’

It was the first time Pyrgus had heard Lord Hairstreak apologise for anything. He waited.

Hairstreak said, ‘I should be talking to your sister, but she won’t see me and, quite frankly, she’s not as easy to get hold of as you are.’ He contorted his face into what he probably thought was an avuncular smile. ‘You really should pay more attention to your safety, Pyrgus.’

Pyrgus watched him, idly wondering if his uncle shouldn’t take his own advice. Three steps, four at the most, and he could have the halek buried in his stomach. If it didn’t shatter, that was that. Lord Hairstreak would be dead and the Realm would have one less problem. But it was only a very idle speculation at this stage. He waited.

Hairstreak said, ‘In any case, I want you to deliver a message to your sister.’

It occurred to Pyrgus that his sister might be wondering where he’d got to. The longer he stayed with Lord Hairstreak the more worried she was likely to get. Worried and irritated. He could live with worried, which was fun when it came to your sister. But she could get very stroppy when she was irritated.

‘What’s the message?’ he asked brusquely.

‘That the Faeries of the Nightside wish to negotiate,’ Hairstreak said.

‘Negotiate what?’ Blue asked.

‘A new relationship,’ Pyrgus said.

Henry opened his eyes to find he was back on the road.

It wasn’t dark any longer, it was full daylight. He looked around, wondering how that had happened. The last thing he remembered, he’d been walking home late at night after spending time with Charlie. He’d stepped on to the verge to let a car go past and suddenly the car headlights blended into daylight. Which didn’t seem possible, yet here he was.

But where was here?

He looked around again. The road he was on seemed way out in the country. It meandered through a patchwork of small fields that didn’t look at all familiar.

The sun was shining.

How did he get here? Clearly he’d walked all the way past the turning to his home and out into the country. The spooky thing – the frightening thing if he was honest – was that he’d forgotten everything between the car approaching and now. That couldn’t be good. That had to be brain damage or something. Maybe the car hit him.

Henry stopped and cautiously felt himself all over. Nothing seemed to be broken and there was no sign of blood. All the same, a really bad jolt could affect your memory. He was fairly sure he’d heard about boxers going a bit funny after they’d been battered around the head. They got punchy and talked to themselves and probably couldn’t remember things.

The problem was he didn’t hurt. Not about the head and not anywhere. The side of his nose was a bit itchy, but that wasn’t something you’d get from a car knocking you down and mangling your head.

Where was he anyway? There was a wall coming up and a sign that said Stud Farm. There were stud farms in the district, but none of them particularly close to where he lived. When he walked past his turning, he’d obviously kept walking. And walking. And walking…

It was peculiar his legs didn’t hurt. He’d been walking all night.

The fear Henry felt sank to the level of a background ache. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how he’d got here. Without very much emotion he realised he was going batty. He had to be going batty. First he saw fairies, then he got lost.

He turned round and started to walk back in what he hoped was the direction of home.

‘What sort of new relationship?’ asked Mr Fogarty suspiciously.

Blue looked at Pyrgus who said, ‘Lord Hairstreak thinks it would be in everybody’s interests if the Faeries of the Night and the Faeries of the Light signed a non-aggression treaty.’

Everyone in the room looked at each other. Most showed shock, with a liberal sprinkling of disbelief. After a moment…

‘On what terms?’ asked General Vanelke.

Pyrgus still wasn’t sure how he felt about any of this. He mistrusted his uncle almost as much as Blue did, and the ease with which Hairstreak had snatched him left him more shaken than he was admitting. He shrugged.

‘Basically each side agrees not to go to war with the other. If there are disputes, we settle them by negotiation or arbitration. He says the details can be worked out later, but if we agree the principle now it could open up a whole new era of cooperation that would benefit both sides and put our historic disagreements behind us. His words. More or less exactly.’

Fogarty said, ‘Do you believe him?’

Tricky question. Nobody in their right mind would trust Lord Hairstreak further than a perin’s spit. But at the same time he’d seemed genuine. Pyrgus shrugged again.

‘I tell the tale as told to me.’

‘What’s your opinion, Gatekeeper?’ Blue asked.

‘I’d want to think about it,’ Fogarty sniffed. Then added, ‘But as a general principle, I wouldn’t trust Lord Hairstreak as far as I could throw a sack of dog crap.’

Pyrgus glanced at him in admiration. Analogue World similes always seemed a lot more colourful than the ones used in the Realm.

‘I think we should talk to Lord Hairstreak,’ General Vanelke said, unasked. He glared at Fogarty. ‘As a general principle, I believe talking is preferable to war.’

‘General Creerful?’ Blue asked.

‘On balance, I agree with Vanelke. What harm would talking do? Both sides could take endolgs as a token of good faith.’

The idea appealed to Pyrgus, who liked animals. ‘Henry’s endolg’s still in the palace, isn’t he?’ he asked Blue. ‘The one you made a chevalier?’

‘I’m not convinced I should meet with my uncle,’ Blue said, ignoring him.

General Ovard said, ‘The details would be worked out by civil servants on both sides. You wouldn’t have to be involved until the formal signing.’