Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

A thought occurred to her and flared into a rising excitement. ‘Flapwazzle, would you do something for me?’ she blurted. She couldn’t order him – not that she would have anyway. Endolgs weren’t strictly speaking her subjects, which may have been why she hadn’t thought of something so obvious before.

‘Sure,’ Flapwazzle said at once.

Some of her initial excitement died, replaced at once by worry. ‘It could be dangerous.’

Flapwazzle had draped himself over one of her feet, keeping it so warm she wished he’d move on to the other one as well. ‘Danger is my middle name,’ he said. Then added quickly, ‘Just a metaphor, of course. Something I picked up somewhere. I don’t actually have a middle name and if I did it certainly wouldn’t be anything as pretentious as Danger.’ He wriggled slightly. Endolgs lacked the capacity to lie, so metaphors were difficult for them.

Blue said, ‘Would you pay a visit on my uncle?’

‘Lord Hairstreak?’

‘That uncle,’ Blue said sourly. ‘I want you to get close enough to use your truth-sense.’

‘He won’t like that,’ Flapwazzle said.

Which was the understatement of the century. Blue had started to feel guilty – this really was a dangerous assignment – but the more she talked, the more her idea felt like a solution to all her problems. And Flapwazzle could do it. In fact, Flapwazzle was the only endolg she could trust with the job. He’d already proven himself several times over.

She took a deep breath and told him everything.

‘You want me to find out if it’s a genuine offer?’ Flapwazzle asked.

Blue nodded. ‘Can you?’

‘If I can get close enough. I might have problems sneaking past his guards.’

‘I can get you into his mansion,’ Blue said, thinking furiously. She could make a State visit, except the formalities would put Hairstreak on his guard. If she turned up with her bodyguards, that might encourage him to increase his security precautions. But if she just turned up…

Blue liked the idea of just turning up. It was the sort of wild thing she used to do before becoming Queen. She’d have to put precautions in place, of course, do it by the book. She’d order a Countdown, the way the old Emperors did when there was a risk of war. And she’d carry her stimlus. Actually, no, she wouldn’t carry her stimlus – her uncle’s security spells would detect the weapon at once. Best to appear innocent and empty-handed. The Countdown would be all the security she’d need. But she had to find some way of hiding Flapwazzle.

‘He mustn’t know you’re with me. It’s important he doesn’t realise we’re checking him out.’

‘Besides which, he might kill me,’ Flapwazzle said.

Blue nodded. ‘Yes, he might.’ It was impossible to keep anything from an endolg.

But clearly this endolg was prepared to take the risk. ‘Whatever,’ he shrugged cheerfully. ‘When do we go?’

Now would be good, thought Blue. Once she instigated the Countdown and figured out a way of smuggling Flapwazzle.

As they walked together through the passage, Flapwazzle remarked conversationally, ‘You know when I was asleep back there? Before I fell off the rock?’

‘Yes,’ Blue nodded.

‘I was dreaming about Henry,’ Flapwazzle said. ‘He was in a lot of trouble.’

‘I do that sometimes,’ Blue told him.

Henry was in a lot of trouble.

He seemed to be hallucinating. There was a figure bending over him. After a moment he recognised it as Mr Fogarty.

‘I thought you were in New Zealand,’ Henry said dreamily.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Mr Fogarty.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ The voice, from somewhere to the left, was Pyrgus’s.

‘Bit disoriented, that’s all. He’ll be fine in a minute.’

‘I want to talk to him. About Blue.’

‘In a minute. He’s had his atoms ripped apart and reassembled. You can’t expect him to come out fighting.’

Henry tried to stand up and fell down. The ceiling looked very nice. It was vaulted like a church, only lower. The wood floor smelt of vanilla. His body ached a bit. Or quite a lot, actually.

‘Perhaps I could be of assistance, sir…?’

A woman’s voice said, ‘He’s really quite good at first aid, deeah.’

‘Be my guest,’ said Mr Fogarty.

An orange thumb dug into Henry’s sternum. There was a sudden racking pain and everything snapped into focus. He jack-knifed into a sitting position, clutching his chest. The grinning face of Madame Cardui’s dwarf was beaming at him.

‘There, that’s better, isn’t it?’ said Kitterick.

Henry felt as if he’d been run through a mincer. Everything ached, including, he noticed curiously, his hair. But worse than the ache was the confusion. He’d been in his bedroom a second ago.

He looked around. He was now in Mr Fogarty’s shed. Or a Paramount Pictures version of Mr Fogarty’s shed. It was huge and filled with really creepy stuff. There was a workbench scattered with equipment. There was a smallish portal full of blue fire that hovered briefly above his head, then popped out, shedding droplets like a bubble.

Pyrgus was grinning at him. Madame Cardui was smiling at him. Kitterick was looking at him. Mr Fogarty was frowning at him. He was back. Back in the Realm! It wasn’t his imagination after all!

Henry pushed himself painfully to his feet. Through the window he could see the distant outline of the Purple Palace with its huge cyclopean stones weathered nearly black with age. It felt a bit like coming home. He took a step and nearly fell.

‘Just aftermath,’ said Mr Fogarty shortly, to no one in particular.

Henry put one hand out to lean on the bench. He found himself looking at Pyrgus, so he smiled at him.

Madame Cardui said, ‘We can’t bring him to the Queen in this state.’

Pyrgus said briskly, ‘I know something that will perk him up.’

‘What is this place?’ Henry asked. Although it was his third visit to the Realm, he’d never actually been in the city before. It was a peculiar experience, like stepping back in time. He kept thinking of drawings he’d seen of Elizabethan London and the movie Shakespeare in Love. The city seemed to be entirely composed of narrow, dirty streets, tiny windows and overhanging buildings. The river might have been a wider version of the Thames. But despite the similarities, there were some spooky differences. This was definitely one of them.

‘It’s a Fizz Parlour,’ Pyrgus said.

The frontage was decidedly garish. Spell coatings caused luminous bands of colour to crawl and intertwine with no concession to good taste. Above the door was a spinning spiral that had an hypnotic effect on passers-by. Henry noticed it was attracting a steady parade of insects and small birds.

‘It’s not some sort of tavern, is it?’ Henry asked. ‘Only I’m not allowed in pubs.’ Even if it wasn’t a tavern, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go in. He was feeling a whole lot steadier now, but his muscles still ached and all he really wanted was to lie down somewhere and sleep. Somehow he doubted this was what Pyrgus had in mind.

‘No, it’s not a tavern. We can go to a tavern if you like, but I thought this might be better for you.’ Pyrgus frowned. ‘Why aren’t you allowed in taverns?’

‘I’m too young.’

‘You’re the same age as me.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Henry said, and let it go. He eyed the entrance suspiciously. ‘It’s not… an opium den, is it?’

‘I don’t know what opium is,’ Pyrgus said. ‘But if you want a den, we can go to a saturation den. They’re stimulating too.’ Then he added brightly, ‘But this is completely organic.’