Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

The new security system was state of the art. It was firmly centred on the mansion, spell-driven and globular. It cost a fortune to install and it looked like it would cost a fortune to run. But it had to be worth every penny.

‘Is it active?’ Hairstreak asked.

‘Active but not armed,’ Pelidne said.

‘How do I see what’s happening?’ There were no viewing globes, no screens, nothing but a small bank of controls and a custom-made joystick that adjusted to the shape and size of any hand.

‘The goggles, sir. On the table.’

Lord Hairstreak took off his lenses and replaced them with the goggles, taking care not to disturb the parting in his hair. At once he seemed to be floating outside the mansion. The lighting was peculiar – rather like bright moonlight with a particularly bluish tinge – but everything was clearly visible. The three-dimensional effect was impressive.

‘How do I change viewpoint?’ he asked.

‘The joystick, sir.’

Hairstreak glanced inadvertently in the direction of the joystick and discovered to his surprise he could still see it, despite the goggles. In fact, with a little effort, he could see everything in the cramped control room, including Pelidne. Yet at the same time he remained fully aware of the scene outside. It was an incredible piece of spell technology, one that clearly influenced the deepest levels of his mind. He reached out and gripped the joystick.

At once he was spinning out of control, tumbling and gyrating in the pseudo-body floating outside. ‘Yark!’ he snapped violently.

‘Gently, sir – it takes a little practice.’

There had to be a printed manual somewhere. In the interim he steadied the joystick (and found to his relief he was no longer spinning) then inched it forward a hair’s breadth.

At once he swooped down to the ground with a commanding view along the main avenue. He edged the joystick back and flew high into the air with a vast swathe of his estate spread out below him. The sensation was exhilarating in the extreme. If this wasn’t a hideously expensive piece of equipment, it would make a great toy.

Under Pelidne’s guidance, he worked the controls for a few minutes until he got the hang of them. It really was extraordinary. With the help of just goggles and joystick, he could patrol every corner of his estate, spy on his groundskeepers, sneak up invisibly on his guards, even examine an individual flower that took his fancy. It was an illusion, of course, but astonishingly realistic. You even got used to the peculiar light.

‘Are we set up for a test?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ Pelidne assured him.

Hairstreak hesitated. ‘What about our own people? Does it put them at risk?’

‘No, sir, they’re tagged.’

‘What about outsiders?’

‘It’s outsiders the system’s designed to attack.’

Hairstreak glanced round at him and scowled. ‘It’s just possible I might wish to entertain guests at some point,’ he said sarcastically.

‘It can be trained to ignore specific individuals,’ Pelidne said. ‘Or certain groups. Like all Faeries of the Night. Or people above a certain age. Or all males wearing pirate costume. Very flexible. Useful if you ever wanted to hold a fancy dress ball or something of that sort, sir.’

‘But it hasn’t been trained yet?’ Hairstreak said. ‘It will attack anybody within range?’

‘Apart from our own people. After it’s armed, of course.’

Hairstreak licked his lips. ‘How do I arm it?’ he asked.

‘The switch to the right of the panel,’ Pelidne said.

With a thrill of anticipation, Lord Hairstreak reached across and flipped the switch. A bank of seven telltales illuminated smoothly, one after the other. He turned his attention back to the scene outside and discovered the blue light had changed to a much more realistic hue, but set at a comfortable level for a Faerie of the Night.

‘Release him now,’ he whispered, his voice suddenly dry.

The boy was a Faerie of the Light by the cut of his eyes, a raggedy lad little more than thirteen years of age. The servants had discovered him wandering on the edge of the Hairstreak Estate – quite safely since the security system hadn’t yet been armed. He claimed he’d got lost while collecting firewood for his mother, which might well have been true. There were several deprived Lighter families living on the edges of the estate and the nights were growing chill. But there’d been no fire in the cottage last night. Hairstreak’s guards had grabbed the boy and put him in a cage. It was now hanging from a tree on the main avenue as a warning to others.

‘It’s not an exact test, I suppose,’ Pelidne said quietly. ‘He’s hardly going to run towards the mansion.’

Hairstreak was watching with fascination as two of his servants lowered the cage to the ground, withdrew the bolt, then melted away into the bushes. Although he was free now, the boy stayed where he was, staring after them suspiciously.

‘Going… coming,’ Hairstreak shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter so long as the system functions properly.’

Eventually, cautiously, the boy moved to the edge of his cage and tried the door. It swung open. Still he didn’t get out. He looked up and down the main driveway as if expecting somebody to come along it and grab him.

‘Where’s the nearest node?’ Hairstreak asked curiously.

‘Less than thirty yards, sir.’

‘Which direction?’

‘Any direction. The grounds are peppered with them.’

The boy was leaving the cage now. His most predictable action would be to race along the driveway towards the main gate, but he was clearly too wary for that. He waited a moment, then seemed to make up his mind. Crouching low, he ran across the driveway in the opposite direction to the servants and disappeared between two rhododendron bushes. Hairstreak eased back on the joystick and rose to follow him.

From his new vantage point, Hairstreak could see the boy running full pelt over rough grass. As Pelidne predicted, he got less than thirty yards before a tracker emerged from its bunker and hurled itself after him.

The child didn’t stand a chance. The tracker hit him full force from the side, knocked him heavily to the ground, then leaped on to his chest, growling savagely. The boy was game, Hairstreak had to give him that. He struck out wildly and twisted desperately in an attempt to break free, but the creature sank metal teeth into his shoulder and, seconds later, the boy’s eyes rolled upwards and he lay still.

‘What’s our alert status?’ Hairstreak asked curiously.

‘Level 1, sir, for the purpose of the test: seek, hold and immobilise. At Level 2, the tracker would chew his arm off: seek, hold, immobilise and cripple. At Level 3 it kills him: lethal force authorised.’ Pelidne hesitated. ‘Would you like me to raise the alert level, sir?’

‘No, let’s wait until I have more time to enjoy it,’ Hairstreak said.

‘What do you want me to do about the boy?’ Pelidne asked.

‘When he wakes up, let him go. It’ll do no harm at all if he talks about his experience – might discourage other trespassers.’ Hairstreak began to pull off his goggles, then stopped. ‘What’s that noise?’

‘Noise, sir?’

‘High-pitched whine.’

Pelidne leaned across and made an adjustment on the control panel. A penetrating sound filled the little chamber. ‘Aircraft alert, sir.’

A look of pleased surprise flitted across Hairstreak’s features. ‘How interesting. I hadn’t realised the system detected aerial approaches.’

‘The spell-field forms a sphere, centred on the house. It detects intrusion from the air and underground. This isn’t likely to be an attack, of course – more like a commercial coach line or something of that sort. It’s sensitive enough to pick up high-altitude disturbances.’ Pelidne made another adjustment. ‘If you relax your neck muscles, sir, the goggles will automatically turn your head in the direction of the intruder and simulate an image if it’s too far away for visual detection.’