Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

If she waited until his eyes were closed, she could creep up and press the stimlus to the side of his neck. Well, she could. She definitely could. It would be simple. She realised she was arguing with herself. Could she really kill Henry whatever he’d done? Could she -

The inner argument abruptly deflated like a balloon. She didn’t have the stimlus. She’d decided not to bring it in case her uncle’s security spells detected a weapon.

Could she overpower Henry without a stimlus? Go for his eyes or strangle him until he passed out? She was being stupid. There was no way she was strong enough, even if she could bring herself to do it. And what would be the point if she did? What would be the point if she even killed him? She didn’t know how she’d got into this creepy room and she didn’t know how to get out of it again. There were no windows, no doors…

Or were there?

It occurred to her suddenly that she’d been taking everything at face value. What she saw was a featureless room, but what she saw mightn’t be the way it really was. She remembered the time she’d broken into Brimstone’s lodgings. They hadn’t looked the way they really were until she’d discovered the illusion spell. It could be like that here. An illusion spell might have changed the whole appearance. After all, the light had to be coming from somewhere, so clearly the source was disguised.

She glanced at Henry. He’d closed his eyes again. Would he sense it if she moved? Only one way to find out. Cautiously she began to feel her way along one wall. Henry didn’t move.

She went carefully and very slowly. Henry could open his eyes again at any minute and, when he did, she wanted it to look as if she was just stretching her legs. That wasn’t going to be easy. A really good illusion spell affected the character of an object, not just its appearance; but even the best of them weren’t as good at fooling your sense of smell as your sight. If you took your time you could pick up the telltale signs. But that meant getting up close. Really close. If Henry opened his eyes while she had her nose pressed up against the wall he’d know at once what she was up to.

She looked back. His eyes were still closed, but his lips were moving silently and his body was tense as a coiled spring. His eyelids flickered.

Blue froze. She’d found a door! It wasn’t even that well concealed, except to sight. She could feel the outlines quite plainly. She glanced across at Henry. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Cautiously, Blue pushed the door.

It opened.

The personal flyer was fantastic. The top speed was about seven times faster than an ouklo. Just one word and you could make it loop the loop. It very nearly hovered without stalling and if you banked sharply it started up this amazing sonic hum. If Pyrgus hadn’t been on a serious mission, he could have had a lot of fun.

The street grid of Yammeth City was underneath him now and he could see the amazing expanse of green that was their final destination. He put the flyer into a sharp dive.

‘Do we plan to crash inside the Ogyris Estate, sir?’ Kitterick enquired. ‘If not, Merchant Ogyris may have a landing pad.’

‘I think he probably has air defences as well,’ Pyrgus said, frowning. ‘Besides, I don’t want him to know we’re here. I thought we’d come down somewhere on the edge of the city and walk.’

‘There is a public landing area quite close to the main gate of the estate, sir.’

‘Is there? How do you know?’

‘I have been equipped with maps of Yammeth City, sir.’

‘You’ve got maps? You might have shown them to me.’ What with never having used a personal flyer before, he’d had some trouble finding the place.

‘They’re internal, sir. Imprinted on my brain. I’m afraid I only have visionary access.’

Pyrgus put the flyer into a holding pattern, describing a wide circle over the city. ‘This public landing area – wouldn’t a Lighter flyer be a bit conspicuous there? I mean, I don’t want word getting around that we’ve arrived.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so, sir,’ Kitterick said soberly. ‘Faeries of the Night use far more air transports than we do, so there are scores of vehicles coming and going. One more will scarcely be noticed. Besides, this is an unmarked flyer.’

Pyrgus thought about it for a second. The last thing he wanted was a long walk through Yammeth City. If the public landing area really was close to the estate gate…

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Where is this place?’

‘The large rectangle rimmed in green, ahead and a little to starboard, sir.’

Pyrgus saw it. ‘I’m on it,’ he said. ‘We’re going down!’

Kitterick proved right about their not being noticed. Several hundred Nighter vehicles were parked in neat rows. People were coming and going all the time. There appeared to be no formalities at all. Pyrgus slipped on his lenses and handed a pair to Kitterick.

‘What’s this, sir?’

‘Darkened glasses,’ Pyrgus said. ‘So people can’t see your eyes and tell you’re not a Faerie of the Night.’

Kitterick blinked. ‘I’m four foot seven inches tall with orange skin. I think people might suspect I’m not a Faerie of the Night even with dark glasses, sir.’ He folded the lenses neatly and handed them back. ‘I don’t think we need worry unduly, if I may say so, sir. There are quite a few Trinians in service throughout the Cretch. More so now, of course, since the Hael portals closed and demon servants are at a premium.’ He began to tidy away the flying gear. ‘May I enquire whether we have a plan on this mission or whether we will simply be crawling through the bushes until something attacks us as we did at Lord Hairstreak’s?’

Pyrgus grinned. ‘No crawling through the bushes this time, Kitterick. We do have a plan. We’ll present ourselves at the main gate and ask for Gela.’

‘Gela, sir?’

Pyrgus hesitated. ‘My, ah, friend. My friend Gela. She’s Merchant Ogyris’s daughter.’ He felt a lot less confident than he sounded. Gela might not be prepared to help. In fact, on balance, he thought it was a bit unlikely, but he didn’t have a better idea and it was probably worth a try.

‘I see, sir.’

‘I thought Gela could get us in,’ Pyrgus pressed on. ‘Maybe ask us to the house for a cup of fume or something. I’d ask her not to mention the visit to her father. Then, while one of us engages her in conversation, the other could sneak out and take a look at the crystal flowers.’ He hesitated. ‘Probably you,’ he added lamely.

‘May I say, sir, that is possibly the worst plan I have ever heard?’

‘It’s the only one I’ve got,’ Pyrgus told him sourly. ‘We might as well try it.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Kitterick.

The main gates of the Ogyris Estate were enormous ornamental bastions flanked by twin statues of grinning demons. The statues were in a garish pink-veined marble. The gates were wrought in lethal iron, hideously expensive, but impervious to faerie attack and with a thin, black spell coating to protect any legitimate visitor who might touch them accidentally. They were shut.

Pyrgus blinked. For some reason it had never occurred to him that the estate might be closed off, although now he was here it seemed the most likely thing in the world.

‘What do we do now?’ he muttered aloud.

‘Allow me, sir,’ said Kitterick and placed his palm squarely on the brass attention plate sunk into the left hand wall.

‘Please state your name and business,’ said the nearest statue.

‘Please face the gate and speak clearly,’ said its twin on the other side.

‘Please refrain from touching the gates at any time,’ said the first statue.