Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

‘Oh, yes,’ Hamearis confirmed. ‘Has been for almost a day.’

Hairstreak murmured a codeword. At once the scene changed in the crystal globe. He was looking down on an area of forest, the same area where he had once built himself a mansion. The place was in ruins now, razed to the ground, with the forest itself already closing in to conceal the remains, like some giant animal healing a wound. But though there was nothing much to see any more, that scarcely mattered. The area was purely a reference point, of no strategic importance. As a reference point, it allowed him to explore…

Everywhere!

He was finding it difficult to contain his excitement. The technology was not as flashy as the surveillance system around his home – no illusion of flying, no sensation of movement: just a three-dimensional image within the crystal globe – but its extent was breathtaking. Until now, surveillance had always been limited by things like the placement of spy eyes or the establishment of area markers. But this device… this device gave him the Realm! What was he thinking? This device gave him the world!

It was as good as he’d dreamed it would be. With a thought, the scene pulled back from the area of his old mansion and suddenly he could see the entire forest. Then the plain surrounding it. Then the mountains beyond and the coastline and the sea. If he’d wished, he could have examined the curvature of the planet. In a godlike vision he could have watched its stately journey round the central sun. But godlike or not, that vision was of little practical importance. He conjured an aerial view of the Lighter capital, followed the river beyond the Loman Bridge and hung for a moment above the Imperial Island.

Then he swooped down to enter the Purple Palace. It was incredible. There were no limitations. He could actually see inside the Purple Palace. He could examine corridor after corridor, room after room. No secret in the Realm was safe from him any more. Grinning with delight he watched a kitchen cook drop vegetables into a pot.

What a joy this was going to be when the war was over. He could spy on every enemy, keep record of every subject. He could foil plots before they began, ensure total, absolute obedience from everyone, for ever. This incredible device had placed more power in his hands than any Emperor had ever enjoyed in the entire history of the faerie. Ah, what a time he would have when the war was over.

And before then, how easy it would be to win. This was the ultimate tactical weapon. No enemy troop movement could be hidden from him. There would be no enemy decision to which he was not privy. He could oversee whole battles, place his own forces with unparalleled accuracy. He could craft his victory like an artist.

Hairstreak called up picture after picture in a manic travelogue that took him far beyond the Realm to Haleklind and Borderland and Feltwell Spur and Graphium and Wallach and then back to the Realm itself, where he examined the southern provinces and Yammeth City and the great grain-growing fields to the west, and the swathe of heavy industries and transportation yards to the north and beyond, then eastward from Yammeth Cretch to the desert wastes of -

He froze the picture with a thought and leaned forward. ‘What’s that, Burgundy?’ he asked, his heart suddenly pounding.

Henry opened his eyes.

He was in a strange bed in a strange room with a weird ceiling that made it look as if he was outdoors. Soft music was playing somewhere, but there was a funny smell that reminded him of hospitals. Was he in hospital?

He tried to sit up, but the bedclothes were so tightly tucked around him that they held him like straps. He struggled and while they loosened slightly, the effort showed him he was feeling weak. He had to be in hospital. Except it didn’t look like hospital. There were jars beside his bed full of misty things that writhed and floated, like those novelty aliens they made for little kids.

Maybe the car had knocked him down.

He made another effort to sit up and this time succeeded in loosening the bedclothes. He could remember having to walk home because his rotten mother didn’t pick up the phone. He could remember the headlights of a car behind him. After that… nothing.

There was a dull ache along one side of his nose and a shooting pain into his eye. Maybe he’d fallen down and hit his head.

There was a small mirror on the far wall. He tugged at the bedclothes and finally managed to swing his legs on to the floor. He was wearing some sort of silken gown that left his bottom bare, which meant he had to be in a hospital. But the bed didn’t look like a hospital bed and there were no machines or stuff like that in the room.

He walked over to the mirror. There was a bandage running along the side of his nose to the corner of his eye. Otherwise there was no sign of any injury, not even bruising. He was feeling stronger by the minute too. If he was knocked down by a car, it hadn’t done him much damage.

But where was he?

Underneath the hospital smell there was another smell that seemed strangely familiar. It was almost like the smell of the Lethe cones he used on his mother to make her forget when he -

Henry stopped dead in a moment of rising excitement. He couldn’t be, could he?

He didn’t want to try the door in case he met somebody with his bottom bare, but there was a wardrobe in the room and when he opened it, there were his clothes all freshly washed and neatly pressed and there were other clothes – his size! – like this cool green tunic and that meant he had to be, he just had to be back in the Realm, back in the Purple Palace, although he’d no idea how he got here.

Henry threw away the silken robe and got dressed faster than he’d ever done in his life. Then he threw open the door and stared down the sumptuous corridor and knew, with absolute certainty, he was in the Purple Palace. This was so, so good.

He thought he might see if he could find Blue.

‘What do we do now?’ Pyrgus whispered. He felt really stupid having to admit it in front of Nymph, but he hadn’t an idea in his head. He’d been so thoroughly focused on finding the crystal flowers that it never occurred to him they might have been moved.

‘I’m not sure,’ Nymph whispered back. They were lying side by side in tall grass staring at the remnants of the Ogyris glasshouse. The broken glass and flowers were gone, but the foundation wall and portions of the skeleton structure remained. Their men were sprawled out in various concealments behind them. ‘Do you think Mercer Ogyris may have stored them in the house?’

Pyrgus didn’t know, but it occurred to him that if Merchant Ogyris had taken his flowers into the house, they’d need a lot more men to mount a successful attack. He decided suddenly that while commando raids were fun, he wasn’t really cut out to be a military leader. He turned on his side to look at Nymph and opened his mouth to say something when Nymph asked, ‘How did you find out about the flowers in the first place, Pyrgus?’

He couldn’t have felt more chilled if Hairstreak’s whole army had marched over the horizon. To his hideous embarrassment, he felt himself suddenly blush crimson.

‘Happened to be visiting the estate,’ he muttered. Then added quickly, ‘Do you think it would be a good idea to -?’

‘Mercer Ogyris is a Faerie of the Night, isn’t he?’ Nymph interrupted.

‘Yes,’ Pyrgus said. ‘I was just thinking -’

Nymph’s face was expressionless. ‘Why would a Prince of the Light just happen to be visiting a Nighter estate?’ she asked.

Pyrgus gave up his attempt to divert the conversation and went back to muttering. ‘Bit of business,’ he said. He looked away, unable to hold her eye.