Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (26 page)

'So what do we do now?'

'Run,' suggested Flapwazzle.

Henry ran. The echo of his footsteps was swallowed by the roaring noise behind.

He'd covered several hundred yards before he realised he was alone. He stopped. 'Flapwazzle?' he whispered.

There was no sign of Flapwazzle.

'Flapwazzle!' he called, loudly this time. But with a mounting sense of horror he knew there would be no answer. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He should have realised endolgs couldn't move nearly as fast as human beings. They had no feet. They crawled along by wriggling their whole flat little bodies like a snake. He should have picked Flapwazzle up and carried him. With a surge of guilt he realised it would have been so easy: Flapwazzle couldn't weigh much more than a few pounds. But Henry had been so concerned about his own safety he hadn't even thought of it. He'd taken off like a frightened rabbit and left Flapwazzle to ... to ...

'Flapwazzle!' he screamed, and began to run back down the tunnel.

Then he saw the wall of water rushing towards him.

'What do you think you're playing at?' Blue hissed furiously.

They were alone together in a small, insulated antechamber off the Great Hall. The Queen had assured them their privacy was guaranteed.

'We can't attack Lord Hairstreak,' Pyrgus said. 'He's ... he's ...' He shook his head helplessly.

'He's what?' Blue snapped. 'Come on, Pyrgus, pull yourself together.'

'He's working with our father now!' Pyrgus blurted. He actually looked as if he might be about to cry.

'He's not working with our father!' Blue snapped. 'Our father is under his influence - it's not the same thing. This is a great opportunity, can't you see? If the Forest Faerie help us, we can put paid to Lord Hairstreak once and for all. Didn't you notice what those elf-bolts can do? Once we have Hairstreak out of the way, we'll have Daddy back. We can nurse him back to health, get him the best medical treatment. He can take the throne again - Comma will step aside, you know he will, and if he doesn't we'll make him, or Daddy will make him. Daddy will be Purple Emperor again, just like he was before. It'll all be like what it was before; only better, because nobody will have Hairstreak to worry about.'

Suddenly Pyrgus seemed to collapse in on himself. He looked grey and small. 'It won't be like it was before,' he said quietly. 'It can't be like it was before, not now, not ever.'

'Pyrgus, it can\ We'll make plans. We'll call on the whole forest army if need be. We'll -'

'Blue, Daddy isn't ill - he's dead. It's not nursing or medical attention -' Pyrgus waved his hands helplessly. 'He's dead\ That's why Hairstreak can control him. Whatever we do, it won't make any difference - he's still dead?

After a moment, Blue said, 'It's going to be all right, Pyrgus. We'll make it all right. We'll get Daddy away from Hairstreak - that's obviously the first step. We'll bring him back here - here to the forest. We can hide him here and take however long it needs to get him back to normal. Queen Cleopatra will help.'

She climbed to her feet and there was a steely glint in her eye. 'It's time we went back to the others,' she said.

Henry flattened himself against the wall of the side drain and waited. He'd no idea if he was going to survive the next few minutes and part of him hardly cared: he felt so guilty about what he'd done to Flapwazzle. But another part, a greater part, cared very much indeed. More than anything else, he wanted to get out of these filthy sewers alive so he could find Blue and help Pyrgus out of the mess he was obviously in.

The rush of approaching water was so loud now it was almost deafening. The entrance to the main sewer tunnel was more than thirty feet away - far enough, he hoped, to keep him clear of any backwash. If he was right and he was lucky - if he was very, very lucky - the main force of water would sweep past so quickly that the side drain, which was on a higher level, might stay dry. But if he was wrong, he was dead.

Soon know, he thought. Poor Flapwazzle.

Suddenly he could see a roiling, surging force of water filling the entrance of the side drain like a manic tide. Astonishingly, he felt completely calm. He might be about to die, but there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Then, like a tide, the water retreated. The great flush still roared through the main sewer, but it had drained away from the side tunnel completely. Henry realised he was holding his breath, and released it explosively. He was safe! It was going to be all right!

Then suddenly he was being dragged towards the tunnel mouth.

There was nothing to hold on to. The walls of the side drain were wet with slime. His feet could get no purchase on the floor. There was a whistling of wind in his ears as if he were being buffeted by a storm. As he slid towards the entrance and that boiling mass of water, he realised what had happened. The sweep of water in the main tunnel was so great it was creating a vacuum in the side drains. As air rushed in to fill the vacuum, he was being swept towards the deadly torrent. The elemental noise of wind and water rose until it filled his universe.

Then stopped.

He could hear the roar of water receding distantly, but the vacuum popped and the wind noise died at once. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, gasping for breath. There were scratches on his arms and legs, but otherwise he was just fine; and he was no longer being sucked towards the main sewer. The flush was over. He'd survived.

Although it would be hours before the next torrent, Henry decided he wasn't going to stay inside the sewers a minute longer than he had to. Not that he was certain he'd have been prepared to risk the river anyway. In his last swimming lesson he'd managed only half a length of the pool before floundering. Now he was alone, it felt far more secure to stay on dry land if he possibly could.

Over the next hour, he investigated four side drains, one of them so confined he had to crawl along it on all fours. Three of them ended in gratings so firmly fixed he couldn't move them. The fourth seemed to be a ridiculous dead-end until he noticed the pipes that drained into it from the ceiling. None of them was big enough for him to insert anything bigger than his arm. He was beginning to wonder if he might have to risk the river after all when the main tunnel forked and he saw distant daylight in the passage to his right.

For a moment he wondered if it might be wishful thinking, but the light in the distance was nothing like the green glow of the fungus closer by. It was the bluish white of a bright, cloudy day. He could almost taste it streaming down into the sewer. He turned into the right-hand tunnel, increased his pace, then started to run He felt an elation out of all proportion. The light might be nothing, nothing at all, unreachable perhaps, but it was still light and he was still alive - he'd survived.

It was unbelievable. He'd found an inspection trap! Henry stared and, while he'd never been much for religion, he found himself offering up a little mental prayer. It couldn't be better. What he was looking at was a large metal grille set into the ceiling with daylight (no doubt at all about that now) streaming through. The grille was hinged, so it was clearly meant to be opened. But best of all, it hung above an alcoved terrace with a flight of broad stone steps leading up to it. He could reach it easily.

Henry ran up the steps, almost tripping on his feet in his haste. There was a small observation platform at the top and he stepped on to it, heart pounding. He reached up to push the grating, then stopped. It had one of those peculiar little box locks they used here in place of padlocks. The damn things usually had a magical charge and he had no idea at all how to open them. His heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. It couldn't be locked, it couldn't be. But he knew with his luck it definitely could.

He pushed the grille anyway. It rolled aside smoothly at the first touch. Henry stared at it. The lock was either broken or someone had left it open. Daylight beckoned. He moved back on to the broad stone steps and took the last three at a run.

He was free!

Chalkhill drained the last of his glass and felt the music wind itself around his brain as a pleasing backdrop to Cyril's words. He held up a mental hand to stem the wangaramas's flow. (He was getting good at this.) "You say you've infiltrated all the important power centres in the Realm?'

'Most of them. Some of Hair streak's household. The Imperial Court, although that's getting turned around a hit now. The Council of -

'So you're linked with some important people?'

'Oh yes. Oh yes indeed.'

'Then why pick me for Purple Emperor?'

He thought there would be a hesitation, then possibly some judicious flattery and enough waffle for him to extract the real reason. But the wyrm answered at once. 'Because you're perfectly placed for the job.'

Perfectly placed? 'Perfectly placed?' Chalkhill asked.

'Our philosophers say we need an easy transition for the revolution to succeed, a smooth transfer of power between the existing legislation and our chosen host. In other words, the mass of common people must accept their new ruler. They won't know he has a wyrm inside him, of course.'

'That's what I was asking,' Chalkhill said. 'Why on earth should anybody accept me? I'm not of royal blood, I'm not even noble except in the broadest sense of the word.'

'But you won't become Emperor as you. You'll become the first Emperor Hair streak.'

There was a huge silence, as if the inside of Chalkhill's head had turned into a vast, empty cathedral. The wyrm's last words floated down like gentle snowflakes and suddenly he knew exactly what they meant. 'You want me to go on with the impersonation!' he exclaimed excitedly. 'When Comma is to be crowned, you want me to go as Hairstreak, but when I assassinate Comma - it'll be Comma I assassinate now, of course, not Pyrgus - you want me to take his place. As Hairstreak.'

'Exactly,' said Cyril smugly. 'You're thinking like a wangaramas already.'

It was the most peculiar plan he'd ever heard, but it might work. Hairstreak was a member of a noble house, related to the old Emperor by marriage. More to the point, he had the support of half the Realm - he was the acknowledged leader of the Faeries of the Night. Coups had succeeded with a lot less going for them.

Except for one thing, of course.

Chalkhill frowned. 'What about the real Hairstreak? He's not going to sit around and watch me take the kingdom wearing his face.'

'The real Hairstreak won't be at the Coronation - he told you that himself

'No, wait a minute - he told me he wouldn't be at the Coronation when Pyrgus was going to be crowned. There's no reason for him to stay away from Comma's Coronation. Comma is his puppet.'

'That's true, but he doesn't plan to go to Comma's Coronation either. He thinks the Faeries of the Light might accept the situation more easily if he keeps a low profile for a while.'

It made sense. All the same ... ''How do you know this?'

' We have it from his Gatekeeper.'

Chalkhill blinked. 'You have a worm in Cossus Cossus?!' he asked incredulously. It was just too delicious to be true. '7 always thought he had a funny walk.'

'Cossus is one of our more important symbiotes. So you can take it our friend will not be at the Coronation. Once you kill Comma and proclaim yourself Emperor, you can denounce the real Hairstreak as an imposter, and have him arrested and hung.'

'But won't he tell everybody he's the real Hairstreak?'

'Of course he will, but who's going to believe him over the new Emperor? Besides, we've infiltrated his personal bodyguard as well as Cossus Cossus. With the wangarami helping, it'll be a piece of cake - all you have to do is find somewhere to lie low until we need you.'

Lying low was the least of his concerns. Chalkhill already knew exactly who could sort that out for him. There was only one other thing he could think of to worry about. '7 don't have the illusion spell we were going to use - Hairstreak was going to supply that.'