Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (47 page)

He pushed the thought savagely from his mind and stood up. Best concentrate on getting ready.

The ermine cloak he had to wear throughout the ceremony was hanging in the cabin wardrobe. He took it out and placed it round his shoulders, staring at his reflection in the mirrored door.

He thought of his father, who had worn this same cloak at bis Coronation. He thought of his mother, who had been Faerie Queen for such a tragically short time. Then he turned and walked up on to the golden deck to let his loyal subjects see him as the barge drew slowly into the Cathedral Dock.

The ouklo pulled up between ranks of Imperial soldiers and tightly-packed, cheering crowds. As Henry stepped out he was surprised to receive a crisp salute from every man in uniform, then realised the salutes were not for him at all, but for Mr Fogarty, as Gatekeeper, who was in overall charge of security.

Mr Fogarty himself, resplendent in his Lord Nelson gear, returned the salute with a casual wave of his hand, then cornered the nearest Captain.

'Everyone here?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Lord Hairstreak?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Our men in place?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You've moved my nameplate as instructed?'

'Yes, sir, absolutely sir.'

Henry stared at the Cathedral, wondering what the nameplate business was all about. The building was huge, dwarfing St Paul's or Westminster or any cathedral he'd ever seen. But it wasn't the size that was impressive - it was the architecture. The entire structure had a light, lacy, filigree look that was straight out of a fantasy painting. It seemed as if the first strong gust of wind would be enough to blow it down, but somebody had told him the building had stood for seven hundred years and once survived a direct hit from a meteor.

'Crown Prince Pyrgus?' Mr Fogarty asked the Captain.

'The Royal Barge will dock in five minutes,' the Captain said. He pointed. 'If you look through there, sir, you can see it.'

'Excellent,' said Mr Fogarty. He turned to Henry. 'Come on, young Iron Prominent, we'd better take our seats.'

It was the moment Henry had been dreading. His britches were as tight as ever.

Henry actually stopped in astonishment as he stepped into the Cathedral. Tier upon tier of seats were packed with the nobility of the Faerie Realm, each one vying with the other in the opulence and finery of their costumes. He saw colourful blocks of Trinians, stately Halek wizards and representatives of races he had never even heard of. The hum of conversation was like a swarm of giant bees.

'Hello, Henry,' said a soft voice from the aisle to his left.

For a moment he didn't recognise her, then he realised suddenly it was Nymphalis. She had exchanged the familiar green uniform for a fur outfit that made her look like Conan the Barbarian.

'Hello, Nymph,' Henry grinned. 'I like your gear.'

Nymph leaned across and whispered in his ear, 'I wanted to see Prince Pyrgus crowned, but I didn't want anyone to know I came from the forest.'

'They wouldn't guess in a thousand years,' Henry assured her as Mr Fogarty tugged his arm to make him get a move on.

As he moved on to the centre aisle, Henry discovered the Cathedral altar wasn't set in the east like the churches he was used to, but centred in the massive building. It consisted of a golden cube, above which hovered a shimmering sphere of writhing light that drew his eyes hypnotically.

'What's that?' he asked Mr Fogarty.

'Some sort of device that lets God manifest.' He sniffed, then added cynically, 'I gather He doesn't often bother.'

They walked together to the altar and, following Mr Fogarty's lead, Henry bowed to the empty throne. 'Right,' whispered Fogarty, 'we take our seats now -you're with me.'

There was a peculiarly-designed chair that looked like the Gatekeeper's Seat Henry had seen when they made him Iron Prominent, but Mr Fogarty ignored it and led him up steps to the higher tiers. Eventually they found two empty seats directly overlooking the altar. There were brass plaques with their names on each of them.

'Hello, Blackie,' Mr Fogarty said cheerfully. 'So glad you could make it.'

The man beside him scowled, but didn't speak. Henry sat down very, very cautiously and found to his delight that the material of his britches stretched but didn't tear. He wasn't comfortable, but at least he was still decent.

It was only when he settled that he realised the man Mr Fogarty had spoken to was Lord Hairstreak.

Blue joined Pyrgus on the deck of the Royal Barge to tumultuous applause from the dock. 'You all right?' she whispered.

Pyrgus drew a deep breath. 'Yes.'

She hesitated. 'You don't want to change your mind? You still can.'

'I don't think so, Blue,' Pyrgus said soberly. 'But I don't want to anyway.'

'What are you going to do ... you know ... after?' It was something they hadn't discussed.

'Let's just get today over with,' Pyrgus told her.

There was the tiniest grating sound as the barge docked. A golden walkway extruded smoothly at their feet. They looked at one another.

'This is it,' said Pyrgus. 'We'd better do it.'

They processed slowly down the walkway, side by side.

'Long live King Pyrgus!' someone called from the crowd. 'Long live our Purple Emperor!'

The cry was taken up until it swelled across a thousand voices. 'Long live King Pyrgus! Long live our Purple Emperor!'

Pyrgus adjusted his ermine cloak. With measured tread, he and his sister began the long, slow walk up to the Cathedral.

A trumpet fanfare jerked Henry's attention off Lord Hairstreak. He leaned forward and turned towards the main door of the Cathedral, certain it must be Blue and Pyrgus, but instead it turned out to be a procession of priests and wizards, each one without exception dressed in flowing spinner silk.

'The clown with the beard is Archimandrake Podalirius,' Mr Fogarty whispered. 'He does the actual Coronation.'

Archimandrake Podalirius was a tall, heavily-built man with so much black hair that his face was almost totally concealed. Henry tore his gaze away as Podalirius took up his place behind the empty throne. His priests fanned out in a semi-circle beyond him. Altar-girls scurried forward with jars of sparkling ointment and small silver ewers of sacred oil. The trumpets sounded a second time and Pyrgus entered the Cathedral, his sister Blue a step behind him. His head was bare and he had removed the special hairpiece so that his shaven tonsure was exposed. Usually Henry couldn't take his eyes off Blue, but on this occasion Pyrgus commanded his entire attention.

He looked every inch the Emperor as he began to walk towards his throne.

'Going to have another try at killing him?' Mr Fogarty asked lightly out of the side of his mouth. 'Illusion spells or worms or something of that sort?'

Hairstreak stared straight ahead. 'Heard that foolish rumour, have you, Gatekeeper.'

'From the horse's mouth,' Fogarty said cheerfully.

'Pity you can't prove it,' Hairstreak said.

'Yes, isn't it? Still, might get the proof if you were to try again.'

'Oh, that's hardly likely,' Hairstreak said, 'so long as I have this ... ' He drew a roll of parchment from the inside of his doublet.

Below them, the priests behind the Archimandrake set up a sonorous chant. Their voices swelled to fill the entire Cathedral.

'What's that?' Fogarty asked.

'Copy of the pact signed by the late lamented Apatura Iris when he recovered from his recent coma. It remains legally binding even though he is no longer with us.'

'I suppose it does,' said Fogarty.

Hairstreak glanced at him suspiciously. 'And binding on his son, Gatekeeper. Remember that. Clause Five, specific. Crown Prince Pyrgus is even named. The moment he becomes Purple Emperor he is legally bound to implement the treaty.'

'Surely not the very moment,' Fogarty said. 'Won't you even let him celebrate his Coronation?'

Hairstreak ignored him. He turned to Fogarty and gave a small, bleak smile. 'There are changed times coming, Gatekeeper. Although I very much doubt you will last long enough to see them.'

The chanting stopped abruptly as Pyrgus sat down on the empty throne. Blue moved to stand on his right-hand side. Archimandrake Podalirius loomed behind the throne.

'No doubt we'll soon find out,' said Fogarty.

The Archimandrake filled a vial from a ewer of sacred oil.

Two priests stepped forward carrying the State Crown between them. It was heavily encrusted with polished amethysts and surrounded by a purple aura.

Archimandrake Podalirius poured oil into the palm of his left hand, dipped his right thumb and used it to trace a mystic sigil on Pyrgus's tonsured scalp. 'I prepare the head that God has called to wear the crown,' he intoned.

Pyrgus looked straight ahead, his face expressionless.

From somewhere in the body of the church a female choir began to sing. Their high, clear voices swooped and dived like birds. Above them, the distinctive tones of an Endolg Chorus began a descant. A slow procession of chanting monks paced through the body of the church towards the altar.

Archimandrake Podalirius took the Purple Crown from the two priests, held it aloft, then set it gently down on Pyrgus's head. Crackling energies flowed down into his body. All sound ceased.

'Behold your Emperor!' the Archimandrake proclaimed in ringing tones.

Henry found he was holding his breath. From the corner of his eye he could see Lord Hairstreak leaning forward slightly, a self-satisfied expression on his face.

'And now the Emperor's first proclamation,' said Mr Fogarty quietly.

Pyrgus stood. The crown must have been enormously heavy, but he wore it well. When he spoke, he spoke quietly, but spell amplification around the throne carried his words to every corner of the Cathedral.

'It is tradition,' he said, 'that an Emperor must make the first official proclamation of his reign here in the Cathedral at the very moment of his Coronation. I hold to that tradition today and herewith proclaim my abdication, effective immediately, in favour of my sister, Her Serene Highness, the Princess Holly Blue, who shall, by this my imperial proclamation, henceforth rule as Faerie Queen and Sovereign Empress of the Realm, Champion of -'

Despite the spell amplification, the remainder of his words were drowned out by the tumult that erupted throughout the entire Cathedral. Hairstreak was on his feet, the parchment treaty crumpled in his fist. 'He can't do that!' he roared.

'He just has,' Mr Fogarty said mildly. Henry's idea and a very neat one. He glanced at the parchment. 'Looks like your treaty's worthless now - I don't recall anything that makes it binding on Blue.'

Hairstreak rounded on him furiously. 'It's not over, Gatekeeper. We both know what Pyrgus did, and believe me, I shall bring the boy to justice for it.'

Mr Fogarty never even blinked. 'I think you'll find the Purple Empress will pardon all her brother's misdemeanours.' He gave one of his most chilling, feral smiles. 'She may even make it her first proclamation.'