Faerie Wars 03 - Ruler of the Realm (11 page)

The idea appealed to Pyrgus, who liked animals. 'Henry's endolg's still in the palace, isn't he?' he asked Blue. 'The one you made a chevalier?'

'I'm not convinced I should meet with my uncle,' Blue said, ignoring him.

General Ovard said, 'The details would be worked out by civil servants on both sides. You wouldn't have to be involved until the formal signing.'

'Assuming there is a signing,' Madame Cardui murmured lazily.

'So you're also in favour of talks?' Blue asked, looking at General Ovard.

Ovard nodded. 'Yes.'

Blue took in the sober faces. They were all so mature, so experienced. Even Pyrgus was older than she was. Talks seemed reasonable. But suppose it was a trick? Hairstreak was capable of any deception. Her whole instinct told her not to trust him. Yet all three of her military leaders were agreed there should be talks.

In that instant, Blue suddenly saw her life as it might have been. If her father had lived, or Pyrgus accepted the throne, she'd have none of these worries now. She'd have time for the things she really enjoyed. She was a girl, for Light's sake. She should be thinking about clothes and music and seeing the world. She should be thinking about romance. She should be thinking about... Henry. It was brutal that she should be facing life and death decisions about the future of the Realm.

Brutal or not, the life she was leading now was the life she'd chosen.

After a moment, she said, 'Thank you, Generals. I should like to discuss the matter further with my political advisors. I'll speak to you again when a decision has been made.' There was not a flicker of expression on her face as she added, 'In the meantime, I want you to make preparations for a military strike against Yammeth Cretch.'

Once the three old soldiers had left, Fogarty said, 'So you don't buy the idea of a treaty?' He gave a steely little smile. 'Obviously.'

Blue sighed. When the Generals were present, the meeting had to be formal. Now she was among friends, she could relax a bit. She looked at Gatekeeper Fogarty and shook her head.

'I think it's a trick. Or at least it might be.' Out of the corner of her eye she could see Pyrgus examining an orchid. He looked just like their father when he'd tended the plants.

'What do you think he's up to?' Fogarty asked her.

Blue didn't know what Hairstreak was up to. Didn't know for sure he was up to anything. What she did know was that she was afraid of making a mistake. That sick fear had been with her since the day she accepted the crown.

'Buying time,' Blue said with more conviction than she felt. 'I still think he's likely to attack before I've any real experience of ruling the Realm. But he may not be ready yet. Either that, or he just wants to keep us off our guard. If we're in the middle of peace negotiations, the last thing we'd expect would be war.'

Fogarty said. 'Our endolg would sense that right away.'

'He may not agree to endolgs,' Blue said. 'Wouldn't that be suspicious?'

'Yes, but it's happened in the past.' The one thing she had done was study politics. The history of the Realm was a long, miserable litany of treachery and deception. She looked at Mr Fogarty soberly. 'In fact, most treaties have been brokered without endolgs.'

'Actually,' Pyrgus said, 'I've been thinking about it and an endolg wouldn't guarantee good faith. General Ovard said the details would be worked out by civil servants. That's certainly what
would
happen. If Hairstreak's people think he's genuine, an endolg wouldn't pick up anything amiss.'

'There's still the formal signing,' Fogarty said.

'By then it might be too late.' Pyrgus looked from one face to the other. 'Honestly, endolgs aren't the answer.'

Madame Cardui suddenly said, 'That's not all, is it deeah?' Pyrgus glanced at her, but she was looking at Blue.

It was probably time to tell them. Blue was used to doing things on her own, had been since she was a little girl. But things were different now. Now she was responsible for the entire Realm. She had to start sharing. She smiled, a little shamefacedly.

'No, it's not. I went to the oracle.'

'Ah,' said Madame Cardui.

There was a long silence, then Pyrgus said, 'What oracle?'

'Blue saw the Spicemaster,' Madame Cardui said.

'Who's the Spicemaster?' Fogarty asked.

'Which god did you get?' Pyrgus asked in sudden excitement. As an aside to Fogarty he added, 'He's an oracle.'

'Great,' Fogarty muttered.

Blue said, 'I asked him -' She hesitated. 'I got the Yidam. Is that good?' She looked from Pyrgus to Madame Cardui.

'Good, but dangerous,' Madame Cardui said.

'And tricky,' Pyrgus added. 'At least that's what everybody says. I'd never have the nerve to go to the Spicemaster.' He looked at his sister admiringly.

'I don't suppose anybody's going to tell me what this is all about?' Fogarty remarked sourly.

Madame Cardui reached out and took his hand. 'The Spicemaster is trained to call the Old Gods who ruled before the Light. They can sometimes tell you the future, if you're prepared to take the risk.' She reached over and patted Fogarty's knee. 'I'll explain it all later, deeah.' She turned to look expectantly at Blue. 'Did you ask about Hairstreak's intentions?'

Blue shook her head. 'No. I asked what would happen if we attacked the Nighters.' She found herself looking from one to the other for approval and stopped immediately. She had to be decisive. 'He said we'd win. And quickly.' When nobody spoke, she added, 'He also said I was in danger of betrayal from someone close.' She blinked. 'Actually I got on very well with him. The Yidam. I think he liked me.'

'In danger of betrayal?' Pyrgus echoed.

'That has to be Lord Hairstreak,' Blue said soberly. 'Nobody's much closer than an uncle. You can see why I don't trust his treaty.' She was looking for approval again. She couldn't help it. 'I still think we should attack.' Somehow she just managed to keep from turning it into a question.

Mr Fogarty's rasping voice broke the silence. 'Did this oracle thing actually
say
we would win? In those words:
you will win the war?'

Blue said a little impatiently, 'No, not in those exact words, Gatekeeper. He said something like ... "An
enemy will he swiftly routed."
Something like that. But it's what he meant.'

'Ah,' said Fogarty. He sniffed. 'Bloody oracles.'

They looked at him. Eventually Madame Cardui asked, 'What's that mean, deeah?'

Fogarty said, 'We used to have an oracle at home -well, at home centuries ago. Called the Delphic Oracle. Something similar to your Spicemaster, by the sound of it, except it was a woman. Got taken over by the god and predicted the future? That's what happened, was it?'

Blue nodded.

Fogarty said, 'The whole set-up was famous in the ancient world.' He drew in a deep breath and sighed. 'There was a king called Croesus who wanted to attack the Persians. The oracle told him if he attacked, a mighty empire would be destroyed.' He looked across from under his eyebrows at Blue.

'And did his attack succeed?' Blue asked, frowning.

'The Persians beat the crap out of him,' Fogarty said. 'The mighty empire that got destroyed was his own.' He stared at her with cold blue eyes. 'You have to be careful how you interpret an oracle.'

'Oh,' Blue said.

Pyrgus said, 'So you wouldn't attack the Nighters, Mr Fogarty?'

'Oh, I'd attack them all right,' Fogarty said. 'I don't believe in oracles.'

Hairstreak waited until the coach carrying Pyrgus was out of sight. The boy was tricky, but he could probably be trusted to take a simple message to his sister. What happened then was anybody's guess. Blue had been headstrong from the time she was a little girl. Now she was Queen ...

Well, now she was Queen, that headstrong streak could serve his plans very nicely.

He scowled as he turned back to the house. They'd be waiting for him by now, all of them. Waiting with their stupid questions. Not that it mattered. He could wait too, longer than the rest of them put together.

Pelidne was standing just inside the doorway. Hairstreak looked at him with a hint of distaste. Such a shame about Cossus Cossus. A damn nuisance training in a new Gatekeeper, but you could never trust a man with a worm up his bottom. And what Pelidne lacked in experience, he made up for in loyalty. Not to mention his interesting talents, which would certainly be useful.

'Are they here?' he snapped.

Pelidne nodded. 'I showed them down to the Conference Chamber, sir.'

'Are the securities in place?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did they take precautions against being followed?'

Pelidne looked startled. 'I assume so, sir.'

'Assume nothing,' Hairstreak told him. 'They're idiots - all of them. Have a contingent of guards search the grounds. If they find anybody, interrogate them then kill them painfully. You can feed any bodies to my slith. Poor thing hasn't eaten in days.'

'Yes, sir.'

The Conference Chamber was more than thirty feet beneath the foundations of the manor, functional and spell-proof. There was a sudden silence when Hairstreak strode in, as if they'd been talking behind his back. Which they probably had. He allowed his eyes to drift coldly from one to the other, unsmiling. Old Duke Electo was there, dressed in his revolting magenta robes and looking more ancient than God. He seldom left his castle nowadays, which showed the importance he placed on the current developments. Hairstreak nodded an acknowledgement.

The rest, with a few notable exceptions, were the usual crowd - Anthocharis Cardamines, complete with irritating twitch, the ghastly Colias twins, Hecla and Lesbia, glaring at him malevolently, that imbecile Croceus who murdered his father, and all the other inbred weeds inflicted on him by reason of their titles. Their
inherited
titles. Not a real talent among them.

But the exceptions were interesting. Hamearis, Duke of Burgundy, was lounging in a chair at the end of the table. Darkness, but the man was enormous! Even seated he seemed to overwhelm the others. He played up to it, of course. Those shoulders were part due to his padded armour. But that didn't mean he should be underestimated. He'd fought more than his fair share of battles and attracted a huge following as a hero. He'd once been Hairstreak's closest ally. Now Hairstreak couldn't be sure. They had very different ideas about the current situation.

Then there was Fuscus, dear, sweet, baby-faced Fuscus, with his private army and wardrobe of military uniforms. They said he wore a different one each night and strutted round the battlements waving an amber sword. Such theatrics. Hairstreak doubted Fuscus had ever delivered a blow in anger. But the private army was a different matter. An elite force, well-trained, well-armed and ready to do their master's bidding. Which made Fuscus a power to be reckoned with. There'd been a time when Hairstreak thought he might have made a close ally, but he was Burgundy's man now and Hairstreak was no longer sure of Burgundy.

The final exception was more interesting still. Zosine Typha Ogyris, the only faerie in the room without a title. But what he lacked in breeding, he made up for in wealth. He sat there, a little, balding, toad-like creature with his hands calmly folded in his lap. He looked harmless, but he commanded more resources than six noble houses. The man was incredible. He'd actually arrived in the Realm without a penny, a refugee from Haleklind. Somebody claimed he'd laid the foundations of his fortune by hauling manure to market gardens. Manure! Hairstreak had had a hard time securing his place at this conference. The Great House representatives thought it beneath their dignity to sit down with someone who lacked a title. But Zosine was here now, oh yes. And whatever doubts he had about Hamearis, Hairstreak could count on Zosine absolutely.