Faerie Wars

Twenty

The mirror showed a slim boy with close-cropped hair and open features. His clothes were homespun and entirely drab: a muddy green jacket inexpertly repaired and itchy brown breeches tucked into cracking, down-at-heel, leather boots. He might have been a factory worker or a badly paid apprentice. Holly Blue examined her reflection with some satisfaction. Real disguise was always better than some erratic illusion spell that could be probed by counter-magic or fail completely when you least expected.

She was worried about her skin. Many boys her age were spotty, and apprentices spottier than most, but there wasn't a lot she could do about that. Besides, she'd used the disguise before and nobody seemed to notice. Although those missions hadn't been as dangerous as this one. She thought about it, then compromised by rubbing in a light stain to give a weather-beaten look. It helped a little.

Blue checked her armaments. They were pitifully scant. The trouble was everything had to be in character. No factory worker or apprentice could afford magical weapons, or even a simple sword. Most of them just carried a defensive cosh, if they carried anything at all. She settled for a small dagger and a screamer built into a copper coin. The dagger was just about acceptable – it looked a lot cheaper than it was – and if the screamer was discovered, she could always say she stole it. As an afterthought, she dropped a pickspell in her pocket. It looked much like a banana if you didn't examine it too closely.

She took a last glance in the mirror, then walked to her bookshelves and tapped a slim volume of Crudman's Essays. A section of the shelving slid back on silent runners. As Blue stepped into the hidden passageway beyond, glowglobes illuminated gently and the shelving slid back into place. In less than half an hour, she was mingling with the teeming crowds of Northgate.

The first playhouse had opened in Northgate five hundred years earlier and the district had been an entertainment centre ever since. Except now the entertainment offered was a bit more varied than theatre trips. Sparkle-spell signs advertised whirl booths, saturation dens, chaos-horn cafes, simbala music parlours, reality suites and -new to Blue – something called the Organic Fizz Experience. The pavements were crowded, as they always were at this time of night, and street entertainers worked hard to extract a few coins from the throng. Blue passed jugglers and acrobats, a tiny troupe of strolling players and an odd-looking individual who appeared to be eating his way through a live dragon. It was an illusion, of course, but a good one.

An elderly trull emerged from a doorway. 'Like to try a little chaos horn with me, young sir?'

Blue waved her away, grinning. At least her disguise was passing muster.

On a routine trip, she might have taken her time in the main thoroughfare, enjoying the excitement and the sights. But this was no routine trip. Her father might think he could find Pyrgus in the Analogue World, but she wasn't so sure. For days now, a snatch of conversation had been replaying in her mind:

'I thought that dreadful Hairstreak must have killed you! It was nearly three days before I could get any word of you at all!'.'

And Pyrgus said, 'Hairstreak never got near me. It was someone else who nearly killed me.'

They'd been in the chapel, just before Pyrgus stepped through the portal and disappeared. It was someone else who nearly killed me. He'd tried to pass it off as a joke, but she knew her brother very well. That wasn't a joke – it was a slip of the tongue. There was something Pyrgus didn't want her to know about… or anybody else for that matter. He always dreaded making a fuss. But there was somebody who'd nearly killed him. Not Hairstreak either, someone else. And minutes later someone tried to kill him again, someone injected poison into his veins and sabotaged the House Iris portal. Was that a coincidence? Holly Blue thought not.

She pushed past a chorus line of synchronised sword swallowers and entered Garrick Lane. This had been the site of the very first playhouse. The building was long gone now, but the lane itself was still the beating heart of Northgate's theatre district. She passed the garish facades of the Moon and the Globe and the Garrick itself before she reached the narrow, unassuming stairway next door to the old sorcery supply shop. A guardian illusion stopped her on the first landing.

'Who dares seek audience with the Painted Lady?' it asked portentously.

Blue smiled to herself. A typical guardian illusion was set to say something like Please state your name and business, but that would never do for Madame Cardui. She believed in creating an impression before you even met her. The illusion itself was custom made. Where most people were content to buy a standard doorman, this thing was an eight-foot-tall djinn complete with black beard, baggy pants and turban. Its eyes glowed like burning coals.

'Little Boy Blue,' said Blue quietly and the creature dissolved in a cloud of theatrical green smoke. She walked up another flight and knocked politely on a partly curtained door.

'Come in, my deeah, come in!' commanded a shrill voice.

Madame Cardui's salon was extraordinary by any standard. Lush, rich washes of colour writhed over every wall, occasionally dissolving into brief, mind-numbing vistas full of manticores and unicorns. The furnishings seemed to consist almost entirely of lavish silk and velvet cushions, interspersed with the occasional low table offering water-pipes of purple opium and shallow crystal bowls of Turkish delight. A heady smell of incense hung thickly in the air, its scent continually changing yet somehow retaining a constant undertone of jasmine. Sensual simbala music wailed and purred on the outer edge of audibility but managed, as simbala music always did, to insinuate itself inside your body and your brain.

But most extraordinary of all was Madame Cardui herself. The Painted Lady reclined in a black lace peignoir on a pile of cushions, attended by her orange dwarf and translucent Persian cat. Miniature mechanicals chattered busily on the table beside her, manufacturing exotic bonbons and sachets of strange powders. She was slim as a reed, except for her bust which retained the vast enhancements of her theatre days. The skin beneath the heavy make-up was veined and networked with fine wrinkles, but her eyes were dark and bright and liquid as they'd ever been.

She smiled to show her scarlet teeth. 'Boy Blue,' she greeted Blue warmly, 'what a delight to see you again so soon.' She patted a place beside her. 'Here. You must sit here, by me.' Her dwarf scuttled to arrange the cushions as Blue sat.

'Are we alone, madame?' asked Blue casually.

The Painted Lady drew a deep breath through her nose, as if sampling the heavy incense smell. 'Alone, but perhaps not yet entirely private,' she said grandly. She waved a languid hand. 'See to it, Kitterick.'

The orange dwarf grinned broadly as he hurried to a table near the door. He took a small brown cone from a cedar casket and held it to a nearby glowglobe until the tip began to smoulder, then set it down on a shallow metal incense dish. As he scurried back to his mistress, the cone erupted like a firework, scattering an ornate silence spell across the room.

'There!' the Painted Lady said, and sighed. She pushed herself into a sitting position and stretched. 'Well, Highness,' she said briskly, 'this will be about the Crown Prince, I suspect.'

Blue nodded. 'Yes, Madame Cynthia.'

T thought he was back safely.'

'He was,' Blue said. 'My father decided to translate him to the Analogue World.'

Madame Cardui pursed her lips. 'Probably the safest place until things settle.'

'Unfortunately,' said Blue, 'someone sabotaged the portal.'

'Ah,' said Madame Cardui. She looked at Blue thoughtfully. 'An attempt on his life, do we suspect, or simply someone making mischief?'

'An attempt on his life,' Blue told her. She decided not to mention the poison. She trusted the Painted Lady as much as, if not more than, any of her informants, but experience had taught her information was best dispensed on a need-to-know basis. 'The thing is, I think someone also tried to kill him before he returned to the palace.'

'We're not talking of Hairstreak?'

'No, someone else.'

'And you believe it may have been the same person who arranged to sabotage the portal?'

'I think it's possible,' Blue said.

'Do we know who it was tried to kill him while he was on his little adventure in the outside world?'

'I don't,' Blue said soberly. 'I was hoping you might.'

'I see,' said the Painted Lady.

The translucent cat climbed on to Blue's knee, curled up and went to sleep. She stroked it absently. Underneath the fur, she could just make out its swiftly beating heart, the shadow of its twined intestines and the outline of a half-digested mouse. 'You managed to track him down for me,' Blue said. 'At that time I wasn't interested in where he'd been. Now I am. Do you know?'

Madame Cardui pushed herself painfully to her feet.

'Have you realised even you must grow old one day?' Before Blue could reply, she waved a hand grandly and went on, 'No, of course not, my deeah. Why should you dwell on such things? You are scarcely a woman yet, for all your birthright and intelligence. Why think of winter when you have only just begun to enjoy the spring?' She sighed. 'Shall I tell you the worst thing about growing old – worse even than the pains and aches and loss of looks? Your memory wizens. Oh, the unimportant parts remain. You can still remember vividly some stupid boy you kissed when you were five. But you forget what you did last week. Such a bore. I believe I may be able to help you, but I shall have to check.'

The orange dwarf took her elbow solicitously as she walked to a section of the wall that transformed itself into a chaotic hypnopattern at her approach. 'Be still,' she murmured and the wall settled down at the sound of her voice. She placed the flat of one palm on the surface and a deep cavity appeared. From it she extracted a deck of playing cards. 'My marvellous deck,' she said. 'Did I ever tell you I was once a conjurer's assistant? The Great Mephisto. Such a handsome man and so skilled with his hands. But he never had a pack like this.' She riffled through it until she found the Jack of Hearts. 'Hold still, Kitterick,' she said and pushed the card into Kitterick's head.

Kitterick froze and his face took on a vacant look. 'Crown Prince Pyrgus Malvae,' he said woodenly. 'Son of Apatura Iris the Purple Emperor, heir to the Peacock Throne, colour of hair red, colour of eyes brown, height five feet and – '

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. 'Scroll to Search Node Seven. Query all antagonistic encounters within a six-week – ' She hesitated and looked at Blue. 'Is six weeks enough?'

'Perhaps two months,' Blue said. 'To be on the safe side.'

'Within an eight-week period,' Madame Cardui told her dwarf.

'Lord Hairstreak,' Kitterick said promptly. 'Crown Prince Pyrgus broke into his manor and stole his golden phoenix after which Hairstreak ordered his immediate detention. Huntsmen – '

'It wasn't Hairstreak,' Blue said. 'Pyrgus told me that himself.' Hairstreak never got near me. It was someone else who nearly killed me. 'But I think it may have been after he took the phoenix,' she added.

'Scroll forward,' Madame Cardui ordered.

'Groumu,' Kitterick intoned.

'What?' Blue frowned.

'I think it may be a name,' Madame Cardui suggested. 'Is it a name, Kitterick?'

'Yes.'

'Who is this Groumu?' Blue asked.

'Continue listed enquiries, Kitterick,' Madame Cardui ordered.

'Groumu, Security Guard Sergeant, black hair, brown eyes, height six feet one inch, age forty years and four months, assaulted Crown Prince Pyrgus on the first day of the second moon. Jocurm, Security Guard, hair brown, eyes blue, height five feet ten and a half inches, age twenty-nine years and one month, assaulted Crown Prince Pyrgus on the first day of the second moon. Praneworf, Security Guard, hair brown, eyes blue-grey, height five feet eleven, age thirty-three years and seven months, assaulted Crown Prince Pyrgus on the first day of the second moon – '

'Busy day,' the Painted Lady murmured.

'Batches, Security Guard – '

'What did these guards do?' Blue asked quickly.

'Assault with grievous bodily harm,' said Kitterick. 'Attempted murder, level eight.'

Attempted murder! Blue felt her stomach tighten. Was this what Pyrgus meant? An attack by somebody's security guards? It was someone else who nearly killed me. That didn't sound like a bunch of guards. It sounded more like a single person. Unless Pyrgus meant whoever it was set the guards on him. But even then, it was only a level-eight assault, which was technically attempted murder, but actually only meant they'd beaten him unconscious. A serious assassination attempt would have to be at least a – 'Level nine,' Madame Cardui commanded Kitterick. 'Examine level-nine encounters.'

Kitterick clicked audibly and jerked his head. 'Pratellus,' he said. 'Crambus, Security Guard Captain, hair black streaked grey, eyes brown, age forty-four – '

Blue cut him short. 'What did he do to Pyrgus?'

Kitterick's face became immobile except for his eyes which began to circle in a clockwise direction. An odd sound emerged from his mouth, rather like a stuck ratchet.

'Probably this Pratellus did nothing himself,' Madame Cardui explained. 'A level-nine encounter carries the potential of serious harm, even death, but the person encountered may not be the one who does the deed.'

Blue frowned. 'I don't understand.'

'Well, for example, Pratellus might have held your brother's arms while someone else stabbed him. Or he might have handed someone a scimitar to decapitate him. Or he might have led him to the gallows or some other place of execution. Or – oh, please don't distress yourself, my deeah: I am speaking hypothetically. All we can say is that the brave captain was involved in an attempt on your brother's life, not that he was directly responsible.'

'How do we find out who was directly responsible?' Blue asked a little crossly. It was sometimes difficult dealing with people of Madame Cardui's age. They had a set way of doing things that wasn't always fast enough.

'Kitterick, move to level ten!' Madame Cardui said imperiously.

Kitterick clicked again. 'Chalkhill, Jasper,' he said loudly. 'Hair dyed, eyes baby blue, height five feet seven inches, age deleted from official records following substantial bribes. Brimstone, Silas, hair gone, eyes bloodshot blue, height five feet and ten inches, age ninety-eight years and ten months.'

'Chalkhill and Brimstone!' Madame Cardui breathed. 'It seems we have found who tried to kill your brother.'

'Who are Chalkhill and Brimstone, Madame Cynthia?' asked Holly Blue. The names rang a bell from somewhere, but they certainly weren't members of any of the Noble Houses and if they were in politics they didn't hold important offices.

'They are in trade? said Madame Cardui, somehow managing to make it sound like a disease. 'Faeries of the Night, of course.'

'In trade?'

Madame Cardui allowed her eyes to flicker upwards. 'My deeah, they sell pots of glue.'

That was where she'd heard the name. Chalkhill and Brimstone Miracle Glue – she'd seen it in the servants' quarters. 'They manufacture it as well, don't they?'

'I suppose so,' Madame Cardui said dismissively. ' Chalkhill's background is moderately interesting. He had something of a reputation as a hairdresser. Then he became an interior decorator. Distinctive style, but a little too flamboyant for my taste. He was brought up by an aunt. Quite a decent woman, by all accounts, but one understands Jasper poisoned her for her money.'

Blue was alert at once. 'Poisoned? He didn't use triptium, by any chance?'

'I've no idea. It was merely a rumour – nothing was ever proven. But he did inherit her entire estate which he sold off for a substantial sum. He was in the process of squandering it when he met Brimstone.'

'What's Brimstone's background?' Blue asked.

'Sorcery,' said Madame Cardui promptly. 'Necromancy and demonology of the very lowest kind. He even makes his fellow Nighters nervous.' She removed the card from Kitterick's head and he escorted her back to her cushions where she lay down again. 'No doubt about it, Your Highness – either or both of those two are quite capable of an attempt on your brother's life.'

Blue looked at her. 'Better tell me where to find them,' she said grimly.