Ruler of the Realm

Twenty-five

Henry felt as if he’d been run through a mincer. Everything ached, including, he noticed curiously, his hair. But worse than the ache was the confusion. He’d been in his bedroom a second ago.

He looked around. He was now in Mr Fogarty’s shed. Or a Paramount Pictures version of Mr Fogarty’s shed. It was huge and filled with really creepy stuff. There was a workbench scattered with equipment. There was a smallish portal full of blue fire that hovered briefly above his head, then popped out, shedding droplets like a bubble.

Pyrgus was grinning at him. Madame Cardui was smiling at him. Kitterick was looking at him. Mr Fogarty was frowning at him. He was back. Back in the Realm! It wasn’t his imagination after all!

Henry pushed himself painfully to his feet. Through the window he could see the distant outline of the Purple Palace with its huge cyclopean stones weathered nearly black with age. It felt a bit like coming home. He took a step and nearly fell.

‘Just aftermath,’ said Mr Fogarty shortly, to no one in particular.

Henry put one hand out to lean on the bench. He found himself looking at Pyrgus, so he smiled at him.

Madame Cardui said, ‘We can’t bring him to the Queen in this state.’

Pyrgus said briskly, ‘I know something that will perk him up.’