Ruler of the Realm

Forty

‘Ah, there you are, Alan,’ Madame Cardui said, as Fogarty swept in. ‘Where were -?’ She stopped. ‘Why on earth are you dressed like that?’

Pyrgus glanced around, then blinked. Mr Fogarty was dressed in the full regalia of a Purple Emperor. Only the State Crown was missing. He scowled at them both.

‘Heard the news about Blue. Somebody had to run the shop.’ He sniffed. ‘Even if it involves dressing like a ponce.’

Pyrgus felt a sudden surge of suspicion. He’d have trusted Mr Fogarty with his life, but sometimes a lust for power did strange things to people. He said cautiously, ‘How did you hear about Blue, Mr Fogarty?’

Fogarty was staring at Kitterick, who was still strapped to the chair with the card plugged into his head. ‘What?’

‘How did you hear about Blue, Mr Fogarty?’ Pyrgus repeated. ‘Kitterick and I were the only ones who knew.’

Fogarty turned slowly to look at him. The barest hint of a smile curled his lips. ‘You weren’t the only ones who knew. I had it from the talking rug.’

‘Oh, Flapwazzle!’ Pyrgus exclaimed, relieved.

‘We had a problem of protocol,’ said Mr Fogarty briskly. ‘With the Queen missing, supreme authority passes temporarily to the Gatekeeper. He can delegate it to the next-in-line for the throne, which is Comma. Do you want that? No, I thought not. Or it can go to the next closest relatives of Her Missing Majesty, which is you, Pyrgus – don’t say it, I know you don’t want it – or Queen Quercusia, who’s mad and locked up, or – and you’re going to love this one – Lord Hairstreak. Or the Gatekeeper can assume the throne himself for a period of one calendar month. I made an executive decision. For the rest of this month you curtsy to Emperor Fogarty. Any objections? Thought not. Now, what the hell are you doing to Kitterick?’