Ruler of the Realm

Forty-one

The delegates arrived at Hairstreak’s mansion grumbling, but they arrived. Most of them eyed Hairstreak with open suspicion. But their looks were tinged with respect. The assassination of Fuscus had done its job. There wasn’t a soul in the chamber who’d consider opposing Hairstreak now. Except possibly Hamearis. The Duke of Burgundy had been too close to death too many times to fear anything any more. But he nodded amiably enough as he ambled in.

Would they notice Pelidne was missing? Hairstreak felt an impotent rage rise up to knot his stomach. It was incredible to think that human child had actually killed Pelidne. And hugely frustrating not to have worked out how. Burgundy, with all his military experience, would never tackle a vampire on his own. Old Duke Electo had dispatched one once, in his younger days, but he’d only managed the job with the backing of eighteen of his best men – and eleven of them were slaughtered in the process.

Probably Pelidne’s absence wouldn’t impinge. If they thought about it at all, they’d assume Hairstreak had sent him off somewhere. No reason for anyone to suspect he was dead, and Hairstreak certainly didn’t plan to tell them unless he had to.

The really infuriating thing was that Pelidne was irreplaceable. Vampires were rare in the Realm, far more rare than they were in the Analogue World. It had taken Hairstreak years to find one – and months to negotiate a contract. He still shuddered to think of the cost. And what did he get in return? A few weeks’ service, one miserable assassination and a hideously expensive security system nobody really understood. How had the brat killed him?

Hairstreak pushed the thoughts to one side. He had rather more urgent problems now. He waited until everyone was seated, then closed the door to trigger the privacy spells.

‘Well, Blackie,’ Hamearis said cheerfully, ‘I hadn’t expected to be back here quite so soon.’

Neither had the others, by the look of them. Hairstreak decided to dispense with the usual preliminaries. ‘Queen Holly Blue is missing,’ he said bluntly. ‘Possibly dead.’ The addendum wasn’t for dramatic effect: if the boy could kill a vampire, he was capable of anything.

There was instant uproar. Hairstreak sat back and waited, scowling, as they tried to shout each other down. Eventually somebody would take charge and settle them. For the moment he didn’t wish to do it himself. Best to wait for his important move: that way it would have more impact.

It was Electo who cut through the babble with his distinctive baritone. ‘If you can all manage to keep quiet for a moment, we might find out what happened.’ Then, as the noise died down, he turned to the head of the table. ‘Hairstreak?’

Hairstreak told them succinctly what had happened. For once he kept nothing back, except Pelidne’s death.

‘By God,’ Electo snorted when he’d finished. ‘You mean to say she was in your care when this young blighter seized her?’

‘Hardly in my care,’ Hairstreak said sourly. ‘She was visiting my mansion, that’s all. She chose to come without security. I can hardly be held responsible for what happened to her.’

‘Not sure the Lighters will see it that way,’ Electo muttered.

Hamearis, blunt as always, said, ‘ Were you responsible, Blackie?’

Hairstreak managed a small, cold smile. ‘Did I arrange to have her kidnapped?’ He shook his head. ‘No, I was surprised as anyone when it happened.’

Croceus, who’d never been the brightest glowglobe in the dungeon, said frowning, ‘I don’t understand how this child got away with it. Didn’t you have guards, or locks or something? Was your security switched off? I see you’ve a new system installed – I noticed it as we arrived.’

‘The usual precautions were in place. I told you. Both the boy and Queen Blue simply vanished.’

Cardamines said, ‘I don’t understand you. You mean they used an invisibility cone or something?’

‘No, it was obviously some new spell technology.’ Hairstreak fixed them with his gaze. ‘But these are unimportant details. The fact is Queen Blue has been kidnapped – however it was achieved or by whom – and that changes the political situation.’

He thought for a moment he was going to have to spell it out for them, but then Hecla Colias asked the crucial question, probably hoping to embarrass him: ‘Why was the Queen visiting you, Lord Hairstreak?’

Hairstreak smiled at her bleakly. ‘She came to refuse our offer of negotiation,’ he said.