The Faeman Quest

Twenty

Somebody’s house had fallen down. Chalkhill suppressed a giggle, but sobered quickly. This was no time to rejoice in someone else’s misfortune. He drew his shadow cloak around him and stepped into the shade of a nearby tree to evaluate the situation.

First off, there’d obviously been an accident, and a big one. His guess was that somebody in the ruined house had been running an illegal explosives factory. That sort of thing happened all the time in the Analogue World: since they couldn’t do anything by magic, they were obsessed about doing it by explosives. It was obviously an illegal factory, since there were policemen crawling all over the rubble looking for clues.

Next, why had Brimstone come here? Brimstone definitely had come here, since Chalkhill could see the old fool skulking behind a bush across the road. The answer had to be that Brimstone knew Mella was running an illegal explosives factory in the Analogue World. The question was, had Mella perished in the blast? It seemed entirely likely. Teenagers were notoriously careless, and teenagers who went into the explosives business frequently blew themselves to bits. The second question was, could Chalkhill turn this to his advantage?

The simplest course of action would be to take credit for her death, report back and tell Lord Hairstreak he’d blown her up. A simple body part, such as he might find in the rubble, would be sufficient proof. Then Chalkhill could claim his fee without having had to earn it, which would be extremely gratifying. The only drawback he could see was that Hairstreak had insisted the girl be assassinated in Hairstreak’s own castle. Was that stipulation negotiable? Hairstreak was not well known for his willingness to negotiate, but it was such a stupid thing to specify that he might. Especially if – reluctantly – Chalkhill dropped his fee a little.

But all this assumed Mella really was dead. And likely though that might be, it wasn’t absolutely certain.

A policeman strode past just a few feet from where he was standing, but the shadow cloak did its work so that Chalkhill remained unseen. He allowed his gaze to drift back to Brimstone. With his expanded senses, Brimstone probably knew whether the girl was alive or dead. The trick would be persuading him to tell… and tell the truth. Brimstone was no longer looking at the rubble: he was staring at something a little way along the road. Chalkhill followed his gaze and discovered a couple of Analogue worlders hurrying towards the police cordon. The woman was too old to be Mella and he almost lost interest at once. But there was something familiar about her. Something familiar about the man too…

Chalkhill almost choked. The woman was Queen Blue! He looked again. Impossible, yet there she was. Furthermore, now he had his eye in, he could see the man with her was Henry Atherton, her human Consort. And maybe that wasn’t impossible. They were Mella’s parents, after all. Nothing more natural than for parents to go looking for their little girl, even if they were King Consort and Queen. He frowned thoughtfully. If Brimstone was here and Mella’s parents were here, then it confirmed he was on the right track. Mella had to be here as well, somewhere close by, if she wasn’t dead, of course. All he had to do was find her, snatch her, portal swiftly back to Hairstreak’s Keep and slit her throat while His Lordship watched. Mission accomplished, payment received and on to the next job. Hey-ho the holly!

Another thought occurred to him, a dreadful, scary, hideously exciting thought. What sort of ransom could be raised for kidnapping Queen Blue? How much more would it be worth if you kidnapped King Consort Henry as well? Oh, what a thought that was! Riches beyond the dreams of avarice, but not beyond his dreams of avarice. On top of what he’d get from Lord Hairstreak for killing their daughter, it would make him the richest man in the entire Realm.

Chalkhill took three deep breaths to steady his nerves. One thing was certain: there would never be an opportunity like this again. Madame Cardui’s security system was legendary. One Purple Emperor, Holly Blue’s father, had been assassinated on her watch and she was determined that would never, ever, happen again. But even Cardui’s long talons didn’t reach into the Analogue World. Chalkhill suspected the headstrong Queen Blue had probably taken off impulsively without even notifying the old witch. Blue had a history of incognito jaunts. She might well be travelling with little security, possibly with no security at all. And while it would never do to underestimate King Consort Henry – he’d once killed a vampire with his bare hands – Chalkhill knew his own assassin’s training made him more than a match for anybody.

Could he do it? Could he capture the entire Royal Family, Henry, Blue and Mella? Probably not alone – the logistics of an operation like that were almost certainly beyond one man. But he didn’t have to do it alone. He had one potential ally already, albeit a tricky one. Between them, they could do the job…

Heart thumping, Chalkhill ran across the road and decloaked beside his old business partner.

‘Yipes!’ exclaimed Brimstone, jumping back a pace. Then he leaned forward to peer closely at Chalkhill. ‘What are you doing here?’

There was no point in recriminations. Brimstone had lied to him, in all probability tried to cheat him, but it was no more than he’d have done to Brimstone had their positions been reversed. Now he needed Brimstone’s help and he was certain he could keep the old man in line. After all, he’d managed it in the past. He drew another deep breath. ‘Same thing as you – looking for Princess Mella. Did you know her parents are here? The two people in the entire Faerie Realm who are worth the most ransom.’

Brimstone may have been mad, but he wasn’t stupid. He stared at Chalkhill with sudden interest flaring in his rheumy old eyes. ‘You’re not after them as well?’ he asked.

Chalkhill gave a long, slow smile. ‘I am now,’ he said.