The Faeman Quest

Forty-Two

‘I’m not sure I like this,’ Blue said.

‘We’ve run out of alternatives,’ Henry told her firmly. He was helping Pyrgus into his invisibility suit, an extraordinarily difficult business since neither of them could see where the arms were. In a moment, Pyrgus would be helping Henry into his, which would be even more difficult since both Pyrgus and Henry’s suits would be invisible.

They were standing, all three of them, in the Situation Room, a modified cavern deep in the bedrock beneath the Purple Palace. Banks of crystal spy globes surrounded the huge Operations Table where segments of the Realm landscape were available – in three dimensions – once someone voiced the proper sonic trigger. Just now, the visible segment was a stretch of the Haleklind border. Vast herds of manticores were massing on the Haleklind plains. A faerie army faced them on the other side. So far, no one had made a move to cross the vital boundary, but young women moved briskly between the globes and the table, constantly rearranging the display, so that the position might change at any moment.

Although the Situation Room was a bustle of activity, with uniformed operatives scurrying in all directions, there was a rectangle of empty space to the right of the table avoided even by the most hurried. This was, Henry knew, the space occupied by his SWAT team, hideously efficient, finely honed, muscular commandos who’d had no difficulty at all climbing into their suits and now stood (presumably to attention) waiting for their leaders to get a move on.

‘The manticores aren’t in any particular formation,’ Blue said, staring at the table.

‘No, but they’re there,’ Pyrgus said with much more obvious impatience than Henry would ever have dared. ‘They’re ready. And if we wait for the wizards to make a move, it will be too late.’

‘What worries me,’ Blue said, ‘is that this operation might spark off the very war we’re trying to avoid. We haven’t come anywhere near exhausting the diplomatic alternatives yet.’

What worried Henry was Blue’s guilt. She’d carried it since the Civil War, shortly after she became Queen, blamed herself for the deaths of thousands of brave soldiers. Because of the guilt, she had a horror of war that was almost pathological. It clouded her judgment in ways a Queen could not afford and sometimes made her swing to extremes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Pyrgus beat him to it. ‘If we wait, we may lose our best chance of rescuing Mella. Maybe our only chance.’

Henry weighed in on his side. ‘We know where she is and we know she’s still safe. We know we can reach her and we have the element of surprise. All of that could change.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Blue said. She didn’t sound convinced. She turned to General Vanelke, the only surviving member of the trio who had run the Empire’s military operations at the time of the Civil War. ‘What do we know about Kremlin Karcist?’

Vanelke tore his eyes away from the viewglobes. ‘Its defences, Ma’am?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s the former Tsarist palace, so it has all the securities you’d expect against direct attack. Old magic, not particularly sophisticated, but very reliable. They can be breached, of course, if we bring enough firepower to bear, but we’re not planning a frontal attack at this stage, so they’re not entirely relevant.’

‘But the Table of Seven have added their own systems?’

‘Of course they have,’ Vanelke said.

‘Including anti-infiltration spells?’

‘So Madame Cardui assures me.’

‘In your opinion, General Vanelke, what percentage success might we expect if an infiltration operation was attempted by professionals – your men, specially trained?’

‘Attempted and led by professionals, Ma’am?’ Vanelke asked, striking to the nub of the matter with irritating precision.

‘Yes.’

‘It won’t be led by professionals,’ Henry put in quickly. ‘The whole poi-’

‘Approximately eighty per cent,’ Vanelke said.

‘And led by amateurs?’

‘Come on Blue, we’re not exactly amat-’

‘Less than forty per cent.’ Vanelke managed to make it sound like Armageddon.

Blue turned. ‘You see, Henry? I can’t think why you didn’t ask the General before you and Pyrgus hatched this… this…’ She shook her head helplessly.

Because it was none of his damn business, Henry thought crossly. Aloud he said, ‘General Vanelke doesn’t have enough information to answer your question accurately. Your figure was based on standard infiltration techniques, was it not, General?’

‘Yes, sir, it was.’

Henry looked severely at Blue. ‘Our plan isn’t based on standard infiltration techniques. We’re going to get into Kremlin Karcist the same way Mella did.’ He didn’t spell it out for the sake of security. There were a lot of people wandering past in the Situation Room.

‘The same wa-?’ Blue, who was sharp as a tack, got it almost at once. ‘Oh, I see.’ After a moment, she added, ‘Suppose the Table of Seven have closed that loophole?’

Pyrgus had disappeared. At once Henry felt hands on his leg and noticed that his foot had vanished. ‘If they’ve closed it we’ll have to find another way. But with luck they won’t have discovered yet how she got there. Either way, it argues for us moving fast.’

To give Blue credit, she never argued for the sake of it. What he said made sense and she knew it. All the same, she looked directly at Henry. ‘I’m missing a daughter,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to lose a husband and a brother as well.’

‘You won’t,’ Henry assured her. ‘And you can stop worrying about an international incident that will trigger war. These suits are the latest technology. We’ll be quite undetectable. Once we’re in and find Mella, we’ll have her out of danger in minutes.’ He glanced at Vanelke. ‘And that’s guaranteed one hundred per cent.’

Most of Henry’s body had disappeared now, but Blue leaned across and kissed the floating head. ‘Just be careful,’ she whispered.

‘I will,’ Henry promised. He turned away, wondering where Pyrgus was, and discovered they’d been joined by Madame Cardui.

‘You can take the suit off,’ she said gravely.

He’d known her long enough to realise at once something was badly wrong. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

Pyrgus’s head reappeared, floating in the air a few feet from Henry’s. ‘What’s wrong?’ he echoed.

‘Mella is no longer in Kremlin Karcist,’ Madame Cardui told them. The effects of her recent head peel were beginning to wear off and she now looked increasingly like a mature woman. Somehow it suited her better than the girlish appearance created by the peel.

‘Are you sure?’ Blue asked at once.

‘I’ve just had word from my agent in the Kremlin. They were holding her captive, but now she’s disappeared.’

Blue’s face turned to stone. ‘This isn’t some sort of cover-up? They haven’t… harmed her and are pretending…?’

Madame Cardui shook her head. ‘Mella wasn’t killed,’ she said emphatically. ‘She seems to have escaped. They didn’t harm her, Majesty. At least…’

‘At least…?’

‘Apparently they erased her personal memories. I don’t know why. Possibly she saw something she shouldn’t.’ Madame Cardui shrugged. ‘If it was a standard lethe treatment, it will be easily enough reversed once we have her back. If not…’ She shrugged, ‘… we’ll just have to cross that hurdle when we come to it.’

‘Do we know where she is now?’ Pyrgus put in.

Madame Cardui sighed. ‘No, deeah, we do not. But all my agents in Haleklind are now on highest alert. We’ll know it once she surfaces again.’

Blue said, ‘But in the meantime our daughter is wandering somewhere in enemy territory with her memory erased…’

‘I’m afraid that is exactly the situation we face,’ Madame Cardui said grimly.