The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER THREE

The man who stepped out of the shadows was tall, thin and wearing an ankle-length indigo toga embroidered with electrical and planetary symbols. He fixed Henry with a gimlet eye. 'You know they put dope in that stuff, don't you? Cat dope. Little twits get addicted and won't touch anything else. That's what makes it so expensive.'

Henry glanced at the pouch of Whiskas in his hand, then back at the scowling figure. 'Mr. Fogarty! What are you doing here?'

'I live here,' Fogarty said sourly.

'No you don't,' Henry said. 'At least not this month.' There was a sudden excitement flowering in him. 'How's Pyrgus? How's the Realm?' He tried to sound nonchalant. 'How's, ah, Princess Blue?'

Fogarty bent down to open the cupboard underneath the sink. He extracted a tin and searched the kitchen drawer for an opener – the tin was so old it didn't even have a ring-pull. 'Pyrgus is a mess. Kid doesn't live in the real world, so how do you expect him to run an Empire? The Realm – well, that's what I want to talk to you about.' He caught Henry's expression and added, 'Your little girlfriend's fine.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' Henry said, flushing.

Fogarty ignored him. He took a small knife from the drawer and used it to transfer globules of grey slime from the tin into Hodge's metal dish. Hodge, now recovered from his fright, had returned to the kitchen and was watching with beady interest. Fogarty said, 'It's all fine on the surface. Nighters are generally behaving themselves. Hairstreak's gone quiet. There are rumours the Hael Realm's collapsed – don't believe it myself, but the portals are certainly closed, so the demons aren't giving any trouble. Lot of talk about hands of friendship, doves of peace, all that sort of crap. Trouble is, nothing's really changed.'

He set the dish on the floor and waited. Hodge trotted across, sniffed it once, then walked away and sat down with his back to them. 'What did I say?' Fogarty exclaimed triumphantly. 'That's an addiction! He won't touch normal food – he wants his fix.'

'Mr. Fogarty, he doesn't like that cat food,' Henry said. 'It smells awful and it looks like -'

'Always ate it for me,' Fogarty cut in airily. "Specially when he was hungry.' He stared intently at Henry and sniffed. 'Might as well give him the pouch now – you've turned him into a junkie.'

Henry decided he wasn't going to get into all this. He binned the puke food, rinsed the dish and squeezed pouch Whiskas into it. Hodge's tail went up and he began to eat at once.

Fogarty pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. 'Couple of things. Before I forget, Pyrgus wants you to translate for his Coronation.' Henry looked at him blankly, thinking of his last language exam, then remembered translate was the word Pyrgus used for travelling to the Faerie Realm. 'There's something called "Male Companion",' Fogarty went on. 'Sort of like best man at a wedding. He wants you to be it. Involves dressing up like a prat.'

Henry glanced at Mr. Fogarty's own attire, but said nothing. There was a grin spreading over his face. He wanted nothing more than an excuse to go back to the Faerie Realm. It was such a brilliant place to be. I mean, he was a sort of a hero in the Faerie Realm. He'd been on adventures, saved Pyrgus from Hell. Be nice to see Pyrgus again. And Blue. Especially Blue. Not in the bath, of course. Not like he'd come across her before. But it would only be polite to call on Blue. Male Companion, eh? Mr. Fogarty's idea of dressing like a prat probably meant something colourful and heroic, so Blue would see him really at his best, not wearing the sort of rubbish he'd had on the last time they met.

'When is it – the Coronation?' he asked.

'Two weeks – it's a Saturday here. The celebrations last three days, but you'll need to come on the Friday for a rehearsal.'

Henry's excitement popped like a balloon. He might get away from his mum overnight, arrange with his friend Charlie to pretend he was staying there for the night, but four days was out of the question. 'I can't get away for four days.'

'You doing something, or just worried about your parents?'

'No, I'm not doing anything. I mean, if I was I'd put it off. It's my parents – well, just Mum, actually. I don't see that much of Dad.' He realised suddenly that with being away so much Mr. Fogarty wouldn't know his circumstances. 'I'm just living with Mum now – Dad has his own place. She'd want to know where I was if I disappeared for four days.'

Fogarty shrugged. 'No problem – we'll use a lethe.'

Henry blinked. 'What's a lethe?'

'Makes you forget. You just swan off when you need to, crack a cone under her nose and she won't even remember she has a son until you come back. Anybody else in the house?'

'My sister Aisling,' Henry said, his eyes wide. He'd seen spells worked in the Faerie Realm, but it had never occurred to him he might actually use one himself.

'I'll get you a box: never know when they come in handy. You'll have to use one for each of them. Just be sure to hold your breath until you're out of the room.'

'Thank you,' Henry said. There was a warm feeling in his stomach at the thought of hexing his sister.

'So I tell Pyrgus you're coming?'

Henry nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes.'

Fogarty said, 'OK. The second thing is, I've decided to stay on permanently.'

'Here?' Henry asked. He had mixed feelings, but overall it was mostly relief. Since Pyrgus had made Mr. Fogarty Gatekeeper of the Faerie Realm – hard to believe that was only a few weeks ago – the old man had split his time between the Purple Palace and his own home. While he was away, Henry kept an eye on the house and fed Hodge. But lately, Mr. Fogarty had taken to spending longer and longer periods in the Realm and Henry didn't know how he was going to manage when he went back to school in September. As it was, things were tricky enough: his mum didn't approve of Mr. Fogarty.

Fogarty shook his head. 'No, in the Realm. Like I said, everything's fine on the surface, but nothing's changed underneath. Hairstreak still has his own agenda, however much he talks about building bridges. Pyrgus isn't any good at politics – doesn't have the interest. And he's a trusting soul. Thinks if somebody tells him something it's usually the truth. If he's going to survive as Emperor, he needs me to look after him. Far as I can see, that's going to be a full-time job.'

'Yes… ' Henry nodded thoughtfully. Mr. Fogarty was probably right. Apart from anything else, Pyrgus was terribly young to be an Emperor – much the same age as Henry, in fact. Then he caught Mr. Fogarty's expression and said, 'There's something else, isn't there?'

Fogarty sniffed. 'Not as stupid as you look, are you, Henry?' He sighed. 'Yes, there is. I'm not getting any younger. If it's really three score years and ten, I'm well past my sell-by date. I've arthritis in my knuckles and I couldn't run fifteen yards from a copper without getting winded these days. Been thinking I might last another five years, maybe ten if I'm lucky, but I found out they've got treatments in the Faerie Realm that could give me thirty – and get rid of the damn arthritis. Except they don't work if I keep popping back and forth. Differences in the two environments, or something. Thing is, once you start the treatments your tolerance to this world drops. I've started the treatments. Longer I'm here, the more dangerous it is for me. So, when I go back this time, I'm staying.'

Henry said, 'But what are you going to do about the house, Mr. Fogarty?'

Fogarty looked thoughtful. 'That's what I came back to sort out.'