Brimstone shook his head a second time. His lip curled slightly of its own accord.
‘Why not?’ Hairstreak demanded.
‘I have no plans to root around in Chalkhill’s knickers,’ Brimstone said coldly. He caught Hairstreak’s blank expression and added, ‘He keeps it in his knickers. At least that’s what he told me.’
‘He keeps it where?’
‘Oh come on!’ Brimstone said impatiently. ‘You know Jasper just as well as I do – you employed him long enough. The man’s a pervert.’
‘Yes, but he’s a rich pervert,’ Hairstreak muttered sourly. ‘He is going to pay?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ve arranged a bank draft.’ It would be made out to Brimstone, but he felt no urge to mention that. He was the one who would be spending the money after all.
‘When?’
‘When did I arrange it?’
‘When will it be paid?’
‘Seventy-two-hour clearance,’ Brimstone said. ‘Best you can do with a sum that size.’
‘Three days…’ Hairstreak mused thoughtfully.
Brimstone frowned. ‘Something wrong with that?’
‘I was just thinking about the rumours Chalkhill’s heard. About talking to God. He’s not going to be satisfied until he’s found out what’s behind them.’
‘I don’t suppose he is,’ Brimstone agreed. Chalkhill was nothing if not curious. Besides which, he was parting with an obscene amount of money. Nobody in his right mind would do that just to join a clapped-out Lodge of sorcerers who couldn’t even raise a demon any more. It was an open secret that Chalkhill realised there was something afoot. He might live without knowing details before he was a member of the Brotherhood, but once he parted with his gold, he’d want to have the truth.
‘Do you trust him?’ Hairstreak asked.
It was a good question and one Brimstone hadn’t considered. His whole attention had been on reeling Chalkhill in, not worrying about the consequences. ‘Do you?’
‘Not much,’ Hairstreak said. ‘He was a good enough spy, but he puts his own interests first. When I employed him, he was too frightened of me to set a foot out of line – and besides, I had the manpower then to keep an eye on him. I’m not sure that’s the case any more.’
‘He looked frightened enough when he saw you in the Lodge Room.’ Brimstone shrugged.
Hairstreak gave an inward, wicked smile. ‘Not the way he used to be. Not the way he should be. Not to the very depths of his soul.’ His eyes swung round to lock on Brimstone and the smile became more chill. ‘A lot of people make that mistake these days. They think because I backed the wrong horse in the Civil War, I’m no longer a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Do they?’ Brimstone asked drily.
Hairstreak tossed back his drink and set down the glass. ‘When the money comes through, I want you to kill him.’
Brimstone stared. Jasper and he went back a long, long time. They’d been on adventures together. They’d set up a business together – Chalkhill and Brimstone’s Miracle Glue factory had been the foundation of Brimstone’s own fortunes at one time and the company would never have been established without Chalkhill’s help. Chalkhill, for all his irritating ways, had been a loyal support to Brimstone for more years than he cared to remember. Kill Chalkhill?
‘Yes, okay,’ said Brimstone.
Fourteen
‘What’s he mean by that?’ Nymph asked. She’d materialised in the corridor the minute Henry came out of the sickroom. Now they were seated together in an antechamber, drinking something that tasted like tamarind juice.
‘I don’t know,’ Henry admitted. ‘To be honest, I think he’s a bit – ’ He wanted to say Alzheimer’s, but didn’t think Nymph would know the term, so he circled his finger at the side of his forehead instead. But even while he was making the gesture, he wasn’t all that sure. Mr Fogarty’s talk about caterpillars sounded cuckoo, but what he said afterwards seemed sensible enough.
‘But he’s definitely going to come back with you?’ Nymph pressed. ‘Back to the Analogue World?’
‘Oh yes,’ Henry said, aware he still sounded surprised. The minute he’d repeated the suggestion, Mr Fogarty agreed like a lamb. Nymph had set arrangements in motion and now they were both going over the conversation in detail while they waited for things to happen. The trouble was the conversation didn’t make a lot of sense. What made even less sense was why Mr Fogarty had insisted on seeing Henry in the first place. If he’d decided to come home and wait for a cure, he certainly didn’t need Henry to hold his hand. It would have been easier and a whole lot safer for him to use a portal when he first became ill. And if he’d still wanted to see Henry for whatever reason, all it would have taken then was a phone call.
‘What else did he say?’ Nymph asked. ‘After the butterfly business and the bit about finding the magic?’
‘Not much,’ Henry told her. ‘He said I was the only one who could do it and I said he had to come back to the Analogue World before he had another bout of fever because another bout of fever would probably kill him and he said yes, all right. So I thought I’d better get it organised before he changed his mind.’ He grinned at her, a bit pleased with himself.
Nymph grinned back. ‘We knew you could do it, Henry. Pyrgus said you could, and I knew you could as well. Everything’s going to be all right now.’
‘Yes,’ Henry agreed. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’
Fifteen
Henry stared. It was the first time he’d seen the Palace portal and he was mightily impressed. The equipment was in a temple, for one thing. He was looking up at a raging blue fire that flared between twin pillars before an altar. The technicians who serviced it were dressed as priests. Henry vaguely remembered Pyrgus telling him the whole concept of moving between worlds had once been a religious experience in the Realm. It still was, by the look of things.
‘I normally use just a little portable translator,’ Henry said to Chief Portal Engineer Peacock, who’d escorted them to the temple. The devices, ironically, had been Mr Fogarty’s invention.
Peacock sniffed dismissively. ‘They’re a bit of a fashion accessory these days,’ he said in a tone that left no doubt about what he thought of that nonsense. ‘Never trusted them myself.’ His face took on a different expression altogether as he followed Henry’s eyes to the blue flame and added proudly, ‘This has been going for centuries.’ He laid a hand fondly on the obsidian casing of the controls.
‘What do we do?’ Henry asked. ‘Just walk into the fire?’ He was fairly sure that was what they were supposed to do, although he didn’t fancy the thought now he was actually looking at it.
‘One at a time,’ Peacock said. ‘You first, since you know the Analogue World. Then Gatekeeper Fogarty when he gets here. And then Princess Nymph. That way, you can make sure he’s all right as he comes through, sir, and the Princess will be bringing up the rear. I understand Prince Pyrgus will be waiting too. It all takes just a second or so.’
And it would all happen in a minute, Henry thought with painfully mixed feelings. He’d been dreading meeting up with Blue on this trip and now he was going home again without so much as a glimpse of her. Relief mingled with regret and even a surge of resentment. Even though he didn’t want to meet her, he didn’t want her to ignore him either. Actually being ignored was the worst thing of all. ‘I wonder what’s keeping Mr Fogarty?’ he said to no one in particular.
‘They may have to carry him,’ Nymph said. ‘He’s terribly frail.’
‘Should have come home earlier,’ Henry said without much sympathy because he was feeling sorry for himself over Blue. As a distraction, he turned back to Chief Portal Engineer Peacock. ‘Could you explain to me how it works?’ he asked.