‘I love you too, Blue,’ he said quietly as they walked together towards the weed.
The prickleweed backed away from their shields.
‘That looks hopeful,’ Blue said in a tone of surprise.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Henry was just as surprised. He stopped to consider the situation. ‘Our problem is going to be our backs. Once we start to move through the weed, it can attack us from behind. But maybe we could try a trick the Romans used…’
‘What are Romans?’
‘Ancient civilisation in the Analogue World. If they were surrounded in a battle, the legionnaires used to fight back to back. That way, the shield didn’t just protect your front, it protected the man behind you; and his shield protected you. If you and I went into the prickleweed back to back – sort of shuffled along and kept turning like a wheel and kept the shields up firmly and made sure our backs never lost contact and slashed out with our knives and were really, really careful – we might be able to work our way through.’
‘Or else,’ Blue said, ‘we could break off some more fencing and tie shields to our backs as well.’
Henry looked at her with his mouth open, realised what he was doing and closed it again. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘we could definitely do that.’
They returned to the fence and Henry broke more pieces off quite easily. They roped them to their backs and bottoms. ‘How do I look?’ Henry asked, grinning.
‘Very fetching,’ Blue told him. ‘Do you think it’s going to work?’
‘Actually I think it might. I’m surprised nobody’s tried this before – I mean, not tying fencing to your backside, but a spell-coated suit you could wear on the Broads.’
‘I suppose flying is easier,’ Blue said. ‘It’s not as if anybody wants to stroll through the Broads on a nature ramble.’
‘No, I suppose not. Shall we try it?’
They walked off the landing strip with some trepidation, but fronds of prickleweed snapped violently away from them as if stung. After they’d gone close to a hundred yards, Henry began to giggle. ‘This is so easy,’ he said. ‘I think we’re even heading in the right direction. Now all we need to do is find a road.’ He turned to smile at Blue.
‘I think I’ve scratched my hand on something,’ Blue said, frowning.
Thirty-One
Once, when he was a boy, Pyrgus Malvae crashed a personal flyer into a tree that grew close to the main entrance of the Purple Palace. Now, he grazed the same tree by a whisker and, sirens screaming, ploughed up a stretch of turf on the lawn.
The Palace alarms were also sounding wildly as he dropped from his vehicle. He was vaguely aware that without the royal insignia – which he didn’t always remember to display these days – the security systems would have blasted him from the sky. As it was, a stream of guards was pouring from the Palace and running in his direction. He sprinted towards them, fervently hoping their captain was someone who would know who he was. But his hopes were dashed as they came closer and he discovered their leader was a young woman he didn’t recognise.
‘I am Crown Prince Pyrgus,’ he shouted loudly. ‘Brother by blood of Queen Blue, brother by marriage of Consort Majesty King Henry. It is my charge that you take me at once to meet with them.’
The woman stopped a few feet from him and the guards, to his relief, stood down their weapons. She smiled at him benignly. ‘Neither Blue nor Henry can see you at the moment, Pyrgus. Perhaps you might make do with me?’
Pyrgus frowned. The voice sounded familiar, but…‘Who are you?’ he asked, a little sharply.
To his astonishment, the young woman stepped forward and embraced him, with a warm kiss on one cheek. ‘Oh, you are such a sweet boy and always were. It’s Cynthia Cardui, Pyrgus. I’ve had a head peel.’
‘Good Gods, Madame Cardui! You look amazing! ’
‘Thank you, Pyrgus. It takes so much effort these days, I’m afraid, but it’s always nice to know one is appreciated.’
‘Why can’t Blue and Henry see me?’
She slipped a hand through his arm. ‘Now, my deeah, I think perhaps that’s something we should discuss in private. Along with the purpose of your delightful surprise visit.’
Pyrgus allowed himself to be led not to the Palace, as it happened, but to a lodge in the grounds. He noticed their escort dropped away once they were within a hundred yards of the door. ‘You’re Gatekeeper now, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘Since poor Alan died. I don’t often use the lodge – I still think of it as his somehow – but it does have such excellent security. One of the benefits of paranoia.’
‘Do you speak to him much these days?’
‘Not nearly so much as Henry does. I’m afraid I find it very difficult.’
They moved though the door and Pyrgus heard the familiar click of the securities sliding into place. ‘Why can’t Blue and Henry see me?’ he asked at once.
‘Because they’re not actually here.’
‘The flag is still flying.’ He’d noticed it on his approach, despite his speed. The flag meant the sovereign was in residence. Henry might have taken himself off somewhere, but Blue must certainly be about.
‘A small subterfuge, I’m afraid,’ Madame Cardui told him. ‘In the current emergency Queen Blue and I deemed it best that all seemed business as usual at the Palace. When they left, I substituted dopplegangers. Poor creatures are too silly to rule, of course, but they’re quite capable of making small talk at State functions and waving from a balcony.’
‘What emergency?’ Pyrgus asked at once. Sometimes he almost regretted his life with the sanctuary and vineyard: it felt so cut off from the excitement of the capital.
Madame Cardui sighed. ‘I’m afraid Miss Culmella has been misbehaving again. Would you like a drink? Or perhaps not, since you’re flying. Unless you’d like to stay the night, of course. Although I don’t know when your sister might be back. Mella has disappeared – run away. Blue and Henry are searching personally and I, of course, have my best agents at work. Without much result, I am embarrassed to tell you. I suspect it has been much the same for Blue and Henry, since I haven’t heard from them.’
‘I think I know where Mella is,’ Pyrgus said.
Madame Cardui, who’d been fussing by the drinks cabinet, set the bottle down abruptly. ‘What?’
‘I think she may be in Haleklind,’ Pyrgus said.
‘I cannot imagine a less likely place,’ Madame Cardui murmured, but her tone indicated she was taking him completely seriously. Her ability to adjust to the unlikely was what made her an excellent spymaster. She looked at Pyrgus soberly. ‘Specifically where in Haleklind?’
‘Specifically, being held prisoner by the ruling Table of Seven.’
This time, Madame Cardui failed to hide her shock. ‘Are you sure?’
Pyrgus shook his head. ‘No, I’m not sure. But I had it from someone I trust, who assures me his source is sound.’
‘Does the Table of Seven know who she is?’
‘I don’t know. It’s possible they may not, but you’d imagine she must have told them.’
‘Unless she’s playing one of her silly games. What is she doing in Haleklind? I assume she entered the country illegally?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
Madame Cardui felt for a chair and sat down. Despite the head peel, Pyrgus suddenly realised how old she really was; and how worried. There was tiredness in her eyes, but determination too. ‘Help me here, Pyrgus: can you imagine any reason for your niece to go to Haleklind?’
‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know my niece all that well,’ Pyrgus told her. ‘I mean, I see her from time to time and I watched her turn into a young woman, but since I renounced the throne, I’ve kept away from the Palace as you know, so I’m not exactly in close touch. But I can tell you why I visited Haleklind at her age…’