It was just like the time he’d run away from his father. One minute you were minding your own business, trying to persuade the barman you were old enough to order ale. The next you were staring up at a bunch of hulking great soldiers who called you sir with exaggerated politeness, but were quite prepared to break your arms if you didn’t do exactly what they said.
Only this time it wasn’t his father who’d sent them: it was his little sister, for Light’s sake! He’d always known being made Queen would go to her head. She was bossy enough while she was still a princess.
Pyrgus smiled at the six hulking great soldiers standing round his table at the inn and tried to sound more confident than he felt.
‘Please present my compliments to Her Majesty,’ he told their officer grandly, ‘and inform her that I shall join her at the palace at my earliest, my very earliest convenience.’ Even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t do.
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ the Captain said, ‘but Her Majesty was insistent that you should come straight away, sir. We have orders to escort you, sir.’ He blinked, slowly. ‘Now, sir.’
Pyrgus knew what it was all about, of course. He’d already had two messages from Blue, hand delivered by an orange Trinian. The first was a friendly little note asking him to come to the palace ‘to talk about something important’. When he ignored that one, the Trinian popped up again days later. This time the tone was less friendly. He was ‘commanded’ to attend at the palace forthwith ‘to discuss matters of critical importance to the Realm’. He’d ignored that one too. It would do Blue good to realise not everybody was going to jump to attention every time she snapped her fingers. But now she’d sent the heavy squad.
He made one more try. ‘If you’ll just allow me to go home and change…’ he said and gestured vaguely, still smiling. ‘As you can see, I’m not exactly dressed to attend a meeting at the palace.’ Which was true enough. Since he’d abdicated the throne, he’d made a point of dressing like a scruff. At the moment, he was wearing a torn leather jerkin and a pair of brown breeches that would have disgraced a pig farmer. The sense of freedom was wonderful.
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ the Captain said, ‘Her Majesty’s orders said at once. Very clear she was on that point. No mention of a dress code.’ He leered. ‘I expect your clothes will be acceptable, sir.’
Pyrgus sighed. ‘Oh, very well, Captain – I’ll come with you.’
‘Now, sir?’
‘ Right now, Captain.’
They had a golden ouklo waiting outside. It floated at knee height for easy access and hummed a little with the excess of energy that only came with a fresh spell charge. At least Blue thought about his comfort.
The carriage bobbed like a boat as he climbed on board. To his surprise, the Captain and two of his men climbed in as well and sat facing him with stony expressions. The remaining three guards swarmed quickly up on top with the driver. The coach pulled away smoothly as soon as the door closed. Pyrgus caught the snick of a magical lock and smiled a little. They were taking no chance of losing him.
‘Don’t suppose you know what this is all about, do you?’ he asked the Captain conversationally.
‘No, sir, ’fraid not, sir.’
‘No crises? No wars about to start? No demons on the loose?’
‘Wouldn’t know anything about that, sir,’ the Captain said stiffly.
‘No,’ Pyrgus murmured. ‘I don’t suppose you would.’ Professional soldiers never knew anything about anything. He gave up on conversation, settled back and closed his eyes.
The seats were the new spell-treated ordofoam that shaped itself to your bottom and squeezed it gently now and then to prevent discomfort on long journeys. It felt as if you were sitting on a giant hand and Pyrgus wasn’t altogether sure he liked it. No matter how much he steeled himself, every squeeze came as a surprise so that he gave a small, involuntary jump. It was like having an annoying facial tic, except not on your face.
As a diversion, he glanced through the carriage window. ‘This isn’t the way to the palace,’ he said at once.
‘No, sir, indeed not, sir. That’s because we’re not going to the palace, sir.’
‘Where are we going?’ Pyrgus frowned.
‘Not at leave to say, sir. Security, sir.’
That was typical of Blue. She was nearly as paranoid as Mr Fogarty. All the same, it had to be something pretty serious for her to want to meet him somewhere other than the palace.
A thought struck him and he asked, ‘Am I the only one coming to this meeting?’
‘Couldn’t say, sir,’ said the Captain.
The seat squeezed Pyrgus’s bottom distractingly. He ignored it and looked out of the window again. Maybe he’d been a bit hasty in ignoring Blue’s first messages. She might be bossy, but she wasn’t stupid and she was Queen now, with responsibility for everything that happened in the Realm. She knew how he felt about affairs of State, so she would hardly have sent for him if it hadn’t been important. The very least he could do was give her a bit of support. He scowled. Now he was feeling guilty.
The carriage, he realised, was leaving the city through Cripple’s Gate. Which meant Blue had called her little meeting not just away from the palace, but away from any of the official residences. In all probability she’d hired somewhere, or, even more likely, had Madame Cardui arrange a safe house. He wondered where it was.
Nearly twenty minutes later, it turned out to be a small manor house surrounded by trees and so many security devices it was all Pyrgus could do to keep from laughing. He’d really have to talk to Blue about all this nonsense. Except the figure on the doorstep wasn’t Blue.
It was Black Hairstreak.