Faerie Lord

Eight

She could see the splash of blue on the Palace steps even before she landed the flyer. Chief Wizard Surgeon Healer Danaus was waiting for her in his full regalia, which meant the message was true – although she’d never doubted that for an instant – and suggested the situation might even have grown worse.

Blue slid from the craft and ran across the lawn. Her demon guards took wing to keep up with her. Danaus hurried down the steps to greet her. He was a big man, shaven-headed and overweight, but he managed to move nimbly with speed, so that they met by the rose bower. Danaus bowed deeply, a little out of breath. As he straightened, he glared at her flanking demons with distaste. They stared back at him impassively, their red eyes unblinking.

‘Is he…?’ Blue asked anxiously.

‘Another bout of temporal fever, Majesty,’ Danaus said. He was one of the old school who had been trained never to look a royal in the eye, so his gaze was trained on a spot beyond her right ear. It gave him a curiously shifty look, but Blue would have trusted his judgement anywhere, particularly in matters of medicine.

‘But he’s not…?’ she asked again, softly.

Danaus shook his head. ‘He still lives, Majesty. But I fear…’

‘Not long?’

‘No, Majesty.’

‘Is he in pain?’

‘No, Majesty.’

‘Can you do anything for him?’

‘We have introduced support elementals into his blood. They have raised his energy levels slightly. He continues to refuse stasis. Apart from pain control, there is nothing else we can do. I fear a cure for the condition eludes us. And even if one were discovered tomorrow ’ He hesitated.

‘You think it might be too late?’

‘Yes, Majesty.’

‘I want to see him,’ Blue said.

A pained expression crawled across Danaus’s fleshy features. ‘Majesty, his condition has deteriorated considerably since his second bout of temporal fever. I fear the sight of him might prove distressing to Your Majesty…’

‘I’m sure you’re right, Chief Wizard Surgeon Healer,’ Blue said shortly, ‘but I still want to see him.’ Before he could protest further, she swept past him to hurry up the steps of the Palace.

As they followed in her wake, one of her guardian demons, perhaps sensing her dislike of the man’s pomposity, turned round to bite him in the bottom.

There were flowers in the sickroom, but the place smelled of old age and decay. Mr Fogarty was sitting up in bed, propped by a mountain of pillows. Madame Cardui was seated in a chair beside him, holding his hand, but apparently asleep. Despite the Surgeon Healer’s warning, Blue was shocked by his appearance. He’d always been a thin man, but now he was cadaverous. His skin stretched parchment-thin across his skull, his lips were drawn back over discoloured teeth and his eyes looked huge, yet sunken. She could count no fewer than seven glass containers of healing elementals on the shelf above his head. The creatures swam down translucent tubes to enter his body at the top of his spine. She suspected they were the only things keeping him alive.

All the same, his voice sounded strong as he shook Madame Cardui’s hand and said, ‘Wake up, darling Queen Blue’s here.’

Madame Cardui’s eyes jerked open. After a moment of obvious disorientation, she scrambled to her feet. ‘Oh, forgive me, my deeah – I must have nodded off.’ She gestured to the chair she’d just vacated. ‘Please sit down, Your Majesty.’ Some of the spirit returned to her eyes and she added, ‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into this old fool.’

‘Do sit, Madame Cynthia,’ Blue said. Although her spymaster hadn’t contracted the temporal fever, she was looking almost as old as the Gatekeeper. She must be worried out of her mind about losing him. To Mr Fogarty, Blue said, ‘How are you, Gatekeeper?’

‘Remarkably well, considering I’m dying.’ Mr Fogarty’s voice sounded like dry leaves.

‘Blue, deeah, tell him he must go back to the Analogue World. Order him, if you have to.’

Mr Fogarty turned his head to look fondly at Madame Cardui. ‘You know she won’t, Cynthia. And if she did, you know I wouldn’t go. What’s she going to do then? Throw a sick old man through a portal?’

Madame Cardui glared at him. ‘Your last bout of fever nearly killed you. Your first bout of fever nearly killed you, come to that. You know you won’t survive another. Alan, we care about you. Nobody wants you dead. The minute you translate, it puts the disease on hold. Our healers are working hard to find a cure and when they do, you can come back.’

‘I know all the arguments, Cynthia,’ Fogarty said in a tone that dismissed them utterly.

Blue said, ‘She’s right, Gatekeeper. You know that too. What I can’t understand is why you won’t listen to her.’

‘I can’t tell you that.’ He stared into the middle distance, his face like granite.

‘Can you tell me why you can’t tell me?’

Fogarty glanced at her sideways and the smallest hint of a grin twitched at his lips. ‘You never give up, do you? Few more years’ experience and you’ll make a memorable Queen. They’ll sing about your exploits in the next millennium.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I can’t tell you why I can’t tell you. It’s important I stay here. Out of stasis, before you bring that up again. And believe me, I know the dangers. I know how ill I am, I know how close to death I am and, yes, Cynthia, I know another fever bout will kill me. And before you say it again, I do know another bout could hit me in the next five minutes.’

‘Then why -? ’ Madame Cardui began.

‘None of that matters,’ Mr Fogarty cut her off. ‘I won’t be going home to the Analogue World and that’s an end to it.’

Blue said, ‘Is there any way we can make you more comfortable, Gatekeeper?’

Fogarty said, ‘Get Henry here. I’m running out of time.’