The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

The State Barge pulled away from Palace Island with the pink light of dawn glinting on the golden filaments that were strewn across its surface. The initial movement was matched by the first rumblings of a 101-impact thunder spell salute, the traditional signal to the population of an impending Coronation. It seemed, however, that the population had little need of it: crowds had already begun to line the processional route by midnight.

The barge turned north-west at once to avoid interfering with traffic across the Official Ford (which had been particularly heavy for days) and hugged the northern bank of the Wirmark below East gate. At the first cheer of the dockland crowds, wizards on the barge combined their efforts to float up two gigantic illusions, one depicting the Peacock Crown, the other the butterfly emblem of House Iris.

As the illusions flowered, the cheering increased and the spectators were rewarded with an interactive display – the illusions changed colour in response to the pitch and volume of the cheers. Even at this early stage, the people were calling for sight of their new sovereign, but the only figures on deck were barge crew in their neat purple uniforms and the wizards who maintained the spells.

Once clear of the island, the barge began a ponderous, slow zigzag course that ensured no riverside segment of the city was favoured above any other. First south to Merkinstal, a suburb so underdeveloped that it still showed farmland right up to the river's edge. Yet even here the people had turned out in droves to watch the pageantry. Poor but loyal, Pyrgus thought fondly as he watched them through a darkly-tinted porthole. The predominant cloth here was the dun-coloured homespun of the countryfolk. Further in, the silks and satins of the more sophisticated inner-city dwellers would begin to appear.

The state barge turned south-west so that it would enter the central river channel before it reached Lohman Bridge.

Henry was having problems with his britches.

He was no longer Male Companion – his idea about what should happen at the Coronation meant the position was no longer relevant – but he was still Iron Prominent, Knight Commander of the Grey Dagger, and that meant he had to dress up. The blouse and jacket had been bad enough – they were spell-woven to flash a different colour with every change of light – but the cloth-of-gold britches were sheer murder.

The real problem was that they were just too small. Henry had been measured for his Knight Commander gear the day Pyrgus had presented him with his dagger, but the costume had been tailored while he was at home in the Analogue World. Today was the first time he'd tried it on and there was definitely a mistake in the britches. They were too tight across his bottom, too tight around his waist and when he pulled them on eventually by sucking in his gut, they were a good six inches short on both his legs.

Slowly, he forced one button after the other – the Faerie Realm had never taken to zips – his fingers trembling with the effort. With every one he closed, the wedgie pressure at the crotch increased. He suspected walking was going to do him a serious injury and sitting down would likely lead to something worse.

'Better get a move on, Henry,' said Mr Fogarty. 'The Royal Barge has already left.'

'These breeches are too small.'

'Yes,' said Mr Fogarty. 'You look a bit of a prat.'

Although Henry would have amputated his ankles rather than admit it, Mr Fogarty himself looked magnificent. He'd exchanged his Gatekeeper robes for the dress uniform that went with one of his lesser titles -Lamed Wufnik of God and Realm. It was cut from blue velvet and worn with white, knee-length socks and buckled shoes. When he tried on his tricorn hat, Henry thought he was the image of Lord Nelson.

'I'm worried about sitting down,' Henry said.

'Do you have to sit down?'

I don't know. Nobody told me what happens in the ceremony. Do you know?'

'Like I'd ask you if I knew. How do I look?'

'All right,' said Henry grudgingly.

The Silk Mistresses had made Blue a new gown which they insisted was more appropriate for the occasion -an elaborate creation with an ultra-violet sheen that gave the illusion of folded wings. She stared at her reflection and decided it made her look taller, probably no bad thing in the circumstances, but that it didn't suit her quite as well as the other one. She was about to pull it off when Comma burst in, looking like a moonbeam.

'Don't you ever knock?' Blue hissed. 'I could have been naked!'

'Well, you weren't,' Comma muttered, scowling. Then he brightened. 'Can I go on deck, Blue, and wave to the people?'

'Yes,' Blue said.

'Do you think Pyrgus would mind?'

'Why don't you ask him?'

'I don't want to,' Comma said. He caught sight of himself in the mirror behind Blue and preened. He was dressed in white from head to toe – white shoes, white socks, white britches, white shirt, white cap. 'I'm going to wear this all the time,' he said. 'Not just at the ceremony.' He turned to his left, then turned to his right. 'I think it suits me.'

'You'll never keep it clean,' Blue muttered.

‘I’ll use spells,' Comma said. 'You can give me the money.'

Blue glared at him. 'Why don't you just go and prance about on deck. I'm not ready yet and we'll be docking in a minute.'

'We won't be docking for hours,' Comma said. 'They haven't even opened the bridge for us yet.'