The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

The ouklo pulled up between ranks of Imperial soldiers and tightly-packed, cheering crowds. As Henry stepped out he was surprised to receive a crisp salute from every man in uniform, then realised the salutes were not for him at all, but for Mr Fogarty, as Gatekeeper, who was in overall charge of security.

Mr Fogarty himself, resplendent in his Lord Nelson gear, returned the salute with a casual wave of his hand, then cornered the nearest Captain.

'Everyone here?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Lord Hairstreak?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Our men in place?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You've moved my nameplate as instructed?'

'Yes, sir, absolutely sir.'

Henry stared at the Cathedral, wondering what the nameplate business was all about. The building was huge, dwarfing St Paul's or Westminster or any cathedral he'd ever seen. But it wasn't the size that was impressive – it was the architecture. The entire structure had a light, lacy, filigree look that was straight out of a fantasy painting. It seemed as if the first strong gust of wind would be enough to blow it down, but somebody had told him the building had stood for seven hundred years and once survived a direct hit from a meteor.

'Crown Prince Pyrgus?' Mr Fogarty asked the Captain.

'The Royal Barge will dock in five minutes,' the Captain said. He pointed. 'If you look through there, sir, you can see it.'

'Excellent,' said Mr Fogarty. He turned to Henry. 'Come on, young Iron Prominent, we'd better take our seats.'

It was the moment Henry had been dreading. His britches were as tight as ever.

Henry actually stopped in astonishment as he stepped into the Cathedral. Tier upon tier of seats were packed with the nobility of the Faerie Realm, each one vying with the other in the opulence and finery of their costumes. He saw colourful blocks of Trinians, stately Halek wizards and representatives of races he had never even heard of. The hum of conversation was like a swarm of giant bees.

'Hello, Henry,' said a soft voice from the aisle to his left.

For a moment he didn't recognise her, then he realised suddenly it was Nymphalis. She had exchanged the familiar green uniform for a fur outfit that made her look like Conan the Barbarian.

'Hello, Nymph,' Henry grinned. 'I like your gear.'

Nymph leaned across and whispered in his ear, 'I wanted to see Prince Pyrgus crowned, but I didn't want anyone to know I came from the forest.'

'They wouldn't guess in a thousand years,' Henry assured her as Mr Fogarty tugged his arm to make him get a move on.

As he moved on to the centre aisle, Henry discovered the Cathedral altar wasn't set in the east like the churches he was used to, but centred in the massive building. It consisted of a golden cube, above which hovered a shimmering sphere of writhing light that drew his eyes hypnotically.

'What's that?' he asked Mr Fogarty.

'Some sort of device that lets God manifest.' He sniffed, then added cynically, 'I gather He doesn't often bother.'

They walked together to the altar and, following Mr Fogarty's lead, Henry bowed to the empty throne. 'Right,' whispered Fogarty, 'we take our seats now -you're with me.'

There was a peculiarly-designed chair that looked like the Gatekeeper's Seat Henry had seen when they made him Iron Prominent, but Mr Fogarty ignored it and led him up steps to the higher tiers. Eventually they found two empty seats directly overlooking the altar. There were brass plaques with their names on each of them.

'Hello, Blackie,' Mr Fogarty said cheerfully. 'So glad you could make it.'

The man beside him scowled, but didn't speak. Henry sat down very, very cautiously and found to his delight that the material of his britches stretched but didn't tear. He wasn't comfortable, but at least he was still decent.

It was only when he settled that he realised the man Mr Fogarty had spoken to was Lord Hairstreak.

Blue joined Pyrgus on the deck of the Royal Barge to tumultuous applause from the dock. 'You all right?' she whispered.

Pyrgus drew a deep breath. 'Yes.'

She hesitated. 'You don't want to change your mind? You still can.'

'I don't think so, Blue,' Pyrgus said soberly. 'But I don't want to anyway.'

'What are you going to do… you know… after?' It was something they hadn't discussed.

'Let's just get today over with,' Pyrgus told her.

There was the tiniest grating sound as the barge docked. A golden walkway extruded smoothly at their feet. They looked at one another.

'This is it,' said Pyrgus. 'We'd better do it.'

They processed slowly down the walkway, side by side.

'Long live King Pyrgus!' someone called from the crowd. 'Long live our Purple Emperor!'

The cry was taken up until it swelled across a thousand voices. 'Long live King Pyrgus! Long live our Purple Emperor!'

Pyrgus adjusted his ermine cloak. With measured tread, he and his sister began the long, slow walk up to the Cathedral.