The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hamearis Lucina, the Duke of Burgundy, was a big man who liked to accentuate his bulk by wearing padded armour and, in the winter, furs. In place of a sword, he habitually carried a war axe with an inlaid silver handle, the sort of weapon that was too heavy for a lesser man to wield.

The ferrymen kept giving him curious, furtive glances. He was well known throughout the Realm, and not just in his native Yammeth Cretch, but beyond that he was an individual with presence, a type who oozed charisma as well as strength – characteristics that had helped make him Black Hairstreak's closest ally. He would have attracted attention even as a complete unknown.

He stepped off carelessly as the ferry docked on the Imperial Island. Belatedly, one of the sailors moved to help him, then pulled back. They were wondering, he knew, why he travelled without an entourage, but the move was deliberate. Lesser men would have needed a host of followers to impress. Hamearis, on this occasion, was accompanied by a single cloaked and hooded servant. But he knew his message would have all the more impact for that.

There were no guards on the torchlit pathway that took him to the Purple Palace and he expected none. He had been questioned and searched thoroughly (twice!) on the river bank before being permitted to enter the ferry. He had been allowed to retain his axe, a badge of rank as much as a weapon, only after it had been clipped and sealed to his belt so that he could not draw it easily. But he gained a little satisfaction from the fact that both searches had missed his assassin's dagger strapped to the inside of his left leg – an elaborate misdirection spell had diverted the attention of the probing hands: the same spell that ensured his cloaked companion was not searched at all. Not that he planned to assassinate anyone today, but it was always nice to know Imperial security could be beaten.

The path curved, emerged from a screening belt of ornamental trees and the Purple Palace swung into view, illuminated from the base of its walls by enormous, half-buried glow globes. It was a forbidding building, raised in the old cyclopean style and designed as a massive fortress rather than an aesthetically pleasing residence. The ancient purple stone had weathered almost to black (although he was told it still shone purple in certain lights) and crouched like some great squat beast on the little hilltop in the centre of the island. Hamearis approved. Such a fortress was designed to strike terror into an enemy, and he admired good military psychology wherever he happened to find it.

As he expected, guards emerged to meet him once he approached the entrance gate to the garden surround. It was a guard's duty to be suspicious at any time, but especially after dark. Their Captain recognised him, of course, but treated him no differently from any other visitor.

'Your business, sir?'

'To meet with the Purple Emperor Elect.'

'To what end, sir?'

‘I carry a message for him from Lord Hairstreak.'

'In written form or verbal?'

'Verbal.'

'May I convey this message for you?'

Hamearis said, 'It is for the ears of Prince Pyrgus alone.'

The Captain shrugged, as if this was no more than he'd expected. 'Are you armed, Your Grace?'

Hamearis gestured towards his captive axe. 'As you see.'

The Captain leaned over to inspect the seal, then took a small device from his pocket and added a second seal of his own. 'Please remove your belt and walk through the archway to the left side of the main gateway, sir.'

Removing his belt meant removing his weapon. T am the Duke of Burgundy,' he said formally and firmly. 'I may not be deprived of my axe without due cause.'

'You'll get it back once you're inside,' the Captain said mildly.

Glowering, Hamearis wondered what was going on, but this was not an occasion to make trouble. He unbuckled his belt, complete with the sealed axe, and handed it across.

'Are you carrying any other weapons, Your Grace?'

'No,' Hamearis lied.

'Through the archway, sir.'

Hamearis strode through the archway. A howling alarm sounded at once. In seconds he was surrounded by soldiers, their swords drawn. Hamearis raised his hands and backed off, smiling. His instinct told him what had happened, and if he was right it was truly remarkable. He knew of absolutely no magic that would produce such a result.

The Captain approached him again. 'Perhaps Your Grace has forgotten a weapon…?' he said politely.

It was exactly as he'd suspected: some sorcerous coating on the archway had detected his dagger. He unfastened the hidden buckle and handed the dagger across.

'Thank you, sir,' the Captain said. 'This will be returned to you when you leave. Your servant now, please.'

The hooded man walked through the arch without triggering the alarm. Hamearis smiled slightly to himself, then walked towards the palace. He suspected the enchanted archway had been created by young Malvae's new Gatekeeper, the Analogue World wizard Fogarty. If so, the man had proven his worth with a single invention. Weapon-detecting magic was an incredible development, something of inestimable value. Perhaps it was something he would not mention to his old friend Hairstreak. Hamearis might see if he could keep the new technology for himself when the Faeries of the Night took over the Purple Palace.

And see if Wizard Fogarty might be persuaded to work for House Lucina.