The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

'Perfect!' called the Facemaster excitedly. 'Look, look, look at yourself in the mirrors!'

Chalkhill didn't have to. He knew he was walking like Lord Hairstreak now. Not just walking, but carrying himself like Hairstreak, making gestures like Hairstreak, even sounding like Hairstreak when he spoke. But there was a price.

His bottom was on fire, for one thing. His nose itched perpetually. His limbs were stiff and out of control, as if he were a puppet pulling its own strings.

But the worst of it was the voice in his head.

'Strictly speaking,' it was saying in a grating, high-pitched tone that was irritating beyond belief, 'we are no longer separate entities, but a fusion. Yes, a fusion of body and mind, some would say of spirit as well, spirit or soul, if those two are different, but here we enter into the realm of theology, don't we, since there are those – the Halek Clans, for example – who deny the spiritual dimension altogether. Thus we -' And on and on and on interminably.

Do be quiet, be quiet, be quiet! Chalkhill screamed inside his skull. The worm had talked non-stop from the moment it was inserted. If it went on very much longer, he was going to go mad. 'Why won't this thing shut up?' he asked the Facemaster.

'The worm? They do that, I'm afraid. Most people get used to it eventually.'

'Most people?' Chalkhill echoed. 'What about the ones who don't?'

'They usually hang themselves.'

'Which creates an interesting legal dilemma,' said the worm in Chalkhill's mind, having clearly eavesdropped on the spoken conversation. 'Should one bring a charge of suicide or murder? There are those lawyers who hold that the symbiotic relationship creates, in effect, a new entity, in which case hanging must be deemed an act of suicide. But there are others who would argue that the two sentient entities – wangaramas wyrm and faerie – remain distinct, if interlinked, in which case the suicide of one involves the murder of the other. In Jessup v. Trentonelf, however, Lord Justice Bedstraw ruled on the possibility of collusion by the wangaramas, which raises the spectre of assisted suicide, an offence in itself which, while carrying a lesser penalty than first degree murder, will nonetheless -'

'Can't they just have the worm removed?' asked Chalkhill, desperately ignoring the inner monologue. 'Can't I just have the worm removed?' He could just possibly survive until he slaughtered Pyrgus at his Coronation, but after that he wanted the worm out again within the hour.

'I'm afraid removal is a little more tricky than insertion. The procedure takes about six months.'

'Six months?' Chalkhill exploded. I can't have this thing rabbitting inside my head for six months!'

There was a small commotion at the door of the Practice Hall as a messenger in Hairstreak livery pushed arrogantly past the guards.

'All this, of course, represents the situation from the faerie perspective,' the worm was saying, 'but we may gain fresh insights by examining the other side of the equation, so to speak. At the recent Wangaramas Grand Convention, or WGC as it is more conveniently known, there was a fascinating debate -

Facemaster Wainscot contrived to look sympathetic. 'Six months is actually a conservative estimate,' he told Chalkhill. 'But the only viable alternative is surgery, which I'm afraid kills one host in three. Not something to be recommended.'

'Which one of you is Chalkhill?' asked the messenger loudly.

'He is.'

'A simplistic question, but one which opens up what we wangarami refer to as a "can of men". What is at stake here is the necessity of defining identity, which may appear straightforward at first blush, but -

'I am.' What now, Chalkhill wondered. What else had Hairstreak got in store for him?

'Lord Hairstreak presents his compliments,' said the messenger stiffly, 'and begs me to inform you that he shall no longer be requiring your services in the capacity he discussed with you due to a sudden fortuitous change in circumstance. In short, the operation's off.'

Chalkhill stared at the man in horrified bewilderment.