The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Chalkhill drained the last of his glass and felt the music wind itself around his brain as a pleasing backdrop to Cyril's words. He held up a mental hand to stem the wangaramas's flow. (He was getting good at this.) "You say you've infiltrated all the important power centres in the Realm?'

'Most of them. Some of Hair streak's household. The Imperial Court, although that's getting turned around a hit now. The Council of

'So you're linked with some important people?'

'Oh yes. Oh yes indeed.'

'Then why pick me for Purple Emperor?'

He thought there would be a hesitation, then possibly some judicious flattery and enough waffle for him to extract the real reason. But the wyrm answered at once. 'Because you're perfectly placed for the job.'

Perfectly placed? 'Perfectly placed?' Chalkhill asked.

'Our philosophers say we need an easy transition for the revolution to succeed, a smooth transfer of power between the existing legislation and our chosen host. In other words, the mass of common people must accept their new ruler. They won't know he has a wyrm inside him, of course.'

'That's what I was asking,' Chalkhill said. 'Why on earth should anybody accept me? I'm not of royal blood, I'm not even noble except in the broadest sense of the word.'

'But you won't become Emperor as you. You'll become the first Emperor Hair streak.'

There was a huge silence, as if the inside of Chalkhill's head had turned into a vast, empty cathedral. The wyrm's last words floated down like gentle snowflakes and suddenly he knew exactly what they meant. 'You want me to go on with the impersonation!' he exclaimed excitedly. 'When Comma is to be crowned, you want me to go as Hairstreak, but when I assassinate Comma – it'll be Comma I assassinate now, of course, not Pyrgus – you want me to take his place. As Hairstreak.'

'Exactly,' said Cyril smugly. 'You're thinking like a wangaramas already.'

It was the most peculiar plan he'd ever heard, but it might work. Hairstreak was a member of a noble house, related to the old Emperor by marriage. More to the point, he had the support of half the Realm – he was the acknowledged leader of the Faeries of the Night. Coups had succeeded with a lot less going for them.

Except for one thing, of course.

Chalkhill frowned. 'What about the real Hairstreak? He's not going to sit around and watch me take the kingdom wearing his face.'

'The real Hairstreak won't be at the Coronation – he told you that himself

'No, wait a minute – he told me he wouldn't be at the Coronation when Pyrgus was going to be crowned. There's no reason for him to stay away from Comma's Coronation. Comma is his puppet.'

'That's true, but he doesn't plan to go to Comma's Coronation either. He thinks the Faeries of the Light might accept the situation more easily if he keeps a low profile for a while.'

It made sense. All the same… ''How do you know this?'

' We have it from his Gatekeeper.'

Chalkhill blinked. 'You have a worm in Cossus Cossus?!' he asked incredulously. It was just too delicious to be true. '7 always thought he had a funny walk.'

'Cossus is one of our more important symbiotes. So you can take it our friend will not be at the Coronation. Once you kill Comma and proclaim yourself Emperor, you can denounce the real Hairstreak as an imposter, and have him arrested and hung.'

'But won't he tell everybody he's the real Hairstreak?'

'Of course he will, but who's going to believe him over the new Emperor? Besides, we've infiltrated his personal bodyguard as well as Cossus Cossus. With the wangarami helping, it'll be a piece of cake – all you have to do is find somewhere to lie low until we need you.'

Lying low was the least of his concerns. Chalkhill already knew exactly who could sort that out for him. There was only one other thing he could think of to worry about. '7 don't have the illusion spell we were going to use – Hairstreak was going to supply that.'

'Oh, come on, Jasper,' the wyrm said exasperatedly. 'You think the entire resources of the Wangarami Nation can't stretch to a simple spell? Except it won't be an illusion spell – it'll be a permanent transformation.'

'You mean I'll look like Hairstreak for the rest of my life?'

'Exactly.'

'Cool!' Chalkhill exclaimed aloud. Everybody was afraid of Hairstreak, and the man was worth an absolute fortune. Power! Wealth! Fame! All in a single transformation spell!

A passing waiter brought him another glass of the intoxicating music.