The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER EIGHT TWO

'Tell him no!' screamed the wyrm desperately.

Chalkhill, who needed no urging, was already shrieking, 'No, I won't do it! Not now. Never. Leave me alone. Get your filthy hands off me. I won't, I won't, I absolutely, positively, simply won't! You can't make me.'

Hairstreak watched him with mild amusement. 'Actually I can,' he said. He nodded at two black-uniformed guards who fell in beside Chalkhill and seized him by the arms.

'Fight them! I'll help. Head-butt them in the face!'

'Will you be quiet! Chalkhill hissed mentally. 'I'll never get us out of this if you don't let me think.'

As the wyrm fell silent, Chalkhill raced through his options and found there weren't any. He could go like a sacrificial lamb and have the lethal operation or he could fight tooth and claw and get dragged away to have the lethal operation. Either way, he had the lethal operation.

'I don't know why you're making such a fuss,' Hairstreak said. 'It's a minor procedure.'

'Which will kill me!' Chalkhill snarled. He was still terrified of Hairstreak, but well beyond being polite to him any more.

Hairstreak raised an eyebrow. 'Who on earth told you that?'

Chalkhill stared at him. It was only Cyril who'd told him the operation was lethal and Cyril hadn't proven all that trustworthy in the past.

'I don't suppose I could persuade you -'

'Shut up!' Chalkhill growled.

Now he came to think of it, it didn't make a lot of sense for Hairstreak to have him killed – he'd proven himself very valuable in the past. So perhaps the operation wasn't dangerous. Perhaps -

'Oh, very well, Lord Hairstreak,' Chalkhill said decisively. 'I'd be delighted to have this operation if it can assist you in any way.' He stood off the restraining hands of the guards and marched smartly towards the open door.

'Nooooooooooo!' wailed Cyril inside his head.

It was irritating, but the sweeping exit was spoiled by the fact he didn't know where he was going. Chalkhill stopped at the door and waited until Hairstreak's goons caught up with him.

'Lead on, my good men,' he instructed them grandly.

The guards glanced at Hairstreak, who nodded slightly, then strolled across to join them. 'I'm glad you've seen sense, Jasper,' he said mildly. 'But it really is completely safe.'

To Chalkhill I' Surprise, there was not so much as a whimper from Cyril.

It was a part of Hairstreak's mansion he hadn't visited before, although he'd heard rumours about it. They marched through some sinister crypts, then down wide stone steps into what looked like a massive natural cavern. Chalkhill spotted the obsidian maze at once, then looked away quickly, pretenting he hadn't. People who learned Hairstreak's darker secrets had a habit of disappearing permanently. He glanced around ostentatiously, trying to find the operating theatre.

A horrid thought struck him. Perhaps all the talk of an operation was just to get him here. Perhaps he was going to be dropped into the maze to face the -

'That's it!' said Cyril suddenly. 'That's what he's planning! We have to get out of here. Knee him in the wambles! Stick a -'

But that couldn't be right. If Hairstreak simply wanted him down here he'd have said so, or had him dragged down by the guards. No need for some elaborate deception.

'Above your head,' said Hairstreak.

'Sorry?'

'You were looking for the operating theatre. It's above your head.'

Chalkhill looked upwards.