Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor (50 page)

In desperation he risked taking off his lenses - how many passers-by would be looking at him closely enough to discover he didn't have cat's eyes? - and there it was! At least there he thought it was: a black blob in a flowing cape. There should be an alley just south ...

Yes! He had it now. There was the alley, bounded on one side by the estate wall.

Pyrgus put his lenses back on and slid furtively into the alley. Mercifully it looked empty. But how could anybody be sure through these damn glasses? He took them off again and the alley really was empty. He moved along it swiftly, one hand trailing on the wall, and reached the side gate in a moment. It was locked, of course, and the brown slick of spell coating suggested climbing it might be lethal. But it wasn't the gate that interested him. According to his information, there should be a small pedestrian entrance - no more than a narrow wooden doorway - just a little way ...

Yes, there it was: a recess in the wall. He slipped in, tried the handle and - yes!!! - it was open, exactly as he'd been promised. Pyrgus went through, closed the door and uttered a triumphant prayer of thanks. He was in the Ogyris Estate!

Oddly enough, he could see better here, partly because the estate was open to the sky, partly because he was able to get rid of those damn lenses now. If anybody spotted him he was dead anyway, whether they discovered he was a Faerie of the Light or not. He looked around. He was on a narrow path that meandered through a stretch of lawn to disappear into a copse. There would be guards at the end of it, that was for sure. The Ogyris family might not be of noble birth, but they were fearsomely rich, which made them a magnet for every thief in the Realm. In fact guards were probably the least of their protections. He shuddered, thinking of the minefield that once guarded the old Chalkhill and Brimstone Miracle Glue Factory. You never knew how far Faeries of the Night might go.

Pyrgus found he'd stopped just inside the entrance and straightened his back to pull himself together. He was quite safe as long as he followed his instructions. Perfectly safe. Never safer.

The trouble was, they were complicated instructions.

He pulled the piece of paper from the pocket of his jerkin and discovered to his horror that even with his lenses off, he couldn't read his notes. What was wrong with him? It would have been so simple to bring a portaglobe or even a sparklight. But no. Perhaps he'd been a little ... overexcited ... ?

Overexcited or not, he had limited choices now. He could go back to the street and reread the instructions under a street lamp for everyone to see. Or he could trust his memory. No contest, really. He couldn't run the risk of anybody finding out what he was up to.

Pyrgus left the path and cut diagonally across the lawn. He prayed he was heading for a rose bower.

The estate was a lot bigger than he'd imagined. After fifteen minutes he was still not in sight of the house, although he bad found the obelisk, which was reassuring. He'd also avoided guards and traps, which was more reassuring still. Once he found the lake, he could follow the water's edge until he reached the boathouse.

The lake, when he found it, was also a lot bigger than he'd imagined. A private estate this size in the middle of a city must have cost an Emperor's ransom.

He was following the water's edge, eyes peeled for the outline of the boathouse, when a sudden blaze of light erupted on his left.

Pyrgus dived for cover. His first instinct was that he'd triggered a trap, but as he peered through the undergrowth, he discovered a large glasshouse had suddenly illuminated. He lay where he was, waiting. Chances were somebody had switched on the glowglobes. But he could see no moving shapes, no shadows, nothing to suggest anyone else was about. Glowglobes could be set to come on automatically.

After a while, he began to crawl forward. Cautiously.

The closer he got, the more he grew convinced there was no one in the glasshouse. Or if there was, they were keeping very still. He came to a decision and risked climbing to his feet. He waited. He was standing at the edge of the glow spilling out from the glasshouse, visible to anyone who happened to glance in his direction ... but still far enough away to make a run for it if someone did.

Nothing. No startled voice, no sound of an alarm. The glowglobes must have been set to automatic.

He realised he'd been holding his breath and released it with a sigh. Now that it seemed he was in no danger, he took time to look at the glasshouse properly. It was a far more sturdy building than he'd thought and, as he moved closer, he noticed the glass bore the telltale sheen of magical reinforcement. Something valuable inside. His mind suddenly went back to the time he'd freed Lord Hairstreak's phoenix. The bird had been penned in a glass cage with the same sort of spell coating. Was Ogyris holding some poor creatures here? The glasshouse was a lot bigger than Hairstreak's cage.

Pyrgus pressed his nose against the glass and saw at once that this was something very different. Inside, set in trays, were row upon row of delicate, exotic blooms, their petals glinting and sparkling under the lights. But even at a glance he could see these were not natural plants. Every stem, every bud, every blossom, every leaf was delicately sculpted from the very finest rock crystal. The entire content of the glasshouse was an artefact, an astonishing, priceless, near incomprehensible work of art, laid out in the whimsy of a natural setting.

Had each flower really been individually sculpted? The only other possibility was magic and he knew of no spell that could create such an effect. Illusions were far too coarse, transformations far too limited. Some master sculptor had lovingly created every piece and Merchant Ogyris had set them one by one in this vast glasshouse. There were hundreds of the crystal blooms. The cost must have been mind-numbing.

Pyrgus was still staring in awe at the crystal flowers when a hand fell on his shoulder.

HERBIE BRENNAN

is the author of more than ninety books for adults and children, including the New York Times bestselling Faerie Wars, the first book in The Faerie Wars Chronicles, which was followed by The Purple Emperor and Ruler of the Realm. He and his wife live in Ireland.

Visit the author at www.herbiebrennan.com