It also required traitors in the palace.
Without traitors, no one could have done what had been done to the House Iris multi-portal. The Chief Portal Engineer now knew exactly what had happened, even if he was still not in a position to say where Pyrgus might have gone. The sabotage required subtlety and a deft hand. So someone who knew what needed to be done had to be smuggled into the palace and protected from discovery while he carrried out the job. Then all signs of his work had to be hidden.
But that was only half the operation. The other half, the more important half, was ensuring Pyrgus was poisoned. And poisoned at exactly the right time he could be spirited away beyond help. This meant access to stores, knowledge of vaccination procedures and, again, split-second timing, since the medical priest who administered the injection might have selected any one of a dozen ampules. In fact the whole thing was carried out with such sophistication that Apatura was far from certain any outsiders were involved at all, except in the planning. Surely it would make more sense to suspect the whole thing was an inside job?
That was certainly the way Palace Security were thinking. Apatura knew they were working on the theory no outside agent was involved. Apatura himself wasn't quite so sure, although he was certainly leaning in the same direction. What worried him was the level of treachery. Whoever was involved would have had to move freely throughout the palace, including the most secure areas. That meant someone at a high level. Apatura didn't want to think the palace harboured a high-level traitor.
The filter had been repaired. That proved to be a simple job. The Chief Portal Engineer had also assured him the portal itself could be made safely operative within a matter of hours. But that was only after they discovered where Pyrgus had gone. Until then, the machinery had to stay dismantled for the ongoing analysis. It was a hideous frustration and one Apatura could ill afford when he needed a clear head to deal with all the other problems.
Two uniformed guards snapped to attention as he stepped from the shaft and shrugged off his harness. They fell in step beside him as he moved off along the starkly lit passageway. At other times he would have waved them back – he had never much liked the formalities of his office – but now even that small effort seemed beyond him. Besides, he might even need their protection. If his own son could be poisoned underneath his nose, who knew what else might happen in the palace?
Two more guards opened the door of the Situation Room at his approach and Apatura stepped inside, already dreading what he might be about to see.
The Situation Room, like so much of the palace these days, was a buzz of activity. The banks of crystal globes had been linked directly to the spy cameras of the Imperial Espionage Service so that all pictures were updated on a second-by-second basis. In the centre of the room was the huge operations table, with the entire landscape of the realm available, in three dimensions, when the proper chant was voiced. Just now, only a segment of the land was visible, recognisable by the indigo marking flags of Night Faerie. Young women moved briskly between the globes and the table, constantly rearranging the display. Three of Apatura's top military commanders were already in the room. So was Gatekeeper Tithonus.
The military men came to attention as he entered and Tithonus hurried across to greet him. 'What news?' Apatura asked.
Tithonus frowned. 'I fear the situation looks increasingly grave.'
‘Is an attack imminent?'
'Possibly.' Tithonus dropped his voice. 'Any news of Pyrgus, Majesty?'
The Emperor shook his head. He walked over to the crystal globes. They were all displaying different viewpoints on what appeared to be a mass rally of Night Faerie troops. Apatura selected a low-level aerial view and forced his body to relax. In a moment he felt the familiar sensation as the globe drew him in.
He was looking down on a vast stadium packed with a cheering throng. Black-uniformed troops marched in tight formation to create a torchlit serpent winding its way into the stadium to the insistent beat of drums. The lead contingents bore the insignia of House Hairstreak, but others following wore uniforms of various other Night Houses. Most were members of the old Nightside Alliance, but, in a worrying development, some additional Houses appeared to have joined them. Lord Hairstreak, it seemed, was growing in popularity.
The update from the Imperial Espionage Service gave the scene a jerky, unreal quality, but, even so, Apatura watched with growing unease. The marching soldiers looked like grim-faced robots and their discipline was impressive, as doubtless it was meant to be. They split into several streams and wizards marching with each one changed the colour of their torches so that they became a rainbow throng. The colours spun and danced as the men marched, then, with breathtaking speed, became a living insignia of House Hairstreak. The drumbeats reached a crescendo as spotlights picked out a single figure on the rostrum.
The soldiers halted, the drumming ceased, the vast crowd fell completely silent. After a moment the figure spoke, his words carried by amplification spells throughout the stadium. 'Behold,' he said, 'the might of Night Faerie. May our enemies beware!'
Apatura thought briefly it must be Black Hairstreak himself, but now he realised it was Hamearis, the Duke of Burgundy, Hairstreak's closest ally. He looked more impressive in public than Hairstreak and was an infinitely better speaker, which was probably why he was addressing the crowd now. But there was another possibility. Hamearis had been to the forefront of the negotiations lately. His appearance on the rostrum may have been designed to send a signaclass="underline" take me seriously or else!
Apatura had not the slightest doubt this rally was meant to be seen by himself and as many of his people as cared to watch. There had been no public announcement, but nor had there been the slightest attempt at secrecy. A few relatively simple spells would have discovered most of the Espionage Service cameras, a few more put them out of action. Yet not one had been touched. The conclusion was obvious.
Apatura withdrew. 'Very impressive,' he said drily. 'Now, where is the real action?'
Tithonus gestured to one of the technicians and at once the rally disappeared from the globes, to be replaced by a less spectacular but far more sinister scene. Only one of the realm's twin moons had risen, so the light level was low – far lower than the torchlit rally – and it took a moment for Apatura's eyes to adjust.
This time there was no easy aerial view. Rather he felt he was standing on a hilltop, looking out across a grassy plain. This was one of the new Seventh System espionage units, virtually impossible to detect, whatever the expenditure on spells, but with some problems in its colour resolution. As a result, the scene took on a bleached appearance and fine detail was lacking. But all the same, he knew what he was seeing. A vast military camp stretched across the plain. Rows of black tents were laid out with geometric precision, silhouetted against a scattering of camp fires. There were soldiers here too, thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands, but unlike the black dress uniforms of the rally, these men were in combat fatigues. They moved quietly, with a purposeful air. No drums were beating. No crowds were cheering. Indeed no sounds at all reached Apatura's Seventh System vantage point, as if the whole scene below was covered by a deadly pall.
Apatura closed his eyes. He knew the area. This was the Plain of Yammeth Cretch. The espionage unit itself was placed somewhere near the head of the Teetion Valley. He was looking into the Night Faerie heartland, that huge sweep of the realm which was virtually a state within a state, almost entirely populated by Faeries of the Night and absolutely under their control, whatever lip-service was paid to their allegiance to the Purple Emperor.