Blue said, 'He's right, Pyrgus – you look awful.'
Pyrgus shrugged. 'Didn't get much sleep last night. Look, can we talk about important things? Have you told the Gatekeeper what's happening?'
'About our father's body and the assassination plot? Yes.'
Pyrgus glanced behind them. 'Didn't Henry come with you?'
'He's following on,' Fogarty said. 'Any developments?'
Pyrgus licked his lips nervously. 'I questioned the guards. They saw nothing to account for the disappearance of my father – nothing. At one inspection the body was there, at the next it wasn't.'
'Magic?' Fogarty asked.
'Don't see how,' Blue said. 'I've never heard of anything that would spirit away a body.'
'Neither have I,' Pyrgus said. 'But we're not wizards, so there could be a spell we don't know about – maybe something recently developed. I think we should assume it's something of that sort, some unknown magical intervention, and since there's nothing we can do about that at the moment, I don't think we should waste any more time investigating. I think we should wait until whoever did it shows their hand.'
'You think whoever did it might want a ransom for the body?' Blue said.
Pyrgus nodded. 'Probably.'
He was lying. Fogarty was sure of it. What he didn't know was why.
'I think we should concentrate on this assassination story,' Pyrgus said. 'I hope you don't mind, Blue – I've asked your friend Madame Cardui to brief the Gatekeeper directly.'
'No, of course I don't mind,' Blue said. 'Is she here or do you want Mr Fogarty -'
'She's waiting in the anteroom. I asked her to join us as soon as Mr Fogarty arrived. I'll – ah, here she is now.'
Fogarty turned as the door beside him opened. Something struck him like a thunderbolt.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Henry opened the box in his bedroom. Six rust-coloured cones nestled on a bed of cotton wool. He stared at them nervously.
There was writing on the inside of the lid in the curious faerie script that looked like Arabic. But as he glanced at it, some layered magic must have triggered since the shapes began to re-form into English.
[LETHE ® BRAND RUSSET SPELL CONES
''Forget You Ever Read This.'
Six (6) Lethe® self-igniting spell cones, single usage.
Instructions:
1. Visualise effect required (i.e. who or what to forget).
2. Hold under nose and snap off disposable peak.
DISCLAIMER
Lethe ® spell cones are sold for personal use only, as a therapeutic aid for the prompt relief of painful memories. It is an offence to use these cones on another person without their prior consent in writing.
No responsibility will be accepted by the manufacturers for any misuse of these spell cones or any injury or damage caused thereby to any person or persons whatsoever. Lethe® is the registered trademark of Memory Magic plc, a member of the Ethical Spells League. No refunds.]
Henry's heart leaped. These were the things Mr Fogarty had told him about – the spells that made people forget. Now he didn't have to make up some stupid story for his mother. All he had to do was use a cone on her and Aisling and he could disappear for as long as he liked without their ever noticing he was gone. They'd remember nothing about him until he came home again. He could join Blue in the Realm and maybe help save Pyrgus for a second time and impress her so much that maybe, just maybe… Thank you, Mr Fogarty – it was perfect!
Except it wasn't quite perfect. He was allergic to magic.
Henry set the box down carefully on the bedside table and went over to his wardrobe. Stuff avalanched out when he opened the door. He poked through it listlessly, trying to find natural fibres.
He unbuttoned his synthetic shirt and replaced it with a cotton T-shirt that said BABE MAGNET on the front. It was a present from an aunt who should have known better and it wouldn't have been Henry's first choice, but it was all he could find that smelled clean. He stripped off his trousers and boxers and replaced them with cotton Y-fronts and a pair of baggy combat jeans. He'd never worn the jeans before – they were a present from the same Babe Magnet aunt and quite hideous – but at least denim was a natural fabric and he could always change back into something a bit less startling after he'd zapped Mum and Aisling.
There were voices in the kitchen and when he went in he found his mother and Aisling sitting at the breakfast bar drinking tea. They had their heads close together, but whatever they'd been talking about stopped suddenly when Henry entered.
'Why are you wearing that dreadful T-shirt?' Aisling asked at once. 'It's perfectly vulgar and an insult to women.' She turned to their mother and said seriously, 'Make him change it, Mummy.'
Henry narrowed his eyes, visualised himself, then reached across and cracked a lethe cone beneath his sister's nose. A swirl of dusty smoke curled round her head. She jerked back in sudden alarm, but then her face went blank.
His mother was staring at him with a stricken look. 'Is that a drug?' she gasped, wide-eyed. Panic set in. 'It's amyl nitrite. Good God, Henry, what have you done to your sister?'
'Sorry, Mum,' Henry murmured. He visualised himself again, then cracked the second cone beneath her nose.
He had a moment of panic when she went blank too. Aisling was still sitting frozen, her mouth slightly open, her chest unmoving as if she'd stopped breathing. Now his mum had turned into a statue as well. He couldn't have killed them, could he? He wasn't used to working magic – in fact this was the first time he'd actually done it himself. Maybe he'd done something wrong.
He reached out cautiously and touched her arm. 'Mum…?'
She couldn't be dead. Not even Mr Fogarty would give him a box of cones that killed people.
Or would he? Mr Fogarty did strange things sometimes.
Suddenly they were talking again, his mother and Aisling, something about Aisling's ghastly Pony Club. They ignored Henry, as if he wasn't even in the room. Or as if… as if they'd forgotten him completely.
Cautiously, Henry began to back out of the kitchen. An unfamiliar feeling was bubbling in his stomach and after a moment he recognised it as joy. He'd done it! He'd worked the magic. He was a forgotten man and that meant he was free! He could go to the Realm. He could see Blue again. He could go to the Realm now!
He took the stairs two at a time. Mr Fogarty's portal control was in a shoebox pushed back on the top shelf of his wardrobe, along with the ornamental dagger he'd been given when Pyrgus had made him Iron Prominent, Knight Commander of the Grey Dagger.
He pulled the shoebox down and opened it. The portal control was no longer there.
It was Aisling! It had to be Aisling! She was the only one who'd sneak into his room and steal something. His mother was perfectly capable of going through his things – she had no sense of private property except when it came to herself – but she wouldn't have taken the controclass="underline" it looked innocent enough for her to think it was something to do with his computer. Besides, if it had been his mother, she'd have found the dagger, and that was still there. It had to be Aisling, little cowl
Henry stormed down the stairs, but neither his mother nor his sister was in the kitchen now. He turned, heading for her room and bumped into Aisling coming out of the downstairs loo.
'You stole my control!' he shouted furiously.
Aisling blinked. 'Who are you?' she asked dreamily.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hamearis Lucina, the Duke of Burgundy, was a big man who liked to accentuate his bulk by wearing padded armour and, in the winter, furs. In place of a sword, he habitually carried a war axe with an inlaid silver handle, the sort of weapon that was too heavy for a lesser man to wield.
The ferrymen kept giving him curious, furtive glances. He was well known throughout the Realm, and not just in his native Yammeth Cretch, but beyond that he was an individual with presence, a type who oozed charisma as well as strength – characteristics that had helped make him Black Hairstreak's closest ally. He would have attracted attention even as a complete unknown.