'I'm perfectly capable of giving myself a bath,' Flapwazzle said.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE
The barge was sailing along Cheapside, rather more distant from the river bank now for fear of missiles from the anti-royalist element in the district. But so far as Pyrgus could see, there was no sign of any trouble. The shoreline was a waving mass of miniature House Iris flags and the cheering was so loud it actually echoed back from the massive warehouse buildings on the other side of the river.
Pyrgus wondered if Henry's idea would really work.
'Do you think my idea will really work?' Henry asked. It had all gone so fast and now, suddenly, he needed reassurance.
'Nothing else was going to,' said Mr Fogarty. 'And you have to admit it'll be interesting. Especially when Hairstreak discovers what's happening.'
'Do you think Lord Hairstreak's still alive?'
'I know it. Cynthia's people reported he was in his place at the Cathedral just before first light. Take more than a demon invasion to kill off that little slimeball.'
'What if he tries to cause trouble?' Henry asked.
'You leave Hairstreak to me,' Mr Fogarty growled.
Flapwazzle slid under the door in a perfumed cloud. 'Our ouklo's here,' he said.
'Best go then,' Mr Fogarty said. 'Wouldn't do to get there after the Royal Barge.' He glanced at Henry's britches. 'You'd better travel standing up.'
'Blue,' Comma said, 'why did the demons attack Uncle Hairstreak's house?'
Blue turned on him suspiciously. The trouble with Comma was you never knew what was going on inside his head. After the night he'd come to her bedroom, he'd not mentioned Pyrgus again to anyone. Even when they went to him with Henry's scheme there'd been no trouble. She'd expected him to rant and rave and make demands and threats, but all he did was shrug his agreement, as if their plans had nothing to do with him at all. He hadn't even seemed all that interested in Mr Fogarty's bribes of a new title and a trust fund to spend any way he liked. At the time, Blue had wondered if he'd been feeling guilty about the part he'd played in helping Hairstreak make a monster of their father. Whatever it was, he'd said nothing about Pyrgus's actions and there were times when she half wondered if he'd forgotten what he'd seen in Hairstreak's operating theatre. But now he was thinking about the day it happened. Was his question a preliminary to something much more sinister?
She decided to play it straight. 'I think Lord Hairstreak upset the Demon Prince,' she said.
Comma glanced through the expanded porthole. 'We're nearly at the Cathedral,' he told her.
The great riverside tower swung into view, marking the outer boundary of Westgate. They would reach the Cathedral Dock in twenty minutes, half an hour at most. Pyrgus sighed. He'd never felt so nervous in his life. Yet he knew he was doing the right thing. The more he thought about Henry's idea, the more it made sense. He should have thought of it himself, weeks ago, instead of… instead of…
He pushed the thought savagely from his mind and stood up. Best concentrate on getting ready.
The ermine cloak he had to wear throughout the ceremony was hanging in the cabin wardrobe. He took it out and placed it round his shoulders, staring at his reflection in the mirrored door.
He thought of his father, who had worn this same cloak at bis Coronation. He thought of his mother, who had been Faerie Queen for such a tragically short time. Then he turned and walked up on to the golden deck to let his loyal subjects see him as the barge drew slowly into the Cathedral Dock.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR
The ouklo pulled up between ranks of Imperial soldiers and tightly-packed, cheering crowds. As Henry stepped out he was surprised to receive a crisp salute from every man in uniform, then realised the salutes were not for him at all, but for Mr Fogarty, as Gatekeeper, who was in overall charge of security.
Mr Fogarty himself, resplendent in his Lord Nelson gear, returned the salute with a casual wave of his hand, then cornered the nearest Captain.
'Everyone here?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Lord Hairstreak?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Our men in place?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You've moved my nameplate as instructed?'
'Yes, sir, absolutely sir.'
Henry stared at the Cathedral, wondering what the nameplate business was all about. The building was huge, dwarfing St Paul's or Westminster or any cathedral he'd ever seen. But it wasn't the size that was impressive – it was the architecture. The entire structure had a light, lacy, filigree look that was straight out of a fantasy painting. It seemed as if the first strong gust of wind would be enough to blow it down, but somebody had told him the building had stood for seven hundred years and once survived a direct hit from a meteor.
'Crown Prince Pyrgus?' Mr Fogarty asked the Captain.
'The Royal Barge will dock in five minutes,' the Captain said. He pointed. 'If you look through there, sir, you can see it.'
'Excellent,' said Mr Fogarty. He turned to Henry. 'Come on, young Iron Prominent, we'd better take our seats.'
It was the moment Henry had been dreading. His britches were as tight as ever.
Henry actually stopped in astonishment as he stepped into the Cathedral. Tier upon tier of seats were packed with the nobility of the Faerie Realm, each one vying with the other in the opulence and finery of their costumes. He saw colourful blocks of Trinians, stately Halek wizards and representatives of races he had never even heard of. The hum of conversation was like a swarm of giant bees.
'Hello, Henry,' said a soft voice from the aisle to his left.
For a moment he didn't recognise her, then he realised suddenly it was Nymphalis. She had exchanged the familiar green uniform for a fur outfit that made her look like Conan the Barbarian.
'Hello, Nymph,' Henry grinned. 'I like your gear.'
Nymph leaned across and whispered in his ear, 'I wanted to see Prince Pyrgus crowned, but I didn't want anyone to know I came from the forest.'
'They wouldn't guess in a thousand years,' Henry assured her as Mr Fogarty tugged his arm to make him get a move on.
As he moved on to the centre aisle, Henry discovered the Cathedral altar wasn't set in the east like the churches he was used to, but centred in the massive building. It consisted of a golden cube, above which hovered a shimmering sphere of writhing light that drew his eyes hypnotically.
'What's that?' he asked Mr Fogarty.
'Some sort of device that lets God manifest.' He sniffed, then added cynically, 'I gather He doesn't often bother.'
They walked together to the altar and, following Mr Fogarty's lead, Henry bowed to the empty throne. 'Right,' whispered Fogarty, 'we take our seats now -you're with me.'
There was a peculiarly-designed chair that looked like the Gatekeeper's Seat Henry had seen when they made him Iron Prominent, but Mr Fogarty ignored it and led him up steps to the higher tiers. Eventually they found two empty seats directly overlooking the altar. There were brass plaques with their names on each of them.
'Hello, Blackie,' Mr Fogarty said cheerfully. 'So glad you could make it.'
The man beside him scowled, but didn't speak. Henry sat down very, very cautiously and found to his delight that the material of his britches stretched but didn't tear. He wasn't comfortable, but at least he was still decent.
It was only when he settled that he realised the man Mr Fogarty had spoken to was Lord Hairstreak.
Blue joined Pyrgus on the deck of the Royal Barge to tumultuous applause from the dock. 'You all right?' she whispered.
Pyrgus drew a deep breath. 'Yes.'
She hesitated. 'You don't want to change your mind? You still can.'
'I don't think so, Blue,' Pyrgus said soberly. 'But I don't want to anyway.'