Read Faerie Wars 02 - The Purple Emperor for Free Online Page A

friendly gesture. 'Now, Jasper, His Lordship wants to see you privately. He's waiting in the little Briefing Room.'

    The little Briefing Room was a book-lined study with seven layers of permanent privacy spells that gave it the smell of old leather. Chalkhill had been there only twice before - once when he joined Lord Hairstreak's service, once when Hairstreak required him to kidnap Holly Blue, the Princess Royal.

    Cossus left him at the doorway. 'Your ears only,' he murmured cheerfully. Then, surprisingly, 'Good luck.'

    Lord Hairstreak was staring intently through the window, but turned the instant Chalkhill entered. 'Sit,' he said sharply. He was a small, slight man, dressed as always in black velvet.

    Chalkhill sat. Despite his claim that they were bosom friends, he was actually terrified of Black Hairstreak. The man oozed ruthlessness from every pore. Chalkhill folded his hands in his lap and waited. Beyond Hairstreak he could see through the window what His Lordship had been watching - his footman being devoured by the haniel.

    'You failed me, Jasper,' Hairstreak said quietly. 'You allowed that stupid child to beat you.'

    Chalkhill felt his body chill. The 'stupid child' was Princess Blue, of course, who'd certainly got the better of Chalkhill in the past. He opened his mouth to voice a few excuses, then closed it again. It was safer to let Lord Hairstreak do the talking.

    'I should have left you to rot in jail, you incompetent crud,' Hairstreak hissed furiously. 'Your bungling cost me much.'

    With an enormous effort of will, Chalkhill stopped himself from trembling. There was a chance Hairstreak had brought him here to torture him to death, but he was inclined to believe Dingy's reassurance that there was another job. Or was that just wishful thinking? Would Hairstreak trust him with another job when he'd failed in the last? Outside, the haniel took off from the lawn, carrying the remains of the footman's body. At a height of fifteen feet, the head dropped off and rolled under a rose bush.

    Black Hairstreak's demeanour changed suddenly. He straightened his back and glanced towards the bookshelves. Chalkhill followed his gaze. He seemed to be looking at the twenty-seven volumes of Maculinia's Dreams of Empire.

    Hairstreak said, 'I've decided to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself.'

    Chalkhill said, 'Thank you, Lord Hairstreak.'

    'Oh, don't thank me yet. It's a dangerous mission.'

    Chalkhill said, 'Yes, Lord Hairstreak.'

    'If you fail, you die.'

    Chalkhill said, 'Yes, Lord Hairstreak.'

    'But you won't fail this time, will you, Jasper?'

    Chalkhill said, 'No, Lord Hairstreak.'

    'Good, Jasper, good. Do you know anything about this mission I have for you?'

    Chalkhill licked his lips. 'Your -' He hesitated. What the hell was Dingy's title? He wracked his brains, but nothing came. 'Your, ah, man, mentioned you might not, ah, want young Pyrgus Malvae to become Purple Emperor.'

    Hairstreak rounded on him, eyes glittering. 'I want young Pyrgus Malvae dead - that's what I want! I want him assassinated. I want to make an example of him, Chalkhill. I want him killed publicly and horribly. I want it to happen at the moment of his greatest triumph, just before the Archimandrake crowns him at his Coronation. I want the world to know what happens to those who stand against Lord Hairstreak - and steal his valuable birds. That's what I want, Chalkhill. The question is, are you the man to give it to me?'

    He wanted Pyrgus killed in the middle of his Coronation? That was a suicide mission. Kill the Emperor Elect in the Cathedral with all his guards around him and ten thousand people watching? It might just be possible, but getting away afterwards certainly wasn't. The killer would have a score of swords thrust through him before he took three paces. No way! No way!

    Gripped by those glittering eyes, Chalkhill said, 'I'm your man, Lord Hairstreak!'

    'What's this, Your Lordship?' Chalkhill asked hesitantly. It