Sophie laughed. ‘Our government tried such a scheme, but it collapsed. None of the newspapers cooperated. All the cartoonists poked much fun at the idea.’ She looked at George. ‘Poked fun is correct?’
‘You’re perfect, my gem. Fun is poked, not prodded.’
‘How would we get your story to your newspaper?’ Aubrey asked, confident that with such a team, he would have at least one useful answer, if not two or three.
‘George,’ Sophie asked, ‘do you have the time?’
George took out his pocket watch. ‘It’s just after noon.’
‘Very good.’ Sophie went to the door of the kitchen, opened it, and waved. ‘This is Claude,’ she said.
Claude was short and stocky, and when he took off his cloth cap he revealed a shock of thick, black hair that looked as if it would be an excellent defence against head injury. He bowed, nervously. ‘Claude’s father was the editor of the local newspaper,’ Sophie continued. ‘George and I found him on our way back from meeting Major Saltin.’
‘I represent The Divodorum Journal,’ Claude said in good Albionish. ‘It is a dull name, but it has been with the people of Divodorum for fifty years. They are used to it.’
‘Claude is the local correspondent for my newspaper, The Sentinel, but since the offices of the Journal were bombed, his job has been difficult.’
‘I have photographs of the front,’ Claude explained. ‘I want to get them to Lutetia.’
‘How did you get photographs?’ Aubrey asked. ‘Isn’t the military sensitive about things like that?’
Claude beamed, showing a gap in his front teeth. ‘I have friends at the fortress. They send provisions to the front in lorries. A lorry stops at a bridge just to the north. I jump on, spend time at the front, then jump back on the lorry to come home.’
‘No-one objects? What about the officers?’
‘I take photographs of them and promise I will send them to their wives and sweethearts.’
Claude explained how he’d cross the river and catch a train to Lutetia with Sophie’s stories and his photographs never leaving his grasp.
Sophie insisted that he had been a reliable contact in the past. ‘I will have an account of the defence of Divodorum ready tomorrow,’ she said.
Aubrey thought about the timing. The adage about two birds and one stone came to mind. ‘Claude, if you can join us here at ten o’clock on Thursday, we have to hire a barge to fetch a delivery across the river. If you help us find a reliable bargemaster, we will pay and give you a lift.’
‘A lift?’ Claude raised an eyebrow at Sophie.
‘We will take you across the river as our guest,’ she said airily. ‘It is an Albionish way of saying things.’
CLAUDE WAS LEAVING WHEN THE LORRIES WITH VON Stralick, Madame Zelinka and the Enlightened Ones drove in through the gates. The backboards banged down. A few of the Enlightened Ones had to be helped down by friends. Aubrey dragged open the front doors of the factory. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing.’ Madame Zelinka was grey-faced with exhaustion and something else – pain? ‘And too much.’
‘We have a major problem here in Divodorum,’ von Stralick said. He eased Madame Zelinka to a chair, and Aubrey then saw that she was cradling one arm in the other.
‘Only half the Enlightened Ones have come back,’ Caroline said softly.
Von Stralick barked orders to Madame Zelinka’s colleagues. The uninjured began unloading medical supplies from the lorries, while four sat on the floor, against the wall, roughly bandaged.
‘What happened?’ Aubrey repeated.
Von Stralick shook his head. ‘Downstairs. Close the doors first.’
In the basement, the Enlightened Ones showed no trace of panic, just careful, methodical movements. The injured were helped down the stairs and onto the bedding that took up most of the floor space. Others distributed water.
Madame Zelinka refused to lie down. Von Stralick eased her into one of the ancient lounge chairs that George had bought when trying to make the place more comfortable. ‘The fire, at the warehouse.’ Madame Zelinka took a quick inhalation through her teeth, hissing as von Stralick eased her arm a little to arrange a sling around it. When he was done he kept a hand on her shoulder, gently. ‘It has spawned something, a bad residue.’
Aubrey remembered the powerful spell remains that he’d found underneath Dr Tremaine’s Fisherberg residence. ‘It attacked you?’
‘It is dangerous,’ Madame Zelinka said. Her head bowed and she gestured weakly at von Stralick.
He took up the story. ‘The fire was put out by the fireboat, but the animation remained and grew in strength. Zelinka was clubbed by a length of steel that was lying on the ground one minute, then hopping about the next. Soon the entire factory was alive. Our people were fighting for their lives.’
Aubrey shuddered. ‘I might be of some assistance.’
‘We can cope with animated building materials,’ Madame Zelinka said through clenched teeth, ‘but the situation is much worse than that.’
‘The residue is draining into the river,’ von Stralick explained. ‘It could contaminate the whole city. We left some of our people there to do what they could, but it could be very bad.’
‘It will fester and grow if we don’t stop it,’ Madame Zelinka murmured. ‘Divodorum, then downstream.’
Sophie, the native Gallian, was most horrified. She put both hands to her mouth before asking, ‘The animation will spread?’
‘It could.’ Aubrey rubbed his forehead. ‘Magical residue is unpredictable, but I’d say that every town downriver of Divodorum is in danger.’
‘It is our duty to stop it,’ Madame Zelinka said. ‘We will rest, then go back.’
‘I’d like to help,’ Aubrey insisted. He was already running spells through in his mind.
‘Help?’ Madame Zelinka almost smiled. ‘Do you remember the last time you tried to deal with magical residue?’
Aubrey had barely survived, and it was only the fortunate interference from the Beccaria Cage that had allowed him to escape. ‘I’m willing.’
‘I know, I know.’ Madame Zelinka waved a tired hand. ‘Stay here. Leave the residue to the experts.’ She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Her jaw was clenched against the pain.
Von Stralick caught Aubrey’s eye and took him aside. While the Enlightened Ones moved about with quiet assurance, with Caroline, George and Sophie distributing food to the hungry, von Stralick spoke softly. ‘She is in pain, Fitzwilliam. Surely you know some medical magic.’
‘I don’t. I have the greatest respect for those who do.’
‘Respect?’
‘It scares me.’
‘I have trouble imagining you scared by such a thing.’
‘It’s …’ Aubrey waved a hand, vaguely. ‘It’s so complicated, casting spells that work with all the bits and pieces inside you.’
‘I am informed that you’ve rarely avoided complicated magic in the past.’
‘This is different.’ Aubrey ran his fingers through his hair. ‘If I knew medical magic, I would have used it on you, Hugo, when you were sick. You know that.’
Caroline came over and passed them cups of tea. ‘My training included basic first aid, Hugo. I’ll do what I can.’
Aubrey hadn’t liked letting Hugo down like that, but like most non-magicians, the Holmlander didn’t have any idea about how complex magic was.
Feeling helpless as the Enlightened Ones regrouped, with Caroline’s assistance, he went back upstairs to the kitchen. Sophie and George were busy ladling soup into mugs. George looked over his shoulder. ‘Those potatoes won’t peel themselves, you know.’
Aubrey looked at the pile on the bench and sighed. He picked up the knife and went to work, pondering the glamorous life of an international security operative.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, AUBREY BICYCLED OUT TO where the Enlightened Ones were hard at work. Their skills were always of interest to him and he watched while the more actively
magical of the corps stood at the perimeter of what he saw as a multi-chorused, multi-coloured stain that was spreading from the warehouse site, across the embankment and dripping into the river. Three or four of the Enlightened Ones were chanting spells, short and sharp, in a language unfamiliar to him. Two were waist deep in the river with their arms spread, heads down, as if they were herding fish.
Aubrey concentrated. He felt the pulsing of the residue as both cruel and threatening. He wasn’t surprised, either, that it had the definite touch of Dr Tremaine. When he narrowed his focus, though, he became sure that even though Dr Tremaine’s signature element was buried deep in the magic, his presence was missing. Aubrey was sure that this compression spell was another that Dr Tremaine had organised, but had allowed someone else to actually activate. It was more delegated magic, and Aubrey wondered how far Dr Tremaine had gone with this process.
Other Enlightened Ones were warily circling the smouldering remains of the warehouse. At intervals, one of them would crouch and use a small trowel to scrape away at the earth outside the crumbled walls. Aubrey had no idea what they were doing, but the malevolent animation that had seized the building was well under control.
AUBREY ARRIVED BACK AT THE FACTORY TO FIND THAT George and Sophie had procured a treasure trove of fresh vegetables, meat, fish and fruit. They’d even found milk and cream fresh that day.
After stowing his bicycle, Aubrey stood at the door from the yard and stared at the single long table that took up nearly half the length of the ground floor. It was covered with white linen, but Aubrey was sure that since the benches appeared to have vanished, the banquet table was actually several bookbinders’ workplaces pushed together.
If the table settings were meagre, George and Sophie had made up for it with the bunches of fresh flowers in glass jars that were evenly spaced along the centre of the table, alternating with an assortment of candles. The dishes being handed around were cheered as they were brought out steaming – ragout, baked fish, a roast leg of pork, huge bowls of vegetables steamed, roasted and fried.
George saw Aubrey standing open-mouthed. He approached, wiping his hands on the brightly spotty apron he wore. ‘You have a booking, sir?’
‘For one,’ Aubrey said faintly. ‘In the name of Fitzwilliam.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been instructed to usher you to a table for two in a corner away from the band, in the name of Hepworth.’
‘Really?’
‘Sorry, old man, just joking. It’s find your own seat here tonight.’ George rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how the little things can make a difference. Not a jolly lot, these Enlightened Ones, but feed them up and suddenly the jokes start pouring out.’
‘Sometimes I think we’re fighting for the little things as well as the big things.’
‘Never a truer word was spoken. Would you like some dinner?’
‘Yes please.’ Aubrey stopped. ‘I like your apron. The lace edge is a lovely touch.’
‘It’s quite fashionable. All the best people are wearing them in Lutetia, apparently.’
Aubrey actually found a seat next to Caroline and, for an hour or so, had fun eating, talking, passing platters of food right and left, and learning useful things like the best way to confuse a polar bear.
George and Sophie made sure the food kept rolling out of the kitchen for what was obviously a continuous dinner rather than something with discrete courses. The Enlightened Ones came and went as their shift at the warehouse ended, or started. The weariness of the returnees dissipated with the hospitality, but the faces of those who were leaving were pitiful, and many lingered for a last bite or riposte, or a whispered conversation with a friend.
As midnight approached, the dinner began to crawl to a conclusion. Caroline excused herself to the hairy Enlightened One on her left, and leaned over to Aubrey. ‘I’m going to see if the airwaves have anything for us.’
‘Do you think the Directorate might be transmitting tonight?’
‘It’s coming up to optimum reception time. It’s best to make sure.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You get some sleep. I hardly have enough room in that booth for me and my equipment as it is.’
‘We could try,’ Aubrey said. His self-consciousness had obviously been lulled into a soporific state by the dinner, for the words were out of his mouth before he knew it. ‘Sorry,’ he said, but he was delighted when Caroline tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Not tonight. It’s too important.’
She left him staring into the air.
AT FIRST, WHEN AUBREY WOKE, HE WAS SURE SOMEONE was standing by the bed. The tiny cubicle was pitch black but he had that half-awake certainty of another presence. He sat up and lit a match, ready to apply it to the candle on the floor, but the flare of light showed that he was alone.
He scratched at his forearm and that was when he realised that magic was in the vicinity. His skin was alive with the sensation of acidity, a sour lemon tang setting his teeth on edge. Odd crawling sensations muddled his vision for a moment and he realised that he was seeing a high-pitched whine.
He tilted his head, listening: in the distance, the thumping pom-pom-pom of artillery, while a barge was chugging up the nearby canal.
Aubrey climbed out from under the blankets and tugged on a pair of trousers, slipping his braces over his bare shoulders. He lit the candle this time, then pulled aside the curtain that separated the sleeping cubicles from the rest of the basement. He held the candle high as he tried to work out where the magic was coming from.
On the opposite side of the basement, the door to Caroline’s telegraph cubicle was ajar.
He hurried across the floor, stepping lightly, weaving his way through the maze of mattresses that the Enlightened Ones had thrown down, but when he reached halfway across the basement, he stopped and looked upward.
The source of the magic was directly above. He spun, paused, then – in an agony of indecision – actually rocked from one foot to the other, unsure which way to go. He wanted to check the telegraph cubicle, but the magical emanations from above were growing stronger.
With a glance at the stairs, Aubrey vaulted over the sleeping Enlightened Ones and pushed the door of the telegraph cubicle open.
The station was empty. Aubrey froze, taking in the scene. Caroline’s headphones were sprawled untidily on the bench next to her transmitter key. A writing tablet was nearby, next to the coding machine, and a pencil lay on the floor. Aside from the desk lamp being extinguished, nothing showed the precision that was Caroline’s mode of operation. It was plain that she’d left hastily.
He picked up the headphones and nearly dropped them again as magic leaped from the earpieces. His fingers prickled and he placed the headphones carefully on the bench before he wiped his hands on the rear of his trousers.
Then he bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He flung open the hatch that led to the flat roof, and poked his head out. For an instant, he had the strangest feeling: he was like a camera, taking a series of quick snapshots, one after the other.
First impression: the flat roof extended before him. The hatch was at one end of the roof, with the far end some seventy or eighty feet away. The antenna array Caroline had so carefully constructed took up most of that space, eight wires stretched fifty feet from one side of the roof to the other, each separated by ten feet of space.
Second impression: the night was overcast, with the clouds adding a thin pallor to the sky.
Third impression: artillery fire away to the north-east, drumbeats of doom.
Fourth and overwhelming impression: the roof was ablaze with magic and electrical discharges.
Aubrey went to drag himself onto the roof and was nearly driven back by one of the dozens of huge electrical eruptions that were fizzing along the antenna wires. The sparks were enormous, leaping feet into the air, hissing with malignant glee as they slid backward and forward, cra
shing together at speed and showering the roof with a rain of smaller sparklets.
Cursing, Aubrey squinted, momentarily dazzled. These weren’t just electrical discharges – serious though that would be. These had magic about them, and it was the sort of magic that made him very, very wary.
Carefully, he climbed out of the hatch, holding a hand up in front of his face and keeping his back to the utilities shed. ‘Caroline!’ he shouted, then he reeled back as one of the giant sparks skated in his direction.
Are they arms?
Then Caroline threw a chair at him.
He ducked, already believing that Caroline had, at last, seen through him and was expressing her opinion by hurling convenient furniture at him.
‘Aubrey!’ she cried. ‘Look out!’
His heart surged at her warning. He abandoned his misgivings as the chair flashed through the giant spark and smashed on the brick wall behind him. Aubrey ducked, then took a step toward where Caroline was backing away, scrambling under antenna wire in her haste.
Aubrey drew close to one of the wires, close enough for him to reach out and touch. He was about to call out to Caroline when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a giant spark humming toward him, arms extended.
He didn’t have time to worry about how bizarre that notion was. He let out a yelp and threw himself away from its reach. Landing on a shoulder and rolling to his feet, he had to shield his eyes and back away as the magically imbued electrical phenomenon reached for him.
Aubrey’s mind worked in two separate and distinct modes. One part was on the verge of gibbering as the spark grew in size, rapidly towering ten feet from the wire on which it balanced. The other part coolly noted how small sparklets were racing along the wire and merging with it to make a roughly human shape. It pawed unsuccessfully at him, then swayed and stretched. Half a dozen smaller sparklets skated along to join it, flowing right up its fingerless hand and making the entire creature swell, growing another foot or two in height, an electrical demon that leered with antic glee.
Laws of Magic 6 Page 13
