Blaze of Glory (15 page)

Captain Tallis grimaced. He growled at the nearest
young man. 'Get back to the Big House. We need
someone from the Magisterium at once. Tell 'em there's
magic here.'

'Why not ask one of the researchers to come over?'
Aubrey suggested as the guard ran off. 'They might have
some idea what's going on.'

Captain Tallis glanced at him. Aubrey could see that
the man was filing him away for future reference. In all
probability he had been marked 'Awkward'.

'That sounds like a good idea, captain,' the Prince said.
'Send one of your Special Services people.'

'Yes, your highness.' He nodded at another of the
young men, who headed for the shooting field.

Captain Tallis turned back to Aubrey but, before he
could resume his questioning, Aubrey chipped in.
'Captain, I think you need to know that one of your men
has been killed.'

Captain Tallis stiffened. 'One of my men has been
killed?'

'By the golem. At the observation post.'

'You've seen this?'

'Yes. I'm sorry.' George nodded in support.

Captain Tallis looked around at the young men. A
number of them looked visibly shaken by Aubrey's news.
'Who's armed?' he asked.

A young man with curly black hair put up his hand, as if
he were in school. 'Baker, Charlesworth and me, captain.'

'All three of you go to the observation post. Report
back as soon as you can.'

Prince Albert sighed. 'Aubrey, what have you fallen
into this time?'

Aubrey smiled apologetically. 'I'm not sure, Bertie, but
I aim to find out.' He gestured at Captain Tallis and the
young men. 'Exactly who are they?'

The Prince half-smiled. It was an expression Aubrey
had seen many times. It said duty, obligation, protocol
and etiquette were about to be involved. 'They're a
handpicked squad from the Special Services. Acting as
bodyguards is one of their duties.' He looked sidelong
at Aubrey. 'Your father advised the Palace that extra precautions
might be a good idea this weekend.'

'Ah,' Aubrey said and did his best to appear wise. 'I can't
say too much.'

'Understood, old chap. Now, I see Sir William hurrying
this way. I don't want to give the old fellow a stroke, so
I'll go to him rather than have him come all this way. See
you at the Big House?'

Aubrey nodded, and soon he was left alone under the
oak tree with George. 'George?'

'Yes.'

'I think I'm about to collapse.'

George put his arm around Aubrey's shoulders. 'Go
ahead. I'll get you back.'

'Don't know what I'd do without you, George,' Aubrey
mumbled, his head drooping.

'Replace me with two or three patient, tolerant, strong
types, I'd think. Hold on, we've a long way to go.'

A
FEW HOURS LATER, AUBREY WAS WOKEN BY THE
rumbling of motorcars. He lay on the bed for a
moment, aware that – judging by the emptiness in his
stomach – he'd missed lunch.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
He was glad to see that they'd stopped trembling. The
rest had gone some way to restoring his energy. His body
and soul were settled, united; the pull of the true death
was still there, but he was strong enough to stand firm
against it.

It had been a near thing, out at the shooting ground.

Grappling with so much magic in such a short time had
stretched him more than he'd been willing to admit. As
his physical self weakened, the grip he had on his soul
became more precarious. The remorseless summoning of
the true death became stronger, harder to resist. All he
could do was hold on. Back at the Big House, left in his
bed, he spent some hours simply refusing to let go.
Finally, the pull slackened and he slept.

He went to the window. The afternoon was well
advanced. Four black motorcars were coming up the
driveway, identical Eaton touring cars of the latest model.

Aubrey could make out shadowy forms in both front and
back seats. When they drew up in front of the house, the
chorus of doors slamming was like the footfalls of giants.

Aubrey took the knock at the door as a good sign. If
he had been in serious trouble over the incident at the
shooting ground, he had no doubt that such niceties
would have been dispensed with.

The door opened and a footman poked his head
through. 'Sir,' he said, and Aubrey relaxed even more, 'if
you'd care to get dressed, Captain Tallis would like a word
with you.' He looked embarrassed. 'I'll wait outside.'

The footman led Aubrey to a wing of the house he
hadn't often been in before. They passed a number of the
Special Services men. With no need to disguise their roles,
they stood at attention as Aubrey and the footman passed.

At the end of a long, dimly lit corridor, George was
waiting on a wooden bench. 'What took you so long, old
man? I've been here for ages.'

'Sorry, George. I hope you used the time wisely.'

'I could have been sleeping,' George said mournfully.

The footman opened the door and ushered Aubrey
and George inside.

The room had no windows. Dark wallpaper extended
from ceiling to floor, which was covered with a thin, grey
carpet. The room was lit by a number of hissing gas
lantern sconces in the wall, electrical wiring obviously
not having reached this part of the house yet.

Captain Tallis sat behind a long table. He looked as if
he'd been sucking on a lemon and was trying to pretend
it was the most enjoyable thing he'd ever tasted.

Prince Albert was next to him, along with Sir William.
The fourth man sitting at the table was tall, gaunt and
wore a severe black uniform with black buttons. Aubrey
didn't recognise it, which immediately aroused his
curiosity. He thought he knew the uniforms of all the
regiments in Albion.

The man's face was striking. His lips were thin, his
cheeks hollow. His nose was like a knife blade. His eyes
were cold and grey, and glittered with iron intelligence.

'Sit down,' Captain Tallis said. Then, after a pause,
'Please.'

Everything's going to be all right
, Aubrey thought, hearing
the courtesy. He tried to catch Bertie's eye, but the Prince
was looking at Captain Tallis, who cleared his throat.

'His Royal Highness has pointed out that neither you,
Fitzwilliam, nor you, Doyle, has his parents here. Therefore
it would not be proper to question you about the
events of today. Furthermore, he has vouched for your
characters and indicated that it is impossible that either of
you would be involved in an attempt on his life.'

'Quite so,' Aubrey said. 'But all possibilities must be
explored, isn't that correct, Captain Tallis?'

'Indeed, but this shall be done as soon as we can
organise it with your parents.'

'By the Magisterium,' Aubrey said.

Captain Tallis glanced at the silent, black-uniformed
man and went red in the face. 'What?'

'I saw them. Four motorcars full.' Aubrey nodded at
Captain Tallis. 'It's always the way, isn't it? When there's a
sniff of magic wrongdoing in the air, the Magisterium
rides roughshod over the regulars and gets all the glory.'

From the corner of his eye, Aubrey was watching the
black-uniformed man. He didn't change his expression
and was watching this byplay as if it were only mildly
interesting.

'Enough, Aubrey,' the Prince said. A smile hovered on
his lips. 'Captain Tallis has done an excellent job, and
our representative of the Magisterium,' he inclined
his head to the black-uniformed man, 'has appreciated his
thoroughness.'

Captain Tallis pursed his lips even more at this and
Aubrey wondered if his face was going to disappear.

'Of course, of course,' Aubrey said. He stood. 'When
the time comes, I'll answer every question they have,
Captain Tallis, and I'll make sure you get a copy of the
report.'

'Very good. You can go, then. But don't discuss this
with anyone.'

Together, Aubrey and George left the room. Outside,
Aubrey looked at George. 'You didn't say much.'

'Play to your strengths, old man, that's what I always
say. One of your strengths is talking. One of mine is
staying out of trouble by letting you do the talking.' He
paused and looked at the ceiling. 'That last part hasn't
always worked, though.'

In silence, they made their way back towards the busier
part of the house.

Aubrey walked with his hands behind his back, turning
over the events of the day in his mind. He sensed wheels
within wheels. The whole weekend had been planned
for a number of reasons, and Aubrey wasn't sure he had
them all sorted out. Obviously, trying to patch up the
differences between Albion and Holmland was high on
the list, but politicians would never let such a meeting of
the high and mighty go by without taking the opportunity
to advance a few plans, to form a few alliances and
to conclude ongoing business.

Then there was the presence of Professor Hepworth
and his researchers. What on earth were they doing
there?

Aubrey sighed and rubbed his temples. A golem
assassin. No petty crime, this, and a petty criminal
wouldn't be behind it. But who would benefit from the
death of the Prince? Unless it wasn't the Prince who was
the target of the assassin. There were plenty of other
targets. The Holmland Ambassador, for example. Having
him killed in Albion would heighten the tension
between the two countries, perhaps even precipitate the
war everyone feared. So who would benefit from that?
Arms manufacturers? Speculators? What about the
Goltans? If Holmland was at war with Albion, its attention
would be drawn away from that troubled peninsula.

Aubrey rubbed his temples again. He was making
himself giddy.

They emerged from a gallery and Aubrey brightened
when they ran into Caroline.

'You two!' she said, glaring, and Aubrey's smile disappeared.'
Where have you been?'

'Seeing what we could do to help,' Aubrey said.

'Help?' Caroline echoed. 'What
did
go on out there?'

'Shooting accident,' Aubrey said.

'One of the guards was killed,' George added and he
frowned. Aubrey could see that his friend was still
troubled by the incident.
You're not alone, George
, he
thought, remembering the desolation of the young man
lying in the pool of blood.

'Oh,' Caroline said. 'You saw this?'

'We found him,' Aubrey said.

'Who was responsible?'

'It's not clear,' Aubrey said. 'That's what we're trying to
help with.'

She nodded, but her expression was thoughtful. 'I
suppose the Magisterium is here to use magic to help
investigate the circumstances?'

'The Magisterium is here?' Aubrey said. It wasn't a lie.
Aubrey knew a question rarely was.

'Yes.'

'Interesting.'

She skewered him with a look. 'It's magic, isn't it?
Something's gone wrong with your father's hunt magic
and the Magisterium has been called in.'

Aubrey opened his mouth to answer, but they were
rescued by the arrival of Professor Hepworth. 'Ah,
Caroline! I've been looking for you!'

She studied both Aubrey and George for a long, cool
moment. 'Father. I've been talking with these two
gentlemen.'

'Ah! Fitzwilliam and Foyle! Dashed awful what
happened, eh?'

'Doyle,' Caroline murmured.

'Sorry?'

'Never mind, Father.' She nodded at them both. 'We
must be off.'

'Miss Hepworth,' Aubrey said. 'We must get together
some time to discuss magical matters in more depth.'

Professor Hepworth looked at his daughter with
surprise. 'Magical matters? Caroline? Well, well, well!'

Aubrey watched the Professor and Caroline as they
left. 'Interesting young woman.'

'I suppose,' George said.

'You don't like her?'

'Her face is too symmetrical.'

Aubrey stared. 'George, you astound me.'

T
HE WEEKEND WAS CURTAILED, MUCH AS
A
UBREY HAD
anticipated. That evening, another fleet of black motorcars
arrived, this time to take the guests away. All of
them were driven by members of Captain Tallis's Special
Services squad.

Aubrey and George waited in one of the drawing
rooms overlooking the immaculate gardens and driveway.
Aubrey amused himself by trying to work out how long
it would take to clip such perfect topiary platonic solids.
The tetrahedron would be straightforward, but the
dodecahedron . . .

His musings were interrupted when a long, silver
Oakleigh-Nash Constellation glided around the fleet of
anonymous black motorcars and pulled up right in front
of the Big House.

Aubrey groaned when he saw it. George looked up
from his newspaper. An under-butler appeared at the
door. Small, balding, harried-looking, he was definitely
not one of Tallis's people. 'Master Fitzwilliam, it's your
parents.'

'Excellent!' George said, folding the newspaper and
looking out the window. 'They've brought the Oakleigh-
Nash. Very nice!' He rushed out of the room.

Aubrey was less pleased. He sagged into his chair, put
one elbow on the armrest and rested his chin on his fist.

He'd failed. He'd been representing his father and had
a chance to do something worthy, but with the weekend
degenerating into such a fiasco, he accepted he hadn't
managed to bring it off. After all, he knew a weekend of
such diplomatic importance should be a quiet affair, and
an attempted assassination of the Crown Prince would
propel this occasion to the top of the list of fashionable
gossip topics. Now, his father was coming to the rescue of
a son who wasn't quite up to the mark.

The anxious under-butler appeared at the door again.
'Master Fitzwilliam? They're waiting.'

Sir Darius was standing by the motorcar talking with
George and Stubbs, the driver. He looked alert, calm, and
perfectly pressed, as if he'd just stepped out of the pages
of a magazine. 'Aubrey,' he said when he noticed his son
approaching, 'what's been going on here?'

Aubrey stiffened, then gave a faint smile. 'Father, a full
report may take some time.'

The window of the motorcar slid down. Aubrey's
mother smiled at him with an air of amused tolerance.
'Aubrey. Sorry to arrive like this. I realise how embarrassing
it must be to be rescued by your parents. I wanted
to wait for you to get home by yourself, but Darius
wouldn't hear of it.'

Sir Darius brushed his moustache with his forefinger.
'I thought I might be able to be of assistance.' He signed
to the driver. 'Stubbs, wait here.'

Stubbs was an older man, grey-haired but with the
impeccable posture that was a legacy of his time in the
army. He'd had been a corporal serving under Sir Darius
and had followed him once he left the military.

Sir Darius strolled off. Aubrey and George fell in
alongside him. 'A friend let us know what had happened,'
Sir Darius said.

'A friend?' Aubrey said. 'Let me see, which one of your
old political allies would that be?'

Sir Darius let that remark go by. 'Bertie isn't harmed,
is he? My reports were a little vague on that score.'

'Not a scratch,' George volunteered. 'Thanks to Aubrey.'

'Ah,' Sir Darius said. He looked at Aubrey. 'I see.'

Aubrey looked for any sign of approval on his father's
face, but saw only careful consideration. He stifled a sigh
of disappointment.
After all
, he thought,
we have a major
diplomatic incident on our hands. Even if I did save Bertie,
it's the sort of mess Sir Darius Fitzwilliam would never have
allowed to happen.