Moment of Truth (28 page)

This announcement prompted a buzz from the Enlightened Ones. ‘We thought so,' Madame Zelinka said. ‘None of us has skill with golem magic, but Katya thought she recognised the material.'

‘Potentialised clay,' Sophie said. ‘What is that?'

Aubrey held out a hand, as if he were warming it by a fire. ‘I can feel the magic that this clay has already been imbued with.' He didn't tell them that it was a sonorous droning, like a hive of extremely large bees. The confusing mix of sensations, where touch and sound could meld, where taste and sight could interweave, was an aspect of magical awareness that was hard to explain to those not endowed. ‘It's heavily steeped in spells. The Law of Animation, the Law of Elastic Deformation, the Law of...' His voice dwindled. He reached out and broke off a thumbnailsized piece of clay. ‘It's special,' he finished lamely.
And it's certainly Dr Tremaine's work,
he thought.
It has the hallmarks of his magic.

Aubrey was able to admit he admired Dr Tremaine's genius. It was extremely clever, working like this. Potentialising the clay in bulk allowed the rogue sorcerer to divide his efforts. He could roam about, tending to his plots and schemes, while the factory churned out golem after golem without his having to be there.

Aubrey was rolling the clay into a ball between his fingertips when a thought came to him and he stopped, frozen. ‘You said this came from a train.'

‘Indeed,' Madame Zelinka said. ‘I know this is not our task, but Katya wouldn't be stopped.'

‘A train.'

‘That is what I said.'

Aubrey's mind was measuring. ‘How many carriages?'

‘Six.' It was Katya who spoke, in deeply guttural Albionish.

‘Six carriages full of clay?'

‘Yes.'

‘That's a lot of golems,' George said, saying aloud what everyone was thinking.

‘It wasn't the only train this week,' von Stralick said. ‘Three others have made deliveries.'

Aubrey started rolling the clay again as he thought. Such an amount of potentialised clay. Combine it with the revolutionary golem-making machinery that allowed non-magicians to manufacture golems and it had the making of...

‘George, what does an army need most of?'

‘Dashed if I know, old man. Food?'

‘Infantry,' Caroline said. ‘Foot soldiers, ground troops, call them what you will.'

‘With enough infantry,' Aubrey said, absently working the clay in his hands, ‘generals can keep throwing troops at an enemy until they're overwhelmed. Especially if they're fit and trained troops.'

‘Finding infantry is harder and harder, as wars wear on,' Caroline said slowly and Aubrey knew she had it. She looked at him with fear in her eyes. ‘But how will we know if we're right?'

‘Right about what?' Sophie said, looking from one to the other. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘That factory could be making golem soldiers,' Aubrey said.

‘A golem army,' Caroline said.

The basement became a much grimmer place. The Enlightened Ones protested and argued, but Aubrey could see that none of them were Holmland supporters. Even so, some were sceptical.

‘How can we find out for sure?' George asked.

Aubrey held up the piece of clay. It was now a rough, four-limbed creature. ‘Send a golem to catch a golem, I always say.'

Basic golem making had been something Aubrey had experimented with in the past. It had come in handy when he needed to explore the burnt church in the Mire. With a supply of potentialised clay at hand, it was the perfect stratagem. Explore, reconnoitre, report, then plan.

The limited amount of clay was not a handicap. Aubrey had never been able to master the intricacies of building full-sized human golems. He'd quickly learned that his best expression was in tiny mannikins, hand-sized figures with limited capabilities. Movement, observation and reporting was the limit of their endeavour, but within that they were surprisingly resourceful, able to overcome obstacles in their way, brimming with the desire to fulfil whatever mission Aubrey had charged them with.

Firstly, he had to neutralise the clay, to remove any possibility of Dr Tremaine's magic interfering with his. Neutralising was usually a straightforward process, something every young magician learned when beginning magical studies, but Aubrey was left sweating and shaking by the time he rendered the clay harmless. Dr Tremaine's magic was stubborn.

Not resting, he pushed on. George and Caroline took von Stralick and Madame Zelinka aside, and together they pored over a large map spread on the table. Most of the Enlightened Ones spread themselves about the farm, wearing stolen Holmland military uniforms so as not to appear out of place as they busied themselves, but three or four of them hovered in the basement, watching him working. In them, he saw the professional regard that magicians shared, and he was also pleased at Sophie's attention. She had a habit of holding one of her gold ear-studs when concentrating. While he was working, both gold orbs were being brought to a high polish.

He tore fist-sized chunks of clay from the box until Sophie took over that task, rolling the clay into manageable pieces. The rest was up to him.

He retrieved his golem spell from his memory, turned it around and inspected it only to find, as was his wont, that he wanted to make improvements. Sophie found paper and pencil and he'd soon scrawled out the spell components so he could study them while he gnawed on the pencil.

Three full versions later, and half a dozen minor embellishments, he had a spell he was happy with. It was tighter, with less room for error, and he'd built in an element of connectivity so he could feel the whereabouts of each mannikin at a distance.

Then it was a matter of making little human-shaped figures. Not much artistic skill was required, which was fortunate as Aubrey understood his limits in this area. Head, arms, legs was all that was needed, roughly in proportion. He inscribed each mannikin with an animating symbol on its forehead. This was a flourish, for the spell would take care of all the necessary animating, but the symbol did tend to ground the spell, keeping it within the confines of the clay bodies that he was working with.

They had enough clay for thirty-two, a number Aubrey judged had no auspicious or inauspicious connotations, so he was happy with it. The mannikins lay in two rows on a length of canvas that von Stralick produced. He rubbed his hands together and ran through the spell in his mind. Caroline handed him a wet cloth and he thanked her absently.

He cleared his throat and was aware of Sophie and the watching Enlightened Ones, so he did his best to uphold the great traditions of Albionite spell casting. He strove to look calm, dignified, very much in control – not someone who hadn't bathed for five days and who had a substantial amount of clay smeared all over him.

He began in his best Etruscan, and several of the Enlightened Ones smiled in recognition. He was careful not to hurry, and he counted a beat in his head to help him roll through each element in measured, round tones.

A final, modest signature element, and he was done.

The mannikin nearest to him quivered. A shiver ran through the next, and the next, running along the row, as if they were connected with wires. The first mannikin swelled, its rough limbs filling out and becoming more solid. Just as its neighbour began the same swelling process, the first mannikin bent in the middle and sat up, trembling. A few seconds later – where Aubrey had the distinct impression it was gathering its wits, what little of them it had – and it stood and swayed slightly, the first of his golem squad.

Aubrey heard some murmurs of approval from the Enlightened Ones, but most of his attention was on monitoring the progress of the spell. Ten minutes later and the golems were all ready. They stood solemnly like so many faceless gingerbread men.

Aubrey took a deep breath. A complicated spell, made all the more complicated by the numbers he was juggling, and he could feel the toll it had taken. Some of his weariness was no doubt due to the lateness of the hour, and the long, taxing day they'd been through, but the spell had had an effect. His limbs were weary, and he was sure his hands would be trembling if he wasn't holding them together. As he stood there inspecting his work, he could sense each of the golems and their physical location, even if he closed his eyes. The connection element was working.

He was embarking on a dangerous strategy. Another dangerous strategy. The connection ran both ways – it could be traced back to him, revealing his location, leading the enemy to their position. Sending the mannikins was potentially compromising their security and jeopardising their ability to observe the facility in secret.

He knew this. He knew it was a risk – but the reward of detailed information about the inner workings of the factory was great enough for him to proceed. The mannikins would have to be furtive, clinging to shadows and avoiding notice at all times. He wanted them to be mice in the wainscoting, not elephants barging through the jungle.

‘Follow,' he said, keeping his commands simple, knowing that this was essential for golems of this order.

Without looking back, aiming for an air of utter confidence, he led the mannikins up the stairs, through the trapdoor, and through the farmhouse until he could point at the factory steaming away above the tree tops to the north. He took a deep breath and pointed. ‘Go. Observe. Report back to me. Don't be seen by anyone.'

The mannikins, as one, leaned in the direction of the factory, then back toward Aubrey, like grain in the wind. Then they set off, running stiff-legged though the night. They ran in slightly different directions, through the grassy field, then plunging into the woods that separated the farm from the factory.

Aubrey dusted his hands together. ‘Now, we wait.'

Waiting was always frustrating for Aubrey, and after three hours with no appearance from his mannikins, he was on edge. He began to find the kitchen increasingly small, especially after Caroline narrowed her eyes at his finger-drumming and foot-jiggling. After the first hour, when it became apparent that no quick mannikin return was imminent, some of the Enlightened Ones retired. Those unwilling or unable to sleep stayed in the kitchen and talked in the candlelight, low voices discussing families, magic and war. Caroline took up a position by Aubrey's side as the talk moved and flowed through loved ones left behind, to the mandate and heritage of the Enlightened Ones, then into discussion of Dr Tremaine and his motives, expanding into magic in general. Aubrey asked about the pidgin used to communicate among Enlightened Ones of different backgrounds, which launched a discussion of the connection between magic and language that made Caroline yawn. She apologised, and did her best to stay with what became a technical discussion. Aubrey was startled, however, a moment later, to feel her head against his upper arm. He immediately lost track of the finer distinctions between Babylonian and Sumerian and he stopped talking, just in case he was lapsing into unintelligibility. Carefully, he sneaked a glance at Caroline's restful face and immediately, he was lost in admiring how the hair curled around her ears and the sweep of her eyelashes, closed in well-earned sleep.