Moment of Truth (3 page)

In the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, was Commander Craddock. He held a slim silver fountain pen in one hand. ‘You're looking for this, Fitzwilliam?'

It was probably too late for Aubrey to pretend he was only sleepwalking, but desperation prompted him to give it a try. ‘Sir?' he said, groggily. He put a hand to his head.
So tired, I'm so tired...

‘Your pen, Fitzwilliam. You left it in the library. And that's one of the worst attempts at sleepwalking I've seen all week.'

So much for somnambulism.
Aubrey climbed to his feet. He wondered exactly how much trouble he was in. Was his time in the intelligence community over before it had really begun?

‘How did you get in here?' Craddock's voice was even. Aubrey detected no censure. Not yet.

‘The lock.' Aubrey gestured vaguely.

‘Go on.'

Aubrey realised that he wasn't about to get away with a nebulous explanation. He found the blank key. ‘I used this.'

‘Explain.'

When Aubrey had finished his explanation, Craddock was silent for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Ingenious.' Aubrey's spirits rose a little. ‘And costly.'

Aubrey's spirits sank. ‘Sir?'

‘We're going to have to replace all the locks with something more secure.' Craddock narrowed his eyes. ‘Can you do this again?'

‘I think so, sir.'

‘Good. I want to you write down your procedure in detail. We may be able to adapt it for our field teams. It could be quicker than teaching them lock-picking, especially since some of the more fumble-fingered never seem to acquire the knack.'

‘Certainly, sir.'

‘By Friday.'

Two days.
‘Of course, sir.'

Craddock studied him for a time. Aubrey was prepared for this and stood at ease, hands behind his back, and waited. ‘You do understand that you're being tested while you're here,' Craddock said finally, ‘don't you?'

‘I'm fit and well, sir.'

‘I'm pleased to hear it. But we're testing for other things. Aptitudes. Talents. Specialisations.'

Aubrey thought of the other irregulars he'd seen that day and wondered where their talents lay. ‘Glad to be able to help, sir.'

‘From these tests and the tasks you've done for us in the past, it has been noted that you've developed some skills for covert activities. What your father calls unconventional approaches.'

‘Sir?'

‘You have a flair for coping with the unexpected, and you have the sort of curiosity that is beneficial in this field.' Craddock put his hand on the script-covered stone. ‘As such, I suppose you're wondering about this.'

Aubrey's first impulse was to feign indifference at seeing the artefact. He quickly abandoned this. Craddock was no fool. ‘I glimpsed it earlier, sir. I thought it had disappeared.'

‘That's right. You had some connection with Professor Mansfield, didn't you?'

‘She was my lecturer in Ancient Languages. And a friend of my parents.'

‘The last report we have is that she is missing. With the Rashid Stone.'

‘But what's this then? Sir?'

‘Use your magic.'

Aubrey did as he was told, then raised his eyebrows. ‘It's a fake.'

‘A reconstruction. We worked it up using the Law of Similarity and the Law of Seeming.'

‘It looks perfect.'

‘With one small problem. Look at this.'

Arms crossed on his chest, Craddock walked around to the back of the stone. Bewildered, Aubrey followed and was agog when the reverse of the stone was completely bare. ‘Where's the rest of the script?'

‘We don't have it.' Craddock ran his hand over the smooth, unmarked surface. ‘The Rashid Stone was in the Albion Museum for a hundred and fifty years. In that time, dozens of people copied the script, from both sides. When the stone was stolen from the museum, we became interested in it. Before we could begin studying it in any serious way, however, every copy we knew about vanished as well.'

‘Magic.' It was the only way Aubrey could think of to achieve such a thing.

‘Gone. From Albion, from the Continent, from all the world. The only record we could find was a muddy stereographic image which we used for the front.'

‘I can only think of one person who could do something like that,' Aubrey said.

‘Indeed. And anything that Dr Tremaine is interested in interests us.'

‘Have you made any progress?'

‘The current thinking is that the Rashid Stone may lead us to deciphering this script.' He pointed at the lowest section of the artefact. ‘If our experts are right, it may shed some light on the actual relationship between magic, language and human consciousness itself.'

Aubrey had had thoughts along the same lines, but hadn't had a chance to pursue them. ‘Fundamental stuff.'

‘Correct. It's entirely possible that someone who can bring these areas together in a unified theory...' Craddock's calm slipped for a moment and Aubrey was shocked to see something that – in another man – would be called fear. ‘Well, such a person could control magic itself.'

After Craddock escorted him back to the dormitory, with a blunt word or two about remaining there, sleep refused to come as Aubrey's mind whirred. He lay on his bed in the dark while a thousand thoughts tumbled through his head.

The connection between magic, language and human consciousness was the great unsolved riddle of the age, a riddle that was consuming the entire attention of some of the finest magical minds of this generation. If solved, it promised to open whole new fields of endeavour and to lead to magical applications of untold power.

When a shadowy figure was suspected as being behind mysterious events, Aubrey's first, second and third choices were Dr Tremaine. Professor Mansfield had promised to appear at the Fisherberg symposium when she disappeared. Aubrey had been shocked to learn that Dr Tremaine was actually the organiser of this event – for his own ends, naturally. In the uproar over the revelation of Prince Albert's claim to the vacant throne of Gallia, things like Professor Mansfield's disappearance were overlooked, of small consequence in the days following the bombshell.

Aubrey was now starting to see it as another of Dr Tremaine's schemes within schemes, and the idea of Dr Tremaine controlling magic was a nightmare made real.

He couldn't wait to get home to look at the mysterious stone fragments that had come into his possession – fragments that Professor Mansfield had been sure could help unravel the puzzle of the Rashid Stone. He'd promised himself that he'd give the fragments to the Department after he'd hammered out some new probing spells that he'd been working on but, with one thing and another, he hadn't quite managed it.

One thing and another.
He grimaced.
They
always
get in the way.

The next morning, as he sat in one of the Department's demonstration laboratories, Aubrey went to stifle a yawn, only to feel another coming hard on its heels, so that his head almost burst with the effort. Through tears, he was glad he was sitting at the back, as he was sure his face had turned an alarming shade of red.

The demonstration laboratory held perhaps thirty or forty people, the rows of seats sloping precipitously to provide a good view of the bench at the front. Commander Craddock stood behind it while one of the more anonymous operatives unloaded glassware and batteries from a trolley.

‘Good morning,' Craddock said. He was wearing black, as usual, but not his typical long coat and wide-brimmed hat. His white-haired head was bare, and he wore a short, black jacket and a high-collared black shirt. And a tie, black. ‘I hope you all slept well. You'll need to be in top form today.'

Aubrey winced, even though Craddock's gaze didn't linger on him. He ducked his head as another jaw-cracking yawn took hold of him, and pretended to fumble around in his satchel. When he was himself again, he looked up to meet Craddock's gaze square on. ‘Now, let us consider the work of Lanka Ravi.'

Aubrey's weariness fell away from him. Lanka Ravi. Aubrey had been lucky enough to catch one of the great theoretician's controversial lectures at Greythorn University. He'd been staggered by the insights the young man presented. One after another, Ravi had elucidated new ways of looking at fundamental laws, connections between areas of magic considered incompatible, conjectures about possible future applications for magic. Lanka Ravi's intellect was dazzling, and Aubrey had been shocked to hear of Ravi's death while on his way back to his home on the sub-continent. When Aubrey heard the news, he had a profound sense of loss, an awareness of all that would not be done because Lanka Ravi had passed away before his time.

Aubrey rubbed his hands together, then he quickly opened his notebook. He didn't want to miss anything. Craddock was a fine magician and a deep thinker. If Lanka Ravi's work was of interest to him – and the Department – Aubrey was keen to find out why.

Before Craddock could begin, however, the door to his right opened. A hesitant operative slipped in and was cornered by Craddock's assistant. They had a hurried, hushed exchange. Craddock had stopped speaking as soon as the door moved. He didn't turn; he simply stood, waiting, his face impassive, and Aubrey knew that something was afoot – and it may also explain why the head of the Magic Department was occupying himself with the relatively minor task of taking care of irregulars. This way, Craddock ensured he was at headquarters and ready to respond.

To what?

In the face of the assistant's insistence, the intruder hesitated, then handed over an envelope. The assistant didn't look pleased, but took it to Commander Craddock while the intruder left, closing the door with a palpable expression of relief.

With a minute tightening around his eyes, Craddock took the envelope from his assistant. Then he raised an eyebrow and looked up. ‘Fitzwilliam.'

Aubrey was immediately the focus of attention of all the irregulars.

‘It's for you,' Craddock continued, not without some satisfaction at Aubrey's discomfort. ‘It's marked “Urgent”.'