Word of Honour (31 page)

It helped that the language was pleasing to work with;
Aubrey had always enjoyed it. When he used Demotic, it
felt as though he was constantly talking about flowers.

He finished with his signature element and closed
his eyes. The wave of exhaustion that struck him wasn't
unexpected, but even so he had difficulty not slumping
to the floor. His legs trembled, his chest felt tight. His
stomach was hollow as if he hadn't eaten for days, but
the thought of food made him nauseated. He swayed,
steadied, and opened his eyes to see that at least one
aspect of the spell had worked. The Rashid Stone had
disappeared.

He bent, not trusting himself to crouch, but it was
nearly a mistake. His vision swam, little black suns
swelling and bursting in front of his eyes. He gasped and
caught himself on the edge of the crate, rubber-legged.
After a moment, he groped inside with his other hand.

He found something in the bottom of the crate,
something important that wasn't there. By not thinking
about the contradiction, he was able to push his lump of
beeswax over it.

Carefully, he straightened, still swaying a little, with the
non-dimensional, light-as-air Rashid Stone pressed into
the beeswax. He slipped it into his pocket.

'We should go,' he croaked just as his mother appeared.

She was by his side in an instant. 'You sound terrible.'

'A cold. Coming on.'

'I hope not. Fitzwilliam men are terrible invalids.'

T
HE NEXT MORNING, A TENTATIVE KNOCK CAME AT
the door. It opened and Tilly stepped in. 'If you
please, sir, Sir Darius would like to see you in his study.
He's just got in and is asking for you.'

Aubrey straightened and rubbed his eyes, grateful that
this Monday was a public holiday and he hadn't had to
rush back to the university. He glanced at the sheets
of paper on his desk, filled with his transcriptions from
the Rashid Stone and from the mysterious Roman
fragment. The fragment was proving to be what he
hoped: a key to unlock the mystery script.

'Ten minutes, Tilly. I'll be there.'

He was exhausted by the effort of restoring enough
size to the Stone to allow him to transcribe the
inscriptions and then shrinking it again for concealment,
but the pleasure of discovery had kept him
working, for now – and helped him ignore the
tell-tale tenderness of his gums, another symptom of
bodily dissolution.

Already his studies with Professor Mansfield were
proving valuable. The Rashid Stone was definitely a
treatise on magic; he'd managed to puzzle out some
references to light magic, healing magic – and death
magic.

Aubrey needed more time, but he thought he had
some hints toward a solution for his condition. Hints,
clues, suggestions – but he needed more time to be sure
what he was finding.

He jotted down a few last notes from the central section
of the Rashid Stone. It dealt with urbomancy, which
apparently was concerned with collections of humanity
and accumulated consciousness. Some of the references
were disturbing, hinting at animating entire settlements,
but most of it remained unclear. He'd searched through
a number of reference texts before he found even the
slightest mention of it, but it was singularly unhelpful,
simply noting it was a 'minor, and forgotten, art'.

The trouble with having a well-developed sense of
curiosity was that it made researching difficult. Sidetracks
and byways opened up all over the place, beckoning
alluringly.

Aubrey's curiosity couldn't let such a tantalising
description pass. It was so curt, so dismissive that he
wondered what was going on. Even with the little information
he had, the field sounded intriguing and,
unless he was mistaken, could shed some insights into
the nature of magic itself. Numbers of people coming
together was the beginning of true magic. Surely urbomancy
was a part of this?
He sat back and linked his hands on his chest, thinking.

His research into his condition had brought him to
many arcane and recondite texts. He'd become attuned
to scholarly arguments over fine points of magic, or
interpretations of fine points of magic.

He'd also stumbled on areas that were best left alone –
according to learned opinion. Death magic's perils, for
instance, were well known and highlighted in many,
many texts.

Another way, however, to steer the foolhardy away
from dangerous areas of magic was to pretend it didn't
exist – or was only of minor, boring importance. This
was never the result of anything formal – Aubrey
snorted at the idea of a Council of Wizards controlling
magical research – but a consensus was nevertheless
reached among like-minded scholars.

Was urbomancy one of these areas? If so, why?

Frowning, he tapped his pencil on his teeth. The Rashid
Stone was proving to be a treasure, but a frustrating one.

A
UBREY ADMIRED HIS FATHER'S CONSTITUTION
. W
ITH NO
sleep, after a night of political push and shove, Sir Darius
looked as if he was ready to swim the channel.

When the maid had closed the door behind her,
Sir Darius leaned back in his chair and eyed Aubrey.
'Rokeby-Taylor. Count Brandt. Dr Tremaine.'

It was a hot chance, but Aubrey took it with both
hands. 'You're asking if there's a connection.'

'I could be suggesting that there is a connection but
I don't know what it is.'

'This is what Cabinet was discussing?'

'We were discussing the Holmland situation in more
general terms, but those names kept coming up. Then
I had some time with Craddock and with Tallis where
they came up again.'

'And I imagine that those conversations were separate.'

'I did my best to make sure that each didn't know
about my chat with the other. No guarantees there.'

'Of course not.'

'I need your insight here, Aubrey. You're bound up in
all of these goings-on and you might be able to shed
some light. The others are all protecting their little areas.
Too much posturing for my liking.'

'I'm happy to help, sir.'

'I don't doubt that.' For a moment, Sir Darius
smoothed his moustache thoughtfully. 'But before we go
any further, I need to know if you have any knowledge
of a ruction at the museum early this morning.'

Aubrey should have known his father would have
heard. 'I may have.'

'I see. You were out last night, I take it?'

'Yes.'

'Without Caroline and George?'

'I had Mother with me.'

Sir Darius's gaze instantly became intense. 'Tell me
about it.'

Aubrey was in agony as he sorted through the implications
of this simple request. 'I don't think I can.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'If you know about it, you might have to do something.
Or tell someone if they ask you about it. But if you don't
know, you can't. And they won't know if you don't know.'

'That, surprisingly, makes sense, but I'm not sure I
agree.' Sir Darius scowled.

Aubrey remained silent.

'I see.' The pause that followed this statement weighed
more than a hundred Rashid Stones. 'You were with your
mother, you say.'

'Yes.'

'And she and you are safe and – perhaps just as
importantly – unidentified?'

'Yes and yes.'

Another massive pause pressed down on Aubrey as his
father scrutinised him. 'At an appropriate time, you will
tell me, both of you, what happened.'

Aubrey sighed with relief. 'Naturally. In full detail.'

'And I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it would be
most awkward if any missing treasure that belonged to
another nation was ever found in the Prime Minister's
own residence, do I?'

Aubrey thought of the fish tank in his room where
he'd buried the dimensionless, weightless Rashid Stone:
right next to the Roman fragment, outside the octopus's
lair. 'It would be improper.'

'Let us move on, then,' Sir Darius said. 'Now that
we understand each other. At least, you understand me
– I hope. I'm not sure if I'll ever claim to understand
you.'

'Sir,' Aubrey said. It was a meaningless response, but it
filled in the gap in the conversation nicely.

'I know you keep an eye on the bills moving through
Parliament. Has anything pricked your interest lately?'

'The battleship bill. You're voting on it later this week.'

'And why are you interested?'

'Rokeby-Taylor. Five new battleships and his shipyards
are in a good position to win the contract, once Defence
has been allocated the budget. He's been taking on
new magical experts, Holmlanders this time . . .'Aubrey's
voice trailed off.

'Go on.'

Aubrey threw up his hands. 'Rokeby-Taylor is everywhere
I turn these days! His companies are cutting
corners, a menace to the public. He's well connected,
well thought of, has his fingers in dozens of pies. Dozens
of fingers.'

'Just the sort of person who would be an excellent
enemy agent.'

'I'd thought of that. But just because he's a bounder,
it doesn't make him a traitor. Does it?'

'I'm not sure. You saw that he wanted to borrow
money from me. I've found out that his financial position
is even more dire than he'd let on. This sort of leverage
is gold for enemy intelligence operatives.'

'But the battleship contract! Rokeby-Taylor would
make a fortune and it would put a dent in Holmland's
naval ambitions at the same time. He'd be a hero, not a
traitor. Unless . . .'

'Yes?' Sir Darius raised an eyebrow.

'He takes Holmland's money
and
the Navy's money,
builds the ships but does something to them? Sabotages
them?'

'Who'd be in a better position?'

'You know him best. Would he stoop to something
like this?'

'He dearly loves his money. Or the life it buys him,
anyway. Could he be tempted? Yes. Would he betray his
country? I don't know. Would he risk his own life to do
so? Almost certainly not. Remember how dismayed he
was when the
Electra
sank.'

'Dr Tremaine,' Aubrey said, almost without thinking
about it. 'Once you bring him into this equation, everything
changes.'

'Ah, the elusive Dr Tremaine.'

'If he has a hold on Rokeby-Taylor, it changes
everything.'

'But what sort of hold? More than blackmailing him
over money?'

'Something magical.'

Aubrey tried to recall his meetings with Rokeby-Taylor. There was something about the man that had
prodded his curiosity, even then. But Tremaine's hold
couldn't be something as trifling as a poison administered
and an antidote withheld. It would have to be something
that worked on Rokeby-Taylor's weakness, something
that could be exploited.

His greed.

'Supposition,' Sir Darius said. 'We have no proof,
only suspicions. Clive's turning up at every inconvenient
point, his uncharacteristic philanthropy –'
'Count Brandt's Holmlanders. Are they of interest,
too?'

'Yes, but not in the same way. From all reports, they're
genuinely opposed to the present Holmland government.
Brandt would like us to consider them an opposition
in exile, but their organisation is too haphazard to deserve
that.'

'And Rokeby-Taylor's supporting them financially.'
For a moment, Aubrey wondered at Rokeby-Taylor's
source of funds. If his companies were doing as badly as
it seemed, then where was the money coming from?

'Or supporting
someone
financially,' Sir Darius said.
'It seems as if Brandt is channelling much of the money
he receives to the Circle, this mysterious opposition
group in Holmland. I'm very nervous about this.'

So was Aubrey, but it was well down the list of
things to worry about. 'What about Craddock and Tallis?
What's going on there?'

'Rivalry. There's no more powerful motivator when
people reach a certain level, unless it's naked ambition.
Of course, the two often go hand in hand.'

'They're not traitors?'

'Craddock and Tallis? Traitors?' Sir Darius's laugh was
sour. 'I'll warrant that both of them suggested that about
the other. Tallis, reasonably bluntly. Craddock, so subtly
that you hardly noticed at the time.'

'They're valuable men.'

'In their way. But they must put aside petty jealousies
like that. It's time-consuming and very, very dull.'

Aubrey bit his lip. 'I've heard that the Magisterium
might be conducting research.'

'Who better to research magical espionage issues?'

'But isn't it against their charter?'

'Not any more. We changed that months ago. Didn't
make any sense to stifle their investigations like that.'The
front doorbell rang and he stood. 'Thank you, Aubrey.
This time was useful.'

'Wait,' Aubrey said. 'I'm sorry if I sound suspicious, sir,
but did Commander Craddock suggest you talk to me?'

'Craddock? No. I do have my own thoughts occasionally,
you know.' Sir Darius studied his hands for a
moment. 'Your conduct lately has been impressive. I can
talk freely with few people, and few of them have your
acuity and incisiveness.' He looked at his wristwatch.
'I must go. I have a meeting with the Minister for
Defence.'

With Dr Tremaine still unaccounted for, Aubrey was
very uneasy. The rogue magician had shown in the past
that he was willing to strike at the Prime Minister and
events seemed to be coming to a head. 'Be careful.'

'Don't worry. Stubbs will be driving me.'

'He'll be . . . well kitted out?'

'It's the wisest course of action for now. You can
reassure your mother of that.' He cleared his throat a
little awkwardly. 'I've asked Tallis to make sure his men
are extra alert in guarding this place for the next few
weeks. They're also keeping an eye on Ophelia Hepworth's
flat. I thought you might like to know that.'

Aubrey had much to think over after his father left, but
he had no time. George bustled in. He was red-faced,
dressed in the same clothes as when Aubrey had seen him
last. He had his cap scrunched up in one hand. 'On your
feet, old man. Jack Figg's here.'

'George, when did you get here? How are things at
home?'

'Just now, and no good news at home, I'm afraid. Come
on, I think Jack has something important to tell us.'

'Jack can wait. In fact, the whole country can wait.
What aren't you telling me about your father?'