Time of Trial

by Michael Pryor

  ‘ Our misunderstandings?’

  ‘Ah.’ He rethought. ‘You’re willing to endure my misunderstandings then?’

  ‘Aubrey, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t misunderstand some things.’

  ‘That may be true. What sort of things?’

  She considered this. ‘Your comprehension is astonishing when it comes to magic, or politics, or espionage. You show a truly devious mind at times.’

  ‘It’s a gift. I’ve learned to live with it.’

  She glanced at him.

  ‘I’m joking,’ he said.

  ‘I know. Such a mind indicates that you understand how subtle people can be.’

  And here comes the ‘but’, he thought gloomily.

  ‘On the other hand,’ she said, charming him by confounding him, ‘you have an enormous blind spot when it comes to matters of the heart.’

  ‘It’s not a blind spot,’ he protested. ‘It’s just a complete and utter failure to understand you at all.’

  ‘Are we talking about me?’ she said as they rounded a corner in the cloisters. ‘I thought we were talking about you.’

  ‘I think it might be us I’m talking about.’ He stopped walking. ‘Wait a moment. Act naturally.’

  ‘Instead of acting unnaturally? Whatever do you mean?’

  He resisted the temptation to look around for an alternative route. It was too late. Several of the people ahead had noticed them. ‘Follow my lead.’

  They’d come to one of the more outlying parts of the Academy. The lecture theatres, display halls and demonstration laboratories had given way to workshops and storage rooms. Just inside a pair of open double doors was a knot of people arguing. The argument, however, looked significantly different from those they’d wandered past in the central parts of the Academy. Aubrey recognised one of the participants, and while the rebel leader had done his best to look inconspicuous in the city, his long hair and moustache made him stand out from all but the most eccentric academics.

  Rodolfo was talking, earnestly, to two men who clearly weren’t scholars. They were businessmen. Everything about them, from their restrained neckties around high, starched collars to their highly polished shoes to the identical briefcases they clutched, announced that they were from the world of commerce rather than the world of academia.

  They were standing in front of a large crate.

  He picked up his pace. ‘Rodolfo!’ he called. ‘You disappoint me. You couldn’t wait for my people to get in touch?’

  Rodolfo blinked, rubbed his face with one hand, squinted at the businessmen – who had turned their bland countenances on Aubrey so that he could see them already trying to work out how to make money from him – then he scowled. ‘Mr Black. Good. We’d rather buy our necessities from you anyway.’

  From the corner of his eye, Aubrey had the great pleasure of seeing how alarm made itself evident on the faces of the business negotiators. It was a tiny tightening around the eyes and an infinitesimal shift in stance that probably came from a slight clenching of the buttocks. For a moment, Aubrey thought about turning his hand to professional gambling and using such observations to gain immense amounts of money.

  ‘Allow me to do the introductions,’ one of the businessmen said. ‘I’m Mr Shaw. My colleague is Mr Treece.’

  Aubrey was glad to have the names, even if they were bound to be aliases. He added them to the notes he was preparing for Tallis. The men were interchangeable to a great extent. Middle-aged, round faces, red cheeks, dark hair parted on one side.

  And they were Albionites.

  ‘My name,’ Aubrey said, ‘is Black. And this is my colleague, Miss Brown.’

  Caroline rose to the occasion. She regarded the businessmen impassively. ‘Don’t we have anything better to do, Mr Black?’

  Aubrey smiled. ‘Miss Brown is impatient. Please forgive her, but she is the one who controls the money in our organisation.’

  Rodolfo rolled a melancholy eye in Caroline’s direction and brightened a little. He bowed. ‘You, my dear, are very beautiful, and very young for such an important position.’

  Caroline turned a frosty gaze on him. ‘It suits us to look young. Surely Mr Black told you that.’

  Aubrey was impressed. In one swoop Caroline had justified their young appearance and also hinted at mysterious magic. It was nicely done. ‘I didn’t feel it was important.’ He sighed. ‘Now, Rodolfo, what is this about? You’re not reneging on our deal, are you?’

  ‘We have many irons in the fire, as you say. We had a message that someone wanted to talk to us about our cause.’ He shook his head. ‘An insult, it was. He wanted to hire us as if we were mercenaries.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He wanted us to fight overseas, far from our cause, to secure a supply of guano.’

  Aubrey’s uninterest suddenly did a handstand and he became very interested indeed. ‘Guano?’

  ‘Bird dung,’ Rodolfo said with disgust. ‘I cursed him and sent him on his way. But the trip has not been wasted. Shortly afterward, I met these gentlemen, who offered to help me.’

  Shaw and Treece smiled with bland confidence. ‘We represent a significant supplier of sought-after merchandise,’ Shaw said.

  Caroline tsked. ‘That may be one of the vaguest statements I’ve ever heard. What’s your measure of significance? Who’s seeking it? What sort of merchandise?’

  ‘That’s between our client and ourselves,’ Treece said. He glanced at the crate looming over him. ‘Unfortunately, he has ordered it, now he doesn’t want to pay for it.’

  Rodolfo shook his head as if the businessmen had just informed him of a family tragedy. ‘That’s not it. You want me to take it now, so I feel it’s right to take our transportation costs into account.’

  Shaw smiled. ‘I don’t think so. If you’re not willing to pay, we won’t hand it over.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear that.’

  An expression of mild surprise crossed Shaw’s face. ‘You don’t want our merchandise?’

  Rodolfo extended a languid hand in Aubrey’s direction. ‘Not now that Mr Black is here. I’m sure his firm can help us.’

  Aubrey found himself the centre of both Shaw and Treece’s attention. ‘Really?’ Treece said. ‘And who do you represent, Mr Black? I didn’t catch the name.’

  ‘Names mean nothing,’ Aubrey said smoothly. ‘Our firm is new, with none of the old-fashioned processes of the more established suppliers in the area.’

  ‘And his firm is cheaper.’ Rodolfo knew a bargaining lever when he saw one. ‘Much cheaper.’

  Shaw and Treece were impassive. Then Shaw nodded. ‘My colleague and I will need to discuss this for a moment.’

  ‘Discuss away,’ Rodolfo said. ‘Take your time.’

  Shaw and Treece withdrew to the far end of the workshop, where Aubrey saw a large metal door standing open and the street outside. The businessmen stood with their backs to them, but to judge from the handwaving and finger pointing, the discussion was a lively one.

  ‘Right, Rodolfo,’ Aubrey said, ‘what is it exactly that you’re trying to buy from these people?’

  Rodolfo crossed his arms and gazed longingly at the crate. ‘I don’t really expect you to be able to sell us one. These men represent the only firm in the world who makes them. But if you play your part here, and they take something off their price, I’m sure I’ll have more business for you soon. Consider this taking care of a customer.’

  ‘We won’t be dummies in a bidding war,’ Caroline said firmly. ‘If you don’t tell us what’s in the box, we’re leaving.’

  Steady, Aubrey thought, don’t push too hard. ‘We can’t afford not to know,’ he said, supporting Caroline. ‘Too dangerous for us not to.’

  Rodolfo blew out a breath through his moustache. ‘It’s a golem maker.’

  Aubrey stared at Rodolfo and then at the crate. It was about the same size as the machine they’d encountered in the Elektor’s laboratory. ‘What makes you think they have such a thing?�
�� he said, keeping up his persona.

  ‘I heard rumours of such a machine some time ago,’ Rodolfo murmured, his eyes on Shaw and Treece, who were still talking in furtive tones. ‘Eventually I was contacted, given a demonstration, and was convinced.’

  ‘You’ve seen it in action?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘A month ago, those two,’ Rodolfo gestured at Shaw and Treece, ‘met me in a warehouse here in Fisherberg. I watched as clay was shovelled in one end of the device, then Shaw placed his own cat in a chute. Electricity was connected and the thing was turned on.’ He glanced at Aubrey. ‘The hair all over my body stood up, then they released the cover. On my mother’s grave, a perfect replica of the cat sat up and stared at us.’

  This was vital information. Aubrey could already see himself writing an extensive report for the Security Directorate. Who was making these machines? ‘You have need for such a device?’

  ‘We have several uses in mind.’

  ‘How much were they asking?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘One hundred thousand marks.’

  ‘One hundred thousand marks,’ Caroline repeated, eyes wide.

  ‘You see why I’m interested in reducing their price.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Aubrey said. ‘Tell them that you’re no longer interested, and I’ll save you fifty thousand of those marks.’

  ‘Fifty thousand? How?’

  ‘Our firm also produces golem makers. But thanks to our superior technicians, we can offer one to you for fifty thousand marks. As long as you’re prepared to wait for two months.’

  ‘Two months?’ Rodolfo pursed his lips and Aubrey could see the two months versus fifty thousand marks equation on his face. Then the rebel chief brightened. He stuck out his hand. ‘Done.’

  Aubrey shook. ‘I suggest you leave now. Let me deal with Shaw and Treece.’

  Rodolfo grinned. ‘My pleasure. You’ll contact me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Aubrey paused and had a sudden, unwelcome thought. ‘The man who tried to hire you as mercenaries. Tall fellow, was he?’

  ‘With a pointed beard and a nice, fresh black eye. I’ll warrant that he got it in a bar brawl, not fighting for a cause.’

  Manfred. ‘Where did you last see him?’

  ‘Near the library. He left, but he said he would be back tomorrow if I reconsidered. I have half a mind to come back and thrash him.’ Rodolfo left, whistling a moody tune.

  Shaw and Treece hurried over. ‘Where is he going?’

  ‘To talk to his bankers,’ Aubrey said, ‘but don’t worry about that. How would you like to make an extra twenty thousand marks by selling your machine to me instead?’

  He hoped Hollows had a large account for ‘miscellaneous expenses’. And a place to store a golem maker.

  After a delightful lunch in a café on the edge of the Founders’ Park, and some more time helping Lady Rose with her preparations, Aubrey and Caroline were in high spirits as they made their way back to the embassy. Aubrey was already formulating the report about the golem machine, and trying to work out how to ship it back to Albion. Simply knowing that such a machine existed could steer Albion’s magical experts in the right direction. But having a working device to study would be even better.

  He’d spent long nights wondering about the rights and wrongs of helping build powerful weapons. It didn’t seem right to make devices that could harm and kill, even if he was helping his country. On the other hand, not doing so could leave his own family and friends vulnerable if war broke out and other nations had no such qualms.

  It was a moral quagmire. While not sure he was entirely right, he didn’t like the idea of Albion being attacked. He was determined that wouldn’t happen.

  The success of the impromptu espionage was exhilarating, but Aubrey was doubly elated because of Caroline. As they walked, she recounted every detail of their double-handed swindle. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks brushed with colour, and Aubrey couldn’t help notice the way she touched his arm to emphasise particularly important points.

  It was wonderful.

  So when they entered the embassy only to find George and von Stralick arguing in an office off the entry hall, Aubrey saw this as a minor hiccup in an otherwise successful day. He motioned to Caroline to wait while they caught the direction of the argument.

  ‘I should have known,’ von Stralick was saying. He was sitting behind a large desk and brushing the crown of a stylish black hat with a sleeve. ‘Your lack of imagination doomed our enquiries the moment we set out.’

  George was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Aubrey recognised that his normally even-tempered friend was well on the way to the sort of anger that made him a formidable foe. ‘My lack of imagination?’ George growled. ‘ You insisted that we try to find Fromm again. Did you think he was lying about leaving the city?’

  ‘His type always lie.’ Von Stralick sniffed. ‘It’s a way of life for them.’

  ‘That’s the sort of unhelpful comment that meant we spent the whole day running around in circles.’

  ‘Ach. It’s not as if you had any better ideas.’

  George advanced on the desk. He put his fists on it and leaned toward von Stralick. ‘You didn’t listen to my ideas.’

  Von Stralick put his hat on the desk. ‘You are a follower. Not a person of intellect. You must know your place.’

  Aubrey winced at that, and with the chance that actual physical violence was just around the corner he decided it was a good time to intercede. He stepped into the office. ‘George, von Stralick! No luck, I take it?’

  Instantly, von Stralick adopted a pose of casual boredom. ‘Ah, Fitzwilliam! Luck is something that was in short supply for us today. This Sylvia Tremaine is elusive. Our enquiries were fruitless.’ He bowed to Caroline. ‘Caroline. I must compliment you on your exquisite dress. It suits you.’

  ‘Thank you, Hugo,’ Caroline said. ‘But it’s a shame about Sylvia.’

  ‘All may not be lost. Sometimes the simplest approaches work best,’ Aubrey said. ‘George, is there a telephone directory anywhere in this place?’

  While George was searching the shelves, Aubrey sat opposite von Stralick. He picked up the telephone. ‘Let’s look at this logically. Sylvia has been in many parts ever since whatever her brother did to her, correct?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘And those parts were sent on their way to reunifying after you neutralised the eruption at the Tremaine home.’

  ‘Exactly. According to Fromm, the parts will be drawn back to the body, the most significant remnant of the original person. But where is it? Alive, but not responding, it must have been taken care of for years.’

  ‘True,’ von Stralick said, ‘but not terribly helpful.’

  ‘Oh, but it could be.’ Aubrey took the telephone directory from George. He leafed through it, found what he was after, and – in his best Holmlandish – asked the operator for a number. ‘Western Hospital? I’m a medical student from Greythorn University in Albion. That’s right, I’m here in Fisherberg for the symposium. Yes, it’s a wonderful occasion. Now, I have a special interest in long-term coma patients. Would you have any in your hospital that I could visit? You do? What are their names?’

  Aubrey struck gold on the third telephone call. ‘Her name is Sylvia Jesperson? And she’s twenty-two years old? Tragic. And how soon can I visit?’

  Aubrey scratched an address on a notepad George thrust on him. ‘Tomorrow? I’ll be there. And I’m able to bring some colleagues? Splendid.’

  He replaced the earpiece, then sat back and crossed his arms on his chest. ‘I love modern technology.’

  Von Stralick snorted. ‘How do you know this is the woman we’re after?’

  ‘She sounds a good deal more likely than anything we were able to turn up today,’ George said.

  ‘You are correct, Doyle, if labouring the obvious. I apologise for wasting the day.’

  George looked at him suspiciously. ‘You do?’

  ‘I do. And for baiting you. I found it amus
ing, at first, but I now realise you are taking it seriously.’

  George didn’t look convinced. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do than to make trouble?’

  Von Stralick put a hand on his chest. ‘But I am a professional troublemaker! Can I help it if my hobby is the same as my vocation?’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Aubrey said. ‘We’re not going to get anywhere if we’re on at each other like this all the time.’

  ‘Quite,’ von Stralick said. ‘Most unproductive. Now, where does that leave us?’

  ‘We still have the means to lure Tremaine to where we want him,’ Caroline said fiercely.

  George made a face. ‘True, but where do we want him? We haven’t really spoken about the details of actually taking him.’

  ‘That would be my job, I suppose.’ Aubrey pushed his hair back. It was getting long. He should have it cut. ‘I need to think about this.’

  Even as he said it, though, plans were presenting themselves. The connection, the tenuous, fragile connection he had with Dr Tremaine. Perhaps he could do something with it. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. The connection was a potential conduit, a magical link that could be the conductor of more than just an awareness of each other.

  Could it be used to bind the most powerful magician in the world?

  Twenty-six

  The next day, Von Stralick was waiting for them in front of the Western Hospital, a grand brick building that took up a whole block in Barnstadt, a busy commercial part of Fisherberg. ‘Hello, everyone,’ he said as he tucked his newspaper under his arm. ‘I had intended to bring Otto along to help you with any magic, Fitzwilliam, but the scamp insisted that his preparation for his symposium paper was at a crucial stage.’

  ‘What happened to his obsession with Dr Tremaine?’ George asked.

  ‘I asked him the very same thing. He simply scowled at me, so I assume that he hasn’t forgotten.’

  ‘I should hope not.’ Aubrey studied the entrance of the hospital. ‘Now, remember that you’re all medical students. Take notes, look serious, nod at whatever the real doctors say.’

  ‘I brought a stethoscope.’ George pulled it out of a jacket pocket. ‘Pilfered it from the embassy infirmary.’