He glanced at the open door to Maurice's office. He caught George's eye and gestured. George nodded, then steered Maurice away, giving Aubrey a chance to dart into the tiny room.
Ten minutes later, he surveyed the blotter in front of him, satisfied. He'd scratched out a spell that he was sure would be able to lift the magical tower from its foundations.
He folded the coarse paper and left the office. Behind Maurice's back, Caroline rolled her eyes at him. Aubrey was happy to come to the rescue. 'Maurice,' he said, interrupting a story about floating crockery, 'would you like to come flying with us?'
Maurice started, then shook his head. 'I'm not one for adventures. I'm the one who stays behind and cleans up the mess.'
'And a fine job you do, I'm sure,' George said.
'You're sure about this?' Maurice said to Aubrey.
'As sure as a magician can be.'
Caroline patted Maurice's arm. 'I think that was meant to be reassuring.'
'It was? I don't mean any disrespect, but I've seen many magicians in my time.'
'Ah,' George said, 'so that means you've seen plenty of things go wrong.'
'True enough.'
'Well, Maurice, I'm offering this place a chance.' Aubrey put a hand on the brickwork. 'It can stay as it is, falling into disrepair until someone feels it'd be a good idea to pull it down and put up an office block. Or we can go ahead with my plan and give it a great and noble chance. It might be its last adventure, but it'd go out with a blaze of glory.'
Maurice cracked a grin. 'Aye, it would be that. The old place deserves a chance to live again.'
Aubrey bowed to Caroline. 'Care to come for a spin in my building-mobile?'
'I'd be delighted.'
Maurice hobbled toward the door and paused just before exiting. 'Just do your best to bring it back in one piece.' He closed the door softly behind him.
'What now?' Caroline asked, and Aubrey realised she hadn't been present for a major incantation.
'It's simple, really. Just move to the wall and stay quiet. Don't distract me or interrupt.'
'Unless he's in some sort of life-threatening situation,' George said.
'What do you mean?'
'Never mind.' Aubrey shot a dark look at his friend. George chuckled and put his hands in his jacket pockets.
Aubrey stood as close to the centre of the building as he could, his back against the curving balustrade of the stairs. He settled his feet, feeling that a solid grounding may be important in this undertaking. He took the blotting paper out of his pocket and studied the scratchy Chaldean script as his pulse began to beat faster. All seemed in order. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Tiny misgivings nipped at him, but he shook them off. I can do this, he thought. I will do this.
He opened his eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out, and took in another. Then he began.
The Chaldean syllables were dense and agglutinative. They felt like blocks of stone as he growled his way through them, but he kept an even, unhurried rhythm, never allowing one syllable to slur into the next. He was careful with the variables for capacity and area of effect. He made certain that the connection between the earth and the tower was established and controllable. He didn't want the tower fizzing off into the heavens. He felt sweat on his brow as he moved on to limit the rate of reversal, inserting a constant to maintain a steady increase in the rate, one that he could monitor and adjust as necessary.
The final syllable was his signature, a cobbled-together Chaldean version. It was subdued, without the flourish that Aubrey often embellished his work with. When it left his lips, he threw back his head and flung out his arms. The syllables echoed around the open space of the tower. He hoped he presented a dramatic picture, or an impressive one, at least.
The floor beneath his feet trembled. A fine rain of dust fell from somewhere above, accompanied by a patter of dry pigeon droppings.
Aubrey let his arms drop to his side. The walls trembled, vibrating with magical power and a groan went up from underneath the floor. It was an old sound, but it wasn't a sad one. It was as if a giant were stretching and greeting a new day.
The tower lifted a few inches, then dropped back with a crash.
'Aubrey?' Caroline said. She and George were still standing with their backs to the wall.
'This first part may be a little rough.' He waved a hand and did his best to appear as if he'd had enormous experience with levitating buildings.
George looked sceptically at him, but they eased themselves to the floor. George sat, splay-legged, Caroline rather more elegantly.
The tower lifted again, then shuddered, and Aubrey hastily joined his friends on the floor.
The walls flexed and strained, creaking mightily. The tower seemed eager to be off, but through the window by the door Aubrey could see they hadn't moved. He stretched out his magical awareness and found that the building was pulsing with power. The reversal spell had worked, but the building still hadn't taken flight.
Puzzled, Aubrey went over the spell in his mind, looking for any errors he may have made, but found nothing. The groaning in the walls grew louder and from beneath the floor came a grinding, snapping sound.
He stiffened and realised that he'd overlooked something very important. His spell had encompassed the whole building – but from ground level up. He'd forgotten about the cellars.
He started to climb to his feet, ready to begin constructing a cancellation spell, but at that moment the floor shook; then with the sound of splitting timber and the screech of metal being torn apart, the tower wrenched upward and Aubrey was thrown to the floor.
He landed awkwardly on his back. All the air was driven from his lungs and, for a moment, his body refused to drag in any replacement. All he could think about was breathing again, but his body remained uncooperative. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he gasped and managed to drag in a sweet and precious breath, then another. He sat up, dazed and shaking. Through the windows, he could see the Library wall opposite. It was sinking.
He shook his head. No, that wasn't right. The tower was rising.
'Well done.'
Caroline was on hands and knees. He waved, weakly. 'I'm glad it worked.'
She cocked an eyebrow at him. 'Did you think it mightn't?'
'I had a few qualms.'
'But you went ahead.'
He spread his hands. 'I tend to.'
'I've noticed.'
'Can we get off the floor now?' George asked. Without waiting for an answer, he rose slowly to his feet, arms spread for balance. 'There. Much better.'
Aubrey stood and held out a hand to Caroline. She took it, but held it so lightly that it was clear she didn't need his assistance. But she took it anyway, Aubrey thought with some satisfaction.
'I say, old man,' George said while he brushed himself off, 'what was that ghastly noise before we started rising? Sounded as if the whole place was coming apart.'
With care, Aubrey walked to the window. They'd just cleared the rooftops of the surrounding buildings and a crowd had gathered below. Some were pointing, but others were scurrying around in between plumes of white vapour and jets of water. Maurice's unmistakeable figure was on the edge of a large, tower-shaped hole. He was grappling with a stop cock. 'The cellars,' Aubrey said. 'I forgot about them.'
George and Caroline joined him at the window. George grinned. 'And about the water and gas pipes.'
'I had a lot on my mind.'
'Maurice won't be happy. Quite a mess we've left.'
At that moment, the old caretaker looked up. Aubrey winced, anticipating angry fist-shaking. Instead, Maurice's face split with a wide grin. He hopped from foot to foot and waved. Aubrey responded and hoped the caretaker could see him. 'He seems content enough.'
Aubrey's satisfaction drained away as he caught sight of a familiar, but mysterious, figure. Standing to one side of the demolition area was the thin, grey-suited stranger he'd seen several times over the past few days. He was looking up with some
exasperation. Holmland agent? Marchmainer? Aubrey had no idea, but he didn't believe the man's appearances were coincidence. Something would have to be done about him, but Aubrey knew he'd have to wait in line behind more pressing matters – and he hoped he wouldn't regret that decision.
The rooftops of the city beyond the university began to unroll beneath them. With a stateliness and ponderous grace, the tower rose over the river, the bridges, the Exposition Tower.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Aubrey monitored the building for its orientation, ensuring that it was stable in all planes. He didn't want it tipping end over end or spinning on its axis. The ancient building was already under enough strain; he didn't want it under any more.
Caroline and George were standing at the window on the left-hand side of the door. Aubrey joined them. 'How high are we going?' George asked. He was enjoying himself, peering out of the window and pointing out landmarks.
'Not too high. Just enough to clear the rooftops.' Aubrey pointed. 'We're moving.'
'In the direction of the Heart of Gold?' Caroline asked.
'I hope so.'
The tower drifted steadily over Lutetia. As it went, however, it developed a tiny, almost imperceptible tilt, listing in the direction of its yearning. Aubrey was aware of it and he started to grow nervous, but it was so slight neither Caroline nor George had to shift their footing to accommodate it. 'Let's go to the turret,' he suggested. 'We'll get a better view from up there.'
From the windows of the turret, they had a complete panorama of the city, unmatched by anything apart from the view from the Exposition Tower. They were drifting fifty feet or so above the tallest buildings, but Aubrey could see astonished faces on the rooftops. People were gesticulating, and small crowds gathered on corners to watch the tower's dignified progress.
From here, he was also able to see what had happened to the city. Whole blocks had burned, with a number still smoking. In other places, gaps showed where the earth had opened up and swallowed entire buildings. Water fountained from broken pipes. Roads were cut by crevasses that seemed bottomless.
The elegant city had been broken. Not quite ruined, but Aubrey wondered how much more it could deteriorate before it was unrecognisable.
The tower drifted at a pace just faster than a rapid walk, in a north-easterly direction. Some children kept apace on bicycles, but lost interest when the tower didn't do anything more spectacular than a balloon. Ahead was the Montheath district and the vast New Cemetery, then the parklike grounds of the Modern Asylum.
Aubrey realised they were heading in the direction of the Laval Woods. In normal circumstances it would be well populated, but the unwholesomeness of the river had repelled those who usually enjoyed its surroundings.
Aubrey found himself busy, monitoring the various aspects of the tower's flight. He became aware of the fact that he was in charge of tons of ancient masonry that could crash down on the city at any minute. His brow began to sweat.
They drifted directly along the Boulevard of Rectitude, the broad road that was the main north route from the city. Aubrey leaned against an upright but could only make out a lonely rag-and-bone cart clip-clopping down the usually busy road.
The tower shivered beneath his fingertips and Aubrey snatched them back as if he'd been burnt. He extended his magical awareness, skating over the properties of the spell. Was the tower spinning slightly? Or was it the roof catching the breeze awkwardly?
'Are we moving more quickly?' Caroline asked.
'I think so.' He relaxed and told his heart to stop being so dramatic, then he checked the general integrity of the spell. It was holding well. The reversal was fully in place and balanced, with the tower just buoyant enough to float along easily. 'We could be getting closer to our goal.'
The Laval Woods rolled beneath them. The mature trees were a thick canopy with gaps showing where paths turned the wilderness into something more manageable.
George pointed. 'I say, what's going on there?'
At the eastern entrance of the park, in front of the iron fence and gates, was a spread of lawn. It was criss-crossed with diagonal brick paths, with benches evenly spaced where a walker might linger on a sunny day. The man and woman George was pointing at, however, had no intention of lingering. They were running toward the gates, pursued by a barrel-like, heavily tusked creature.
'It's a wild boar,' Caroline said. 'It's attacking them!'
Below, the couple had given up their flight for the gates. They'd stopped behind one of the benches, keeping it between them and the boar. The boar was swinging its massive head, brandishing tusks that curved like scimitars. It pawed at the ground, sending clods flying. The woman thrust an umbrella at it with good fencing style, but Aubrey couldn't tell if it was keeping the brute away, or merely annoying it.
The boar wasn't giving up, however. The man and woman were trapped.
Aubrey was both alarmed and relieved. Finding an extinct animal was like finding a signpost to the Heart of Gold. There were no wild boar anywhere near Lutetia, he was sure of that, which meant that the Heart of Gold must be nearby – or have been in this vicinity recently.
He snapped out the cancellation spell and the tower dropped like a stone.
His stomach tried to claw its way up his throat. Aubrey gritted his teeth and when he saw the ground rushing up he gasped out a partial reversal. With a crash that shook the walls, their plunge stopped and all three were thrown to the floor, again. Aubrey dragged himself up and was relieved to see that he'd stopped the tower's descent just before it ploughed into the ground. He realised he couldn't leave the tower floating as it would drift off in the direction of the Heart of Gold, so he ran through a more careful reversal spell. This time the tower settled softly onto the earth, with hardly a protest.
Aubrey was first out of the tower. He dropped onto the grass a few yards from the frightened couple.
With terrifying speed, the boar whirled to confront him and Aubrey found himself wondering how it managed on such tiny feet. It snorted a challenge and shook its tusks. He stared at its mad, red eyes and a knot of fear grew in his throat and refused to be swallowed away.
Coming to the rescue had seemed like a good idea, but as he stood there, empty-handed and feeling distinctly vulnerable, he realised he should perhaps have planned his intervention rather more carefully.
The boar was almost as tall as he was, a slab of muscle and rage on the verge of charging. Great, snorting breaths rasped from its snout. He remembered reading stories of medieval boar hunts, and how he'd always been saddened by the poor hounds, gutted by the rampaging swine. Backing off, he decided he'd rather not share that fate.
A yell jerked the boar's attention away. George plummeted from the tower, bellowing a war-cry and flourishing a long spear. He landed clumsily, but straightened and poked at the boar's rump. It squealed, angrily, then swung to face him. Seeing the spear, it backed away, grunting and huffing.
'It's going to charge,' Aubrey cried as the creature tried to slip to one side of George's weapon.
George was grim but calm. He jabbed his spear. 'Don't think so, old man.'
With a whisper, Caroline landed on the grass and was immediately in a fighting pose – on one knee, butt of her spear jammed into the ground. A moment later, when she was sure the boar wasn't charging her, she stood shoulder to shoulder with George. They presented a formidable defence. Aubrey noted that, once again, she'd discarded her clumsy garments and wore the sensible – and rather fetching – black fighting outfit.
Aubrey felt a little left out as the boar swayed from one side to the other, trying to get past the weapons. He patted the pockets of his jacket and felt a hard lump. Hardly thinking, he pulled it out and threw it at the boar.
His aim was good. It struck the boar just over one eye. It squealed, clearly not hurt, but disconcerted nonetheless. It feinted a charge, then – looking almost offended – galloped off toward the woods.
Aubrey sighed, then stared at his friends. 'You
saw off a vicious wild boar with a pair of curtain rods?'
George shrugged. 'Well, if I'm not mistaken, you just saw off a vicious wild boar by lobbing a brass door knob at it.'
It was Aubrey's turn to shrug. 'It was all I had.'
George slung the curtain rod over his shoulder. 'Well, give me more warning next time and I'll make sure I have a blunderbuss.'
Caroline twirled her rod around and tapped it on the ground. She was smiling. 'Improvisation is the key. Isn't that what you say, Aubrey?'
'I'm glad you chose to model yourselves on me,' he said gravely. 'A wise decision.'
The woman behind the park bench lowered her umbrella. 'Ah, it's good to see that things have thawed between you two, at last.'
'Mother,' Caroline said. 'What are you doing here?'
Ophelia Hepworth smiled at her daughter, then at the man beside her. He was small and neat, with a pointed grey beard, and even though he had clasped his hands, they were trembling. 'Obviously, my dear, Alphonse and I are trying to avoid being savaged by a wild boar. And now we have, I think he has something to tell you.'
Aubrey blinked as he recognised the document merchant. 'Monsieur Caron.'
Monsieur Caron rubbed his forehead, then studied the magic tower for a moment. 'Things have become much stranger than I'd anticipated,' he said in a faltering voice. Then he glanced at Mrs Hepworth. She nodded; he straightened and addressed Aubrey. 'I was meeting a group of Marchmainers, Mr Fitzwilliam. I was going to sell them the letters they – and you – were after.'
'And why didn't you?'
'One of them changed into that wild boar. It attacked us. They ran off. A motorcar was waiting for them.'
'They had the Heart of Gold.'
'Oh, yes. I'd know it anywhere.'
ONCE THE TOWER WAS ALOFT WITH ITS TWO NEW PASSENGERS, Aubrey stood with George at the ground-floor window and urged it onwards. Rivulets of dust trickled from above as the tower began to move faster.
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